The Day of Anti-Antonement

The Day of Anti-Antonement
Disclaimer:
This is a one-time one shot sexual scene between two of my own characters that I use in other situations besides this scene. The characters have been created by me and should not be used in any other material without my consent. This scene has been posted under the Vampire section since one of the main characters is a vampire and there is some play on that fact. However in no way is this a vampire on vampire scene. It instead is a vampire with a half-human half-warlock. It has not been listed as VS since I am new to this an am unsure if that means two vampires or just one. However there is lemon included. It has been rated NC-17 for strong sexual content and language. A sidenote to prevent offending someone, there is also use of biblical reference in this scene.

Prologue: It is the year 2027 and the vampires have lived for centuries without exposure to humans. However, throughout the last two years, information about them has been leaked and a particular group of commando humans has gone about trying to dispose of them. Irinia Manahan is the daughter of a famous count who is known as Jaden Manahan. She has betrayed her society by joining the human alliance and telling them of her kind's secrets. She is known for her greatest betrayal of murdering her own mother, Trinity Manahan, who was the wife of Jaden and a very strong leader in the vampire nation. Since her betrayal Irinia has gone off on her own and through her travels has met Isaiah Gaunthier, a strange half blood (half human, half warlock) with a mysterious origin of his own. For several weeks now Isaiah has dreamed about bedding Irinia and forcing her to his own will. This story begins with him having found her and having brought her back to his place in Paris, France.

Leviticus 19:18:
Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself.

She could not believe what had happened. Never in her two millennia of existence had she faced this, and she had been faced with a lot. From falling for the most evil man known to her kind, to having a tryst with his father, to falling deeply for his son and never completely coming back from it, or to giving her heart to the man she had known for so long, but had forgotten for many years due to her own ill fate; she had witnessed, she had felt, and she had faced a lot. Most of it still made her shiver at night, but she would never let anyone know that because it weakened her, showed a side of her that she did not want seen. However, a lot of what her life was had been due to her own doing.

But this, it was different. She did not know why she had killed one human, or another, or the one after that and left their bodies so carelessly spread about in the public's eye. She did not know why she cuffed a man because he was simply mad that she took something of his and got rid of it. She did not know why she was so close to feeling him within her and yet it was torn away from her because of a stupid Paleri guard!

She did not know why any of this even mattered. Outside she was a calloused woman, obviously bruised by the memories of her past and her hatred of a particular evil Satanic man that she had been with for a particularly short amount of time. She did not show one bit of care for anything. She simply focused her time on something she thought worthwhile and would not be scrutinized for, her work. She would get her orders and figure out the most sensible resolution at completing them, then go about working on them for her two higher-ups. She did not really feel any loyalty or devotion, or dedication to them. They were simply order-givers that she followed so that she could have some kind of escape from her rather chaotic life.

And usually she did not mind what she was assigned to do. Whether it was spying or meddling with her kind in order to get some kind of perceived results, it was not something that knotted her heart or pressed down on her soul until she felt smothered. It was simple work that had to be done for someone else's demands. Usually, it was fine and she would do it without a second thought.

The problem was, one of her two masters was more deviant and ill bound than the other. She was an old wrinkled work-by-the-book wench that now made Iri almost puke when thinking of her. She hated Iri's kind and wanted them dead. She wanted to torment them, observe them, study them...personally, and create strong defenses against them so that humans could rise up as the ultimate race...or so Irinia thought. It made sense, did it not? To take Rhiana away from their kind, to torture the young woman, all in order to get rid of a threat so humans could be safe...or dominant and ruthless.

Usually she did not hate them. Usually she saw humans as the weaker kind that played a part in the Darwinism of the world. Her kind hungered and used that prude's kind to fulfill their blood lust. Humans, humans were supposed to keep to themselves as the immortals did. They were supposed to maybe suspect a little bit of something, but nothing like this. They were not supposed to know so much and want to use that knowledge to murder every single one of her kind, or torture them all in some mad riot that fulfilled that woman's odd lust of power...or perhaps her lust of corruption. Oh, how it made Iri mad when she had to do her very last assignment for that witch. And it still bruised her. This time she was not just calloused from the outside, she was calloused from the in and it burned like hell.

Her mother...it was her dear mother for crying out loud! No matter how much she would get annoyed at her, she never wanted to kill her or much less hurt her with her rebellious actions. And having done so proved her own sadistic nature. A fact that she hated because it now gave him power over her.

He was just there, glaring at her with those cruel steaming brown eyes of his, waiting for anything. He had not left her either during her trance. He was just there, tearing her apart by only his intent gaze. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She was supposed to be able to handle herself damnit! How had this stupid half-human that was nothing but an illiterate mutt caused her to tremble so much so that she could not keep her own thoughts straight?

Because she had never faced this before and it was the truth. She had loved one similar, but not like this. The love of her past was both cold and loving, but more of the latter. Caspius was not like this. He was not holding her bound and tied for his own satisfaction. He let her have her own will and respected her. This though, was a completely different game.

Isaiah's icy breath hovered over her face as his chilled hand ran down the middle of her chest. His lips were cracked into a sly smile, one that made her insides wind and ache. Why...why was he doing this? He had never acted like this before.

His breath spiraled into a small loop and then dissipated into the fresh crisp air. He groaned a bit as he sat himself up to straddle her, his oh-so-shining black suit pants stretched to their max as his knees were bent against her sides, holding her tightly in place. She blinked once, perhaps the only time that she had at all during this strange encounter. He took this as a sign to say something and that angered her, for why should he have the right when he knew what was going on? She wanted to scream and force him off her...She wanted to force him to explain what was going on.

His eyes narrowed and followed hers down to her throat. His grin grew wider as he cracked a stiff laugh for two tight seconds, and then stopped like that: abrupt, silent, and crude.

Is: You look so confused right now.

What the hell? Why would he say that? Why would he say that so matter-of-factly, so harshly without any sign of feeling? Did he really think she did not know her own state of mind or her own condition? Of course she did...that was when she was actually focused and not befuddled underneath a horrendous mind cloud due to his awkward actions as of late.

He rubbed a hand around her navel for a moment, and then stopped, as quickly and as uncomfortably as everything else he had been doing. He pulled his hand back, and then slowly hovered it up and over her until it gently rested on her forehead. He wiped away some stray green hairs from her eyes, and then returned his hand to his other to fold them neatly on top of her stomach.

Gently? He was being gentle now? Somehow she found that odd from this man...at least in this current state of his. But he only managed to piss her off again when he knew just the right thing to say to press her button.

Is: You're really that bewildered after you were with that almighty helleney Paleri? I'm surprised. I'd thought he'd do more to you. More than this.

