Forsaken Repose: The Restless Dead (5 page)

“I want to tie you up,” I whispered into her ear. “I
want to tie you to the bed posts and fuck you until you and I are one
– nothing more than a single, joined flesh.”

“I'll fight you,” she warned me, but her words lacked
anything resembling sincerity.

I stopped talking then, and simply threw myself on top of her. Her
hands pushed at me, but there was no strength behind them. I reached
up and took a corner of a pillow. Shaking the pillow free of its
sheath, I then used the pillowcase to tie one of her wrists to the
bed post. I repeated the procedure with the other pillow and her
other hand. With both of her hands restrained, I straddled her waist
and leered down at her.

“Who are you?” I growled lustily.

“I won't tell you anyth-,” she began to reply, her
eyes dripping with frustrated passion.

“No,” I barked, interrupting her. I reached out to
squeeze both her cheeks between the thumb and fingers of my right
hand. “I asked you a question, goddammit, and you're going to
answer it. Who are you?”

She was quiet for a moment as she regarded me with lusty
aspirations in her eyes and a grimace of feigned defiance on her
mouth. Finally, through puckered lips, she told me, “I'm your
whore. I'm whoever you want me to be.”

“That's right,” I concurred, releasing my hold on her
face. On my knees, I moved up her body, stopping when I reached her
beautiful face. Claire didn't care for oral sex, but I could tell by
the gleam in her green eyes, and the wet tongue she drew across her
lips, that this woman certainly did.

Looking down at her, a name leaped into my mind. “Your name
is Rose,” I told her. When she only looked up at me in
approval, but remained silent, I demanded, “
Say it!
”

Blazing passion exploded behind her eyes and, as she squirmed
vainly in her bonds, she whimpered back at me, “My name is
Rose.”

I pressed myself past her painted-red lips and took fistfuls of
her fiery locks into both of my hands. Thrusting myself into her
eager orifice, over and over, it wasn't long until the combination of
her hungry mouth and slippery tongue sent me careening over the edge.

Under normal circumstances, that would be enough to finish me. I'd
lay gasping and exhausted on the bed until the shroud of sleep fell
upon me.

Not tonight.

I shuffled backward until my knees straddled her thighs. I pushed
my left knee between her legs and shoved hard to my left. With her
legs now half-open, I brought my right knee between her legs and
shoved hard to my right. She was splayed wide and helpless, a fact of
which I took advantage by scooping my arms underneath either of her
legs and yanking upward. Her nattily-trimmed, crimson-framed
womanhood was open and exposed, which only aroused me further.

I cast aside any considerations of gentleness and drove myself
into her, slamming my hips against hers with a slapping sound so loud
I worried it might wake the neighbors across the street. She cursed
and swore at me, telling me what a perverted villain I'd become but,
just as I feared I'd crossed a line, she urged me on, demanding that
I give it to her harder and faster. I was no better, alternating
between shouting out that she was a filthy whore who needed to shut
the hell up and take it, and whispering in her ear how beautiful she
was, how special she was to me and how much I needed to hear her tell
me of her desire for me.

I released my passion into her, my fingers twisted in her hair and
yanking her head to the side as I planted my seed. I buried my face
deeply into her neck and my lips latched onto her soft, tender flesh.
I sucked forcefully as I dragged her legs up. We were one then,
intertwined in blind, desperate, unthinking passion.

“Andy?” Claire's
voice cut through my nocturnal musings, severing from me any chance I
had of continued restfulness.

“Huh? What...?” I stammered, blearily turning my head
toward my alarm clock. The display showed that it was well past the
time that I should have risen if I intended to leave for work.

“You've overslept again,” Claire told me, doing
nothing to disguise the annoyance in her voice.

I looked over at her. Her hair was a mess and her eyelids drooped
from exhaustion. Still, I found her irresistible. I rolled over and
snatched a fistful of her dark hair. I pressed myself against her and
snapped, “Don't you ever again talk to me that way or I'll
spank your ass raw!”

