Blood Angel

I sit up and once again adjust my hips on him and I can feel him growing beneath me, and I think it may be time to release some of the pressure he must be feeling. I swing my leg over him and as I get off of him, he watches me intently.  I lean over him and ever so slowly begin undoing his pants.  Very deliberately I pull the zipper down.  As I attempt to pull his pants down over his hips, he rises slightly to accommodate.  I have a bright smile on my face as I reveal his growing manhood before me.  Very nice indeed, I think to myself…although in a way, kind of a pity.  I know what I must do.  I have had this feeling of pity before…it passes, as does the pleasure, to make room for the pain.  Ahhh, the pain…the lovely pain.

I toss his pants to the floor and stand to admire him.  I cup my breasts and try to wrap them around his enlarged member.  A loud groan escapes from him.  Ahhh, the pleasure…the lovely pleasure.  I rub my breasts over him repeatedly stopping once or twice to give it just a slight kiss and a flicker of a tease with my tongue.

It’s almost time…I can tell. I need to be ready.  I remove the remainder of my clothes and climb back on top of him to straddle him.  This time it’s a little different.  This time I will go further than all the other times.  This time pleasure and pain will be one and the same.  I run my hands up his chest and move my body up.  I feel his hips trying to follow me, but not yet I tell myself…not yet.  When my breasts reach his face, this time I allow him to feed.  I feed them to him…first one, then the other, back and forth.  The pleasure is extraordinary.  His hungry is uncontrollable.  The intense pleasure is mounting…I can feel it.

I slowly pull back from him and kiss him hard…then stopping.  Slowly, I move my body back down his, pausing briefly to rest my breasts once again on his chest.  When my hips reach his, I slowly raise myself up.  As I slowly begin lowering my hips onto him, I watch his face.  This is a pivotal moment.  I can feel his throbbing member pressing into me…but I am in control.  I alone control his pleasure.

He starts to move inside me and I tell him to be still.  He stops and I begin to slowly move up and down over him,  Very slowly at first…very purposely…letting him feel every movement.  I feel my body encasing him squeezing him, and then releasing him, and from the moans coming from him, he feels this also.

I start moving faster on him and he starts thrashing beneath me like a wild man.  The movement from his hips matches my movements…faster and faster.  If his hands had been free, he would have been the one in control…the one with the power, and I would have been at his mercy.  But I am in control of his pleasure and I shall be in control of his pain.  I look at his face as I reach under the blanket and pull out the long shiny blade.  He does not see…all he sees is me, as it should be.  I glance at the blade and it gleams back at me.  It too, is ready for the pain.

I look down at John and above his moans I ask him if he is ready.  I believe my question to him doesn’t   mean the same thing to me as it does to him, but the end result is the same.  He screams out “Oh God” and I know the perfect instant has arrived.

I grab the knife and raise it high into the air.  Just as I feel him releasing, I plunge the knife deep into his chest…his beautiful chest.  His eyes fly open wide and he looks in horror from my face to the knife protruding from his chest.  Pleasure, then pain I tell him…let me show you.  I twist the blade in my hand and now his cries of pleasure give way to cries of pain.  I pull the knife toward me and it slices him open rather nicely. I have done this before, and I know what to do next…while he is still alive.

The blood is flowing.  It pours from his open chest.  He is dying.  Not yet, I tell him and plunge my hand into his chest.  It takes only a second for my hand to find his still beating heart.  I wrap my fingers around it and rip it from his chest.  It is still beating in my hand…thump…thump…thump.  Quickly, I show it to him and smear the blood from it over his face.  I look at his eyes…they no longer see me.  He is dead.

Still holding his heart in my hand, I hold it high above my head.  The blood running down my arm, I scream a piercing primal scream of triumph.  Calmly now, I toss the dead heart to the floor.  We are both covered in the warm and sticky red liquid.  I rub my blood covered hands over my face and down my neck.  I coat myself in his blood…such a warm and lovely feeling.  I climb off of him, his open chest before me, and his blood all over me.  I lie down next to him and wrap my arm around him.  I lean over and give him a light kiss on the cheek that he will never feel.  I ask him softly, “Was it as good for you, darling, as it was for me”?