She suddenly burst forward, not to attack him, but in a convulsion due to her shock at the situation. He did not lower his head and sigh heavily in frustration, as she wished he would in order to show pity for her, but instead he raised his head, folded his arms with his muscles rippling and stretching tight, and nodded to her confidently, his face erupting in that stiff throat-deep startling laughter of his that made her want to run and hide. He was enjoying this! He was enjoying how she could not control herself because of...because of...because...well she was not sure exactly, but she was betting it was because he was right and she hated it.

He leaned forward and pressed his chin against her breasts, his back slightly arched and hands planted at her sides. Damn, he was not even sweating under that thick suit coat of his. He was completely in control. He was...he was a monster!

And she, she could smell her thick stink from the layers and layers of sweat that had profused over her body while she was drug, embraced, slammed, stretched, and locked into her position on the bed by those annoying metal cuffs that scraped her wrists and burnt into her flesh. She was embarrassed for he had completely controlled her from the beginning. Sure she fought and battled him for her release, but he was undeniably strong for a half human and somehow had been able to keep her in line...this time.
He must have had some kind of aid, for she used to be in control.
Or maybe, maybe it was that his true nature was now out and when he was like this, there was nothing stopping him from using his ultimate strength. She was unable to interrupt the wound up tension that he was now using against her. He was strong. For being a mere half human he was strong and he was crippling her with his weight...even though he appeared rather light in his nature on other days than this. What...what was causing this? She knew that he was hot for her, that he really wanted her. She just did not know that he wanted this...this! from her.

His eyes scanned her from her chin up, until they met hers again. Calmly, without any hint whatsoever as to his state of mind, he remarked: You don't know what to do with me. You (removes one hand from her side and again rests it on her forehead, this time to run it along the base of her hairline in a smooth soft massage) don't know what to do with me, do you? You can't just get rid of me because I legally found you. You can't hurt me and escape for your freedom because I bound you. You can't fight me with anything...and you really want to pay me for this. You're stuck and you have no idea what's on my "unpredictable" mind.
She snapped her eyes shut, not moving her face. She had nothing to say and no facial reaction to give.
He sat up again, this time he used both of his hands to nestle in her hair as his butt now rested on the mounds of her knees. He looked down at her, pensively, piercingly until she dared open her eyes again.
When he did not say anything again, she could no longer take it. Her eyes flashed open, causing him to spark up into a rage of laughter. She knew he kept getting at her in every little place that it hurt, except for the one place he really wanted to. And he would continue tormenting her, until he lead this game...if that was what it was, in the very direction that he craved.
He stopped laughing again and bent forward. He pressed those thin yet what she knew as delicious lips against hers. He was no longer soft or gentle in his nature in any way. He was now animalistic as his hands removed themselves from her hair and pressed deep into her skin through her clothes from her breasts down to her waist. He tilted his head and kept forcing his lips on hers. She knew he would not relent. He would not until she willingly parted her mouth for him to continue his ravage game.

Yet somewhere else inside her, she knew he would never take this too far. She could sense something about him. It was his will to keep coming back to her after she continuously cast him aside. He could not leave her alone. To him, she was a dog in heat and he had to keep coming back for more. To get his ultimate satisfaction, she feared, he was sacrificing himself in order to gain her trust. He needed that from her. It was what made him complete. Or so she thought. Or maybe he would be like all the other men and get so close to her that he could ultimately ruin her not only physically, but also mentally again, like Raven had and Raven had hard.

She trembled underneath his fingers, both as a reaction to his harsh touch and her thoughts. She could not; she could not let herself get close to another man like that again. Sure, she knew it was her fault for losing Raven, but she could not face the trauma and the torment of being cast aside for someone else again, or just being tossed away with the garbage like she had several times before like with Anson's father and Anson himself. She...she knew it would make her bleed from within and ache throughout. She knew it would paralyze her and keep her from doing as well as she had been with her work. She could not risk this. She could not risk losing her place after she had lost so much; her husband, her daughter, her status in society, and thanks to herself her very own beloved mother!

And then there was the ultimate fear. What if, like Caspius, she could never get this man off of her thoughts and it trailed her throughout the years through all of her bad times...and even some during her good? Could she really face being imprinted and marked by yet another man?

Oh, it hurt to fight him. To not give in to his touch and just let him take her. This was not rape. No, no matter how tied up or how restrained she was, she knew he would not do that. For he was trying for the ultimate thing, her trust, and he would risk nothing of the sort to lose any that she already had for him. He was rough, yes and she could not move, yes, but he was also not in a rush or forcing himself upon her in a way that made her anything else than angry that they had never been able to complete this before.

God, was this real? She could not believe it. She had never played these games and somehow, even though she knew not how, she knew that this was not a usual part of him, but a part very parallel to his killing nature. Perhaps he hated Shay, but he never took the time to finish him off because he had other things on his mind and did not want to at this current point in time. Other things in his mind, like her.

Why, why did he have to do this, she asked herself for the thousandth time as he continued his hard lip-nipping game? She did not want to have to face this today. She had other things on her mind, like catching up with that weird woman who used to be his maid and going out to find Edahn in order to retrieve his necklace to payback Ciao for his work at the Colleseum. She had so much to do; yet here he was an obstacle in her eyes.

She had to make this stop. She had to get her work done. She had to be herself and scrap this man aside. She could not be hurt again and she could not give him her trust! It was out of the question. He was undeserving of it!

He sighed and sat up after she remained unresponsive for quite some time. He rolled his eyes and looked away: I'm not going to stop and you know that (looks back at her accusingly). I know you know that. So before I do anything more, what are you thinking? (frowns and rubs a hand over his eye to relieve an itch, then lowers it with a smack against her chest) What are you thinking!
Iri winced. Those were harsh words meant to wake her from this slumber state. He wanted her answer. He wanted to know her and...and Oh God, he wanted to understand her... This was her ultimate nightmare. That fiend! How dare he!

She barely whispered in a hoarse reply: That I hate you very much but that I cannot do anything about it.
Isaiah scoffed and leaned his body back down above hers, and returned his lips to their prior game. What the hell? He had no more to say after that? Was that really enough to soothe his quenching curiosity?
She finally reacted by forcing her head away from him. She continued to move it until he forced a hand down on her throat to keep her from doing it again. God...this was going too far now. She could not move. She could not do anything to him. He was invincible!
When her head was turned so that one side rested against the bed, he knelt forward and whispered warmly, yet sappily in her ear like hot liquid lava, that he wanted her to stop thinking so hard and listen.
How did he know every damn little thing her body did or her mind was doing? How did he have this ability against her?

She sighed in the midst of heated frustration: What? What do you have to say, half-blood?
Isaiah closed his eyes and kissed her ear, then fiddled with it with his tongue, lapping against it like a dog: I need to let you go and know...and believe that you will go nowhere while I mark you with my seed.
She gasped, let her go? What? Was this not part of his game?
Isaiah shushed her and leaned his head against hers: I know, you're very confused. But I cannot do this, even though my body and my cock really want to, without your consent and without your willing participation. It just...I was going to, Irinia, but it just feels too wrong.

