The Man Of Sin: Chapter 8 - Sex Stories

The Man Of Sin: Chapter 8

... being burned off and her clitoris felt like it was being jabbed with a car lighter. “You’re my punching bag.” Blood was pouring onto the floor, with Olivia wondering how much would she have to lose before she died. She was hanging from the ceiling with shackles around her wrists. Xavier was using his powers to restore her blood reserves, keeping her alive and conscious. Dangling from his fingertips were wires, formed from his own body. He swung one hand and whiplashed her with the wires, controlling their movements and increasing their weight. She cried out as five cuts opened across her breasts, as if he had just slashed her with box cutters. “A strange feeling, isn’t it? The feel of a blade cutting your flesh? It stings, like when you drag your fingernail across a sunburn.” He slashed her again, this time across the thighs. Her legs were completely painted with blood. “Can you feel the weight of your skin pulling at the cuts? Spreading them apart?” He delivered several deep cuts on her wrists, severing every vein. Grinning, he used his powers to not only restore her blood as it was lost, but produce more and raise her blood pressure. The crimson fluid was spraying from her wrists, drenching her in a shower. She tried to see through it all, feeling it turning her hair into sticky rope. She could feel the pressure in her veins, in her brain. Her heart didn’t know what to do with all the blood, whether to slow down or speed up. “Then there is the next layer of pain. It comes ...

... from your own body, the sting of the salt in your blood and sweat. Ironic, isn’t it?” Letting himself become drenched, Xavier leaned in and began slurping up the blood off her tits like it was melted ice cream, indulging his demonic thirst. He then crouched down, letting the blood run down his throat as he licked her pussy. “Ah, delicious. The taste of a virgin woman.” In his hand appeared a wineglass, which his used to collect the blood pouring from her wounds. He took a few steps away, drinking from the glass gluttonously and then pouring it on his face. “To people like you, blood is repulsive. That salty, iron taste. But to people like me… well, I don’t think “people” is the right word… blood is delicious. It’s sweet as sugar, like tea almost.” Turning back around, he threw the glass at the statue of Jesus at the back of the church and struck it in the face. Once he had had his fill, he stood back up and swung both of his arms. Obeying his will, the wires wrapped around Sister Olivia’s body in the tortoiseshell formation. “Watch out, folks! Rows 1 through 4 are a splash zone!” He pulled on the wires in a sudden, violent jerk. The binds sheered through her skin and the walls of the church became splattered with gore. Sister Olivia wandered back and forth in her bedroom, muttering prayers to herself to try and stay awake. It was almost midnight but she refused to let herself fall asleep. If she didn’t sleep, she couldn’t dream, and if she couldn’t dream, that man couldn’t get ...