tagErotic HorrorSelf Defense

Self Defense


Her mind was made up. No one, not even this man, her angelic gift from above, was going to get close enough to hurt her again. Her heart had suffered enough bruises and cuts to last a lifetime and she would be damned before she allowed it to happen again.

But a part of her wanted to believe, if only for a moment, that his sugar-coated words could be true; that she was gifted with both his heart and his mind. There were always those doubts though ... those self-defensive words that crept into her heart just when things looked too perfect. "If it seems too perfect ... then it's not." And this was too perfect ... he was too perfect. But she blindly allowed it to continue, for her mind to be fooled into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could be the one. Her heart ached to be loved, to be healed from those past wounds that had hardened it so and here before her, was her beacon of light. He shone brightly out among the others, as if sent straight down from heaven above to heal the girl that cried out in pain when alone with her dreams.

She was falling in love ... that much was obvious; not only to herself, but to those around her. They noticed that something different in her mannerisms; the endless smile, the extra bounce in her step, the light in her eyes. It was beauty to behold because for so long she had that dull expression that comes from being trampled beneath the feet of uncaring men. But now ... now her fire was returning and it was glorious indeed. Everyone said so.

But still there was that part of her, that anger that simmered beneath her skin, never too far from her thoughts, over the past heartache and lies that had come her way down this lonely path of love. Even as she sat for hours on end in conversation with him, getting to know him better and allowing him to get to know her, she couldn't help but look at him at times and wonder if he was a master at lying through his teeth. She was starting to think what man wasn't a liar, a thief of hearts, an untamed rogue that could care less of the disasters he left behind in his wake.

In still moments though, she allowed herself to believe ... to dream ... to hope. Perhaps he was the one that would make it all better, to make her past stop haunting her in tormenting moments and allow her to blossom beneath his care and attentions. He was everything that she had hoped for and he was so down to earth, realistically speaking. Financially, he was in control. He had a good head on his shoulders. He was confident about his goals and his abilities to make her dreams a reality. They had so much in common. Would it be so wrong to let him in close?

Over the next few weeks, they spent more time together and she allowed herself to believe. It was almost an unfamiliar feeling, this surge of hope that sprang through her and she tried so desperately to tread cautiously as her trampled heart began to soar. She should have been more careful but she carelessly wanted to believe. He doted on her, put her up on a pedestal that she had forgotten even existed and she began to believe his honeyed words. All she began to see was him and even as she began to thrive on the moments that she spent in his arms, somewhere in the back of her mind screamed out in horror to beware! But all that seemed to matter was him and the time that she spent with him ... moments lost in one another's arms, endless hours on the phone, exchanged e-mails back and forth and countless other times spent in one another's company. Her hardened heart was beginning to soften. But then the impending happened and everything changed from bittersweet moments to betraying hatred.

A supposed moment between friends, an innocent display of affection perhaps; things that would have come across as normal exchanges between two people in passing were seen as blatant unforgiving crimes in the heart of a doubter. That jezebel that called herself friend wrapped around his arm like the two-timing whore she really presented herself to be ... the love of her life, the protector of her heart, the healer of her wounds was now in the lovely clutches of her lies. And he loved it ... it was apparent in his smile whenever he saw her. These things were pointed out innocently enough through the eyes of another that longed for the bleakness of where she used to be. Hatred grows deep with support from others that feel the same shame of its solitude. It's true what they say about sorrow needing its throngs of supporters.

The pain was unbelievable. This was betrayal in its purest form. She couldn't see past the picture that had been presented to her. Even though the information had been told in words, in an ugly whisper in her ear, presented so innocently as though she was stupid enough not to see what was going on ... in her mind, it was as clear as a beautiful portrait had been painted with quick sure strokes that could not be denied. He was playing her and anger rose to the surface as quick and sure as a single shot to her heart. He would pay. She could feel the cold icy fingers of nothingness close in around her heart, securing the steel band in place once more. He would pay. The glimmer in blue eyes turned to stone, the warmth of her smile fading into a tight line across lips that once shimmered like the sweetest of berries. He would pay.