And there it was. Her final proof that he would not dare to take her without her authority. He really was being a damned pest now. First, he was mean and rough, and now he seemed to be brooding. What was really...it was a scheme, wasn't it? He knew just how to get at her and this was yet another part of that plan to seduce her according to every little detail he had imagined. Oh, he really was good, wasn't he?

Iri let her eyes lull about, half-open and clouded in a daze as she remained lying stiff in rejection to his advances: I...
She was about to be harsh and gain her freedom, go back to her work and complete her missions. Damn, she was about to be herself again, but why couldn't she spit out those few cursed words?

He waited impatiently, gawking at her with impatience, which annoyed her because he was no longer doing the tango with her sultry spot, her ear.

Iri: I...let me go.

And from that point on, it was damned if you do and damned if you don't. As soon as he unlocked her cuffs she could no longer contain herself. She was no longer that resistant limp frail being, but was herself full of heated passion and dark contempt for this evil little soul. Her contempt was so strong that it fueled her blood to a burning point that lit her on fire. She was wild and she had to defeat this tiger.

He could not believe it when she shot up off the bed and pounced on him, forcing him down against the mattress with a loud whomp. His kisses that he had so blatantly tried giving her before, were now nothing against her hard, yet mushy lips that seemed to crease and ripple underneath every weak attack, yet were strong and fierce with every one. She was already in his mouth battling hotly with his tongue for the winning spot. She was exactly as he thought and somewhat feared. She was a rippling beauty composed of spice and everything but nice. She was feral and ferocious, unrelenting.

Jeez, he thought, the war was on now.

No longer was she on top as he pressed his hands against the side of her face through their intense tongue kiss. He used his elbows to propel himself on top. It was much more satisfying to be on top because he thought he dominated it this way.

It would not be so, for even underneath him she was still crazy. She slammed him with her knee, into the lower portion of his waist causing him to buckle down on top of her. He fell with a resistant groan as she used this opportunity to force her arms around his neck and her lips to the top of his head of sexy black hair, which she kissed while she bent up enough so that his head was now buried into her breasts.

Clothes, she was already sweaty from when he tousled with her to get her here, and they had just built up to an uncomfortable sticking irritation. They had to go. So she stopped her peck on his head and let her back collapse against the mattress. She moaned incessantly.
Iri: Remove my clothes. I'm flaring up alive in these things.
He had to pull himself out of her breasts and look down at her: Yes, Medusa. With pleasure.
She hissed at his inappropriate name-use and tilted her body against his weight. She shivered when he remained hovering over her, doing nothing.
Is: But why do you want them removed so bad?
She closed her eyes and scoffed. The insult. Was he really that clueless? He had her now. Why was she going to fight him?
Isaiah shook his head: I don't think so, Irinia. I don't think you really know me. I thought you were stronger than this. I don't think I want to do this when you just give up like this.
She growled: How dare you say that!
He soon regretted it when she shot up, clutched his boner, and using it along with her body spun him over onto his back. He had nothing he could do to stop himself from groaning upon impact. For two seconds later she was on top of him again, straddling him as he had her when she was still bound, and she was restarting the irritating kissing game. He had enough. He knew she would be a testy one, but not like this! He thought he could control her, thought he knew himself well enough, but she continued to prove him wrong and that was not good for his manlyhood! He could not let her treat him like that without a fair share in return. So he did it. The little bastard did it and it was yet another shock to her.
He clutched the miniature axe that was stuck deep into his pants pocket and shot up with it, swiping it several times across her arms, causing her to bleed in several long trails of dark crimson. He did not stop there either, for when she refused to remove her stomach from his, he managed to stick that little baby in between their bodies and slice it across her navel. She screeched and instinctively shot back from him. He sat up abruptly and glared at her as she was fixated on him with an appalled pale expression. He then used the distraction to his advantage, dumped the axe back into its place, and shot forward, forcing her down. Her body sailed over the bed so that her back was bent over its edge and her head was dangling in the air. She looked up awkwardly at the ceiling as she sort of floated in place. He pressed his lips down against the cuts in her stomach and lapped up the blood.
God, that was a buzz that was new to her and it made her shriek. She shifted around uneasily, his lips a tickle to her skin.
Ir: What the goddamn fucken hell are you doing, ya fucken French half-wit mortal cocksucker!
Oooh, she was swearing now and he loved it. For he had really pissed her off...or confused her...or a combination of both and that satisfied him...to a point.
He slowly raised his body a few inches and bent his neck like a crane. Ah, he had her helpless again. That was unless she gave him another shock up through his system with another hot knee butt. His eyes glittered as they glanced upon her sweating pale skin. He had to have her. He knew he had to have her and no matter what. No matter what rejections or excuses his mind came up with, his body had to win. So he pulled out the axe and raised up his hand again, flailing it daintily in the air while his expression returned back to that half-hearted smirk of his.
He tilted his head in what could be taken as an action of curiosity, and perhaps was, but showed more of a sign of intense domination.
And there it was again. That damned option of remaining in her position and getting the deed over with by not relenting, or doing something about it. But before she could make up her mind he shattered her thoughts with his pristine low voice smooth with unbound sentiment, sympathy, and devotion. That made her itch inside, when he spoke like that. For he had a way of sounding just right for her boiling needs.
Is: Do you want it?
She jerked once, her feet slightly flopping underneath him. He did it again, this time not pissing her off, but instead alarming her. Did she want what? What was there for her to want? Him? She had already hinted that she did. But he didn't mean that. He had something else devious on his mind.
She growled: Want what you cruel mother-fucking half-witted bastard?
Isaiah stifled his laughter and stabbed the axe down with great control. Iri wriggled and screamed when it dug deep into the pit of her body, tearing through layers of clothes, just below the bridge of her breasts. The pain did not end there as it sizzled and sparked when he pulled that axe down her chest in a neat straight line, causing yet more blood to swell to the surface of her skin and ooze there for his pleasure, any time and any way he wanted it.
She howled now, her eyes very clear and black, and her temper flaring.
Iri: Did I fucking give you permission to abuse me like that with that fucken damn accessory, you stupid sadistic sick asshole! What the hell are you doing!
But he ignored her, not caring that he had not waited for her command. He kept the axe held in his hand as he crawled over her and swept up her neck in one of his arms. He licked his lips while his eyes again became enchanted upon her gaze, her expression of shocked horror.
He cackled and lowered his head, his focus now on her throat: I thought you were the vampire. Why am I having all of the fun?
Again, like so many other times this night she asked herself what the hell had happened to him and changed him, what was driving him to do such treacherous things. But that was quickly forced out of her mind when she touched her hands onto the floor and used them as the leading force in getting her off of the bed. However, he had other ideas when he realized that his arm was still attached to her neck. He pulled her up close to him, this time letting her have a taste of her own medicine when he forced her into his chest. And he continued yanking on her tightly until he had crawled back as far as he could and she was again laid out in a safe position on the bed.
Iri would not allow him to continue with this blasphemy. She was not always a righteous person herself, but she had been raised with dignity and she would not be defiled in such a way as this. Her stomach and arms now ached, the deep slash he had branded her with now squelching with a hot throb that twanged with every little movement her body made. She groaned in discomfort, realizing that it was only her choice that was keeping her in her place as he had now removed his arms from her neck. He sat with his back against the headboard of the bed, his arms slightly propped up by several pillows and crossed firmly across his still-dressed muscular chest. His eyes remained fixated upon the deep gash he had just recently given her. He caught a glance of the rest of her torso, registering a hint at her short rigid tremors. Why was she shaking? Was she truly afraid of him, or had he gotten her so good this was how she contained herself?
Her eyes rolled up the ceiling and locked onto a faint crimson stain. Her mouth grew furrowed as she registered it as blood. Isaiah noticed the target of her eyes and laughed, a bit uneasily.
Is: I have lived in this house for a long while. It is not as if my enemies have not taken a liking to coming here now and then.

