The fear on my little bird's face could only make my blood roar with excitement.
It had been a while since I felt this way.
If it were someone else, I'd be ninety-nine per cent sure I would've thrown her out of the window for there was very little patience I could spend. Such was the state of my cock that had, once again, crossed the impulse control red line. Her tear-stained red face was more exciting than any woman I have ever fucked.
And the reason was nothing more than making her cum on my fingers unwillingly.
I stripped her of control she never had to begin with.
It was the first time I felt such blasphemous monotony shattered by the sight of someone's tears. The way she pressed herself against the car window as if it could somehow save her from me, was enticing beyond measure.
I could see her mind racing, trying to find a way out, but there was none.
I had given her a choice, but it was a choice rigged in my favour. What's more thrilling than watching a person break, to see them surrender and choose exactly what I want them to? Like I said, I never force women, but I love hearing them beg. And my little bird was no exception.
She'd have to beg if she wanted to keep my interest and not divert it to her family.
I wasn't a gentleman. And the only reason I thrust my fingers into her cunt was to dominate her. I wasn't planning on letting her finish, I was a certified non-giver, and I preferred fucking with my cock than my fingers or mouth, it was safe to say she was the first woman I fingered. And it was horrifying how much I enjoyed it. The thrill only heightened when I felt her hymen with my fingers.
I was pretty convinced I never indulged with virgins, just because they were a hassle, a nuisance, and screamers and I hate screams they were too much for my sensitive ears. But her…. I'd hear her scream for hours and hours, and still wouldn't get enough.
And my fingers twitched.
It was interesting she was evoking something primal inside me. Something I never craved before her.
My vision blurred with the images of my little bird spread under me as blood smeared all over her thighs when I tore deep into her cunt.
I pulled out another cigar, hoping to keep my fingers busy and not wrap them around her throat.
Her body reminded me of one of the canvases in my father's workshop, and I suddenly wanted to be an artist, painting my twisted desires onto her flesh. Every touch, every thrust would be a stroke of my masterpiece. She would be my masterpiece.
Her whimpers and gasps… oh, how much I'd love to hear them.
I sucked in the smoke like I'd suck her soul soon. My little bird was still clueless. This was what she was made for.
To be mine, to be broken and remade in my image.
She'd soon beg for me to take her, to own her.
Her eyes flickered around and I almost laughed. Adorable.
And then I stilled.
Did I just use adorable?
Anyways. Like I said, it must be an impulsive infatuation, it'd go away with time I was sure. After I'd have my fill of her, it'd definitely disappear.
She jerked as Kyle stopped the car, her face was red, like her swollen lips she mercilessly bit, and the blood I'd extort out of her virgin cunt. Even her neck turned redder, hotter, and the need to bleed them too intensified. I knew red would look marvellous on her.
Maybe I should just find that out.
It wouldn't be hard to pin her down and fuck her. She'd scream, and cry definitely, but it'd be worth it.
Maybe right now?
I focused on the cigar.
It would be a hassle. That's what I said to convince myself. I wanted her submission, to see her out of control, and not so goody-two-shoes.
My little bird stiffened as she stared out the window at the building, one of the many I owned. Her eyes dilated as she whipped her head at me. She was contemplating running. I could see the wheels running in her head clearly. I tried to ignore her. I'd let her have this little illusion for now. She could run, but let's see how far her legs would take her.
Two steps? Three? Maybe she'd manage ten, then what? I'd have to break her legs. It'd be a shame.
"We're here, sir," Kyle said from the driver's seat and the fucker glared at me through the mirror as I gave two fucks about what he thought.
I stepped out of the car.
She didn't.
So I motioned Kyle to go get her.
I would've loved to do the honours myself, but I need a blind man's personality to maintain. It'd be a shame if I let the façade slip I put on for two years. Though there were occasional moments I purposely let her have doubts, but those were just for my amusement. Nothing more, nothing less.
I chose my pawns, not otherwise.
She was shaking as she walked beside me and I tapped the cane on the ground. And kept my other arm over her shoulder pressing her closer, her warmth was intoxicating. She sensed the threat.
I relished her fear that I could almost taste.
Each step she took beside me was cautious, and I loved it.
My cane tapped rhythmically on the cold marble floor. To any onlookers, I was the picture of a blind man, helpless and benign. But I was anything but.
We approached the elevator, the polished metal doors reflecting a distorted image of reality. I glanced around, feigning blindness, but my senses were keen, hyper-aware.
I almost scoffed when women around started giggling like fucking teens and pulling out their phones to click some pictures perhaps. Some other time, ladies. I had a more interesting toy to play with.
Kyle returned to my side. We strolled into the elevator, and my ptichka froze. Kyle pressed the button for the elevator, and we waited in silence. If the soft gasps of hers wouldn't count.
Her warmth seeped into me mocking the cold emptiness that filled my soul.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I guided her inside, my cane tapping out again. The doors closed, sealing us in a perfect coffin I prepared for her. My plan for her was simple, to trap her. And the lovelier it was to hear her screams echoing in my mansion, I couldn't risk having her run away in the forest and get herself in danger. Though she wouldn't be able to run, but my penthouse was far better than that cold place and closer to her dorms too.
I could feel her pulse quicken, and her breath hitch, and it thrilled me. Her fear was a drug, and I was already addicted. There was something peculiar about her that made me want to peel the layers she wore.
The elevator ascended and my little bird sucked in a shaking breath. I let my lips widen in a grin.
Power was useful. They were blind, not I. Those fools wouldn't see the truth, the raw, unfiltered reality that I embraced. They called me delusional, but there was a method to my madness, a lucidity that others lack. This world was a useless place; people used you, and when you were of no use, they threw you away like a discarded cigarette.
I would do too.
There was nothing weaker than a man who couldn't see and it was a perfect mask for my plans. I'd let them underestimate me. They believed in their own lies of morality, their façades of righteousness. Pathetic. They prance around, acting like saints, while their demons lurk just beneath the surface.
I embrace my demons. I let them out to play.
She trembled beside me, her eyes wide with terror, yet she didn't look away. That was the beauty of it. The irony of fear-it'd bind you to the very thing you want to escape from.
Humans, wolves, vampires-whatever label you slap on them, it didn't matter.
Strip away the veneer, and we were all just predators. Some hide behind masks of civility; I wore mine with pride. That's what my father taught me. That's what I grew up to.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I grabbed her arm, not too tight, just enough to remind her who was in control. Her skin was soft and delicate. Breakable.
People like her were the reason I do what I do. They lived in their little bubbles, thinking the world was all rainbows and unicorns. Newsflash ptichka, it was not.