Violent Tendencies

Selene

I finally get home and curse when I pull off my thigh highs, blisters raw on my feet. The fucking asshole. No Ubers were around that area and I just decided to fuck it and walk home. Worst mistake.

At least something good came from the fucking bullshit, I got a tour of the cunt’s house, and now I have to make a complete plan. This isn’t like any of my usual victims, Henry Walton is a big fucking fish and I can’t trap him in a car to blow his brains out. It just won’t work.

I have to plan this out to a T and also consider every fucking alternative that can happen. I’m also working on a short time crunch because the asshole’s next shipment of girls is coming up, and I need to somehow kill him, then save those females.

I was kind of hoping to see some evidence of where he keeps them in the house, but that was just wishful thinking. I knew this shit wasn’t going to be easy and I knew frying a big fish like Henry would be fucking difficult.

Admittedly, I didn’t think the pervy fucker would have such a hot fucking son and if this situation were completely different, he’d be exactly my type. The second I saw him I knew I could climb that fucker like a tree. But just the thought of him being anything like daddy dearest sours the sentiment instantly.

I start my shower and wait for this cheap ass apartment to spew out the hot water. My savings are beginning to run out and I know I need to wrap this up as soon as possible.

I peel myself out of the leather outfit and step into the hot water. I still can’t get the sight of Henry’s son out of my mind, the way his throat worked when swallowing the water, or his abs glistening with sweat, and that voice, all gruff and angry.

The hot water cascades over my body and I lift my foot to press into the tub’s edge. It’s been a while since I’ve even cared about my own needs, always about the men I must kill, and never getting myself off.

My fingers skim down over my large breasts, giving my nipple a tweak on the way, and down my soft belly to settle over my mound. My heart rate kicks up and I run my fingers through my folds. I moan, tipping my head back and feeling the water rush over my face, the feeling refreshing.

I circle my clit and think of Henry’s son, those dark angry eyes, and rough voice. I feel myself grow wet and slide two fingers inside, working myself exactly how I like it.

My other hand comes up and tugs at my nipple, sending tingles straight to my pussy. I can’t erase his face from my brain and it’s perplexing to be masturbating to a sick son of a bitch, but I can’t stop myself now.

My thumb hits my clit as my fingers dance inside of me, brushing that spot I know will send me over the edge quickly.

I can feel my wetness coating my hand and I rub myself back and forth, my lower belly beginning to tighten. I wish I were riding his dick and I wish his father were watching it all happen. Then, when I was done, I would slice both of their throats and bathe in their blood.

That thought has me tumbling over the edge as visions of Henry gripping his bloody throat and his son screaming for mercy floods my senses.

My pussy contracts around my fingers and my release continues as I imagine the warm water is their blood, spraying over my face.

That is a first, I have never gotten off to a victim and the fantasy of their deaths but I may make it a fucking routine now.

I finish up in the shower and pad my way over to the papers scattered on my desk. Thank god I’m fucking relaxed after that shower because looking at this shit shows me just how much work I have.

Time to get this fucking show on the road.