Page 10 of The Last Feast
Hana stills as she hears Auguste confess his deepest wish. She wanted the sordid details of his videos, how it makes him come harder when they scream louder, or what he enjoys the most about watching someone with the same anatomy as him being mutilated. Yet, her curiosity is dimmed when he buries his wishes into her neck, slipping the sweetest cake she could fathom directly into her throat.
“I want to watch the moment the life leaves their eyes, and when the angel comes to take their soul, I want to kill it too.”
She can’t decide whether to grant him his wish or keep her death as a gift to herself. It was always meant to be that way as her goal for surviving her childhood. But as she listens to him, tastes the sweetness of his voice, she wavers between allowing him to live, only for him to be the person to kill her, or having both of their deaths to herself.
“I want to feel their body cool,” he admits, partially ashamed. But he’s more terrified of how easy it is to unburden himself with a woman who’s shown him nothing other than violence. Deep down, Auguste knows why it’s easier and why he’s more trustingof Hana than anyone he’s ever met—because she’s not hiding her sins behind a false mask of piety like those who hurt him.
Hana reaches between them and wraps her fingers around his length, rewarding each confession by softly caressing his dick, circling the head with her thumb and squeezing while he shudders above her.
“I studied medicine to get closer to it,” he whimpers as she repositions her legs so her feet are planted on the outside of his knees. The reprieve of the restraints loosening around his ankles is diminished when she pushes her hips up, adding more strain to his shoulders as his arms are stretched.
The movement and weight are slowly thinning the plastic coating the wires, allowing Auguste to get closer to Hana as it stretches. Neither of them notice with their focus solely on each other.
“We had a semester in a morgue.” His breathing escalates, pushing more cake onto her tongue. “And I would sneak in late at night when the coroner wasn’t there, imagining what it would be like to conduct a live autopsy.”
She moans at the thought—the warm blood on her skin, how he would look with it spraying up on his face, how he’d be energized as she mutilated their genitals in front of him.
Would he take her over the body?
Would he allow her to hold their beating heart while he filled her cunt?
There’s no scenario better to Hana. She wants it to be real, just not enough to change her plan on death.
Instead, she slowly strokes through her slit with the tip of his dick as she moans, “Would you let me help?”
“Fuck.” He chokes on his moans as he sucks in a breath at the raw feeling of her warmth. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Hana grimaces as he battles the strain in his neck to softly kiss her neck. The switch is all she needs to revoke the giftshe was planning on giving him. She punches into his kidneys, knocking the air out of him before she slides out from beneath him with the knife tightly grasped in her palm. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she rips his head back so he’s looking up at her then throws the knife up, catches the blade, and taps his cheek with the handle. “Suck, you dirty little whore.”
His eyes widen at the change as Odette slowly stirs, sending blood dripping down faster over them like rain. The struggle above them barely makes a sound due to the excessive way Hana tied her to the poles, but the blood pattern changes in her attempt to escape the restraints. Small drops hit Auguste’s back, and he tries to break free from his own bindings.
Hana doesn’t care about either of them, though.
She forces the handle of the knife into his mouth as she repeats, “Suck.”
Her blood is the only focus as it runs down the blade, travelling over the handle to his tongue as he moans. It’s involuntary, a reaction he should be disgusted by, but when he sees Hana’s eyes soften, he can’t help becoming more eager. Closing his lips around the handle, he sucks, moaning at the taste of life as she controls his head with her firm grip on his hair.
Hana moves his head faster as she lifts her leg to straddle his bicep, grinding down on his arm while she fucks his face with the knife.
“Good little whore,” she says softly, looking up to meet Odette’s eyes with a smile. She looks at the woman, who has no choice but to watch them as she raises her voice. “Mygood little whore.”
Auguste moans, nodding and desperate for the praise. It heals some of his fractured pieces that have always made him feel inferior. As he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder to taste more of her blood, he doesn’t have the memories tarnishingthe moment. He only has this woman grinding her cunt on his tensed bicep while softly stroking his hair.
“Take more for me,” Hana coos around a smile.
He nods, relaxing his throat to ready for the intrusion, only to lose his composure as she grinds against his bicep again, leaving the mark of her arousal over the defined ridges, glistening in the light.
“Taste you,” he mumbles around the knife, begging again in a way that makes Hana’s heart beat a little faster each time.
She pulls the knife out of his mouth and throws it to the floor as she grinds against his arm. “Beg, little boy.”
“Please, let me taste your cunt. You’re so fucking sweet, and I want it to mix with the salt of your blood. Please, baby.” His lips skim the inside of her thigh in his eagerness. “Bless this cunt and bless us,” he repeats the prayer.
Hana tilts her hips forward and slowly wipes her bloody palm between her thighs as he watches her. The silver of his eyes is fully eaten by his pupils as he looks up at her like a worshipper, the way Hana had been forced to in the house of lies.
“Life of the flesh is in the blood,” she muses, altering her association with the scripture that was repeated as she was continually beaten to remove her sin.
But Auguste surprises her as he huskily says, “Thank you for this blood that has cleansed me of sin.”
