Page 7 of Razors & Ruin
She instinctively wraps her legs around my waist, her skirt hiking up to reveal the creamy expanse of her thighs. The heat emanating from her core is palpable, and my cock throbs in response as I grind it against her wetness.
“I’m about to deflower you,” I say as I rub the slick heat of my shaft against her swollen clit. “But I’m not your dream lover. So don’t complain if I leave you sore and dripping.”
She squirms in my grip, a heady mix of fear and arousal evident in her wide eyes, her pupils dilated with lust. I drop her to her feet, making her gasp at the cold stone against her back. Flipping her to face the wall, I press my body against hers, trapping her between me and the rough surface.
Her pulse thrums beneath my palm as I hold her throat, stroking her delicate skin with my thumb. I kick at her feet, spreading her legs wider as I line up with her entrance. The head of my cock presses against her slick folds, her juices coating my shaft as I tease her, rubbing the swollen tip against her sensitive clit.
“I’m scared,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she presses her hands to the cold stone wall, pushing back against me. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Don’t be a prick-tease,” I growl, gripping her hips and pulling her roughly towards me. The tip of my cock stretches her tightness. “Unless you’re saying that just to turn me on.”
With one swift, brutal thrust, I’m inside her, tearing through her innocence as I fill her completely. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders as I bury myself to the hilt, her silky channel gripping me like a vice.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” I groan, my voice strained with effort as I struggle to hold back my release. Her body feels like velvetwrapped around my cock, every inch of her pussy clenching and pulsing in response to my invasion.
“Oh god, it hurts,” she cries out, her voice laced with pain and pleasure as she adjusts to my size. But even as she bucks and squeals, her body responds to me in a way that can’t be denied.
The way her pussy spasms wildly around my shaft only makes me want to fuck her harder. As I pound into her, the resistance gives way, and I reach between us, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles. The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the air, echoing off the stone walls, and words fall from my lips, a stream of filth and degradation uttered between fevered thrusts.
“Your pussy may be fresh, but what a dirty little cunt you are, Nellie. I’ll fill you up until the whole city can smell my mark on you.”
I slap her bruised ass, and she buries her face in her arm, a sob escaping her lips as I work her clit harder. “I love the way you pretend not to love it. But you’re going to come again on my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” she cries, pleasure and shame straining her voice. “You’re so fucking horrible, but God help me, yes!”
That’s all I need. With one final, brutal thrust, her body convulses around me, her pussy clenching tight as her climax ravages her. The pressure in me skyrockets—the tightness in my balls, the tingling at the base of my spine—and I know I’m close.
I pull my hand away from Nellie’s pussy and see her blood running over my hand. The sight pushes me past the point of no return, and I groan as I dig my fingertips into her tender neck,pinning her to the wall with my hips as I unload pump after pump into her twitching hole.
When I pull out, my cock is coated in our mingled juices and her ruined innocence. Blood drips to the ground beneath our feet, and I run my hand over my length, gathering the mess in my palm.
“Turn around,” I say, releasing her and turning her shoulders. As her face comes into view, I wipe my hand over her cheek, leaving a reddish smear on her skin, and her mouth falls open in shock.
“Now, my lovely.” I tap the tip of her nose. “What did youreallydo with my razors?”
4
Nellie
Ihaven’t even caught my breath, my core throbbing dully, yet he’s smiling at me. It’s a reptilian grin of conquest, and I hate myself for liking it.
I surrendered my honor to Sweeney Todd. He’s not the man I fantasized about; he’s something more sinister. This is saying a lot, given that I knew him as a cold-blooded brute who cut down a man in the street.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “Why did you punish me if you thought I was lying?”
“For the lie itself, of course.” He pulls on his trousers. “Keep talking shit and see where it gets you. You have other holes I can wreck.”
I swallow hard. I’m in too much pain to push my luck now, but I’ll dwell on the thought later. My tender pussy is still reeling from his attention, my blood running down my leg.
I descend the stairs, with Sweeney close behind, and lead him into the sitting room. It’s a grand term for a space containing a shoddy couch, my bed, and a splintered vanity, but it’s all I’ve got. Sweeney watches me, his eyes like onyx, as I produce the velvet wrap from its secret place beneath my mattress.
“I couldn’t sell them,” I say, holding the bundle out to him. “I mean, I could have, of course, but it didn’t seem right.”
He takes the wrap and unrolls it, extracting a sheathed cutthroat razor. The handle glistens, betraying me; he will be able to tell I’ve kept them polished. I had to clean them regularly, after all.
Sweeney turns the razor over in his hand and flicks it open, the mirrored silver catching the lamplight through the window. He wrinkles his nose and throws me a glance.
“Why are my razors so well-kept?” He examines it again. “You’re obsessed with me, yes, but why would you spend time buffing my blades, unless you got them dirty somehow?”