Page 22

Chapter 22

Raven

“ G ood morning, sunshine. Glad you could finally join me again,” I call out in a sing song voice from across the table.

Dorian was passed out for the rest of last night and even I was able to get a few hours of shut eye. It was nice, although curling up on the couch next to a dead and cold Malachi was not very enjoyable. That part was weird and I really don’t want to ever repeat that part again.

Shudders run through my body at the thought and I have to shake them off in order to finish my breakfast. I thought about making some for fuckwad but figured he probably doesn’t want anymore of my cooking.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispers, looking pale.

“Well, I’ll tell you like I told your, dear baby brother. You took something from me that night. Something that I will never get back. Ever,” I begin, tossing my now forgotten breakfast off the table. “The way you humiliated me in front of all those people? The way you let them use me, degrade me! Those are things no one deserves. Fucking no one!”

He shakes his head at my outburst.

“That’s not enough of a reason. There has to be something else fueling this. So why?”

“So you’re telling me that everything you put me through and were going to put me through wasn’t enough? Fuck you.” I spit.

Standing from my chair, I grab my long forgotten candy cane from where I dropped it on the floor and kneel in front of Dorian again. I gather my hair and tie it up into a bun. I don’t want any part of what is going to happen, to end up in my hair. Not this time.

Leaning down, I spit onto Dorian’s soft pathetic dick and begin to pump it, working it to full mast quickly. He’s moaning softly and his breathing has sped up with the excitement coursing through his body. I pick up my pace and watch as his head lolls back in pleasure and take this as my chance for the big surprise.

Lining the candy cane up perfectly, I push and push until it’s thoroughly lodged inside of Dorian’s cock. The only part of it still on the outside of his body is the curved part and when I’m done fixating on what I’ve done, I notice the owner of said cock is screaming bloody murder.

“That probably hurts, doesn’t it. Between the stretching to the mint. God damn,” I flinch back with a shudder. “Too bad though. I don’t give a shit.”

I readjust my grip on his dick and firmly grasp the minty stick torture and slowly, pull it almost all the way out of him. Just the end of it remains inside his dick and while he is begging me to stop this madness, I feel like continuing. I plunge the candy back in again, watching the tiny hole stretch around it. I fuck his tiny little hole until his screams become silent wails of pain blood slowly trickles out.

“Well there’s my cue. Can’t go and ruin it yet, now can we. I have one more thing in mind before you expire today. It’ll be the best gift you could give me. A Christmas face-fucking. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Dorian is looking at me, but I’m not sure he’s really seeing me right now. I pull the candy cane free from him and slide it between his lips. The moment the peppermint hits his tongue, he comes slamming back into his body.

“Did you hear me?” I ask him now that his eyes are on me again. “Are you up for a killer Christmas face-fucking?”

He looks confused, and I get it. He’s probably wondering why I would allow him to fuck my face after everything. But he’s wrong. Oh so fucking wrong.

“You know I really planned to keep this little shindig going for as long as possible, but I really want to just get back to my life. Not the old one though. No, you snuffed that out the moment you decided to strap me to that spreader bar. I’m talking about my new life. The one where I’m the new owner of Midnight Secrets. But it won’t be the same. Nope. It’s going to be a club that only caters to women and their pleasure. It’s going to be fucking magical.”

I get lost in the images of women and their kinkiest fantasies coming to life. It’s like heaven. One where only we get what we need. Where we use others until we are pleased. We are the life of this world. The ones that keep it going. We rule this shit, might as well start acting like it.

“You can’t take the club from me. Even in my death it won’t go to you,” he spews from his little chair.

Fucker pissed himself at some point in the night and it’s really starting to smell. Fucking nasty. I stomp over to the sink and fill up a small bucket that was sitting on the floor. Once it’s full of ice cold water, I stagger my way to Dorian and throw it over him. He hisses as it hits him, washing any filth from his body, diluting the piss on the floor.

“Sorry but you fucking stank. This will help,” I begin, tossing the bucket to the side. “But back to the other topic. I’m a paralegal, dickface. I can make any document look legal enough to get what I need. And I need your club. Toying with you is just for fun. It’s not like it’s necessary.”

Dorian tries to scream something at me, but I’m not listening anymore. I have a Christmas party to attend tonight with coworkers and I will not miss that. I want to make friends here. To stay here.

“Well looks like, it’s time to get this shit over with. And I’m horny so you’re going to give me my Christmas morning face- fuck and then I’ll be on my way,” I sigh, searching around for my trusty filet knife.

When I find it, I make sure to grab one of the cast iron pans and an oven mitt and work my way over to the fire. I heat up the pan nice and hot until whatever was in it sizzles. I take all my tools and find Dorian still spewing obscenities.

“I think it’s time you shut the fuck up,” I yell back at him. “I’m getting tired of hearing your voice.”

