“Pretend you have a knife,” she said.
The first time I met Emery I didn’t know what to expect. She was different. Not in a bad way, but she turned heads. She wore her black hair shoulder length and parted it on the left, while the right side of her skull was shaved close to her scalp. Piercings covered her face, from the bull ring in her nose, to the double paired studs in her bottom lip, and the amount of ink on her arms rivaled that of full length novels. But what was most peculiar about Emery was not her rough edged exterior, or crystal-blue eyes. What was different about Emery, was that the girl loved to scream. Loved to be hurt.
“Now cut me.”
There was something about the euphoric escape of tension from her lungs, and when she’d belt it out there in the middle of the woods, it was like a banshee wailing for her lost child. Her screams sounded like freshly shattered glass and the way she dug her nails into the ground reminded me of someone buried alive in a coffin, scratching at the wood to get out. Except in Emery’s case, she just wanted to go deeper.
“Harder, Nathan. Harder.”
I’d never fucked a girl like Emery before. Something about the sense of imminent death turned her on. Most girls I’d been with wanted it soft and easy, a little change up here or there, but always ending in the missionary position. But not her. She wanted it rough and she wanted it to hurt. Hell, the girl could only cum when my hands were wrapped around her throat. She’d even get this wicked grin on her face when I pushed my thumbs into the soft spot right above her clavicle and make her choke. I’ve heard there’s something about getting off during asphyxiation but I never believed it until I watched those arctic eyes widen and roll back as she came to me. It was like a waterfall gushed out of her, and I didn’t hesitate to drink her up.
She yanked me out of the car that night, and pulled me into the cemetery across the street. Already half naked, her porcelain skin glowed in the moonlight, while her tits bounced like two flesh balloons. I remember pulling her back, telling her that we’d get caught, and she laughed like a woman possessed as she pulled out a ring of keys from her back pocket. She dangled them in front of me, swinging them like a hypnotist ready to seduce.
“Not if your father owns the graveyard.”
Pinned against a headstone she bit at my ears, my lips, my neck. I ran my hands up her back, grabbing her hair as I traced the outline of her lips with my tongue. She tasted like cigarettes and cherry lip gloss. I wanted more of her, but I knew better than to ask. Emery wasn’t the type of girl that liked being told what to do. I knew I’d get her when she was ready, and not a second before. She sat in my lap and moved one of her hands down my pants.
“Tell me I’m yours.”
I swallowed hard as I looked into her piercing blues. I closed my eyes and focused on her hand on my dick. She was cold, her touch like one of heaven’s fallen angels with clipped wings, a broken halo, and eyes that looked like hell’s frozen fires. I smiled when I said, “You’re mine,” knowing that wasn’t what she wanted. Emery liked games, as long as she was in charge, and when her hands came at my neck, I knew it was time to play.
“Say it right.”
With her hands at my throat, I grabbed at her waist and cupped her ass. She moaned and lightened her grasp as I lifted up her skirt and slid down her lace thong. I dipped two fingers into her wet, velvet center and felt her melt in my hand. Her hands slid down my neck and rested on my chest as she scrunched up my shirt with her fists and screamed that glass breaking pitch I loved so much. I felt myself grow harder as I scraped at the length of my zipper. With my free hand, I unzipped my jeans, and did my best to slide them down. I told Emery to sit, and she opened herself up like a flower as I moved inside her.
“Say it, Nathan.”
I grabbed her neck as I pushed inside of her. Easy at first, but then with the strength and hurt that I knew she liked. I listened to her gasp and when her breath caught in her throat, I pushed even harder. Her eyes went from a pale to a stabbing blue as a mix of pleasure and pain washed over her face. I loved the way the light of the stars bounced off her piercings like a white beam against the gloss of the headstone. She reminded me of a disco ball with the way her face lit up but when she opened her mouth to scream, I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could utter even the smallest of sounds. Two could play at this game.
“No. You say it,” I said.
She grabbed at my hands, and I loosened one of them so I could hear her. She sucked in bouts of air and tried to talk, but with my other hand now rubbing her clit as I stroked her inside and out, all that came out were sighs and muffled whispers lost in the night air. “I said say it,” as I slapped at her cunt and rubbed it till she screamed out. “Say it so I can hear it.”
“Ah, Nathan,” she said.
I picked her up and threw her on the ground, drilling her till her screams woke the crows and shook the bodies in the graves. Out in the woods, with no one for miles away, her voice reverberated off the trees and stones, bouncing back and forth in echoes that could have woken the dead
“I’m yours,” she said.
I felt her come in hot waves as I let go and rode the tide with her. She shook as she finished, her nails grabbing at my skin like black tipped fish hooks in my back. I cringed from the pain, but the hurt felt good as I came inside her, my seed mixing with the sweetest nectar in the forest. I pulled out to adjust myself, and looked at my pierced goddess sprawled out on the graveyard floor.
Poor Mr. Haverson’s headstone was tilted to the side and resting at an odd angle. But the man couldn’t complain too much. Dead or not, the man had one hell of a view.
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Evelyn Moore is a dark, erotica writer who likes to heat things up with whips and chains. Her work has been showcased in various magazines such as Every Night Erotica, Clean Sheets Magazine, and Oysters and Chocolate. She is currently working on an erotic vampire novella, and thinks that all girls look best when dressed in black and ready to kill. For more from Evelyn visit here: http://joinmeinthemadhouse.blogspot.com/.