I was patient, precise, and cruelly slow.
“Stand,” I ordered. They obeyed, clinging to each other like it was the only lifeline they had. “That’s right. Get in the water. Take off those ridiculously tacky clothes,” I whispered, letting the fog carry my voice.
Their sobs were soft, whimpers now, the sound almost erotic in its vulnerability. They were mine, willingly or not, and the realization that I could escalate, or end it entirely, made their panic so delicious, so perfect, it made my cock harden in the leather.
I didn’t move in for mercy. I didn’t offer escape. I let them marinate in their fear and shame. In obedience, they couldn’tdeny. Every forced act was a thread I pulled, weaving a web of terror and submission around them.
They were in the cold water, stripping one another bare with shaking hands. Their nail polish was cracked, and the stain on the redhead’s shirt annoyed me.
They were unclean.
“Yes, make her come. I know you’ve wanted this. A fucking stranger can see the lovesick puppy you are.”
The female whimpered, getting to her knees before her friend, and opening her legs.
“Pl-please…” She begged, giving me a fleeting look of pleas.
“Shhhh. Make her come, whore. Or I will make her bleed.”
More whimpering, but this time it was from the black-haired woman. The sidekick licked her cunt, burying her head into her pussy and grinding her face so hard into her friend that it made her stagger.
The silvery water lapped at them. Rai was fighting back moans as tears continued to fall from her fearful eyes.
“I knew you had it in you,” I praised. “Let’s hope you‘re enough of a whore to make her come.”
The girls made good footage. A homemade snuff film, including the fake fucking moans and theatrically scripted orgasms.
I sighed, walking forward faster than their eyes could track. The blade in my hand sliced through the black-haired girl’s skin like paper. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, silent and confused until the blood rolled down her naked body in a stream.
“Pity,” I said, cleaning off the knife in the water before making my way back to the shore. The redhead jerked her head up as the woman above her staggered, holding her neck and falling into the water like a newborn giraffe.
Deep blackened red coated the water, swirling around, and turning her body the same color as her hair.
“Oh my God. Rai? Rai!”
I shook my head. “Perhaps now that you have mere minutes before she bleeds out, you can make her come. I did warn you. Tick tock, Book Girl.”
The woman scrambled, trying to hold her friend‘s head above water, as the blood continued to seep out of her wound. Her mouth opened like a fish, wordless and beautiful.
“Forty seconds left, Kiki.”
The jolt of her body when I said her name correctly was even more present than when it was mispronounced. The camera‘s light kept her lit up, showing a shine on the neck of the fading friend.
“Wh-Why? You’re a fucking snake.”
“Indeed.” I smiled beneath my mask. “But what does that make you, doll? You knew I was a snake, yet assumed I wouldn’t bite you. Thirty seconds left. Tick tock. Rai’s nearly out of her clock.”
My rhymes deeply affected her, and she tried to put pressure on her friend’s gaping wound while crying and looking for some form of help.
“Help me. Help us! Heeelllp,” Kiki screamed between sobs.
I cackled as the laughter from the distant maze filtered around her. Many people screamed for help during the hunt. All the actors shouted murderous, tacky phrases, and the herded cattle of people played their roles. Some were screaming and crying, and some even wetting themselves. It was all part of the beauty of my playground.
There was no help. And when you screamed for it. You would only hear applause.
“No…”
“Yes,” I said, listening to the last rattling breaths of the downed female. “Twenty seconds. How will you say goodbye?”
