From the farthest reaches of my mind, I heard a woman scream.
I shook my head from side to side and drug my consciousness back into the current moment. Heather looked confused and asked me if I was okay.
"Yeah, I'm fine, perfectly fine," I said as I wondered the same thing myself. "Are you ready to order?"
She smiled her crooked, wide smile and nodded eagerly. I thought to myself, "God, I love this girl. So why am I having such graphic visions of destroying her?"
The doctor called them "intrusive thoughts" and said they were common among people with severe depression. I think they make me a bastard, but he assured me that they weren't a slight against my character, or evidence that I lacked a moral compass. I still think otherwise.
Heather and I have been dating for four years, and we're supposed to be getting married in the fall. This thought makes me smile, and I often get lost in daydreams of being her husband. Each time I look at her, I picture a life with her, then I picture bashing her fucking head in with a hammer while her screams echo into the distance.
It seemed each "intrusive thought" was punctuated by a woman's scream.
Heather waved one of her small hands in my face and beamed.
"Whoops," I said with a laugh. "I'm daydreaming again."
She giggled and told me it was alright, that she's been daydreaming more than usual too.
We ordered some cheese fries and a couple of plates of hot wings before chatting about our day, and about how we might spend the rest of the evening. As she gabbed and joked, I would catch myself letting the "intrusive thoughts" slip in.
The image of my left hand between Heather's thighs and the other on her cheek, letting her lick my thumb, had penetrated my mind. This seemed normal enough, at least until I imagined tightening my right hand into her face, causing her to wince and yelp in pain. As pain and pleasure mixed in my mind's eye, I could feel myself getting hard.
"Hey, Heather," I whispered. "Can we fuck tonight?"
Heather blushed and nodded slowly, her blonde pigtails gliding over her shoulders. I saw a sinister smile spread over her lips and I saw her little fangs bare themselves for the world to see.
She may have been 24, but Heather loved to wear her hair in the same messy pigtails that the Wendy's mascot sported. Her teeth were crooked and sharp, but they had such an allure to me. It always made her blush when I'd tell her how much I loved her smile. She'd tell me that I had bad opinions and then shake her head, which would jiggle her pigtails.
That sinister smile was a sign that Heather wanted me to be dominant. We finished our meals and I felt like I floated all the way to the car. I loved dominating Heather, and she was certainly good at being dominated.
No sooner than we got in the house and dead-bolted the door, it was on. Heather jumped up, wrapped her legs around my waist, and I felt her tongue dance on the tip of mine. I grabbed her wrists and slammed them against the walls, creating a thump that echoed through the house.
I kissed her cheek, moving closer to her ear as I breathed harder and more deeply. My heavy breathing caused her body to move into sync with mine, and each breath I took seemed to make her moan softly.
She begged for me to undress her, but I ignored her plea, deciding to instead take her earlobe into my mouth and glide my tongue and teeth over it. Heather dug her nails in my back and I tightened my grip on her small wrists. Something primal started to creep into my mind, something very toxic.
I moved down her neck and scraped my teeth down the thin strip of flesh that protected her carotid artery. This only made our hearts beat faster, all while making the primal thoughts get louder. My head flashed between the heat of the moment and my dark, twisted fantasies.
My mind screamed for me to bite down and taste the blood that was coursing through her neck. Just a sip wouldn't hurt, just a sip. Each flash brought out that resounding scream that rumbled into the distant corners of my brain.
Heather's nails were digging deeper and deeper into my back, so I decided to counter by sinking my teeth into the muscles of her shoulder. She cried out in ecstasy and shoved me back before dropping to her knees.
Like an animal tearing into its prey, she was frantically clawing at my belt. She managed to undo the thin strip of leather and the buttons of my jeans. She ran a hand over the seam and I felt myself throb.
She yanked my pants down, taking my boxers with them. My cock sprung up into her face and she giggled. As if guided by my own lust, I put my hand on the back of her head and guided myself into her mouth. She eagerly accepted me and began to bob her head up and down, her full lips sliding over my shaft and sending lightning through my brain.