He immediately grew stern, his expression grim while he unconsciously returned his gaze to her gash. He had just lied to her. Did she notice? That was not the blood of any enemy of his. It was the blood of his mother. It had gone on like this. His weak frail mother, a wicked witch like so many movies and books depicted, kept shrieking at him profanities until she ended up backing him into his room. He had grown tired of her unwillingness to be honest and explain to him what she really was. He was not an idiot. He knew silver blood was not normal. So he questioned her, realizing that he himself had picked up a bit of her tainted appearance. She grew angered and irrational, like he had never witnessed her before. All he wanted was to understand and come to know this part of the world, but all she wanted was to make him leave her alone, to make him go away. Maybe she wanted to protect him from her world. He did not know, but he doubted it. He had not been after the Silver Bloods that long, but since they became a forbidden unreachable race to him, he changed that. He looked around while still standing in his room, the only weapon in his proximity being that of his paternal granddad's ancient battle-axe, an item that hung high and brilliant on the wall above his bed. It showed the most excellence and brilliance in the room. Upon any time he entered his chambers, its dark silver blade still etched with someone's long lost blood, caught his eye. He was proud of that axe. Mostly because he barely knew his father and loved his sister. It was one of the only things left that linked him back to that life, to that side of his family. So the moment that he had had enough he forced that axe off the wall and stared his mother deep into her light glimmering watery brown eyes, which always showed the slightest hint of transparency. It was not long until he bunted that axe straight across the side of her face, into her right eye and up to the base of her skull. She stood aghast for a moment and reached out for him, whispering his name under her breath. Then she slowly backed up, her form growing more pallid by the second. He grinned, she was afraid of him and at his mercy. Finally after all the years of her inconsiderate nature, she was being taken care of, by him.
He approached her slowly, his back arched and arms raised, his head raised strong and nature feral. He was now the predator, and she the harmless prey.
She screeched to him, a faint whisper for his mercy: Isaiah, no! I am your mother. For God's sake...for Charisse's sake, no!
But he would have none of that and he slammed the axe into her neck, swiping it from the lower left portion of her neck diagonally up across her face until it stopped at the right edge of her forehead. She stood still for a moment, then fell backward with her hands to her throat where he had successfully cut deep enough to cast away much of her blood. She was dead and oddly, he stared down at her body, which bloated and burst, splattering red blood...he paused...red blood?, throughout the room, most of it staining his ceiling. He gasped and put a hand to clench over his nose. God that reeked, whatever it really was if it wasn't blood. His throat gulped and stomach jumped. He felt like he was going to puke and only made that feeling worse when he glared down at her drained corpse. Eww...she was still his mother, but appeared to be a flattened rotten pancake. He shook his head and exited the room, dropping the bloody axe on the ground next to her remains while he put his other hand over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. He exited the bloody massacre, his suit now freshly sprayed with the remains of the one who had raised him so coldly for all of those years. He had felt partially sick to his stomach, yet relieved in his soul at being able to complete such a bold, courage-wracking mission. He won. The witch was no more.