I quickly grab the knife and slice away his dick from his body. It takes a moment for the pain to kick in and when I grab the pan and put the hot iron to the wound, Dorian finally starts screaming. The wound immediately cauterizes and I set the blood soaked pan on the table.

“Time for the face fucking!” I cheer, doing a little dance.

I grab the knife and manage to get Dorian’s severed dick over the handle, creating a sleeve for the knife.

Perfect.

I thought about this while falling asleep last night and somehow dreamt up the perfect little last goodbye for Dorian before I move on with my life. One where I get all the pleasure and he watches it as he dies slowly.

I kick Dorian in the chest, knocking him flat on his back in the chair. He lands with a loud grunt and his head smacks off the hardwood floor. I step over his body, straddling him. He’s groaning in pain, whipping his head from side to side.

“Hold still, fuckface,” I spit and he looks up at me, not on my eyes though, but my pussy.

The fact that he can’t even look past my pussy, pisses me off more. Fucking pig. Bending down over him, I bring the blade of the knife to his lips. He can clamp them shut all he wants, I will carve my way in if I have to.

“Just open your fucking mouth, fucknut. There will be less pain if you do,” I sigh, tapping his lips.

Hesitantly he opens his mouth wide, eyes boring into mine, fear shining bright within his own. I like his fear. It’s palatable and hangs in the air around him. If I could bottle it up and take it home with me, I would. But for now, I’m just gonna have to remember this moment.

“Close your eyes, baby,” I coo.

He takes one last look and then slams them shut as a sob wracks his whole body.

What a little bitch.

Without another thought, I bring the knife down as hard as I can. It pierces the back of his throat and goes straight through his neck, into the floor under him. His eyes fly open and stares at it protruding from his face and screams when his eyes focus.

I love that all he sees is a dick in his mouth.

“Lighten up, buttercup. I’m about to fuck your face. See how you like it.”

I laugh then. Like laugh so hard I almost piss all over Dorian. It had been so fucking long since I was this happy over anything.

“Steady now. Don’t want you to miss the show.”

Slowly, I kneel above Dorian’s head and lower myself onto his severed dick wrapped around a knife handle. It’s definitely an odd feeling though. Like a condom that doesn’t quite fit right. Fucking thing keeps sliding up the handle. Reaching down, I grip the dick sleeve around the knife and start riding it.

Thankfully the piercing is still intact and it rubs along my g-spot just right. In and out. In and out. My pussy is weeping with joy around this cock. With my free hand, I peel away the sticky pasty still attached to my nipple, and tug at the metal bar pierced through it. The slight pain from the nipple play and the knife dick sliding in and out of me, have me almost there.

So fucking close to drowning this piece of shit.

I look down at him then. He’s dying on me already. I was hoping he could wait a few more minutes. Picking up my speed, I watch as blood starts to pour from his mouth around his cock. Every time my ass hits Dorian’s chin, blood spatters against me, painting my thighs and pussy in a beautiful crimson hue.

“Yes, baby. Bleed for me,” I moan, tweeking my nipple harder and picking up speed.

I slam into his head again, and again. It’s right fucking there, but so far away. Reaching behind me, I grasp the handle of the now cooled down cast iron pan and bring it down on Dorian’s head. It sounds like a melon bursting when it cracks wide open from impact. Blood pours from the wound and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

I drop the pan and really work my cock knife. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Until I come hard, screaming my ecstasy into the morning light. Liquid sprays from me, filling Dorian’s mouth and spreading across his face, onto the floor. He gurgles around it, his eyes closed and breathing shallow. I ride out the rest of my release until Dorian’s breathing has stopped all together.

“Glad we went out together, asshat,” I mutter to his dead corpse.

Standing from his body on shaky legs, I make my way back to the old man fucknut’s bedroom in search of something warm to wear. The hunting party has to be long gone by now so I just need to make it out of here and to the neighboring town. Once there, I will hitch a ride home and forget this ever happened.

Finding a large pair of sweats and a flannel overshirt, I throw them on along with a pair of thick socks. Old man’s boots are too fucking big so I take Malachi’s since they are a bit smaller. I also grab a hat, gloves, and coat from by the door before turning to look at the aftermath of what I’ve done.

Looking from body to body, I expected to feel some kind of remorse. Or guilt for what I’ve done. Snuffing out three lives is not something you just do normally. But I feel nothing. All I feel is a sense of happiness for finally getting the revenge I deserved. Dealing out the revenge that so many women deserved.

“Fuck you, asshats,” I yell into the cabin.

Just before I step out into the cold morning, I quickly grab a fire poker and pull some logs from the fire. I kick them into different parts of the room and watch as things around them easily catch. Fire licks up the walls, devouring the old wood, smoke filling the air around me.

I really want to watch them burn too, but I can’t be here when people realize the place is on fire, if they ever do. One last glance at all three Black men, I step out into the chilly air and shut the door behind me. I take a deep breath of cold December air, letting it fill my lungs and clear my mind.

Time to go home.