A myriad of past haunts and old lies came spiraling into one pure thought process and she could feel only hate and bitterness replace the warmth of her trust. Revenge is a vengeful companion when allowed to feed upon one's past memories and at this moment it ruled above all else. Even as she prepared for her evening with him, her one final moment in his arms, she knew what had to be done. Mechanically she moved through the motions of her ultimate seduction even as her face froze into a beautiful stoned smile. Carefully applied make-up, precise placement of pins into curls of fire that cascaded into shimmering waves over her shoulders, the exact selection of the evening dress that would seduce him into her bed one last time; these things played out against the beat of her blackening heart.

Men ... they could only see past the hardening bulge of their pants when presented with the lovely vision that greeted him at her door this eve and plans of a night out were quickly scraped when he realized her intentions of spending the evening in between silken sheets. The bastard couldn't even see the dull gleam in her eye as his own was riveted to the curve in her breasts displayed lewdly in the bosom of her gown. Her hatred grew even greater as his natural attraction to a woman's flesh only reinforced her self-acclaimed reasons to put an end to his deceitful heart.

As she rode him, she could feel the hatred welling up within, the glimmer in her eye growing, not only with the passions that she allowed him to stir this one last time but also with the surety of what must be done. It was a shame that he had to be destroyed as his cock was so delicious and did such wonderful things to her when she allowed herself to feel. But he would pay. He did not deserve to fuck her again ... or anyone else for that matter. Her eyes narrowed to tiny little slits as she watched his head jerk back in pure bliss, his eyes closing in passion as he thrust up into her. She could feel her breath starting to grow more rapid as she reached back slowly, fingers searching in the sheets jumbled around him as she felt his balls swell beneath his ass. He would pay dearly.

The feel of his hands grasping her hips, pushing her harder down onto his raging cock with his thrust, as if he had some kind of control over her only spurred her anger even more. She could feel her own impending orgasm as her fingers curled around the fine bone handle of the slender knife, its edge glimmering in the dancing candle light as she brought it closer. He was so lost in the moment of his building release that he didn't even see the flash of it as she raised it over her head, fingers curling around it menacingly as her other one joined in, hips rocking forward, faster with each thrust as she felt him like steel up inside her. And then, just as his fingers dug into her hips and he thrust up one final time, her hands came down with a cry, the wickedly curved blade slamming into his chest. She could hear a definitive crunch and the spew of blood that shot up over her even as thick ropes of hot cum splashed against her walls. His scream was lost in both his cry of passion and hers of rage.

Again she withdrew as his eyes glazed over in shock, his fingers weakening on her hips even before her tried to reach up to stop her but by now, her anger was far greater than his strength and again the knife thrust into him even as her hips continued to rock on him. The blood gurgled in his throat even as he screamed out, flailing beneath her and then as she withdrew once more to angrily slash at his throat, her shockingly calm and still form covered in his blood, he ceased to struggle beneath her.

Suddenly it was as though she saw him as he was when she was most happy, that moment in time when she believed in him and the promises of his love and a small tear kissed the inside of her stormy blue eyes. Her hand trembled a bit that held the knife and it fell limply to the bed beside her thigh still possessively pressed to his hip as she straddled him. A soft cry escaped her throat as she looked down at this man that she had once believed to be her savior from above, his eyes beginning to glaze over as the life seeped out with his blood. "I told you not to hurt me," she whispered as she leaned close to his ear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

His glazed eyes rimmed with pain and horror met hers as he struggled to breathe. She could see he was struggling to find a way to speak even as death's fingers wrapped around his rapidly chilling form. "Why?" he choked out, a trickle of blood slowly running from the corner of his mouth as he looked up to her.

Her fingers calmly brushed aside his now matted hair from his pain-wretched face, a lone tear slipping down hers as she watched him breathe his last. "Self defense," she whispered.

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