XERXES
A soft smack fills the room when I make a quick movement. The bead slides from side to side. Yields to the pressure of my finger. And I can't control my thoughts anymore. Kalota is perfect for me - for my monster. As she lies beneath me. The panic in her eyes. The fight within. So strong and so weak at the same time. But she can't beat her body. The excitement is everywhere. Yes, even on the chest.
Two small holes decorate this. The dark red against her fair skin looks incredible. This is the sight I wanted so badly. How the blood makes its way over Kalota's skin so flawless. Surrounds the chest and only brings it to bear even more. Last time I made a work of art out of welts. Now it is one, of her own blood. And now I'm glad about Kalota's small breasts. Your breathing is hectic. The chest rises and falls in jerky movements, making the small breasts sway so beautifully. And not only that. The nipple is set up. There is the dark brown tone again, which loses itself in the soft pink at the tip of the nipple. Looks so innocent. I would love to catch a drop of blood and smear it on my nipple. Mix cruelty with tenderness. But that would be going too far now. Later I can edit my artwork the way I want it. If Kalota is a little further - if she understands and has internalized my urges.
And as much as I love this sight, I don't miss Kalota's reaction. I soak up all of her. I still don't know her weakness. Although I can almost guess. In fact, I had no intention of seriously damaging her with the chest ripper. And neither have I. The breast is sensitive. This makes the pain unbearable, but I was careful not to let the small spikes of the chest ripper go too deep. I found it difficult. Really hard. There was the monster in me again. It yelled at me to ram the iron deeper into my chest. That the sight would have been even nicer. And just the memory of the pain soaked sounds makes the blood rush to my loins. Kalota is beautiful when she's panicking. And by that I don't mean the beauty of looks. No, I don't care about this one. I mean how a woman acts when she's really scared. This is interesting to me. For me, a light begging or a small squeak is not satisfying. I need the tear-soaked eyes. The feeling that the woman no longer has any control over her facial features. That she forgets everything around her and only fear prevails. This is my drug. And once I have that, I want to see the excitement. This change. Hovering between extremes, lust and agony. Sometimes I have the feeling that I can look inside the woman. She no longer has the power to exclude me. Only real emotions are then reflected in the face. This is what I want - what I crave for.
And that's what Kalota gives me. The tears haven't dried on her skin yet. The blood runs continuously over her skin. The eyes are slightly wide open. And yet her breathing becomes heavier. Shows that she can hardly defy the lust anymore. Not that it takes it to show me just how aroused she is. After all, the wetness between her legs is clear proof that she can't escape being touched either. That she enjoys being stimulated. I realize that the rapid shift from pain to penetration is overwhelming for most women at first. But that will change at some point. This will also happen at Kalota. And while that's not the case, I enjoy seeing the disbelief in their eyes. She probably doesn't understand herself anymore. spurns her body. This is going to get worse. But I do not care. I enjoy the sight of her too much. The subtly parted lips. How these gleam lightly under the glow of the fire. And there's that urge again to just throw myself at her. My erection presses uncomfortably against my pants. Wants to make more space. But I don't want to end this quickly. It's not about sex per se for me here. I can have it anywhere. I want to play. With her. With their worst fears.
And I noticed her tense up as I got closer to the entrance. That she briefly won the fight against her arousal. And slowly I sense a weakness of her. After all, I know what's going on in the gutter. I hear the rumours. It makes the blood pound in my ears. I could make her fall - could destroy her naïve strength. Exactly here. Before me. It would be so easy. I would only have to penetrate her. Push my hardness into her with full force and make her feel like a rape victim again. I don't know when exactly this happened. And actually I don't care. I hate men like that. abyss. But there's this part of me that thinks the same way. Who wants to push me to be like my father and like all the other rapists. The monster in me that I fight and feed. Without which I can never exist. That's what this rape wants. God, what evil raged in me when Kalota didn't even flinch from the chest tear. It roared and wanted to take them apart. but i am strong Learned to fight the urge. At least most.
But right now I'm succeeding. I can push the beast back into the cage. Very slowly I slide back to the entrance. And there's that reaction again, reassuring me that she was raped. Kalota will hardly notice, but she presses her pelvis more into the mattress, wanting to avoid my touches or at least take some strength from them. What a stupid attempt. As if she could escape me. Nobody can. And certainly not a prostitute.
