that before?”
Serena’s muffled whimpers went from angered by her forced silence to panicked as Maledictus once again closed in on her. The need for brash, full-body attacks was past him—his magic hold on her offering him the ability to go about his task with more flamboyancy than ever before—and he felt himself fall into a swagger as he approached and worked one of his claws behind the remaining tank top strap.
“Do you ever just stop to appreciate the power of the naked body, buttercup-bitch?” he asked as he offered the strap a few teasing tugs, refraining from using enough force to sever it just yet. “You look at all the shit out there that people can appreciate the sight of—fucking art and nature and all that whimsical crap—and you realize that nothing else—fucking nothing !—has as much demand for repeat views as, say, a nice pair of tits.” He sliced through the strap and Serena’s top fell halfway down her breasts, teasing the moment; he smirked at this. “Or, even moreso ”—he accentuated his rant by dragging the claw down her cleavage and over the top of the tortured garment, tearing the fabric in a few places but leaving it intact enough to remain intact as he worked ever downward—“a waiting cunt.”
Serena let out an enraged howl behind her locked lips, the impact coming off as a garbled growl with a few high-pitched moments where the air fueling the protest hiccupped in her no-doubt aching throat.
She had been screaming and crying an awful lot.
“See, a person can see a fine piece of art once and feel content with that; they could squat on their deathbed and say, ‘At least I got to finger my asshole to the Mona Lisa that one time,’ or whatever those dumb fucking meat-puppets think to themselves over such trivial nonsense. But you never—not even fucking once —will hear an old fart succumbing to that sweet, finalizing sleep utter the words, ‘I’ve seen enough tits in my life’ or ‘What I wouldn’t give to bury my face in one last—’” he sighed, realizing he was rambling. “Well, you get my point. Just look at you, for example: luscious golden hair,” he pulled his claw away from her lower belly and ran it through the strands that fell across her left shoulder—her right shoulder noticeably bare from the asymmetry he’d caused when he’d yanked the tuft out during his escape—and ignoring the stifled shiver that worked beneath his magic hold on her. “Then there’s these purple eyes of yours”—he teased the claw just in front of her terrified cornea—“and, of course, this body!” He finally ripped the tank top from her body, tossing it to the other corner of the room where she’d be unable to retrieve it, and freed her breasts from the confines of the black bra that waited beneath; opting to yank it off and letting the snapping material sting against his victim’s flesh.
Then, just like that, there they were…
He scoffed and shook his head, “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before, either. I mean—fuck!—I was nestled in Zaney-boy’s noggin since day numero uno ; I have literally sat front-row-fucking-center for every lewd and depraved act. All the things you did to him—to us —and all the things you let him do to you; hell, begged him to do to you!” He smirked and leaned in, dragging his forked tongue across her right cheek; the open wound on the side of his face gliding across her jaw as he moved, “You know, most girls aren’t so fond of the back-door action, and your enthusiasm was certainly not going unnoticed.”
Another stifled howl.
Maledictus backhanded her, “Shut the fuck up, bitch! That was a compliment! All of this has been! You fucking think I’d go through all this trouble for just any piece of pussy? Huh?” He moved to hit her again and smirked when he saw her eyes twitch—the fear making itself known—and he chuckled, offering, instead of another strike, a few soft pats on her cheek. “There is
Serena’s muffled whimpers went from angered by her forced silence to panicked as Maledictus once again closed in on her. The need for brash, full-body attacks was past him—his magic hold on her offering him the ability to go about his task with more flamboyancy than ever before—and he felt himself fall into a swagger as he approached and worked one of his claws behind the remaining tank top strap.
“Do you ever just stop to appreciate the power of the naked body, buttercup-bitch?” he asked as he offered the strap a few teasing tugs, refraining from using enough force to sever it just yet. “You look at all the shit out there that people can appreciate the sight of—fucking art and nature and all that whimsical crap—and you realize that nothing else—fucking nothing !—has as much demand for repeat views as, say, a nice pair of tits.” He sliced through the strap and Serena’s top fell halfway down her breasts, teasing the moment; he smirked at this. “Or, even moreso ”—he accentuated his rant by dragging the claw down her cleavage and over the top of the tortured garment, tearing the fabric in a few places but leaving it intact enough to remain intact as he worked ever downward—“a waiting cunt.”
Serena let out an enraged howl behind her locked lips, the impact coming off as a garbled growl with a few high-pitched moments where the air fueling the protest hiccupped in her no-doubt aching throat.
She had been screaming and crying an awful lot.
“See, a person can see a fine piece of art once and feel content with that; they could squat on their deathbed and say, ‘At least I got to finger my asshole to the Mona Lisa that one time,’ or whatever those dumb fucking meat-puppets think to themselves over such trivial nonsense. But you never—not even fucking once —will hear an old fart succumbing to that sweet, finalizing sleep utter the words, ‘I’ve seen enough tits in my life’ or ‘What I wouldn’t give to bury my face in one last—’” he sighed, realizing he was rambling. “Well, you get my point. Just look at you, for example: luscious golden hair,” he pulled his claw away from her lower belly and ran it through the strands that fell across her left shoulder—her right shoulder noticeably bare from the asymmetry he’d caused when he’d yanked the tuft out during his escape—and ignoring the stifled shiver that worked beneath his magic hold on her. “Then there’s these purple eyes of yours”—he teased the claw just in front of her terrified cornea—“and, of course, this body!” He finally ripped the tank top from her body, tossing it to the other corner of the room where she’d be unable to retrieve it, and freed her breasts from the confines of the black bra that waited beneath; opting to yank it off and letting the snapping material sting against his victim’s flesh.
Then, just like that, there they were…
He scoffed and shook his head, “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before, either. I mean—fuck!—I was nestled in Zaney-boy’s noggin since day numero uno ; I have literally sat front-row-fucking-center for every lewd and depraved act. All the things you did to him—to us —and all the things you let him do to you; hell, begged him to do to you!” He smirked and leaned in, dragging his forked tongue across her right cheek; the open wound on the side of his face gliding across her jaw as he moved, “You know, most girls aren’t so fond of the back-door action, and your enthusiasm was certainly not going unnoticed.”
Another stifled howl.
Maledictus backhanded her, “Shut the fuck up, bitch! That was a compliment! All of this has been! You fucking think I’d go through all this trouble for just any piece of pussy? Huh?” He moved to hit her again and smirked when he saw her eyes twitch—the fear making itself known—and he chuckled, offering, instead of another strike, a few soft pats on her cheek. “There is
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