Page 6 of Pain and Possession

I wrap my hands around her exposed waist, lifting her gently from my bike. Before turning around punching in the code to unlock the door from the garage, not bothering to hide it like I normally would.

Things like that don't matter anymore anyway.

A feeling of anticipation fills my chest, not only to stick my cock inside this beautiful woman but at the idea of death. A true death is nearly as thrilling as the prospect of fucking her. She sits my helmet carefully on the seat of my bike.Her dark brown hair is sticking to her round doll-like face. She's not what you would consider conventionally attractive I suppose. A far cry from the polished, heavily edited women that usually accompany me. Her face has a uniquely stunning look to it, one that captured my attention the moment she set foot in the bar tonight.The pout of her heart-shaped lips clouded my mind and jerked my cock into action long before I tasted them. I grab her hand, pulling her inside as the motion sensor lights light our way down the industrial style hallway. As we step into the main living area, she gasps her golden amber eyes taking in every inch of the ostentatious modern house I had built years ago.

"You like it?" I ask as I walk to the bar, pouring us a drink. She scoffs, shaking her head, her wavy hair falling over her shoulders. My hand twitches with the desire to run my fingers through it, gently soothing the tangles from our ride. The way she laughed when I took the bike over a hundred had my dick straining against my zipper. Every bit as thrilled to push the boundaries as I am.

I guess doomsday will do that to anyone.

Only mine isn't new. The idea of death has always sparked something in me. A dangerous desire to push my luck, to see just how much can be inflicted until one snaps.

How close to death can I get?

"This place is ridiculous." She comments as she walks to my flat screen, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels, making herself completely at home. No idea the kind of monster that lives here.

"House, start the living room fireplace." I announce. Chuckling as her mouth drops open, gawking as the sleek black metal fireplace self ignites.

"What's your place like?" I ask, watching the outline of her tight ass before she plops down on the black sectional. Not bothering to remove her muddy shoes as she pulls her feet up onto the couch, wrapping her slender arms around her legs.

You look so small like that, so helpless, little doll.

"Cold, empty. Probably a bucket of water overflowing from the leak in the roof as we speak." She remarks, flipping the TV to the news station's missile launch countdown. I shove aside the strange feeling in my chest. The idea of her living in some rat-infested, rundown apartment shouldn't bother me.

But it does.

It seems unsafe for something delicate like her. Perhaps I'm feeling a certain kind of way about dying alongside this woman, unlike me, but I suppose anything I possible. All my near-death experiences could have made me weak. The notion of weakness has me pulling my lips up in disgust.

Father brings the butt of the gun down hard across mom's face, splitting it open on her high cheekbone. She cries out, whimpering in pain as he continues his assault on her battered skin.

"See son this, this is what weakness looks like. You're fucking disgusting!" He shouts, spitting in her face before he kicks her in the chest. Her small body lurches backwards, crashing into the dresser. She's always been so small, even at sixteen I tower over her. She's defenseless.

My heart clenches in my chest. I know better than to interfere. The concern is short lived as he kicks her again, her body now slumped unconscious on the floor. My skin itches with the longing to be on the receiving end of that brilliant pain.

I approach her from behind, placing my hand around her delicate throat as we watch the numbers tick by.

Four more hours.

When I glance down searching her face, she takes the drink from my other hand. I don't mention that it was mine.Her brazen attitude is refreshing. Those who know me have died for less. She takes a long gulp, her face eerily calm as she watches the screen.

"You aren't afraid to die." I say, tugging the glass from her hand and finishing it before throwing it behind me. Unconcerned about the expensive crystal shattering on the floor.

She laughs, "I've been surviving my whole life. I could use a break."

I frown, my heartbeat accelerating rapidly.Her words were simple and somber. I can't help but feel like she's told me something important. Shared some private part of herself with me.

She turns around, climbing up onto the couch so that she's standing above me before she reaches down. Her small fingers undoing the buttons of my shirt carefully.I smirk before reaching up and ripping it apart, scattering buttons everywhere as they pop away at the force. Her lips part as she takes in my chest. I wait for the repulsion, the disgust but it doesn't come. She doesn't even ask what happened. Usually I hate the question, but I find myself annoyed when she isn't curious.

Why do I want to tell you?

I bend in, nipping at her full lips. My cock jerks in my pants when she returns the favor, the slight hint of pain from her nibble fueling my desire for her. She giggles around my lips as I jerk her up from the couch. Her legs wrapping around my waist, my hardened cock grinding into her core as I carry her down the hall to my bedroom.

Olive

I giggle again as he throws me down on his soft, inky toned bed, butterflies fluttering throughout my stomach. The room is something you only see on TV or Pinterest. Everything is stone, slate gray, and shades of black. The bed is enormous enough to easily fit groups.I try and fail to shake off the feeling of inadequacy. Aside from some fingering, I've never had anything inside me… notthereanyway. None of it felt particularly good either. Nothing compared to what a shower head or vibrator could do.

I watch as he discards his ruined shirt, the soft warm light coming from underneath his bed only slightly illuminating the heavy scarring on his chest. Slashes, what looks like old bullet wounds and burns line the perfection that is his sculpted body.

This man is most definitely dangerous. I am most definitely in danger, but he… he is the least of my worries.

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