So I don't let that stop me and circle her entrance, sliding my fingertip inside her. Immediately, her eyes widen even further while a soft whimper sounds. It's like music to my ears. Resonates in my head and only makes this situation more perfect. Actually, I should retire and give her a rest. It is important to me that women enjoy sex. But I can not. The heat of her shame won't let me go. And so I can't resist slipping my finger a little deeper into her. I touch the rough surface of its inner walls very lightly and hum contentedly. What I would give to not have my finger nestled in her abdomen. Just the thought of how my glans slowly squeezes into her,
But I have to pull myself together. If I want her to indulge in lust, then I must contain myself now. I find it difficult. If only she didn't look so incredible. The trembling has increased, making her breasts wiggle gracefully in time with the soft panting. That which not only contains terror, but also carries a touch of lust. It's intoxicating to see how Kalota doesn't want to show me her feelings. How she struggles not to jump up and run. But she will know that she cannot escape. Not in front of me Once more I slide my finger out slightly only to thrust a little deeper into her again. That's enough to make Kalota's lower lip tremble. To evoke the veiled gaze again. And I would love to create another tear in her.
But that's enough. I have other plans for Kalota. Something that I hope will take away the illusion that I'm a good person. Not that I'm bad. No way. But she will hardly see the nice side. I didn't hire her for that. She should tame the evil in me. No more and no less.
So I get up with a start. I really have to force myself to distance myself from her. The dress is still gathered up and I can't take my eyes off her most intimate zone. How the labia shine under the moisture. The clitoris is slightly visible because the legs are spread wide enough to expose the small bead a bit. And I would love to know what it looks like when the abdomen twitches under the contraction of orgasm. But I can do that another day. When she finally learns that actions follow my words. That seems important to her. Kalota is not a woman to be intimidated by simple threats. No, she needs to know it's not gossip. And I'm only too happy to show that.
So, with a growl, I tear myself away from the sight and look at the rest of her. she looks tired It's good. She's supposed to be drained by the time we meet. I love that too. Knowing that women are only going to fall into bed and even as sleep stretches out for them, I'm the last thought floating around in their heads. And I will make sure that Kalota does the same.
"You can go now," I say and have to smile when she is completely bewildered. Yes, I can even understand that. How could she even begin to understand that I let her go again without having an orgasm Nevertheless, she pushes herself up on her elbows and looks around. It almost seems as if she is suffering from disorientation. That, too, is normal. Too many strong emotions have been aroused in her in a short period of time.
"Okay," she whispers and wants to sit up. It doesn't work. Kalota collapses again and moans in agony. I should probably help her. A good gentleman, like me, would now give her a hand and she something Pull up. But I'm no gentleman right now. So I'm enjoying her weakness. But she's not like other women and takes one more moment to reflect. Instead, she pushes herself up again and this time manages to sit up . She sways a bit. She's probably dizzy. I don't care. I'm soaking up the moment. But I know the wound should be treated. After all, Kalota will surely end up living in the dirt. And my lust that she's suffering from a Blood poisoning or inflammation dies is more than minor.I'm glad to have finally found a woman who meets my requirements.
"My maid is waiting outside." As I do so, I turn to leave and the monster inside me is still raging. Jumps against the cage and wants to be released. And it will be. Soon. Soon it may have control over my actions. At least almost. It is hung on an iron chain. It can act better with it, and yet it will never be free. That would be my downfall. Mine and that of many other people. "She will take care of your wounds."
I take another deep breath and see the chest tear. How he carelessly lies on the floor. A few drops have broken off the iron and are now on the floor. The wood seems to have soaked up some of the blood. A little reminder of what happened here. A little reminder to which many more will come.
"Should I come back in three days?" Kalota slurs a little. The pain seems to be really getting to her and for a moment I wonder if I'm asking her too much. But I quickly dismiss that thought. Then she would react differently to the threats "Stronger. So I turn to her again. She's managed to stand now. She's just slipping on her dress, but her breasts are still exposed. She's probably afraid the tight-fitting fabric will press on the wound and. thereby increasing the torment.
"Yes, see you in three days." I smile slightly and it must look to her as if I want to encourage her. But that's not true. I'm happy about the lie that rolls off my lips so easily.