Secrets of a ***er

[Dante’s Point of View]

The taste of her skin was still in my mouth as I stood back looking at her unconscious body. I’ve striped her of her jacket and she sat there in a tank top that had risen up her body, showing off her delicate tasty skin. My eyes wondered from her lips to her neck, her exposed collar bone and chilled shoulders that had goose bumps working down her arms. My eyes followed them and I tilted my head as I followed those slender arms and her chest that was slowly rising and falling.

The neck line of her shirt rested just above her breasts and I could make out her bra through the thin material. I wanted to reach out and grab her right now, but that wasn’t as satisfying as working up to the moment. It was a lot like foreplay.

Her hips were showing because her shirt had worked itself out of place, revealing not only her skin but thin strands of fabric. A thong; now we were getting somewhere…and her jeans were slightly baggy because of her sorry attempts of breaking free, the delusion that she’d be getting out of this mess.

Her body stirred, she was coming to. “What’s wrong honey?” I asked, stepping within her distance once more. As her eyes opened, I pressed a single finger to her cheek and run it along until it bumped her bottom lip. A small sneer broke through her tight lips and I knew her eyes were shooting daggers at me, the only daggers she would be shooting.

I was looking at her lips; following my finger as it touched her redden skin. I dug my stubby nail into the crease of her lip; pressing it in further and further ‘til her mouth puckered open and she reluctantly released a noise of pain.

Blood swelled its way up breaking the surface of the cut I etched onto her pretty little face. “What are you…a fucking mouth fetishist?” She snarled, snapping her teeth at my finger.

“Do you really wanna play that way, baby? You wanna bite me?” I asked, bending to her level and staring her dead in the eye before I smacked my lips against hers. Her reaction was just what I wanted. Lips tightly closed, refusing to open up and kiss me back. Fun! I extended my teeth around her lips and stroked them like a bear trap, tearing into her face like the animal I was. I backed my mouth off of her in time to hear her once again, reluctantly, let go a sound of damage.

More blood spurted out of her face and as it dripped down her lips to her chin, I turned to retrieve a
toy from my desk. “I’m glad we’re alone now.” I whispered, picking up a hand mirror.

“You know, a thought just occurred to me,” I said when I turned to look at her. “You should really let me make your face up. I mean come on, look at the wonder work I’ve done in just a matter of minutes.”

I showed her reflection and she just snarled with her nose flaring and her eyes dark with delicious hate. I threw the mirror on the floor and picked up a piece of the shattered glass between my fingers, returning to her side once more.

“Maybe we can do something about your neck. What do you think? I can draw on a very pretty choker. It’d be like a tattoo.” I told her, kneeling just slightly so I could whisper my sentence against her ear. Her body didn’t move, like she was showing me no interest but I took that as a yes.

I dipped the point into the side of her neck, right beneath her ear. I didn’t dig it in too far because I didn’t want to puncture something and have her bleed to death already. Nah, just enough to get her blood flowing, and well - if it just so happened to flow out of her in a small cut then that would have been just fine. On an angle I slid the mirror fragment against her skin and she started moving again.

“Now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You could move the wrong way and whoops! I’ve gone and slit your throat.” I tut at her while following the sharp toy as I glide it, down her neck and over her collar bone to the small of her neck. I nipped the skin there and gazed at her eyes to notice they were closed. “Are you trying to imagine you’re somewhere else baby? On the beach, you and I entangled in the sand, naked and making rough, sweet love on the beach?”

“Did your mommy not love you?” She whispers, and her tone was not one of pain or fear but stern defiance. And just for a second I lost my cool and dug the fragment deeper into the side of her neck, receiving a flash of wrath with her snooty little comment.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve, baby?” She mocked and the mirror piece left her neck to find a new, warm home in the side of her shoulder. I scratched out nothing in particular, slightly breaking her skin and the controlled whimper that left her body which was enough to satisfy me a few minutes later. Did she think she had gotten to me with that mommy bit? Like I hadn’t heard that before…

I tossed the little bit to the floor and walked back over to my seat, taking a breath from all this torture, and leaving her to stew in her blood for a few minutes.

But then I’m seven again and the room goes black because I’m inside the closet trying to keep quiet. My arm, it hurts and it’s throbbing and there’s a wet mushiness about it. I’ve been sliced. It was the pizza slicer from the kitchen; it was laying there and I was sitting there…apparently not good enough though, because they came in and were immediately unhappy with my presence. I told them I’d leave them alone, I’d be quiet, but it was never good enough.

She held me in my place as the other one retrieved the slicer from the drawer and she called for my arm. She got it and she cut deep. But I didn’t scream, I never screamed. I wasn’t allowed.