Just a Taste Part 22

Ch 22: Through Guts and Hellfire

Dylan

December 25th, 2024- Abandoned Orphanage- 7:03 PM

Her words set me ablaze with passion. Our lips collided in a feverish embrace; something I've desperately missed these past two days. She wanted to feel alive? Oh, she gave me permission to unleash the beast within.

And he's fucking starving.

In a flash, I tore her fuzzy white and red Christmas pajamas into shreds. Exposing her soft, pale flesh to my hungry gaze. My hands explored every dip and curve as my tongue pillaged her throat, stealing every breath she took.

My hands cupped her ass, as I growled in her ear, "I can't be gentle this time, darling."

Whimpering, she panted, "Then don't be."

Yes, fucking finally!

Chuckling, I rasped, "You asked for it." Then I shoved Isabella onto the bed.

She fell onto it sideways, with her face landing on the covers, and her tight ass fully accessible. Almost as if she were another Christmas present begging to be used.

I dug around in the top drawer, where I kept my 'hunting' supplies, and extracted a leather belt.

Carefully, I traced her body with its smooth texture. Isabella gasped as it teased the seam of her ass, arching her back in response.

Hm, she likes that. Perfect.

Using my palm, I spread her cheeks wide. Grazing her virginal anus with my thumb.

She moaned, wiggling her hips.

"Stay still," I commanded, swatting her ass with the belt. "Or I'll tie you up."

My fingers dip between her legs. She's drenched from pussy to mid-thigh with arousal.

"Hm, you like that idea, don't you?" I asked, swiping my middle finger over her swollen lips. She nodded, twitching slightly.

Without hesitation, I restrained her hands with my belt. Tying them together in my favorite criss-crossed position, and then I forced them behind her back. Twisting her into a beautiful, naked pretzel.

Tossing my clothes off, I grunted, "I'm fucking you hard and fast. Keep your legs still, unless you want me to hog-tie you. If it's too much, yell out, 'rabbit'. Got it?"

She peeked over her shoulder, eyes flaming with desire, and whispered, "Got it."

Just as I rammed my steel-hard dick inside her tight pussy, a shriek of terror came from downstairs.

"What was that?" Isabella questioned, her body tensed up, squeezing me uncomfortably.

"Don't know." I sighed, withdrawing from my favorite place. I quickly redressed. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Dashing down the stairs, I found the source of the scream. A tipsy-looking Margaret standing against the Christmas tree with her hands up in defense, shaking like a leaf.

Across from her was Jerald, with a hunting rifle ready to fire. He was wearing white and grey winter camo hunting gear and black boots covered in snow.

"You thought you could hide my blood from me!?" He roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Like I wouldn't check to see if Father was alive or not!"

Margaret whimpered, "I'm proud of what I did! You're a terrible son! He was practically a vegetable when I found him in the hospital!"

He grinned. "The poison should've killed him, not destroyed his nervous system. Oh well, it served a purpose, right? Where's the old fuck?"

I interjected, stepping in between the two. "He's dead. I killed him."

Jerald's eyes flared with hatred. "You what?"

"He practically begged me to. I slit his throat open. His blood poured out everywhere." I taunted, closing the distance between him and me. The barrel of his rifle pushed into my chest.

Glass shattering upstairs, followed by Isabella's screams, made my pulse race. Fuck, I can't be in two places at once!

"Margaret, upstairs!" I shouted, firmly grasping the barrel, forcing Jerald to back up.

She nodded, unsteadily sprinting upstairs.

I forced myself to focus on Jerald while I heard her scream, "Get away from her, you filthy bastards!"

Oh, those motherfuckers better be dead when I get up there!

Grunting, Jerald snarled, pushing against my grip."You fucking monster! You denied me the right to kill my father, and you took my daughter away!"

"Cry me a fucking river, child Abuser!" I retorted, kicking Jerald's injured calf. There's no way it's healed all the way by now.

Jerald howled in agony, falling onto his back with a thud. The rifle slid out of his reach. As he tried crawling toward it, I stomped on his back with all my might.

"Get off me, Diablo!" he groaned, struggling against my weight. "And accept your death like a man!"

Upstairs, Isabella and Margaret are screaming, breaking furniture, and crying all at once.

Hold on, darling, I'll be there soon!

I bent over, snatching the weapon. With great pleasure, I cocked it, then aimed the barrel at Jerald.

"You first." I stated darkly, squeezing the trigger.

The first shot hit his arm, the second and third sprayed across his shoulders; making him scream in pain. Fuck, I love seeing him suffer. It's intoxicating and vindicating.

"Kill me, you stupid fuck..." he wheezed, coughing hoarsely.

A wicked grin graced my lips. I squeezed the trigger once more. The last shot went into his skull, creating a sizable crater where his eyes and nose used to be.

Finally, he's dead!

Now, to save Isabella. Before it's too late!

As I ran upstairs, the foul stench of alcohol and smoke greeted me.

What the fuck happened here?

"Get back here, you cunt!" a male voice roared.

Isabella sprinted down the hallway, wearing one of my shirts, covered in blood and pieces of intestines.

"Dylan!" she sobbed when she saw me. "Oh my God, they-"

A stout, balding man with his pants around his ankles waddled out of our bedroom. They were completely covered in blood. "I'll kill you! How dare you bite my dick!?"

Burning with rage, I tackled the fat bastard, sending him crashing to the hardwood floor below. Punching every inch of his repulsive body that I had access to.

"Here!" Isabella cried, sliding my Christmas gift to me. Looks like I'll be christening it with his blood.

"No, no, please! We were just doing our job, I-" He tried to argue before I savagely plunged the knife into his neck, chest, and finally, his poor mangled penis.

He convulsed for a few seconds before slumping lifelessly onto the floor.

I wiped the blood off my knife, slid it into my pants, then hugged Isabella.

"I'm here, darling." I whispered, stroking her hair. "Where's Margaret?"

"B-bedroom..." she sniffled. "Those guys broke in through the windows and tried to hurt me. She fought one of them off, but someone tossed a Molotov cocktail into the room from the window, and..."

Dammit, I liked Margaret!

"Is the fire still burning?" I questioned, pulling away slightly.

"I don't know, maybe?" She mumbled, wiping away her tears. "There's people outside, so I don't know if we can leave."

Ah, darling, you're wrong.

"Actually, there's a way, but first let's see if the fire will spread." I explained, guiding her to the bedroom. "Cover your eyes. You don't need to see her like that."

Isabella nodded solemnly as we opened our bedroom door.

The flames had died out mostly, except for a few errant embers on the curtains. I can work with this. The once pristine cream-colored walls were now black from the flames and peeling off. Our bed was destroyed; feathers and cloth scraps everywhere, and on the floor beside it were the charred remains of Margaret.

Next to our tiny closet was a partially disemboweled man, who unfortunately burned to death while clutching his guts.

"Did Margaret do that?" I asked, grabbing whatever personal items of ours that I could and stuffed them into my duffel bag.

"No, I did," Isabella confessed with a terrified look on her face. "When the flames spread, he started attacking Margaret and shoved her into the flames. I got pissed and just snapped. Then his buddy went crazy, punched me in the stomach and tried to force a blow job, so I clamped down on it. Am I in trouble?"

I kissed her deeply. She gasped. "What're you doing!? We need to leave!"

"But you're so fucking sexy right now." I murmured, grabbing her ass. "All badass, angry, and covered in blood."

"Dylan!" she smacked my hand.

"Fine," I rolled my eyes. "But later, you're mine."

She blushed furiously. "Yes, sir."

Through a mess of guts, and the aftermath of hellfire, she's still the woman I love. Despite everything.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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