State Of Mind

Call of Desire Part 2

Warning: mentions of rape and self harm. Reader discretion advised.

Later that day

She is waiting patiently in her quaint one story home for Thomas to arrive. She is dressed nicely in a red dress that hugs her bust and flows out to her knees. She wants nothing more than to impress the tall mysterious man. She has eyed him for some time in the office, and became especially interested after the young man wrote an impressive article on the rising number of cases of mental disease.

There is a loud knock on her door that startles her out of her teenage-like daydream. She gets up, smooths down her dress, and walks over to the door with a smile plastered on her face.

He hears her heels clicks against hard wood flooring. He is not anxious anymore, yet his stomach is still twisting with something he cannot describe. When she answers the door, he feels his member twitch a little. She is stunning, simply beautiful. Her dress ends just above her knee, and Thomas feels the sudden urge to slide his hand up her thigh and slowly take off her dress.

"Hi there Thomas!"

She greets him cheerfully. She wishes terribly that she could hide her blush as he eyes her. He smiles and she eyes his face, beautiful and chiseled. Something about him now makes her feel something she has not felt in some time, a need deep within her that makes her core throb.

If she were just to look down, she might know he feels the same.

Quickly Thomas loops his arm around hers and guides her down the street. His erection is still pulsing, and the contact is making it much worse. He prays that no one will notice, that she will not notice.

Delilah, on the other hand, feels her need being replaced rapidly with curiosity. She is interested in knowing this strange man. She wants to know why his jaw is always set, or why sometimes he looks slightly distressed. She is blinded by her curiosity and does not see where he is leading her.

The couple stop at Thomas's apartment.

Take her Tom.
Taste her Thomas.
You know you want it.
You need it.

The images are back in his mind. The images of her beneath him, moaning as he thrusts in and out of her. His erection is now threatening to burst from his black dress pants. He does need her. The voices are right. They're right. They're-

"Thomas? What are we doing at your apartment?"

"I'm making dinner here for you. I'm an excellent cook."

He absentmindedly works the lock and walks shakily inside. His legs are trembling and he is sweating now. He hasn't even done anything yet.

"Please, sit."

She notices how strained he sounds, as if he is fighting something.

"Thomas, what's wrong?"

"I'll get you a drink."

He rushes into the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine with unsteady hands. He downs what little is left in the bottle before setting it down on the counter. He cups his bulge, wishing it would just stop. He wishes the voices would stop infecting his mind with these images. He wonders silently if he can simply pleasure himself quickly and come back to Delilah, maybe even manage a decent conversation.

He brings Delilah her wine and walks briskly to the bathroom while still attempting to seem natural.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a bad host," he shouts from down the hall. "But I ate something bad for lunch today, I think, and it is really starting to affect me."

"Oh, that's okay Thomas. I completely understand."

She didn't miss the outline of a bulge in his pants, but she appreciated his lame attempt at coverup. She appreciated that he wanted to take care of it and go about this normally. She found it gentlemanly in and odd way.

Thomas finishes himself in two quick jerks, but still does not feel satisfied. As he rinses his shower out, he notices the blood pumping to his member again, because he just knows she is waiting for him.

Take her Thomas...

The voices were stronger now, as was his erection. He slams his hands onto the sink and moans in pain. Delilah knocks on the bathroom door, now worried for the poor man.

"Thomas, is everything alright? May I-"

He opens the door before she can finish and pulls her into the bathroom. She is screaming, but his lips are over hers and he slams her into the now closed bathroom door. He is using his weight to pin her to the door and lifts her legs to his waist. She pounds uselessly on his back.

Do it!
Do it Thomas!
Take her!

He thrusts himself inside of her roughly and swallows all of her screams. She is scratching at him now, but his hands pin hers above her head as he pumps once more and ejaculates into her. He does not stop, he continues pumping until he is hard again and finishes quickly once more. He goes until he has orgasmed five times and her blood is dripping onto his penis. The voices tell him to go again, but he cannot manage to give himself another erection, so he lays her broken body down on the bathroom floor and backs away.

She is unconscious and battered. He feels sick now looking at her, and when he sees the glimmering crimson liquid coating his member he runs to the toilet to vomit. He stumbles weakly back to her body, all of his limbs are like jello now. He wants to take her to a hospital, wants to take care of her, but knows the consequences if he does.

Instead he strips her down and lays her on his bed. He takes all the medical supplies in the cabinet under his sink and begins patching her up. He knows she needs internal stitches, but that is something he cannot do. He does what he can, feeling absolutely horrible that he succumbed to the voices once more. He feels weak. He feels dead.

Thomas replaces the medical supplies in his cabinet and has a staring contest with a razor in his shower before making the choice. It is a safety razor, one with a replaceable blade. He takes out the blade and twirls it in his fingers.

His blood flows easily from the open cuts, stinging and dulling the pain from his earlier weakness. Dulling the pain from the call of desire.