Page 5 of Slaughtered Firefly
Is this what life has come to? Laughing at the dark humor of your lover turned enemy? Gods, why couldn’t I have fucked a normal chick?
3
CAUGHT RED HANDED
Present day
Ismiled wide, sated with my latest gift. My final one, not that I knew it. The tall, dark-haired man laughed as I watched these men gawk at my latest creative use of a knife. He turned towards me, and I realized how fate had a hand in this fucked-up reality. This cop in front of me was the hunky weekender that fucked like a savage. Oh, I bet he was thrilled today. The last time I designed such an elaborate house filled with gore and sex, it was with a ball-peen hammer, an obvious joke implied, but these stupid cops never saw the humor of my gifts. The hunk laughing, however, was different. To my surprise, he was laughing as if a grand joke had just been told. Every other SWAT member stood still, queasy under the masks as they tried not to gag from the smell. Maybe Mr. Cop was laughing at the irony of it all; the odds of fucking someone and then later having to arrest them for a crime must have been the cherry on his pie. Fuck, what was his name? I watched with intrigue, still very aware of the twelve guns pointed my way.
After a few more seconds, he finally spat out the source of his laughter.
“It’s a fucking knife,” he chuckled.
“At least someone got the joke. Would you prefer I try to kill someone or would you care to do the honors?” I baited him, a smirk revealing itself as I held out my wrists, prepared for shackles.
He straightened as his unprofessional tone ended and walked up to me.
“Dustin.” The SWAT guy hissed towards his head, but Dustin held up his hand, as he looked at my hands contemplating the matter before he turned his attention to my greedy cunt and the knife still gripped within its walls.
“What can I say? A girl and her toys, am I right?” my lips could have dripped in honey with the suggestive tone.
He slipped on a glove before taking hold of the blade between two fingers. Mmm, those fingers were thick and inviting. I remembered them pumping in as he finger-fucked me just last week. My pussy, having a mind of its own, tightened around the K-bar, sucking it deeper to my drenched core.
I gasped out startled by his push against my still throbbing cunt, a smirk crossed his face but my greed got the better of me and he pulled out just as quick. My pussy mourned the loss.
The man held my K-bar still between his fingers, the delicate hold careful not to destroy evidence. I knew that wasn’t a problem though, as I was a witness, a participant, a criminal mastermind … a victim.
Someone rushed forward with an evidence bag already prepared, and mister thick fingers dropped it in. His eyes never leaving my presence. They were a constant heat, a burning fire wherever he cast his gaze.
I lazily rolled my head towards the ceiling and the camera, winked and watched a moment longer for the red light to shut off. My gift had been received as I knew it would. I should have felt disgusted for pleasuring myself while utterly soaked in blood and sitting right next to the guts of the dead deer that was way too unfortunate to have hit my truck just yesterday, but I wasn’t disgusted.
I was proud, sated and the smile that was on my face never left as I jumped off the countertop, landing with a soft thud on the kitchen tile. I knew the routine. They were all so shocked at the display of raw passion that I had just performed that none of them actually realized they were supposed to be arresting me. Stupid cops, always so shellshocked at anything out of the ordinary.
The shock was clear in every single SWAT member’s eyes as I raised my hands up, then slowly placed them on the back of my head, turned towards the counter and bent over. I had alreadyflashed myself to this group once, but now they got to see it all. I lingered in that position, not embarrassed as the heated gaze of Dustin roamed across my scars. The constructs created by a society that only cared for itself did not hinder me. Dustin never came close to touching the scars when we fucked, but as his eyes bore a hole in the strips of risen flesh that littered my back, I could just imagine the thoughts that crossed his mind.Pity. I didn’t need, or want, his pity. Finishing the action, I kneeled and laid face down on the bloodied, soiled floor. My eyes closed as rough hands thrust handcuffs on and in place. My energy was zapped, and I was half hoisted, half dragged out of the house. My mind no longer felt the need to be in the present. There was nothing to be gained in an escape attempt. My legs were too weak and wobbly to carry me upright, and I didn’t want to go. The blissful high of the orgasm came crashing down, and my mind took a dive with it.
Twenty-four years ago—she’s six
Daddy’s keyring jangledas it fell to the ground. I was shivering, crying and so very tired, but I didn’t want to be with Daddy; I wanted Momma. She was just inside the house.
Daddy bent down to pick up his keys, and I slipped out of his arms, running back towards the house. I wanted Momma. Momma made everything make sense.
I slipped on one of the slick stone paths as I ran. It hurt, and I think I scraped my knee, but I got up determined to see Momma, to tell her that Daddy wanted to take me to his shed. I had made it to the doors and jerked with all my might for themto release. My hands were less slippery before, and the red paint had washed off and clung to the door handles instead.
I could hear Daddy’s heavy footsteps as he followed sluggishly behind me, but my heart jumped like the tiger on my favorite show. I didn’t understand this feeling. I was scared, but my heart jumping up and down was new.
Daddy never made me feel this way before, and I tried to think why things were different now, but my head felt foggy. I cried out, struggling with all my might for the door to open, but it felt stuck. Did Momma lock the doors like she always did at night?
My teeth chattered, and I shook as the rain thudded against my head, every drop feeling like a tiny shot from the doctor. The door wouldn’t budge, and Daddy was getting closer.
I tried to use my big strength to pull the door open once more, and it came open at the last second. I fell backwards onto my butt, my hand slipping free of the door. I was quick to get up so that I could go get Momma before the door closed and I would have to fight that door again.
It was warmer in the house; there wasn’t the big scary thunder and the icy rain to make me shiver. I had been in the living room sleeping off the nighttime juice when Daddy woke me, and I retraced my steps, hoping to find Momma there too.
“Momma?” I called, waiting for the response I knew would come.
There was silence.
“Momma?” I cried out louder this time.
