Dark fantasies fuel my dark hunger. The intimate hunger of taking a life. So, I slip into the soundproof chamber. The very chamber my victim is locked inside. Soundproof and hidden.
Therefore, I lock the heavy door and dim the single bulb. First, I run my nails across my victim’s pale throat. My nails are razor-sharp, painted black with blood red tips.
So, I feel the pulse flutter beneath my fingertips.
Then I press the cold blade to her skin. Therefore, I begin to methodically slice a shallow line along her sternum. One that now beads crimson and stains the sheets.
After that, I straddle her chest, grinding my wet pussy against her heaving breasts. All while the blood trickles down her ribs.
Next, I wrap a thick rope around her neck. Then, tightening it until her eyes bulge and her breath comes in ragged gasps.
Subsequently, I thrust my strap-on into her mouth. As I watch her struggle, her tongue gags as I pump deeper. Now, the taste of iron mixes with the salt of her own sweat and tears.
Finally, I drive my shaft into her ruptured abdomen. Belly fucking her and tearing flesh as I penetrate deeper. Ultimately, I disembowel her with my surging hard strap-on that is riddled with shards of glass. Finally, hot spurts of blood and flesh mingle with her lifeless blood.
So, I sigh, knowing this depravity has fed my hunger.
Depraved Gothic Morticia
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