I lock eyes with our captive, refusing to look away as Gabe pounds into me. The room fills with the sounds of sex mingling with Walsh’s ragged breathing.
“Harder,” I demand, and Gabe’s fingers dig into my hips, leaving fresh bruises beneath the blood.
Gabe reaches around to stroke my clit as he takes my ass from behind, and I throw my head back in pleasure. “Make me come while he watches,” I beg.
Our victim struggles against his restraints, and that’s when I notice it—the unmistakable bulge straining against his pants despite his wounds, despite his terror.
Gabe sees it too. He laughs darkly, his rhythm never faltering.
“Look at him,” Gabe says, his voice thick with disgust and arousal. “Always a predator. Even bleeding out, watching his own destruction, his cock’s still hard.”
The observation pushes me over the edge, and I comeviolently, screaming as Gabe continues his relentless assault on my body.
I shudder against the table, my orgasm rippling through me while Walsh watches with horrified fascination. The room spins in a crimson haze—blood and pleasure and power all melding together into something primal and consuming. I’ve never felt more alive than in this moment of death.
Gabe doesn’t slow his pace. His hands, slick with Walsh’s blood, grip my hips tighter as he pounds deeper into my ass.
“You’re not done,” Gabe growls against my ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I need you to come again while I’m buried in this tight ass. Need to feel you squeeze around me when I fill you up.”
The filthy words send another wave of heat through me. Walsh’s muffled whimpers create a twisted soundtrack to our coupling. The man who once held power over me now witnesses my transformation—watches as I embrace the darkness Gabe has awakened.
“Look at him watching us,” Gabe hisses, reaching around to circle my clit with blood-slicked fingers. “He wanted to own you, but now you own him. His life, his blood, his pathetic final moments—all yours.”
The pressure builds again, impossibly fast. The merging of violence and pleasure creates something I’ve never experienced before—a feedback loop of power and submission.
“That’s it,” Gabe urges, his rhythm becoming more erratic. “Fucking take it. Take everything I give you. I’m going to breed this perfect ass while you come around my cock.”
My body responds to his command, trembling on theedge. Walsh’s eyes widen further—the witness to our unholy communion.
“We’re gods,” Gabe pants, his fingers working faster between my legs. “Creating and destroying. Come for me now.”
My second orgasm crashes through me with brutal force. I scream, not caring who might hear as waves of pleasure tear through my body. Behind me, Gabe drives in one final time, growling as he empties himself inside me, his body shuddering against mine.
Gabe pulls out of me slowly, his hands steady on my hips as I catch my breath. My legs tremble against the steel table, blood and fluids mingling on my thighs. Behind us, Walsh whimpers through his gag, his eyes wide with terror and unwanted arousal.
Gabe’s fingers trace up my spine, leaving crimson streaks across my skin. He leans close, his lips brushing my ear.
“It’s time, Amelia,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate. “If you’re ready, you should end this. End this pathetic excuse of a man.” His hand slides between my legs, fingers ghosting over where his cum drips from my ass. “Show him who has the power now.”
I straighten, turning to face Walsh fully. My body is painted in his blood, marked by Gabe’s possession. I’ve never felt more powerful.
“Hand me the knife,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady.
Gabe selects a curved blade from the tray and places it in my palm. The weight feels right—balanced and deadly. Walsh thrashes in his restraints, his muffled screams barely audible through the gag.
I step toward him, naked and bloody, a vengefulgoddess of his destruction. His eyes plead with me, but I see past his fear to the monster beneath—the man who destroyed careers, violated trust, drove a young woman to suicide.
“For Sophia,” I whisper, pressing the blade to his throat. “For Rebecca. For Caroline. For me.”
With one fluid motion, I slice deeply across his neck. Blood sprays in an arc, spattering my chest and face in warm droplets. Walsh’s eyes bulge, his body convulsing as he chokes on his own blood.
I don’t look away. I watch every second, every gurgle, every desperate attempt to breathe through the severed windpipe. His life pours out in crimson rivers, pooling at his feet where we’ve placed collection basins.
His struggle seems endless and fleeting all at once. Then, finally, his eyes go vacant, his body slumping in the restraints.
Walsh’s body is limp in the restraints, his blood still dripping slowly into our collection basins. The knife slides from my fingers, clattering against the hard floor. My chest heaves with exertion and something else—a primal satisfaction I’ve never felt before.
Gabe steps behind me, his arms wrapping around my blood-slick waist. His heart pounds against my back, his breathing ragged next to my ear. For a long moment, we stand in silence, watching the last twitches of life leave Walsh’s body.
