Tea Time.

Heaven on Earth ; Chapter Seven.

 Not finished enough or nearly as well done as I want it to be.

But atleast I finally uploaded. c:

Sorry guys!

            Miss Victorie prowled her way over to the bed, knife in hand. The closer she got the more the man sunk into the corner, fear literally dripping from his eyes. He cried out, pleading to be saved. She threw her head back with a malicious laughter haunting through her hollow throat.

            I stared in awe at her ominous beauty. She had stripped from her clothes and her body looked magnificent. The way she swung her hips so majestically as she walked. How she turned the knife in her hand, teasing but still threatening.

            She turned to me with a wicked smile, winked once, and then pounced on the bed like a tiger. She crawled seductively toward the man and wrapped herself around his bloodied body. She kept the knife in one hand and with the other forced the sobbing male’s head onto her cleavage. She began to hum a sweet lullaby to him and stroke his hair gently.

            She than tilted his head up to hers and kissed him softly. She than attacked, her knife digging deep into than man’s spine. He was paralyzed. She giggled and threw him off her, dragging herself off the bed. She placed her feet on the floor, did a pivot and pulled the sheet as hard as she could.

            The body tumbled to the floor, having had been trapped in the sheets. He moaned and groaned and tried to crawl away, but his legs were unmoving. He was in a death trap and he knew there was no way out.

            She flipped him onto his back and straddled over him, leaning her face close to his. “I’m going to skin you alive, darling. You’ll be begging me for death...” she purred as she licked her lips sexily. Miss Victorie then took her knife slicing it across the man’s chest, opening a fountain of blood. She pouted than, disappointed. “Oh, Doctor Gilleeees” she sung out. “I need a sharper knife.”

            Not thirty seconds had passed before Monsieur Gilles walked in with a shiny blade, before slinking back out the door. Her look of disappointment instantaneously turned into a vicious smile. “Ready to begin?” she smirked, wildly.

            She sat on his paralyzed hips and began to carve into his skin. She slashed and cut and chipped away his skin like old paint. She peeled piece by piece off of his tissue. Her naked body was covered in blood: Red hand prints across her torso and breasts from the man’s hands beating against her and blood all over her legs and arms.

            The sight that presented itself to my eyes was as beautiful as it was macabre, along with being undoubtedly sensual. Miss Victorie was placed on top of a male’s privates, blood dripping down her curves, sliding down her pointed hips and into the puddle beneath both their bodies. There was a knife, slashing through skin over and over. And pieces of meat splayed across the floor. It looked like a single man massacre.

It was heaven to look at.