Page 112 of Hurts So Good

Again with the happy thing. Janice may be able to amuse me for a minute, but she couldn’t make me happy. I didn’t get happy, or sad, or angry, or anything else really. The only emotion I’d ever felt was aroused and hungry. Those urges never seemed to be satisfied. I’d fuck anyone, at anytime, anywhere. Willing or not, although I preferred the not. Hence why I was hard right now.

“Please.” she begged again.

I bit down on another piece of fish and let my eyes dip down to Janice’s cleavage. Her creamy, supple flesh was stained with dried blood and tears. Now that was a thing of beauty. I suppose one more game wouldn’t hurt.

“Fuck yourself with the champagne bottle.”

Her eyes rounded into wide saucers. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She looked at the glass neck of the bottle, then back at me. “Will you let me go if I do?”

No.

“There’s only one way to find out.” I slid the champagne closer so she could reach it. Her torso was bound to the chair, which didn’t give her a lot of room.

The possibility of freedom was all she needed. Janice tentatively reached out and picked it up.

“Ah,” I stopped her when she dipped the bottle under the table. “Hang on.”

Pushing my chair back, I stood up and flicked open a knife. I could’ve used my claws, or simply tore her bindings off, but there was something about a blade that made people panic. Which was exactly what Janice did.

She attempted to jerk away and spat out, “What are you doing?”

“I can’t see anything with you tied to the chair.” I leaned over Janice’s shoulder and sliced through the duct tape binding her. “Now can I?”

She thought about running. I saw that desperate look in her eyes when she glanced at the door. But she stayed where she was. She wasn’t a complete imbecile after all.

“Up here.” I patted my palm on the table.

She obeyed and sat down on the wooden surface.

I found it fascinating how hope could make people do things they normally wouldn’t. One small possibility of getting away and they completely disregarded their instincts. Honestly in this scenario running was Janice’s best option. The chances of her making it out the door before I caught her were miniscule at best, but there was still a chance. I may even give her a head start.

I sat back down and watched as Janice put her feet on the table and inserted the tip of the bottle into her pussy. Her movements were careful and slow. Too slow for my liking.

Leaning back in the chair, I let out a sigh. “I said fuck yourself, Janice, not bore me to death.”

Her brows knit as she pushed the bottle deeper. “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Well, I could fuck you with this instead.” I held up my 9mm.

A gun was something I again didn’t need, other than for the visual effect. It was an impressive invention however. I’d used it a few times.

The threat of being shot was enough to get Janice going. She pumped the bottle in and out, causing the champagne inside to slosh about.

“That’s better.”

It didn’t take too Janice for her to get into it. She started letting out moans that I was pretty sure were fake, but she put on a good show. Back arched, eyes rolled in the back of her head, and heavy pants. The porn industry would be proud, which was another invention I was astounded by. Apparently humans had also let go of their modesty.

Unfortunately, for Janice I didn’t like fake.

I ate the last bite of my tuna while she continued to fuck herself, then stood up.

“Well Janice, it’s been fun.”

She didn’t see the knife until it was sliding across her throat. Her hands flew up in a desperate attempt to stop the bleed, as she fell back and gurgled. I bent down and sunk my teeth into her flesh, gulping back delicious mouthfuls of her life essence.

---