Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,75

chills, good chills. It’s such a rush; it feels like I’m on drugs as I take off the belt and wrap it around her hair like a scrunchie and then tie the belt to the table leg. I walk away and grab the kitchen wire she keeps in a drawer, and I tie them around her legs and then to the table. With her hands above her head, there’s really nowhere for her to go now. Her chest rises higher with each breath, and I can see her panicking.

“Relax, Princess,” I say, letting my finger drift down her chest. “You’re going to like this.”

She shakes her head and starts to jerk on the wires, which makes me reach for my knife. Her eyes widen at the sight of the blade lowering, touching her skin. The squeal that comes from her mouth the moment I slide it down her belly is exhilarating, almost like a climaxing to me.

“Stay still, Princess,” I say. “This won’t hurt. Much.”

“Please don’t.”

“What? Make you bleed?”

“No.”

“You’ll like it, eventually,” I muse, leaning over her. “I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says with a ragged breath.

I smile. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

I use the knife as a marker, drawing a pattern without drawing blood. Her eyes anxiously follow the tip, as if she’s trying to prepare for something. The thing is that she’ll never know when it’s coming. That look on her face, priceless. So torturous, the way she’s unraveling bit by bit … it’s like food for my soul.

Sweat trickles down her skin, and then when I let the tip puncture her skin just a tiny bit, she squeals. But I know it doesn’t hurt that much. I’ve tried this on myself plenty of times. Always have to know what the things I do to my victims feel like. Of course, the fear is taking over her sense of rationalizing. She’s letting it control her instead of experiencing it for what it is. Fear is excitement. Fear is a part of our souls. Fear makes us feel alive.

And she should be grateful that she’s still alive.

It’s all in my hands. With one slice, I could kill her right here, right now. But I don’t.

Instead, I lean in and suckle the blood off her skin, kissing her softly, letting my tongue slide all across her belly.

She squirms underneath me; her body arches to meet my mouth, but her mind is still focusing on the fear.

“Stop thinking, Vanessa,” I say. “It’s not doing you any good right now.”

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What does it look like?” I say, ripping off her skirt so I can see her pretty pussy. “I’m enjoying you to the fullest.”

“By sucking my blood?”

I frown, waving the knife in the air. “You know, you should really consider the fact that I could’ve killed you already. You might want to think about that as I gorge myself on your pussy.”

She swallows. “What’s to say that you won’t kill me now?”

I smile. “I just like seeing the fear in your eyes, Princess. Nothing more.” I bring the knife to my mouth and lick the blade. I can taste her blood, and my own, as the sharpness cuts through my own flesh, but I don’t care. I’m lost in ecstasy, living on the edge, wanting to jump off with her.

She shivers, her lips quivering as I bring the knife down to her face. “C’mon sweet cheeks, smile for me,” I say.

The right side of her lip curls up into a fake smile, which does not move me even one bit. Damn her; normally, she’s as fake as can be, able to perform without flaw, and now real emotions suddenly overcome her?

Fuck her.

I ram the knife into the table next to her head, causing her to close her eyes. “Look at me,” I say. “Open your eyes, Princess.”

They peel open slowly. “Please … Phoenix.”

“Please what? You don’t like it when I want to lick the blood from your skin? You should be flattered.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” I snap, grabbing her pussy with one hand, which makes her jolt up. “I bet this pussy here will tell me the truth.”

“No,” she says, still shaking.

“What are you so afraid of?” I muse. “This knife? Blood? Pain? Death? What?”

“You.”

The way she says it, without any doubt, takes me by surprise, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. I thought she’d say pain, or even death, but instead,