Serpentine Desires

The predator

Comments are appreciated and welcomed. It's his pov, don't we enjoy it more?

P.S. Sometimes I just can't believe I can write such psychotic thoughts. Should I look for a mental asylum too?

I just couldn't wait to update so here it is. one day prior. Show me with comments and I might update tomorrow, what say?

******

The fear on my little bird's face could only make my blood roar with excitement.

It had been a while since I felt this way.

If it were someone else, I'd be ninety-nine per cent sure I would've thrown her out of the window for there was very little patience I could spend. Such was the state of my cock that had, once again, crossed the impulse control red line. Her tear-stained red face was more exciting than any woman I have ever fucked.

And the reason was nothing more than making her cum on my fingers unwillingly.

I stripped her of control she never had to begin with.

It was the first time I felt such blasphemous monotony shattered by the sight of someone's tears. The way she pressed herself against the car window as if it could somehow save her from me, was enticing beyond measure. 

I could see her mind racing, trying to find a way out, but there was none.

I had given her a choice, but it was a choice rigged in my favour. What's more thrilling than watching a person break, to see them surrender and choose exactly what I want them to? Like I said, I never force women, but I love hearing them beg. And my little bird was no exception.

She'd have to beg if she wanted to keep my interest and not divert it to her family.

I wasn't a gentleman. And the only reason I thrust my fingers into her cunt was to dominate her. I wasn't planning on letting her finish, I was a certified non-giver, and I preferred fucking with my cock than my fingers or mouth, it was safe to say she was the first woman I fingered. And it was horrifying how much I enjoyed it. The thrill only heightened when I felt her hymen with my fingers.

I was pretty convinced I never indulged with virgins, just because they were a hassle, a nuisance, and screamers and I hate screams they were too much for my sensitive ears. But her.... I'd hear her scream for hours and hours, and still wouldn't get enough.

And my fingers twitched.

It was interesting she was evoking something primal inside me. Something I never craved before her.

My vision blurred with the images of my little bird spread under me as blood smeared all over her thighs when I tore deep into her cunt.

I pulled out another cigar, hoping to keep my fingers busy and not wrap them around her throat.

Her body reminded me of one of the canvases in my father's workshop, and I suddenly wanted to be an artist, painting my twisted desires onto her flesh. Every touch, every thrust would be a stroke of my masterpiece. She would be my masterpiece.

Her whimpers and gasps... oh, how much I'd love to hear them.

I sucked in the smoke like I'd suck her soul soon. My little bird was still clueless. This was what she was made for.

To be mine, to be broken and remade in my image.

She'd soon beg for me to take her, to own her.

Her eyes flickered around and I almost laughed. Adorable.

And then I stilled.

Did I just use adorable?

Anyways. Like I said, it must be an impulsive infatuation, it'd go away with time I was sure. After I'd have my fill of her, it'd definitely disappear.