Iri closed her eyes and rolled to her side, to cover what she could of her body without making it scream back at her for not tending to her fresh wounds. She reopened them to stare off across the room at a nightstand where a rusty weapon rested with half of its handle rotted away and its blade pulled slightly out of its grasp. She sighed when she recognized it as another axe. This guy sure had a fascination for them, one that was now causing her to whimper and squirm uncontrollably.
He jumped forward, not realizing that perhaps he had gone too far. He had forgotten that most of his weapons had been made with Shay in mind. That meaning they could possibly be poisonous to vampires in general. Oh God, he worried, what had he done. He knelt over her and frowned. She continued to convulse in little clumps, then stopped. He...he had gone too far.
She scowled at his presence being so near. She wanted him away from her, at least until she had wracked up enough of her strength again to defeat him.
Ir: What the fuck is your problem you half-blooded splat-brain!
He growled, no longer taking a liking to her harsh comments. He could not let her simply go. He...he wanted to be equal to her. He knew that liking a vampire, or showing any affection to one in general was a sin and a damnation that portrayed him as a betrayer of his sister. But how could he help it, damnit? How could he help it when all that he wanted right now was her?
Iri rolled around and twisted her body until she was on her fours and facing him. He should have remained against that damned backboard for his own good because she now had him where she wanted him. She leapt on top of him and shoved his back against the bed. She wrapped her hands tight around his throat, choking him so tight that her hands left marks imprinted against his skin for several minutes after.
Iri hissed: You think that cutting me in such a way has granted YOU the power, you sly-minded impish fool? Damn wrong!
She continued choking him, causing his eyes to grow wide and his hands to slap frantically at his sides in search of a release. She bent forward, parted her lips, and wiped her tongue across her canines. Good, they were ready. Unfortunately for him he was dealing with a woman who bit, and she bit hard clutching his lips underneath her teeth. His body reeled, and it reeled hard. Goddamnit, would this woman just let him go? He could not have authority over his body. He...he realized she was returning his favor, he could not move.
She licked his lips with her tongue while her canines remained delved deep into his flesh. She pulled her tongue back and lapped him one final time until she was far enough away that her canines were just barely out of his flesh.
She whispered to him, releasing her hands from his throat: I say that if you're wanting to eat me alive, that I get to do the same to you, no?
He rolled his head back in relief, causing his neck to be revealed in its complete and utter tan beauty. She grinned, his skin finally glimmered with sweat. He was now in the same fucking boat as her and she was overjoyed. Perhaps this game was a little bit more appealing than she first thought. She really wanted to make him pay for the pain that still tore at her stomach, so she did the thing she knew got at him the most. She lowered a hand slowly and tediously over his chest, starting first at his neckline, stopping slightly at his hard nipples. She then continued in between his breasts and down his flat stomach, until her hand met the bump in his pants, which she squeezed hard with glee.
He lurched forward, his face still blue from his oxygen having been stolen. His hands flung threw the air, and then charged down next to his sides where they now held him firmly up. Iri sat up, still straddling him and tilted her head, waiting for him to ease down. When he finally did, she lifted up one of her hands from his bump and placed her finger near his mouth.
Iri: Here, have a taste.
He froze, fighting to keep his lips closed so that he would not be submissive. But his body reeled and she continued to slowly squeeze him hard where it really hurt him the most. His lips cracked open and he willingly bit down on her fingers with his straight shiny white teeth. Damn...he never thought that someone's finger could taste so good.
Iri smirked her smug little smile of approval and bent forward, ignoring her own finger as she again coaxed him with her luxurious soothing voice.
Ir: I knew you'd like that just as you like this (squeezes harder on his spot, then bows her head and licks her lips) It's only fair that if I allow you to take the ultimate pleasure in your wound you gave me, that I get the ultimate pleasure in your neck right now.
Isaiah sucked hard on her finger, his eyes getting lost in the taste of her beloved skin. He barely heard her last tasty comment and let his body settle as he enjoyed the short bliss she was allowing him. Suddenly she removed her finger and he felt a hot spark in his neck. His eyes shot wide open for a few moments until he was lulled into a trance by her sweet sassy breath. She knelt over him, her hands now resting on his face at the sides of his cheeks and her elbows resting next to his arms. Her eyes were low and narrow, darkened mildly from their usual resolute form of emerald. She sucked against his skin, her canines still tenderly sunk deep into his flesh. Warmth spread through her from his crisp bitter blood. Her mind tore at her while her body delved right into a juicy fantasy. She knew she should not be doing this for several reasons, but it just felt so right. She wanted to bathe in his firey life force. She wanted to suck every last ounce of this strong red liquid that was his to give. He was strong and she craved suckling it all into her body. She ached to steal him away.
Isaiah tingled a bit, the particular spot in his neck where Iri's lips nestled his skin tickling and hurting at the same time. He tilted his head in the opposite direction of her suckle and sighed coolly.
Is: I thought you wanted your clothes removed.
She swallowed and placed a finger just above her lips. She knew that if she just suddenly pulled back she would hurt him and tear at his muscles, causing him to have pain for...Yes, that is exactly what she would do to the despicable little twerp. She removed her finger and shot upward licking her lips and removing her teeth from his flesh. Blood still boiled from his neck from where she had caressed his skin. She simply ran a finger over it and brought it to her mouth, lapping up what she could of the remains. She lowered her gaze to him and cranked hard one more time on his boner, causing him to jump and whimper uncontrollably. She didn't care what he was feeling or where he was feeling it. He had bruised her, causing her newly bought clothes to be turned into scraps from hell. So now she was simply going to return the favor and make him hurt just as much as she. She didn't wait for him to react, she simply scooted her behind up his body, tightening her hold of him with her legs wound around his chest. She sat up straight, still licking the blood from her lips and tore off the remaining portions of her shirt...and bra. She flung them aside and still impatient, bent forward toward the collar of his shirt. He grit his teeth as he tried to turn his head to watch her. She had done that vampire kiss on purpose and he had let her.
He thought she would be as quick to remove his shirt as she had her own, but that was not the case. He gazed in awe at her perfectly swollen breasts bouncing against her chest as she leant down against him, with her pelvis meeting his. She loved that she was a vampire, as it made things all the more erotic and interesting. She bit into the collar of his shirt and then used her teeth to sear it apart for a ways. When she had a good start she finally released his boner and placed both of her hands on the shirt to tear it away, leaving only his jacket behind as it was matted against his skin. She used her lips to kiss his chest as a distraction while her hands did the dirty work of pulling his arms to his sides and tearing it apart in several different places where the stitching was weak.
He shook for a second, the startling reality of her pelvis against his boner through their clothes yelling back at him to wake up. He was inspired that she got this far, that she had been able to remove that bloody tattered thing that covered what he was now in joy at having before his eyes. But that was enough. He was no dormant corpse, he was the master!
She flew off the bed when he shot up with a raging roar. He placed one finger to the soft pin marks on his neck and pulled himself off the bed. Enough he thought, enough with the fucken suit pants and bounding elements. Enough with the barriers that kept her away from him. ENOUGH!
So in a few seconds he was undone. His belt was tossed carelessly against the door, his pants dumped to his feet until he stepped out of them, and his underwear simply tore in two by his own greedy hands. Iri was no different. She had landed on the floor on her fours with a loud thud, her skirt, stockings, and pantyhose left as all that remained from her previously new garments. She growled in protest that she did not get to strip him of his outer coverings, but soon came past it and tore apart her own covering with angry fingers that raked and clawed at anything left behind. She looked like a mess with upheveled green hair, reddened pallid skin, and that deep wound spread across her stomach. Her clothes were left in a heap to be swept up and tossed away later. She could no longer strip him down with pleasure because he was already done. But she could sure do it later...and yet tonight by making him comply with her irrational demands over and over again. Her eyes became hard and shiny and focused against him, against his plaything, which shot out of his body ready for her to devour. Staring at it made her realize that she needed a good fuck and she needed it hard... and more than once in a short period of time as well. It had simply been too long for her and he served as a very probable solution to the problem.
She stumbled up onto her legs and headed towards him, her eyes still planted against that one perfect portion of his body that she needed to feel, she needed to taste, she needed to force at her will. He stood still for several moments, letting her gawk at him with beloved amusement. It was when she got too near that he livened. He forced his hands down on her shoulders and cackled roughly, forcing her to a stop. She was not going to have fun with him just yet, even if his body screamed for her to. Even if he was fully exposed, he was not fully off his guard and he refused to be taken advantage of in his own home. He wanted to make her play with his gadget. In fact he needed her to too forcefully, so forcefully that he would have to give into her demands without any choice, without any protest.

Iri growled and wriggled underneath the pressure of his hands on her shoulders. Her instant desire to make him hurt, to make him scream because of the pain caused by her hands, nauseated her, almost to the point where she felt like the room was spinning around her. She hated him, yes she reminded herself several times almost instinctively, she hated him with an inner passion so deep that she had to force him to bow down at her knees and beg for mercy. He continuously would not go away. He was a pest, a constant threat to her composure...to her sanity. She had to get rid of the distraction he had made himself. He had to be destroyed by the very power of her grappling hands weighing down on him, crushing him, bleeding him dry. It had to be done intimately, so that the pain he would feel was all the more personal. She wanted the pain to be the ultimate threat that hindered him into a spiral of never-ending depression. Scratch that, she thought, she didn't want that, she needed it. She needed the power of making him defenseless and weak, barred of any strength upon just her sight alone.

