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Wrath

As I peer around the corner with one red eye, I watch her standing with the girls, laughing and joking. Darkness shrouds me, and she has no idea I’m watching. She has no fucking idea what’s about to happen the moment she steps out of the light.

But that’s the thrill of the game we play—me and her. I give, she takes, or vice versa, depending on who’s in charge that night.

When I notice her saying her goodbyes, I stalk her every move—the way her ass sways, the way her long black hair sweeps across her lower back, bouncing on her cheeks. I growl, gripping my cock before pulling my black and red swirling mask down, hood pulled up.

I start creeping, weaving between trees quickly, my eyes never leaving her. Once she’s deep enough into the dark, I let her get just a bit ahead before I pursue. The moment I’m close, I pounce from behind, slamming my hand over her mouth and jabbing the needle into the side of her neck.

“Shhh… good girl,” I whisper in her ear, low and taunting, so she knows it’s me, then she’s out cold.

I glance around, breath fogging in the cold air, pulse hammering with a rush that feels too fucking close to bliss as she collapses against me like dead weight, her body limp, her warmth fading.

I drag her backward into the tree line, her heels scraping through the wet mud, leaving long streaks like she’s being erased from the world one pull at a time, and it thrills me, it fucking consumes me.

When I reach the clearing, the place where it all begins, I drop to one knee and unzip the body bag halfway, gently easing her down onto the plastic like she’s something precious, something sacred, even though I know I’ve already broken her. I position her with care, arms at her sides, legs straight, head tilted just so, her pale skin lit dimly by the moon, her eyelids flutterless, lips parted slightly like she’s still waiting for something.

She looks like my perfect little corpse. Silent. Still. Mine.

I reach down, the back of my fingers brushing her cheek—lukewarm now, not quite gone, but close enough to taste it—and a shiver runs through me.

I lean in, lips barely grazing her forehead, and press a soft kiss there like I’m sealing something, a promise or maybe a curse. Then I zip her up slow, savoring the sound.

I grab the thick handle and start dragging her again, through the trees that close in like watchers, the bag rustling and bumping over roots and stones. I don’t stop, not fucking once, even as my cock strains against my jeans, painfully hard, every step toward the Den making it worse because I know what’s waiting.

When the Dismembered Den finally looms through the trees, my pulse kicks up. I swing it open, the hinges groaning in welcome, before I lean down, arms strong as I lift her with ease, her body folding slightly in the bag over my shoulder like she’s weightless, like she belongs there.

I take her straight to the underground, my boots echoing on the stairs as I jog down, heading toward the back room. The cold air hits me the moment I open the door, sharp and biting, just as it should be. I shut it behind me, locking it with a soft click, the sound swallowed by the chill.

I guide her to the metal table, the harsh surface cold beneath my fingertips. I place the bag down with precision, my breath coming out in small, foggy clouds with each quick exhale. I pull the zipper down slowly, revealing her. She’s still, her skin ashen, the life drained from her. Her body is a hollow shell of what it once was.

With careful hands, I start to remove the bag, peeling it off her like a second skin, exposing her naked form, the cold air biting at her skin. I strip her down, methodical, until she lies fully exposed, her stillness almost unsettling against the sharp, sterile cold of the room.

My wild eyes sweep over her, devouring, and taking in every detail, as she lies dead for me. Her skin and pretty lips are blue, nipples are purple, there’s no breathe from her mouth or no warmth in her cunt.

I drag her down further to the edge, positioning her how I want, arms and legs usefully dangling down either side of the table.

I rip my belt open quickly, yanking it free, and shove my hand in my boxers. I grab my heavy, throbbing cock, a groan escaping me as I jerk it once.

Leaning over her, my other hand finds her freezing cold pussy, my shaky breath luke-warm against her ear, barely holding myself together.

No flinch. No reaction… Just stillness . Us.

“As we agreed, my little corpse.” I say before placing a gentle kiss on her a cold cheek. “You’re beautiful like this, but I promised to fuck you back to life, and I will.”