Raphael (Deadly Virtues 1)

Raphael didn’t have to wait long to get what he wanted. The blond he was scheduled to kill weeks ago cut through the crowd, her eyes fixed on his. She was dressed in a leather bra and panties, her fake tits bursting through the straps that did nothing to conceal her figure. Her panties were made of two leather straps that wrapped around her inner thighs and hips. Her pussy was free and bare, her ass too. Raphael couldn’t even remember this bitch’s name. As she stood before him, her arrogant chin tilting up, she smiled. “Pollyanna not giving you what you want anymore?”

Raphael ignored her stupid words, reached out and cupped her naked pussy. It was already soaking wet. Good. Less work for him. With his other hand, Raphael gripped her stringy, peroxide-ruined hair. The strands were straw under his fingers. They were nothing like Maria’s. Hers were silky and thick and smelled of vanilla and rose. Bitterness and rage boiled in Raphael’s gut at the offensive smell of lavender. He yanked the bitch’s head back, relishing the surprise in her eyes. The trafficking slut moaned; she liked it rough. Perfect. So did he. Raphael waited for his cock to become strangled in its cage, coveted the sting and the burn the cage would push onto him. But it didn’t even stir. Not even a flicker.

In that moment he gave himself over to the rage threatening to consume him.

Even through his red lust, Raphael saw they were pulling in a curious crowd. Members waiting to watch him bring this bitch to heel. To make her scream, wound her leathery skin, before fucking her so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. He knew he had to get her to a back room. Gabriel’s teachings about stealth and privacy were too ingrained for him to forget.

With his hand still in her hair, Raphael pulled the bitch, mewling and moaning at his aggressive dominance, through the disappointed crowd and into a private room. Raphael slammed the door and dragged the bitch over to the wooden horse that sat in the center. The triangular device was perfect for what he wanted. He lifted her onto it, her legs straddling either side, and chained her hands to its attached shackle. He tied weights to her ankles to keep her in place. Pushing a ball gag into her mouth, he stepped away and stared at her back. The skin was still red from where someone else had flogged her.

Raphael walked to the wall of flogs and whips and picked out the thin leather strap. He cracked it in his hand, the deafening snap echoing off the walls. The bitch moaned at the sound and her hips rolled, pushing her clit against the pointed wood between her legs.

“Red rose,” Raphael bit out. “‘Red rose’ to stop.” Just hearing those words slip from his lips drove his need to kill harder and harder, until death was all he could think and see and breathe. Though he had no intention of stopping; the safe words, this time, were useless. This bitch wouldn’t be leaving the room alive. Raphael smirked. She trafficked little kids to men for sex. His hand tightened on the strap. Raphael was a killer, a fucked-up heathen with an endless black hole as a heart and a Satan-tainted soul. But even he, evil made flesh, knew this cunt deserved to die for messing with kids. He knew all too well what that life felt like. She need to die.

Painfully.

Brutally.

Perish under his sadistic hands.

The bitch nodded her agreement of the safe word. But in her eyes was excitement, not the shyness or meekness that lay in Maria’s blue gaze. Raphael’s jaw clenched just remembering Maria. Then he thought of her tears. Those fucking tears he didn’t understand but made his stomach ache. “No,” he hissed to himself, forcing himself to push Maria from his head.

He wound the strap around his hand three times, and his lip curled in anger. It felt nothing like Maria’s hair wrapped around his palm. “Fuck!” he screamed as Maria invaded his head again.

Raphael’s always calm hands began to shake as he recalled Maria fisting the bedsheets as he ate at her pussy, drinking down her addictive cum. Roaring out loud, he slammed the strap across the bitch’s back. It landed with a crack. She cried out, and Raphael watched a welt burst on her too-tan skin. Her deafening scream soared to his groin. He hit her again. He pictured Maria on the wooden horse. Her crying, pushing him away. She needed to be punished. He hit her again and again until the slut threw her head back and she came, rubbing her clit on the wooden horse. He stilled. The bitch’s cry of ecstasy was nothing like Maria’s. It wasn’t breathless or soft. It was crass and loud and grated on his fucking nerves.