Page 5 of The Last Feast
My senses go haywire at the sound of my breathing, the twigs snapping beneath my feet, the moss crunching, and the small leaves rustling in the manufactured breeze. Yet, I can’t keep my disappointment at bay, because she didn’t run after me.
And then, I hear it…
“One, two…”
Footsteps follow her eerie singsong.
“A devil’s coming for you.”
They get closer as my heart rate speeds up.
“Three, four…”
I slowly inch backwards, wincing as the branches scrape the side of my bicep.
“You’re going to beg once more.”
Fuck, my excitement isn’t normal.
But she’s interesting, and I can’t help it as I stick to the hedges to find a gap to evade her, to prolong this game she’s pulled me into.
“Five, six…”
Her steps get further away as her voice hardens.
“Grab the false crucifix.”
The hedge fully accepts me as I push myself deeper against the rough tree layer, destroying the natural weaving of the woody interior. But as I’m about to push further back to cut her off, the hedge parts at my side. She cuts through the branches and greenery, catching the emergency sign, allowing the soft green light inside the box to illuminate a portion of her face.
“Seven,” she says from beside me as she pulls the destroyed pieces of hedging out of the way. “Eight. It’s time for the banquet.”
The low green light precariously dangles above her head now that she’s dislodged the thin branches, making the white of her skull face paint glow as the deep black appears even darker.
I run forward with a smile on my face. All my life, I’ve been haunted with memories I attempt to escape, but now I run with a newfound freedom as her steps follow me. There’s no little voice in the back of my head telling me to remain still, to let them do whatever they want because it’s the easier option. No, I just run.
She laughs, and I nearly fall head over ass at the carefree quality. I look over my shoulder, imagining what her features are like when they’re not covered in paint, but she propels forwardwith the ax in her hand, pushing her entire body weight into my spine with the handle lodged against my ribs. I stumble to the floor, turning to protect my head, but she follows.
My body has never been an issue for me. It has desires, reactions, but my mind never linked up with them. That all changes when this woman digs her knees into my hips, pushing the ax against my neck as she leans over me with a wide smile, my hair in her hands. There’s a current of fear working through me, yet the most horrifying realization is that lust co-exists with it.
For the first time in my life, there’s genuine lust, and it’s directed at a woman whose name I don’t know as she presses the long handle of an ax to my windpipe. Her hands bracket the sides of my neck, fingers delicately wrapping around the metal handle, and the green glow of the emergency light turns the white parts of the skull painted on her face a pale green. Ethereal. Morbidly ethereal is what she is.
“Caught me,” I croak. It turns into a grunt as she abruptly pushes the ax up, forcing my head back. And that grunt becomes a pathetic fucking whimper when she slowly runs the flat of her tongue up the column of my throat.
Pausing on my Adam’s apple, she hums. “Talk.”
“What do you want me to say?”
She laves my throat with her tongue, moaning with each syllable that vibrates through my extended neck.
“What’s your name?” I ask, obeying her.
She nips my Adam’s apple, lightly at first, then more forcefully when I moan at the feeling of her teeth scraping against my skin.
This is fucked up.
Iam fucked up.
My dick is the hardest it’s ever been; even when I’ve forced my way through the acts with others, it’s never felt likethis. This…potent and wild, like my bodily needs are altering everything I thought I knew.
