Venomous Revenge

by Iris Morales about a month ago in fiction

Even snakes are afraid of snakes

Venomous Revenge

The sound of the chopping against the cutting board drums in my ears and breaks through the quiet ambiance of his apartment as I dice the tomatoes idly. His apartment, I linger on the thought. It should have been mine, and if I would have known that eventually this thing we call us would crash and burn, I never would have left my quaint little apartment upstate. I never would have given up my friends, my family, my career had I known. The weight of everything I've lost to him floods my mind and I'm boiling under the surface. Every lie that passed his lips, every excuse he told for why he didn’t come home that night, all channeled into one big carousel of torturing images. I choke down the lump now balled in my throat and do my best to keep the thoughts from breaking me down. Now's not the time to be weak. I slide the tomatoes into the saucepan and put the stove on simmer and make my way to the bedroom to dress for the evening. I let the towel I was wearing drop to my feet and reach for the skimpy, black silk mini dress hanging over the chair of the vanity. I press the fabric against my naked skin; it still feels warm from the corpse that was wearing it earlier. Dazed, I stare for a moment and wonder if she ever wore this dress for him. I sincerely hope so. I wiggle my way into the dress and it fits me tightly, making my breasts pop out at the top. As I examine myself in the mirror, I notice a single blonde hair caught in the straps. Carefully I wrap my fingers around the strand and pull it off of the dress. I appraise it for a moment, taking note of the discoloration at the roots. I scoff, of course she was a fake blonde. I extend my arm to the candle burning on the dresser and hold the strand over the flame, watching it as it shrivels into nothing.

I take a seat at the vanity and take a long hard look at myself in the mirror; the woman staring back at me is an imposter. My face is pale and the bags under my eyes are noticeably darker than usual. My lips are pressed into a miserable tight line. It's hard to believe the man I once knew and loved is now the reason for the misery ridden on my face. I reach over and grab the red velvet lipstick from its place on the vanity and glide it over my lips. The dark crimson color adds a dangerous contrast to my hazel eyes. I slide on my favorite black strappy heels and make my way back into the kitchen. I set the table carefully, placing the forks and napkins aside the plates, and serve dinner. As I fill the wine glasses with a vintage red, I hear the familiar scrape of keys against the door. My heart drums in my chest as he walks in.

"Hi honey," I try to sound sweet.

"What's all this?" his tone indifferent. No doubt he's mad that his little faux blonde didn’t show up tonight.

"Well you’ve been so busy lately, I thought I'd do something nice for you."

He doesn’t say anything as he rests his suitcase by the side of the door and sits at the table. He says no words, but is quickly scoffing his food down greedily. I watch him, disgust filling every corner of my mind as I think on his transgressions. It takes all the strength I can muster to keep my expression from giving me away. The site of him fills me with rage. He finishes off his food and wipes his mouth with the napkin. Now is the opportune moment. I make my way over in stride, sit on the edge of the table and hoist my leg up onto his chair between his legs, assuring he won't be getting up.

"Are you offering me dessert?" he asks surprised.

I nod in response.

"Is this dress new?" he asks running his fingers across the hem of the fabric.

"No, not really, I just figured today was a good day to wear it," I try to keep my tone nonchalant.

"It's sexy."

He rubs his nose against my leg and begins to lay several kisses from my knee to my inner thigh. This wasn’t part of the plan I think to myself. I watch him as he tongues the inside of my thigh until finally his wet tongue glides against my clit and caresses me with skill. It's hard to enjoy his tongue work knowing that he must have licked her the same way. The thought flushes my face with a heated rage and I swallow the rest of the wine in my glass to cool the rage from my lips. My clit swells under his skilled tongue and makes my body go rigid, bringing me to the brink. I stop him and hop off of the table, taking his hand in mine.

"Come, I have a surprise for you."

I lead him into the bedroom and sit him on the edge of the bed and turn to collect my surprise from the little black box resting on the dresser. I turn to him with two thick leather restraints dangling from my finger, and his expression looks almost giddy. Quickly, he's removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. In one fell swoop, his pants, boxers and shoes are kicked off into a pile on the floor. He climbs on the bed and extends his arms at each side like an enthusiastic child. I attach the restraints from one hand to the bedpost and then the other, making them tight enough to cut off circulation.

"It's too tight." He winces and pulls against the restraints.

I ignore him and make my way to the foot of the bed where I drop the black dress to my feet, all the while keeping my eyes fixed on him. He's watching me in awe, unsuspecting. I crawl onto the bed an inch closer until my body is resting above his and slowly settle myself onto his stiff organ. I curl my fingers into the hair on his chest and grip roughly. He winces uncomfortably. As I ride, him the images of his infidelity dance through my head and burst through the floodgates of my mind. Every lie I've come to reveal pouring through until I can't hide the look on my face. I lean myself down towards his ear.

"I know about everything." My eyes meet him with all the ice and anger I've been holding back for the last 3 months, and I can tell he knows I'm not bluffing.

"I... I don’t know what your talking..."

I rest my finger against his lip forbidding him to say another word.

"Shh shh shh shh, have some dignity darling. There's no point in lying."

Confusion and worry spread across his face and mix with pleasure, creating and unintelligible expression. My hips thrust, grinding against him as I creep my hand towards the lopsided pillowcase resting to the right side of his head. