Ad Nauseam - By C. W. LaSart Page 0,38

the shin while others curled around the calf. They varied in color from a pale pink to a deep angry red, shiny and vibrant against her paleness. Resting her foot on the edge, she held the razor to her skin and sighed, a breathy exhalation of pleasure.

Scott held his breath, caught up in the intimate moment as he watched her run the razor up her leg, the beginning of an erection stirring his crotch.

She used no gels or soaps. Laying the blade against a spot on her ankle, her knuckles turning white as she pressed, she broke the skin and cut a ribbon of flesh off her shin as she drew the razor upward, blood rolling down her calf and dripping into the bath.

What the fuck is she doing? Scott’s stomach turned as she flayed off a perfect strip of her skin. Setting down the razor, she held the flap in front of her face, and with another heady moan, stuffed it into her mouth. Blood and sweat ran down her chin in a pink line.

Taking a step back, Scott bumped into something and gasped.

The woman’s head snapped towards the door in surprise, her eyes narrowing as she continued to chew. Scott froze. What the fuck is wrong with her eyes? I thought they were brown.

Unable to move, Scott watched as she stood and stepped out of the tub, water running off her slender body and darkening the blue bath mat. For a moment they just stared at each other, he in the shadows, she in the light. Blood flowed down her wet shin and dripped onto the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice. She smiled at Scott, her teeth pink with her own blood.

“Well, hello, lover. It’s about time you showed up.” The woman stepped toward him, her hand outstretched.

Scott stood his ground, the knife pointing outward at hip level as she came toward him. Glancing down at the blade, she wasn’t deterred. Moving forward as if to embrace him, she allowed the knife to slide easily through her flesh, puncturing her side as if she were made of cream cheese, instead of flesh and bone.

She gasped with pleasure, her flesh seeming to suck at the knife as he pulled it out.

At the sound of her ecstatic moan, Scott’s resolve fled. Any trace of an erection shriveled and his stomach cramped at the thought of her eating her own skin.

Crazy. Bitch is fucking crazy. I have to get out of here. He took two running steps toward the bedroom door, then his ankle connected with something solid on the floor and his arms shot out to keep his balance. Plunging forward anyway, he reached his left hand out to break his fall, conscious of the hunting knife in his right.

His head banged against something hard. The moment before everything went black he mused about still having his mask on; At least I won’t cut my head.

***

Soft, beautiful singing tugged Scott from unconsciousness, the comfortable darkness that swaddled him in its grip. Coming back in layers, he noticed his ferocious headache first. Subtle light pushed against his closed lids, but even that was too much for his aching head. He tried to rub it, but found he was unable to move his arms or legs.

His eyes snapped open in alarm, which caused the throb in his head to double.

It took a moment to recognize his surroundings and he had a panicked second when he thought he had somehow blinded his peripheral vision. It all came back to him in a rush, the woman in the tub, the singing, and that he was still in her house wearing the mask.

No wonder I can only see straight ahead.

Her face appeared directly in front of his own and Scott pulled back, trying to get as far away as he could.

No longer wearing the dark brown contacts, her real eyes gleamed a brilliant yellow, the pupils black, reptilian slits. She smiled and smoothed a hand across his stomach, making him aware that the mask was all he wore. His wrists and ankles were bound to the posts of a massive bed.

“Good. You’re finally awake. I was worried.” She leaned in to kiss him, getting only leather when he turned his head.

“What are you?”

“Oh you poor thing, you really did hit your head pretty hard. It’s okay if you’re confused.” She continued to run her hand across his body from chest to thigh, each pass coming closer to his groin. “I’m your lover, of