My lip curled as I shut the door and flipped the lock behind me, the entire place pitch black save for one yellow lamp on the end table beside her old couch.
The church was worth millions, yet they didn’t bother giving her anything from this century. It was no wonder she had been so gleeful wearing that dress, everything here looked like it hadn’t been replaced since the 60’s. New things weren’t something she was used to.
The house was small. 650 square feet, one level. Even if I hadn’t studied the blueprints and watched her on the cameras, it would have taken me no time at all to figure out where her bedroom was.
I walked up to her bedroom door and used my cane to open it, and it fell open without so much as a creak.
I paused when I found the bed empty, my brows furrowing. Nobody had come into this house. She had not left it. Where was she?
I leaned back, glancing towards the couch. No. She was either hiding in the bedroom or sleeping in the tub.
The bed was no bigger than a full. It was only four inches off the ground, so she wasn’t under it. I walked around the end of it to the other side. Not there.
I turned back towards the room. So clean, everything in its place, although there weren’t many things she could have out of place. Crosses on the wall, no pictures, no knick-knacks or toys. No anything. It was void of everything but books and church memorabilia.
Of course she would have appreciated the brush I had given her. She owned nothing of any real beauty.
I looked around the small room again before my attention landed on the sliding wooden doors of the closet.
She wasn’t in the tub.
I headed for the closet and slowly pushed open the door, finding her shoes all in a row. All of them save for the boots which looked to have been haphazardly thrown at one end of the closet.
I angled my head and used one hand and my cane to push apart the clothes the church had given her.
There, at the bottom of the four-foot long, three-foot-wide closet, was Scarlett curled under what looked to be a small black shawl that had been pushed around so much that it now only covered her stomach.
Her mouth was closed, her hair falling around her face carelessly, her dress pushed up to her hips, revealing her white lace underwear. They weren’t see-through, a pattern on top of white cotton. The only thing the church allowed with any real character, and only because they liked it.
My eyes lifted slowly up the rest of her body, her breathing soft, her perfect breasts spilling over the top of her dress, nearly falling completely out with how the dress had shifted and how large they were.
My gaze continued to slowly crawl up, taking in her collarbone, her untouched neck, the soft angle of her jaw, her nearly full lips. I paused again, remembering how just hours ago she had been spinning around the room laughing.
Perhaps, before I left, I would install some microphones.
I finally found her eyes. They were closed, her long, dark lashes resting against her skin. Yes, I had looked up Scarlett Harris. I knew what her medical records said. What color her eyes were, how big she was, how long the labor took, but Ifound myself wondering what color her eyes truly looked like. The cameras they had installed were generations older than the ones I would have used. Their pictures weren’t clear enough, the lighting in here not good enough for me to see the smaller details. The picture was grainy, nothing like the real thing.
I crouched down just outside the closet, studying her face before my eyes fell back to her breasts, my cock twitching at the idea of cumming all over her. I was an everything man. So long as there was blood and pain, I didn’t care what was wrapped around my cock, I’d reach my end eventually.
But ever since I realized that she craved blood too, I had wondered what it would be like to have her wrapped around me. Not her throat. I had my doubts that she would ever suck cock again. I was a monster, yes, but I wanted her mind consumed with me, not falling back into these memories. If I shoved my cock down her throat, all she would think about wasthem, and I couldn’t have that.
But watching blood and cum slide downhertits? I carefully hovered my knuckles less than an inch above her breast, trailing them down slowly. The only touch I had ever known was a violent one. Even when I first discovered how much I loved fucking the blood right out of a person, I didn’tlikewhen they touched me. It didn’t add anything.
But when I saw those scars along her back today, saw her standing nearly naked before me, slightly cowering only to relax when she felt the ghost of my touch. Her body felt safe at the idea of me. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps that would change when I showed her my true self.
I pulled my hand away. I didn’t need her to like it, I just needed her to crave it. Crave me. I needed her to think that she couldn’t live without me, and for that to happen, I needed to go about this the right way.
I slowly slid my cane in and wrapped those antlers around her jaw.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands going stiff, her knees falling together as she pulled them further towards her chest only to stop. She immediately, on instinct or out of fear, folded her hands over her hips and forced her face to relax.
I could see the stiffness everywhere. The way her spine was as rigid as stone, the way her arms shook from the force of keeping them still rather than allowing her own fear and startlement to take over.
“Why are you in the closet, little sinner?” I asked softly.
Her throat bobbed, and although it took her a few seconds, she hesitantly lifted her hand away from her hip and pointed towards her bed.
I glanced back towards it before taking the cane away and standing. “Show me,” I ordered.