Oooh, she tensed. That very thought made her blood boil.

His eyes scanned her carefully, making note of every little unique twitch and glimmer of emotion that rose upon her now stern face. She was thinking hard. She was thinking about something serious, something perhaps life threatening. That's what he sensed anyway and it did not surprise him when she ended this compromised look with a devious grin of her own. She had something in store for him and deep inside he was hoping it was her will to be rough with him, to attack him with the slender fingers of him, to shove him with her mind's ability, to force him down to the ground with enough ferocity that he could hear her tainted little heart sink and rise back and forth against her chest with a hard quickened thud. He wanted her to be mean. He wanted her to be a monster. He wanted her to live up to her damn name.

She scowled, her smile fainting when she realized he was watching her with those shrewd eyes of his. He was intelligent, perhaps slightly heightened in his ability from the rest of the mortals due to his lineage. She could feel him observing her and it made her shudder. Damn, he was really able to sense every little thing about her and it made her...made her...it did not make her sick, it almost made her feel compromised. Just what kind of hold was this halfwit half blood trying to have on her?

He was bored now, having taken in as much of her as he could. So he removed his hands from her shoulders and stepped in towards her, clutching her jaw with the rough portions of his hands, holding her tight so that she could again not move. He sunk his tongue in low between her now willingly parted lips and violently battled with her tongue. His body stood at an awkward angle from hers, causing the only portion of their intimacy to be through their lips. Iri would have none of that so she grabbed out with her arms and wrapped him up with her embrace. She pulled him tight against her, so tight that his chest was now pressing up against her gory wound. She froze and threw back her head, screaming in her throat, her breathing turned tight and sore. She attempted to wrestle away from his still connected lips at the pain that shot up through her system and registered in her mind.
He liked this, being as close to her as he was. He had not even been the one to heighten the heat either, as it was her choice to force his naked yet willing body against hers. And he felt it, his cock that was, tightening and lengthening; pressing up against her pelvis, its end extremely sensitive against her prickly pubic hairs. He knew that it wanted a release, a way to get rid of all this built up tension, and it only got worse as the heat of her pussy seemed to pass throughout his entire body all from that simple minor touch. It was true that a portion of his penis was still sore from her undesirable abuse and taunting, but it was still at its helm, ready to be steered in any direction that he commanded it.