Claire's eyes snapped open wide. “What the hell?” Her
hand reached up to mine, but her fingers were limp noodles against my
iron digits. “Get the hell off of me before-”

“Shut up!” I ordered. When Claire immediately fell
silent, I dragged her onto her side before rolling her onto her
stomach. I rose up and sat on her thighs, her hair still knotted in
my fist. “Apologize!”

“Go to hell!” she barked in reply, reaching back to
shove both of her hands against my thighs.

I pulled back my hand, snatching her head from the pillow. She
grunted, not in pain, but arousal. I raised high my other hand and
then sent it down powerfully, delivering a stinging blow to her
silken-clad buttocks.

“Aah!” she screamed, her arms flailing wildly at her
sides. Another slap across her hindquarters elicited a similar
response. She attempted to protect her burning cheeks, but I brushed
her hands to the side and cracked another blow even more forcefully.
This time, however, she only sucked in a deep gulp of air before
cursing me. “Fuck you! Fuck you straight to hell!”

Undaunted, I raised my hand once more, holding it high in the air.
“Have you had enough or do you need some more?”

Gasping and wheezing, she hissed, “
More, you sick
bastard!
”

I gave her more...several more. Her ass was bright red and swollen
before her will was broken and she begged for mercy. I stopped my
hand mid-swing, sparing her another harsh strike. However, while I
was willing to spare her ass from further punishment, I felt no such
sympathy for the rest of her. I released her hair and grabbed hold of
her hips, pulling her up to her knees. I dragged down her silken
panties to her knees and, with a swift pull, snatched them past her
bent knees, down her calves and off her feet.

“Spread!” I shouted, tossing her panties to the floor
and moving to kneel behind her.

She resisted at first, but I slapped her once across her bare
behind with a strong backhand, which immediately gained her
acquiescence. I was about to slide into her, but then changed my
mind. I dropped down, spinning as I fell onto the mattress. With my
face only inches from her lower lips, I reached up, grabbed her
behind and pulled her onto my face. My tongue slipped and slid –
around her and into her – sending her into uncontrolled
vibrations of bliss.

She had no time to come to her senses before I was back on my
knees behind her. My fingers dug deeply into her hips, slamming her
against me as I attempted to force myself farther into her than I
ever before had. She groaned, grunted and rambled incoherently as I
continued, my passion rampaging unabated. By the time I was ready to
deliver my lust into her, she had been reduced to nothing more than a
sweaty, gibbering mass of twitching flesh.

I wasn't gentle with her. My skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat,
I placed both of my hands on her back and forced her down onto the
mattress. Once she was sent sprawling, I fell on top of her. Once
again, I took a fistful of her hair. Growling into her ear and
sliding my other hand along her body, I demanded to know, “Who
owns all this?”

“You,” she quickly answered, her eyes closed and her
body completely limp.

With her hair twined around my fingers, I lifted my hand, yanking
her head from the pillow. I paused for a moment, thinking of all the
times she left the house to go out with her friends and do whatever
it is she did. I pushed her head down onto the pillow and snapped,
“Who?”

Unhesitatingly, she exhaled, “You! You own every inch of me.
All of me is yours.”

“Don't you forget it,” I said, forcing her head down
so far into the pillow as I slid off the bed that I doubt she could
breathe. Once I released her and stood beside the bed, she turned her
head to look at me. I raised my hand and brought it down on her ass
with such force that she squealed and whimpered as she clamped her
hands over her rear and backed away from me. Her body language
suggested she was terrified of me, but the unfettered lust shooting
forth from her eyes threatened to burn a hole through my skull.

My head tilted to the side a bit as I stared at her. “Come
home early so I can give you more of the same.”

Claire's head lifted from the pillow and her brow furrowed. “I'm
not sure if I can -”

I raised my hand high over my head and shouted, “What did
you say?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, raising a hand defensively.
“I'll be home early.”

I grinned darkly down at her. She was on her side with one hand
still on her sore ass and the other still raised high in the air,
leaving her breasts exposed. Her nipples extended so far from her
that it was as if a pair of bullets had been glued to her breasts.
Her brown eyes glared up at me with voracious hunger, betraying her
sexual desires.