I moaned and grabbed handful of hair, bucking my hips into her inviting mouth. She coughed and pulled back. Her look wasn't one of betrayal, but one of smug satisfaction. I had challenged her and she was always competitive.
Heather knew I loved her sharp teeth, but up until this point, it was understood that I just loved them for their aesthetic beauty. My love was about to test my love of their practicality as well. She wrapped her hand around my cock and pushed it into her warm mouth and down her soft throat. She knew this was too much for her, but she did it anyway, eyes watering the whole time. After giving me a taste and herself a meal, she decided to tease.
Her mouth opened wide, revealing those sharp, porcelain points. She took me deep into her mouth again and then slowly sank her teeth into my shaft. My mind was torn asunder with pleasure. Guys joke about how awful a toothy blowjob would be, but I guess I'm not other guys.
It was obvious by this point that I was losing control over my dominant position, so I pulled out and grabbed Heather's waist. Using a little bit of leverage and a lot of trust, I shoved her over and began tearing at her pants. I wanted to taste her, and I didn't care if she knew it.
Her jeans hit the wall on the other side of the room and I grabbed her right ankle, tenderly guiding it to my lips. My mind decided to show me an image of myself gnawing into Heather's calf muscles, blood pouring from an open wound and myself chewing contentedly. More screams played in my mind, but I was almost accepting of my condition at this point.
I kissed up the lower length of her leg, stopping at her knee. Nibbling her thigh and moving higher forced Heather into a panting fit. She wanted to feel my tongue and I definitely wanted to give it to her.
My hands wrapped around the tops of her thighs and I spread her legs, nice and wide. She looked down into my eyes and bit her lip. I parted hers and pushed my tongue inside of her. Pumping and thrusting, flicking and rolling, my sole desire was to please her. Her clit was practically throbbing by this point, so I traced around it with the tip of my tongue, causing Heather to cry out and moan loudly.
By this point, she was begging for me to take her. I rose up and guided my cock inside of the wet warmth that I had just enjoyed. After a taste of Heaven, I decided I wanted the whole thing.
I started with long, slow strokes at first, just to give her the sensation that she'd know waves of ecstasy, but she would have to ride these waves to get to her destination. Truthfully, I was teasing myself as much as I was teasing her, though. Before long, I was thrusting harder and harder, deeper and deeper inside. Each time I'd pump into her body, she'd moan, and each gasp would leave me speechless.
The screams that echoed in my mind had become a dull roar of horrors. I knew I'd end up breaking, but I didn't realize my breaking point would come so soon.
My hands grabbed Heather's neck and began to tighten. She seemed to enjoy this rough new technique as I felt her tighten around my cock. It didn't take long for Heather to realize that something was even more different than she realized. My grip had become herculean. My grip on reality was slipping and her grip on this world was slipping too.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she began to claw at my arms and ribs in a pitiful effort to save herself. Meanwhile, I'm pounding and pumping as hard as I can, my face twisted into a smile of pleasure and utter lunacy.
As Heather passed-out, I could feel my pulse thundering in my chest and in my cock. I wanted a release and I was going to have it, no matter the cost.
Since she was unconscious, I went into the kitchen, cock still erect, and grabbed a butcher's knife and meat tenderizing hammer. When I got back, a mighty swing of the hammer left me with a satisfying cracking sound and Heather with a gaping wound in her scalp. Blood trickled down her face and I lapped at it like a thirsty dog. If this wasn't Heaven, then I'd gladly spend an eternity with the perverse pleasures of Hell.
More savage blows to Heather's scalp caused her jaw to hang slack and her eyes to roll back in their sockets. She was gone, but I was about to cum.
The knife had its day as I slashed and stabbed her pale, smooth body. I hacked at her tender skin and dropped chunks into my gaping mouth. She was sweeter in death than she was in life, and she was pretty damn sweet before. Blood rolled out of each new opening and
I used it as a crimson lubricant to stroke myself off onto Heather's face.
Panting and sweating, I smiled as the screams faded away. For once, my head was nice and quiet.
I know that no one asked for this, but I did a reading of this story. If my voice offends your good sensibilities, then I apologize.
To find me, just go on YouTube and search for "Marcus Roveri," which is totally a real name, and in no way a name that I made up.