Filed to story: Pretty Poisoned Novel by Elle Mitchell
Bone Saw stands, grabbing a fist full of my hair, and drags me on my knees toward that first bedroom I found. As he crosses the threshold, he kicks the door shut and turns off the light. Once we reach the bed he throws me forward, and I land face down on the bed.
“Spread your legs, little monster,” he says, positioning his hard dick at my opening.
“Yes, master,” I tease.
He pushes just the tip inside me, pulling my hair back hard. “Say that again,” he growls.
“Yes, mast er, ahhh!”
He sinks his dick into me before I can get the words out, grunting before sliding it out and thrusting back into me again. I arch my back and push up onto my knees with my ass up in the air and he uses that same grip on my hair as leverage as he slams into me.
“Oh, god!” I scream. “Yes! Ohhhh, fuck! Fuck me!”
“You sure are tight for such a desperate little slut,” he groans. “You’re soaked like one, though. Can you hear it?”
And I can hear iteach time he drives his thick cock into me. I feel it dripping down the inside of my thighs, too.
“Yes!”
“Aren’t you embarrassed? That you got so wet bleeding on the floor at my feet?”
“No,” I moan. “I like it.”
“Fuck ”
He pumps into me hard and fast, hitting me deep enough to send chills up my spine. I grip the comforter for leverage while he fucks me like a ragdoll, drool running down my chin as he pulls back my hair and neck painfully.
But as long as the head of his cock keeps hitting my pussy just like that, I don’t care what he does to me.
“Don’t stop!” I manage to cry out. “Please. Oh, please. Just like that.”
He groans loudly. “I like it when you beg, little monsterit reminds me what a pathetic, desperate thing you are.”
I let out a high-pitched scream as the orgasm rips through me. “Fuck!”
My knees slip out from under me and he fucks me through it, not missing a beat when I fall onto my side. All I can do is whimper and beg just like he likes as the spasms wrack my body, my pussy pulsing around his dick.
“Jesus, look at what a mess you are,” he says as he slams into me. “You like getting fucked like a whore?”
“Yes!”
“Remember that you said that.”
Bone Saw throws my top leg over his shoulder, and, just as my body begins to recover, he pulls out and slips his thick, wet cock into my ass.
“No! Fuck! Oh, god!” I scream as he thrusts in and out of my tight hole.
“You don’t have to call me god, Teagan,” he grunts, pumping into me. “Master is fine.”
“Bone Saw!” I groan. I dig my heel into his back and grip his arm hard in one hand.
It hurts. He has a monster cock, and I’m out of practice.
“Try again,” he says, slamming into me harder.
“Master,” I say. “Please, Master.”
“There you go,” he says. “Just relax and let me use you. I want my flesh, too. This is what happens to bad girls who get horny slicing men to pieces.”
“You’re so big,” I whimper.
He groans in response, and I think I know what might push him over the edge.
“Your dick is so fucking huge it hurts,” I moan.
He spreads me wider, picking up his pace until he finally stills deep inside me, filling me with cum.
“Oh fuck,” he groans. “You fucking whore.”
When he pulls out, I roll onto my back. He traces the bloody heart on my lower abdomen with his gloved fingertip, and I watch, still desperate to feel skin on skin.
“Different side of the same coin,” he says again.
“Fucking and killing?” I say, breathless. I stare up at the ceiling, sated but not quite satisfied. “Yeah. Almost.”
The thing on the bed shifts beside me, tucking his cock back into his pants.
“Are you going to sleep in all of those clothes?” I ask him. “And the mask?”
“Teagan, I’m not going to sleep in here with you,” he says, pushing off the bed and heading for the door.
And then he just leaves me there, closing the door behind him, and I
I lie there cold and alone, my body sore and used, and stare up at the ceiling. It doesn’t feel good.
Once I no longer hear his footsteps on the staircase, I leave the room, too, grabbing the clothing I’d discarded from the kitchen floor and taking it with me into the bathroom. I close the door behind me and clean myself up before wetting a towel and scrubbing the blood from my wrist and the bloody I’m sorry heart from my stomach.
I won’t cry about this.
I step back into the unlabeled boxers, pull on the t-shirt, and stare at the girl with the matted curly hairthe serial killerin the mirror.
Is this who I am? Is this what I am now? Is it the best I can hope for?
I return to the bedroom but linger in the doorway, just staring at the bed instead. I don’t really want to sleep there.
The blanket is a bit bloody, but I take it anyway, dragging it behind me to the bathroom, where I curl up beneath it on the heated slate floors.
Just to feel something warm against my skin again.
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My body hurts when I wake up the next day on the warm, hard rock floor. As much as I’d like to stay there and act like the rest of the world doesn’t existsqueeze my eyes closed and pretend it all isn’t realI know I can’t.
After all, this isn’t even a home.
I step out into the main living space; the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the valley are now covered in thick blackout blinds. The midday light seeps from the small gaps in between, pushing grey light into the grey space.
I don’t see Bone Saw until he speaks, sitting on the couch reading a goddamn newspaper.
“Your car is in the garage,” he says.
I don’t bother asking how it got there.
“Aren’t you worried about me knowing where this place is?”