Some things you do because your emotions get the best of you, other times you do things because you have no emotion left. She didn't know which was which at the moment, all she knew was that her new chew toy was a few seconds away from being useful, and she kind of liked it.
She knew she was going to get into trouble. She knew he'd be back and tell her to get a hold of herself. She knew he'd let her new friend go. But that was hours away, and there was time to have a little more fun before he came back.
She hated begging. It was a sign of weakness, of submission. She hated crying more. Toys became less fun to play with once they start crying before you get near them. Her new toy didn't beg, or cry, she just screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
She loved the screaming. It was her favorite part. Nothing cut through silence faster than a good scream. The new toy didn't scream when she walked into the room, a malicious glint in her eyes, and a sadistic smile splitting her face in two. She didn't scream when the carving tools were splayed out on the table next to her. And she didn't scream when one was picked from the pile.
No. The new toy screamed when the blade made contact on her skin.
The first slice, deep enough to cause pain, but not enough to hit the bone just yet; The first trickle of blood, marring the flawless milky white skin and staining the cold concrete slab beneath; These were her favorite parts.
Her new toy was such a pretty little thing. Far too pretty for the tongue lashing out at her with curses and promises she knew were never to be acted on. A pretty thing like that shouldn't sound like this. Never. Ever.
Screaming turned to begging, mumbles mostly, seeing that the filthy muscle was now lying among the different tools she liked to use. She sighed in frustration when the tears mixed with the blood under the girl's head. Grabbing a wet cloth she started to clean the blood off the once-flawless skin.
He'd be home any minute.
She soothes her toy's concerns with a quick twist of the neck.
She locks the door and barricades herself from the fear bubbling at the surface, festering under her skin, trying to break through the seams as she counts down the last few seconds on the clock.
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
Nothing. He's never late. She runs back into the room, the smile on her face seeming to want to split her face from ear to ear. She stops short, the smile gone, when there in the room, sitting on the concrete slab as if it were a throne with her new toy standing between his legs, her back to him, facing her like some sacrificial lamb, eyes desperately pleading, a blood streaked smile splits the toy's neck, and a wave of anger rushes through her, then he smiles at her.
He lets the girl go and she drops to the floor, the impact of her naked skin on the marbled floor echoes through the room, the only sound for mere seconds before he sighs and stands to his full height.
He's not much taller than her, but what he lacks in height, he more than makes up for in malice. His ice blue eyes sear her skin with such intensity she shrinks a few feet away from him. She tries to stare him down, the challenge making his bloody smile grow, this time it reaches his eyes, a playful glint reflects in them, and then the distance between them is cut away.
His arms pull her against him, forcing her to arch even further into him, she wasn't a very lean girl, never had been, one of the reasons he liked her, skin and bones wasn't his style. Even so he managed to make her feel paper thin and just as fragile with the hold he had on her now.
She tries to speak but he cuts her off with a brutal kiss, she never liked the taste of blood, but tasting it on his lips made her go wild for more, like a dying creature finding the last bit of life to hold on to. Her hands twisted into his short blonde hair, forcing him closer to her.
Then she's on her back, on the concrete slab, with him above her, pinning her down and moving against her in ways that made her feel like she were drowning and flying simultaneously. His fingers wrap around her throat, almost – but not quite – cutting off her breathing. He doesn't say anything, just looks at the naked girl lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She tries to speak but finds herself lost for words as the girls dead green eyes stare back at her.
"Now Caroline, what did this one do to deserve such terrible treatment?"
White hot rage floods around her as she turns her gaze away from the girl and instead directs it onto him. He knew the answer. Her reaction was all answer he needed. She was torn between wanting to rip his smug grin off his face and wanting to rip into those delectable lips with her teeth as she fucked him raw.
He decides for her and traps her against the table, her arms stretched out and held down above her head, and hips pinned down forcing her to stay still. His fingers burned her skin as they dug into her. She gasped for air, and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into her skin.
She hated screaming.
He made her scream.
A thrill ran through her when her dress tore and fell to pieces around and on the pale skin of the broken toy. Her nails dug into his skin when he sank into her, he hissed in her ear when she started moving against him. The room spun and she slammed him down as she moved over him. He grabbed her hips when she hovered above him for a second too long and held her still as he thrust into her.
She could feel the pressure building inside her, burning to be set loose, she was reaching for it, chasing it as it ran through her like liquid mercury. He moved over her again holding her still as she tried to catch her release, denying her what she knew she needed. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and made her feel as if he was going to take all the air out of her.
He moved lower, twisting and teasing until her gasps for air sounded like broken sobs, then moved lower. Her breathing hitched as his warm breath fanned across her naked thighs. She cried out his name when his tongue delved deep into her core, and slid over her sensitive bundle of nerves.
She was running, flying drowning, reaching for release only to cry out in frustration when he ceased to move, and restrained her from falling off the edge once again. Her nails drew blood from his shoulders as his steely gaze kept her in place. She felt her heart beat slow, her body cooled down, the throbbing ceased to exist, her breathing went back to normal.
He started again.
She hated screaming.
She hated begging.
She hated not being in control.
She screamed his name at the top of her lungs, it echoed off the walls and tore through them both. She could feel him smile against her. He lead her to the top, chased her to the very edge, held her as she leaned over, ready to fall into the abyss.
She begged him to let her fall, sank her nails into his arms when he tried to move away from her and begged again, she was losing control and she didn't care.
She screamed his name when he sank into her again. She begged him for release when her body felt like lead and light as a feather. He simply waited, watching her beautiful cheast rise and fall with every ragged breath. He could see all the different emotions running across her flushed face. He knew it was only a matter of time.
"Klaus. Please."
She gave him control.
He let her fall into the abyss, watched as she came undone above him, her muscles clenching and unclenching around him, forcing him over the edge with her. They clung to one another until the sweat dried, their breathing slowed, and their heart beats became steady, then they fell into darkness, together.
Sometimes you lose yourself. Sometimes you let yourself get lost. And sometimes, just sometimes, you give yourself over to someone else.
He loved to hear her scream.
He loved to hear her beg.
He loved to make her lose control.
And she did.
Every. Single. Time.