Page 6 of The Last Feast
I have to close my eyes when she begins grinding against me, rubbing her cunt on my covered length as I remain beneath her. There’s no expectation formeto touch her, fuck her, or do anything. She takes in a way that’s freeing of the mental shackles. She takes when I’m bigger than her. I could overpower her, throw her to the ground and reverse our positions. But I don’t, because the loss of power manages to restore some of the control I’ve lost in an oxymoronic event.
“Please,” I beg. For her to stop torturing me without giving more or to give me more, I don’t fucking know, but I beg her.
Her smile is pressed to the front of my throat as she decides for me. Her hips move up and down first; then, she applies more pressure as she grinds in a circle. Each movement is mimicked by the tip of her tongue on my neck while she forces me to remain flat on my back, the ax pressed to my neck.
“Beg again,” she says huskily. “Beg for your life.”
The terror ramps up at those four words. I don’t want to die despite the apathetic feeling towards life. So, I beg like she wants as I plant my feet, pushing my hips up.
“Please let me live. I’m young, twenty-five. There’s so many things I want to do.”
I slowly lift my hands to grab her hips, but she slams her knees down on my biceps. Her bones are sharp, painfully digging into the muscle as she grits, “Do not trick me.” She increases the pressure on my neck, making me splutter and choke while her knees keep my arms pinned.
“Earn your wants, sweet thief,” she says, lifting her hips to hover above my face.
“Sit.” I can’t get anything more out as she shuffles forward so her knees rest against the ax handle. Her shins keep my armsrestrained, but it’s the satisfaction on her face as she gently runs her fingers through my hair that makes me still.
“I am your God. Pray for me to grant your desires.”
I hesitate before laying my tongue flat like I was forced to for communion. She continues gently stroking my hair back as she moves closer, pushing the ax further down to rest across my stomach. I expect to meet a barrier, but her bare cunt is within reach, making me whimper as I get the smallest taste from her lips.
There’s an urge in my limbs when my mind begins its usual taunts, one that forces me to buck my hips to shake her off since I don’t have the use of my arms and she’s pinning my upper body down. It only increases the pressure on the ax as she falls forward to sit on my face.
Fuck!
I moan at the full taste of her.
But I’ve angered her, and she pulls my hair as I tease her, sucking and fluttering my tongue on the smooth flesh around her entrance. Her clit is pressed to the tip of my nose, and I battle the metal ax handle bruising my sternum as I nod to convince her to let me continue.
“My good little whore,” she moans, grinding down. “Bless this cunt and bless us.”
I push my tongue inside her, wanting—needing—her blessings as she bastardizes the very words that haunt me. There’s no rough, deep voice vibrating through the walls this time, only her delicate moans as I feel the warmth of her cunt wrap around my tongue. She tenses, forces her hips down, then slowly fucks my tongue. Being used by her distracts me, so much so that I don’t notice the ax trailing up my body until she pushes it back against my throat.
I am her vessel, a thing for her to use until I’ve satisfiedherneeds, but the decay painted on her face as she moans bringsmeto life. I don’t move my tongue as she takes what she needs. I am her object, patiently waiting for the blessing she promised as I flex my tongue, making it easier for her to ride my face.
“Beg,” she demands.
I mumble something, sending the vibrations through her body as she speeds up. My vision begins to blur, dark spots invading the edges that tear away pieces of this woman of death.
I scream into her cunt, attempting to get the ax handle off my throat as I battle my numb arms, but she applies more pressure as she moans, “So close.”
There’s no need to get her off my face. My only requirement is to see it, to see her come and watch her face light up. With the only illumination from the dulled emergency lights and my vision blurring, I can’t.
She slams back down, grinding her clit on my nose and burying my tongue deeper, robbing me of more air. Worse, she takes my senses and the satisfaction of seeing her climax.
5
VIDEO KILLED THE…
Auguste’s dark lashes flutter as Hana rides out her pleasure, uncaring that he may suffocate, as long as she gets what she wants. Her legs are numb from the ax handle and the endorphins swimming through her body, but she keeps grinding her hips to chase more of this new feeling.
There have been many times she’s had a man between her legs. None of them made her feel the way Auguste does—none of the others had allowed her to be free. No, they bound her like an animal, kept her caged and under their control.
As she slides back to sit on Auguste’s chest, she finds herself understanding why they restrained her. It wasn’t because they were scared of how she would react or to stop her fighting back—it was because there’s nothing more potent than having control over a person, like a God choosing who to bestow free will upon.
She lightly slaps his cheek, wanting to see his eyes, but they remain closed. The only sounds in the space are the small drips coming from Odette’s suspended body. Getting comfortable, she straddles his waist as she sets the ax aside then hesitantly cups his cheek.
“You’re fun,” she whispers. “It’s going to be sad when I send you away.”
