Saint

I taunt him with the tip of the blade in my hand. Running it over my body, over and over again. His eyes wondered me. I could feel his burning stare on my pale white skin. His icy fingers leave a trail of goosebumps everywhere he touches until he settles on wrapping his hands around my throat. I know better than to play his games. Our love isn't normal, it's sick, cruel and uncommon. I'm not even sure if it's love or addiction to our vile behavior that keeps us together. I look into his two differently colored eyes and lipstick stained lips. The drugs and alcohol of hours before were starting to ware off. His lips connected with mine and I knew tonight, was gonna be good.

I dug my nails into his skin as he entered me with a hard thrust. "Fuck, Brian" I said through clenched teeth as he picked up his pace. He entwined his fingers through my long black hair and pulled. I let a tiny scream escape my lips and panted as he continue thrusting himself at a quick pace. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. I couldn't get enough of him. His grunts grew louder and louder and I could tell he was going to cum and I wasn't that far behind either. His hands grabbed a hold of my waist and I felt as his nails dug hard into my skin. I screamed at the pain and felt the blood trickle down in little streams. "I'm coming Brian, fuck!" My back arched as the blissful feeling ran from the tip of my toes into the pit of my stomach. Seconds later I felt the warmness of his cum on my belly and a moan escape his lips.

He got up and put on his clothes before walking into the bathroom. I lay there, too tired to move or do anything but wipe off his cum with the sheets. He looked me up and down before shaking his head and walking out of the hotel. I was just another fuck to the one and only Marilyn Manson and like I said before, we had a sick love. He always came back for me, wanting to test out his latest fantasies. Not that it should be a shock right? That's just what he does, and it's what he loves doing and I wasn't complaining about it.

I slid on my panties, skirt and top as best as I could, since in my drunken state, I'm sure something was on wrong. I slid on my heels and grabbed my bag. I looked at the bed and laughed. It was all mangled and blood stained from our self inflictions. I walked out of the hotel and got stares from the people. I ignored all and climbed in a cab, giving my address and passing out I'm sure since the cab driver shook me to say we had arrived moments later. I paid him and stumbled out of the car, and clumsily walked into my apartment complex. Once I was in the safety of my house, I threw off my heels and walked straight to my bathroom. I looked into the mirrors at my reflection and was disappointed with myself. Here I was, makeup runny, hair mangled from the sex and I was even dressed like a slut. This wasn't me, it was just the part that loved rebelling from the boring, mundane life I lead. You could say I had a double life, I was a well known and respected cosmetologist during the day, and I fucked the one and only Brian Warner when ever he wanted, by night.