God, how her hot body made his skin crawl and goose bumps form. It made all his senses from within collide creating a mass cloud of illusion, of want. When she raised her head, he made sure his own went with it. He would not release her and instead only wanted to get as close to her as he could. His hands slowly slid down her chin and nestled around her neck, where he wanted to play, wanted to bite and mark her. She would not get out of this without being branded by him, without being marked as his mate.
He wouldn't let go. His hold on her had only gotten stronger and more aggressive. So she stood there, restless and agitated. Her body still shrieked at her to attend to her new wound, but she would not listen. He held her tight with his arms and she had no choice but to remain in place. He swallowed, stealing all of her breath as her cries were forced to a bitter end. He pushed against her, coaxing her towards the bed. She stood there, feeling his constant weight against her aching flesh. She held her ground for as long as she could, hoping that her tolerance for pain would not buckle her down before her will to dominate him. It was of no use. His strength still seemed to be holding her back and made her want to force him to a stop. She threw down her arms from his back and squeezed them in between their bodies, until she was able to press them against his chest to shove him backward, not towards the bed but on the ground just below it.
He landed with a rough thud, his head banging against the floor as the rest of his body bounced back like a spring. Damn, that hurt. Why did she have to--
He huffed as she slammed her body down against his. "Ow," he groaned as he tilted his head to the side. She hissed in his ear to 'shut the fuck up and live with it, he had earned whatever she did to him from now on'.
He grinned at that comment and turned his head to look back at her. Before he could even spit one word out, she quieted him with another tongue kiss. He cackled and forced her head back with one hand that he used to pinch her soft supple skin. She snapped when his fingers tightened on her hairline.
Ir: What the fucking hell are you doing, half--
He cut her off instantly, no longer wishing to hear her mocking comments at his despicable heritage, only a heritage that she made him feel bad about. Instead of applying another monotonous tongue kiss to add to the already tormenting game before him, he simply put a finger on her lip to silence her and whispered to her lowly.
Is: I have a name as far as you are concerned, Bitchie, and to you that name is Frenchie. It is not half-wit, half-blood, half-breed or anything else close to that nature.
He grinned as he pushed her a bit farther back with his finger, one hand still pinching her tightly on her forehead: To you I am simply that, your French boiling-hot young thang that you use for a sultry passionate escape from the real world.
Iri growled, obviously not liking this bit of compromise that he tried to make between them. She raised one hand that was flat against the ground and held it up to swiftly flick away his finger from her mouth. She slowly inched herself lower on top of him and sneered: You're not that. You're a one-time thing. A one-time use that I plan to throw away right after this.
Isaiah instantly let his head plop on the ground as he started cackling wildly: I don't think that after you are completely tainted with the warlock's blood, you'll be saying that anymore.
Her eyes grew wide, then quickly narrowed as she raised her head: Half male-witch, eh? Then show me that that's what you really are and not some damn pussy.
Isaiah's cackle grew long and thick, causing him to start hacking on his own saliva: The only damn pussy that there is in this room is yours and I want to fucken defile it with my semen.
Iri's expression grew even more dim, more senile: So blunt have you. So fucking blunt.
Isaiah stopped laughing and grew as equally sober as her, his face now a bright red and flushed from his excessive chortling: I'm just being honest, Irinia. Is that not what you have to have in your stupid wicked life? Something real? Something true? Something absolute?
Iri gulped, not again, he really wasn't hinting at...no stating this idea of gaining her trust again: I need nothing from you, you stupid punky little bastard. I don't need anything from you but your hard sweaty body pounding me right now.
Isaiah grinned again. He just couldn't stay serious for long around her. This entire thing, this game, it was really a laughing riot to him: So you admit that you at least need me for something do you?
Iri snarled: Shut up and just fuck me, you putrid asshole.
Is: Can do, Little Missy.
She reacted with her own little scowl of disapproval as he released her forehead and let her go free. She spread out her entire body, including her long slender pale legs on his. He recoiled slightly, encouraging her to rest them at the sides of his hips, his thighs. She comprehended and did this, and then sat up to rest her hands on his smooth sleek rock hard chest. He had already tasted a part of her that was when he had stolen her breath away during one of their liplocks. But he had not yet received his reward, the reward he had sliced her for. Her eyes lowered and glowed as they caught his. Without saying anything, those simple oracles encouraged him to do as he wished. He was about to sheepishly ask her, 'Really, I can', but instead stopped himself as he sat up and clutched his arms around her waist, her hands raised so as not to be in his way. He licked his tongue first across the long thin line of blood on her lower stomach near her pelvis that had swelled up due to his blade, then made his way to the deeper gash that had formed below the bridge of her breasts.
He had never imagined this. His need, his arousal was at its max now, or what he thought to be his max. Never in his long mortal or short semi-immortal life had he been a participant in something as sweet, as salty, as rich, as bitter, as memorable as he was now. Her blood, he could taste it through his lips, on his tongue; it was much stronger, sharper, and clean than his own. It...it, tasted so royal, so pure, so right, so correct. He was so glad that he did this to her. He didn't give one shit about her pain so long as he got a little bit of pleasure.
Iri watched him, her hands slowly lowered until they were planted against the little arch in his back. He was really enjoying himself she thought. And he would continue to until he was done. For as soon as he lifted his head up it would be...She stopped her train of thought and pulled his head away from her body. Her canines were ready again as her hands slid up his back, around the muscles on his shoulders, and planted rigidly against the sides of his arms. She held him there, noticing that he was stiff and bewildered, and jerked forward to quickly slice into his flesh. She took a deep swallow and again enjoyed herself as she ravished in his life source.
He blinked, confused as to what just happened. One minute he was enjoying himself tasting her and now...and now his damned neck hurt again in the exact same spot as before. Except for this time it was more of a raw pain that tingled all the way down the side of his neck and into his bloodstream. Cripes, she did it again, didn't she? How could he keep falling under her goddamn spell?
She kept her grip tightly on his neck as she smashed him back down against the floor. Her hands kept him in place, but she knew her pelvis would drive him crazy against that now-crushed dick of his. This was her payback for not getting what she wanted earlier, which was to suck that dick hard and tight underneath her sharp teeth.
He finally woke from his spell and attempted to lift up his arms, but her grip on his shoulders was too strong. He tried to wiggle just a little bit in order to release the tension on his neck, but he felt another jolt sent down his neck through his spine. Damnit, he was paralyzed under her grasp like this and he didn't know a way around it. She could kill him if she wanted to.
Which he feared she may have. For surely she was sick of his shit by now. Nothing was really keeping her from doing it anytime she wanted. He was so stupid, so fucking stupid for getting himself in this predicament. He was already limited to only living half a millenium because he was a retarded half blood. He didn't need his years cut any shorter. He didn't need this goddamn thought jammed in his head either. Why did he have to worry so much when all he wanted to do was...
He felt like he was being stung. He wanted to jump up and scream at how sickening it was for his penis to be crushed by her pelvis like that. It hurt. It fucking hurt damnit! Would she stop killing him and move...would she allow him to do as she wished and fuck her already? Did this stupid annoying hold on him have to last so long.
Her cool breath sizzled his ear as one of her hands, now dripping with a few drops of blood slammed hard on his chest: What's wrong, cocksucker boy, can't enjoy yourself?
His eyes glazed over for a second, and than an odd thing...something she never knew was a genetic trait of his took place. It was only a minor detail, but still it showed he wasn't just a simple human. His eyes were no longer that dark piercing brown they could be when he was relaxed, or that semi-translucent brown they could be when he was being sly or sneaky. They were now completely clear like glittering glass that reflected back at her. What the hell...
He shot up, grabbed her neck with one hand and shook his head: Sweet little Princess, did you get surprised yet again? Poor poor princess. I feel so sorry for you. Fuck that shit! Like I'd feel sorry for you at all, EVER!
Iri licked her lips of the remaining blood that still dribbled from in between her teeth. Her eyes glared wide at him, fearful of what he would do.
He bent forward and whispered: I'm sorry, Darling, you sweet little acidic blood clot...Really...screw what I just said. I'm damn sorry that...(he paused and then knelt back and shook her neck) you decided to share a fuck with me.
She screamed, now wanting to escape from him, wishing to avoid all threatening situations. She was already on the run from her kind after having betrayed them. Why did she want to face anymore life-threatening, life-altering situations. She didn't, so she continued screaming, which eventually turned into a horrid shriek. Her body twisted back and forth in a swiveling, winding, and demanding plea to be set free. But he wouldn't, he wouldn't let her just leave like that. However, he did release her neck so that she could grasp some air. To keep his hold on her, to keep her from bolting away and losing all interest in him, he pecked her softly on her shoulders, then smiled softly and did the same to her deadly lips. He wouldn't let her remain lifeless. He'd wake up that life, but only if she accepted his sadist wishes. He loved pain, loved giving it and receiving it. He loved being a masochist. He loved the idea of S & M. He loved torture with style, killing with gore and blood, plenty and plenty of it. So naturally that made him like his fucking the same way. She would comply. He knew she would. He just had to awaken that spirit of hers. He knew she had it. She had just been forceful to him hadn't she? She was strong. She always acted as the dominant one between him and her. She dragged him around and made him do things. It was about time she knew that she wouldn't always get away with it so freely. It was time to let her know that he could be just as fucking mean as her and just as deadly, just as vicious.