I went to the shower, cleaned myself, got dressed and went to
work. I was possessed of a newly-found exuberance
for...well...
everything
, and it gained the attention of my
superiors. I was called into the office of my direct supervisor and
given a glowing report. She told me that if I kept up my positive
attitude and solid performance, I was a shoe-in for a promotion. I
walked around on cloud nine, the faint odor of wine mysteriously
following me.

I left work a little early, testing Claire to see what she would
do. By the time I arrived home, Claire's car was already parked on
the street in front of our house. I parked behind her, exited my
vehicle and walked to her car. I pressed my hand against the cold
metal of the hood. I smiled then, satisfied that, not only had she
arrived home early, but she'd been home for quite awhile. I strolled
to the front door of our house, slid my key into the lock and pushed
open the door.

“Claire?” I called out, closing the door behind me.

I could hear the door to our bedroom close, and I stood at the
foot of the stairs, waiting for Claire to walk down the hallway and
into view. To my surprise, it was not Claire, but Rose, who sauntered
down the stairs toward me.

“Rose?” I asked, confused about what was happening.

Rose continued slinking seductively down the stairs, one hand held
behind her back. By the time she stepped off the bottom stair onto
the landing, I was nearing panic.

“Where is Claire?” I demanded.

“She's out of the way now,” Rose replied, smiling at
me as her hand moved from around her back. She cradled in her
delicate hand a steak knife from my kitchen. From the blade of the
knife dripped dots of crimson that fell to the tile floor in soft
plops. Looking over her shoulder into my kitchen, I saw the off-red
wine glass, half-filled, on the counter beside an open bottle of
champagne.

“No,” I stammered, stumbling back until I hit the
door. “Claire...”

Rose smiled at me, the glee on her face standing in stark contrast
to the mortified grimace on my own. “You and I can be together
now,” she said cheerfully, taking a step toward me and reaching
up with her free hand to caress my cheek.

I slapped aside her hand. “Get out of my way!” I
ordered, pushing past her and moving toward the stairs. A moment
later I was flat on my face on the foyer floor. A shooting, searing
pain scourged my upper back, just to the right of my spine. I forced
myself into a stooped, standing position, the blinding agony gnawing
through my back rendering me incapable of standing fully erect.

“You lying sack of shit!” Rose screamed at me,
swinging the steak knife at my head.

I turned away, but she still made contact, and the force was such
that I was sent sprawling onto the floor beside the stairs. My cheek
felt like it was on fire and my hand moved quickly to cover it. The
rent flesh of my cheek flopped down, slapping against the side of my
chin, and I yanked my hand away as my fingers came into contact with
the exposed nerves that had been laid bare. Rolling onto my back, I
looked up into Rose's enraged face.

“You said I was special,” Rose reminded me, jabbing
the knife in the air in my direction. Rose shook her head and spit at
me, “You're just like the others!”

“Oth...others?” I mumbled, holding up a hand
defensively between she and I.

Rose swung the knife, cutting through the air as well as three of
my digits. My severed fingers sailed against the nearby wall and
bounced off, landing on the floor near my shoulder as I screamed in
pain and horror. Rose dropped down on top of my chest, silencing my
cries as the force of her landing knocked the wind out of me. She
clenched the knife between both hands and raised it high over her
head. She sent the blade down, but I moved my head at the last
second. Unfortunately, the knife still managed to cut deeply into the
side of my neck. Jets of blood surged from the wound and splashed
against the wall and floor. Rose raised the knife once more, but a
voice from near my back door stopped her.

“Rose,” the voice called out.

“Susan,” Rose replied, leaping off me, dropping the
knife and racing into my kitchen.

Employing my final reserves of strength, I craned my neck to look
into my kitchen. Rose wept as Susan held her and stroked Rose's long,
red hair.

“It happened
again
!” Rose sobbed.

“I know it did,” Susan said softly. “I thought
this one would be different.”

Rose pushed back a bit and glared at Susan. “You always say
that!”