Iri howled: What, what are you doing you sick freak!
Ah, sick freak he was and sick freak he'd continue to be.
His lips shimmered, his eyes narrowed, still like glass and pensive. This was who he was. This was his inner dark nature fully revealed. She had been the only one to access it in years. The only one for now but not the only one who would see it in the future. He was sure Shay, that damn vampire who killed his beloved sister, would pay.
He smiled as he pulled back and nodded his head: Can't get away so freely can you?
Iri's eyes grew wide, even more horror stricken than she had been all night. She lowered her gaze to her arms, which she raised over his head and stared at in shock. Handcuffs. She was handcuffed again? But from where did they--
He whispered in her ear as he rubbed one hand gently down her cheek and pressed against her chest, purposely on her wound, to lower her to the ground: I'm a warlock remember.
She...she knew he was something. But surely with those cruel eyes he was more than that!
He moaned in relief when he lifted his buttocks and his hammer was no longer crushed. He was the one on top. After all of this torture and temptation, after all of this hard work she was seeing him for just who he was and he was the dominant one. He was on top. All of her frivolous behavior, all of her attempts to cut him down and bend him to her will were a failure. She was his now and she knew it. She knew with each damn pound of her heart that she was no longer in control and no matter how hard she tried to get it, she'd be laid back down by his gentle caress in that exact same manner as now. Her efforts were futile he thought. For he knew her weakness. Besides being a vampire, he knew the story from her past that she had told no one. He knew all of her love trysts and affairs. He knew all her battles and wounds. He knew every little damn thing that happened to her, including her secret war against the forces that had cost her the memory of her beloved Raven. He knew this all and most of all, with his witch blood combined with his research he knew how to keep her at bay, at least temporarily until he was finished with her that was.
God, her wounded soul cried and pleaded, why couldn't she change this situation. Why couldn't she get away from him? Why...why did she almost not want to at the same time that her instincts told her to? What the hell did this devious shit have on her? Just who the fuck was he and why, why couldn't this nightmare go away?
Again, she could not believe what had happened. Never in her two millennia had she been faced with anything like this and she had been faced with a lot.
Iri whimpered under her feigned position. Her hands were laid to rest on her stomach, right on top of that now, crippling pain. She couldn't move them. She could only move her arms, and that was soon hampered when his weight landed on her. She moaned...what moaned? in pleasure when his penis did its thing again by rubbing against her pelvic hair. God...oh God, she couldn't help it. Her body shook a bit with just the expectation of what was about to come. His hand, shit she thought his hand! nestled playfully underneath his cock and flicked, pinched, and rubbed her from her vagina to the back of her privates. With each little movement she made in reaction to his touch, his hand grew more and more wet with her natural feminine juices. And then, it stopped. No...he was doing that again? That grueling pleasure and cease thing of his? Why, why she felt like shrieking out, why was he stopping when she was finally enjoying this?
He cackled from on top of her, his chest heaving in and out against hers, her swollen supple breasts crushed against him. There would be no sweet pleasure. None of the stuff from the fantasy books. He wanted cold hard sex. No nipple sucking, no tender lip-lovemaking.
He raised his hand from her buttocks and took a sniff. Oh, how sweet this was, her wetness that was, next to his nostrils and ultimately in between his lips. He liked the taste of her. It was almost as good as the taste of her blood.
Iri laid her head back and screamed when he first jammed one finger, and then just shortly after that two fingers into her forbidden spot. Her body convulsed and her muscles tightened with little short contractions around the two foreign substances he had so blatantly placed into her system. This, this was beautiful she thought. It felt so damned good. It's what she need...
Her thoughts were cut short again when he stopped the motion of his fingers and grabbed a hold of her clitoris. Her eyes flared up like fireworks as he massaged it first, then stroked it hard with his rough calloused fingers.
She whimpered in between screams: Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God that's so...OH MY GOD!
He laughed from on top of her, his penis still yelling at him to complete its final conquest. He would have none of it yet, no, none of it until he made sure she really was weak underneath his grasp. He hadn't allowed her to kiss him in ages either. That painful instinctual yet partially annoying action could wait...could wait until he was inside of her feeding his seed.
It was time, as Iri had reached her max and her orgasm was finally coming to a halt. He knew that his short yet tempered plays with her where she really needed it and not where she so desperately also wanted it, would make her plenty wet for his cock to make its way into her.
Iri sighed in relief as her body slowed down and her senses became subjected to a dreamy, delightful euphoria. It was...that was amazing. All of the hate that she felt...she knew that it was all submersed somewhere deep in her brain but had been pounded away by his constant advances on her. She felt so calm, so relaxed, so...at home underneath him. Her rational mind had been swept clearly away. She was being submissive.
Isaiah gave a small bob of his head, which confused her for just one tiny second until she felt his cock force its way deep within her. She shrieked again at having no warning. He simply rolled his eyes at her and told her to 'be the quiet one this time. She had no excuses for not accepting anything he did. She surely was not a virgin'.
She screeched and tried using her hands to bang against his chest. He merely seeped lower against her and shoved forward with his first real thrust, which made her back slide and him move with her. He pulled back. In fact, he pulled completely out of her for a moment and pressed his hands, some of his fingers still wet, down on her glossy slashed belly. She was in shock, not sure whether she wanted it back in there or wanted to get away while she still could. But of course it was too late as he gave yet another crude thrust and an equally crude drawing-out motion. Her body now throbbed and tingled everywhere, mostly in pain. She knew that after this her body would probably be too damn sore to take on her former thought of getting fucked more and more.
He continued slicing in and out of her, each little movement growing faster and faster. Her head hurt now. She screamed whenever he hit a sensitive part or was too hard. Eventually he even spread her legs out against his hips and dipped her on her back so that he could slide himself even further into her. He pounded away harder and harder, faster and faster until he felt her muscles tighten again, this time not against his fingers but against his dick. He knew she was about to reach her climax, but he wanted to savor his when it came. He wanted to make it worth every little bit of fear he had placed into her. He wanted to make his reprehensible behavior of some value, for some worth, for some cause.
She screamed, her cuffs now scraping into his chest as her body fought against her reason in the utmost act of betrayal that it could.
What she howled out sunk into his ears, threatening to shatter any bit of sympathy he had left for the woman.
Her eyes became narrow and hard, as black as obsidian: I fucking hate you, Isaiah Leviticus Gauthier! You're a fucking perverted asshole!
Isaiah crept his mouth lower and lower to hers, almost touching it with his moist lips. He sneered acidly: Irinia "Yvonnie" Manahan, formerly Irinia "Yvonnie" Paleri, you have no right to say my name.
And then he kissed her so hard she squeezed whatever portion of his flat chest she could reach. As his hips rocked back and forth still inside her, his teeth instead became the object of his attention. He bit down on her tongue and squeezed tight, hoping to make it bleed so that he could swallow more of her sultry flesh. She now ignored what was going on in her lower body and focused on what he was doing to her mouth. She was able to control that at least. So she pulled back and fought with his grip, fought so hard to win that he actually managed to slice a portion of her tongue open in a bloody mess. She swallowed as much of her own blood as she could until she was sure she was free of his release. She stared up at him shrewdly for just a few moments until she used her torso to jump forward just as far as it took to reach his neck. Her canines then struck him and sunk into him. For a few fleeting seconds she did not suck, but instead tore and took apart as much of his flesh in that frail spot of his as she could. Then, then she pressed her lips down on his skin and sucked in all of the blood that she was able to capture.
Fucking shit!
His head thought at his predicament at the top portion of his body.
And fucking shit!
He thought about the activity going on in his lower body. He gave one final push into her wet warm melting heat before releasing his seed deep inside of her. It was over. At least on the bottom half it was over. He raised his ass a few inches as his penis rose out of her vagina and slid back against his skin.

He was so paralyzed that he didn't realize his effect was no longer on her wrists, which were now free of his mysterious cuffs.

He was so paralyzed that he didn't feel anything but each little pressing suckle against his skin.

He was so paralyzed that he wasn't able to comprehend what she now did with her hands against his sides.

And she was very relieved when she had the ultimate hand at the hand by embracing her arms around him, then using them to spin him around backward onto the floor beneath her.
She was also relieved when she finally removed her mouth from his neck and got to whisper the last words before he collapsed into an exhausted heap.
She removed one from underneath his back, bent forward, and whispered in his ear: I hate you, Leviticus. I hate you more than hell and Hades. I am not your neighbor. I am not your friend. Most importantly, I am not yours and I love only myself!
It was then that she felt satisfied, stood up and stepped backward, clutching her wounded stomach and bending to grab the remains of her clothes. She stood, turned her back to him, and while buttoning on what she could of her top, she callously walked away leaving the door to his room wide open behind her.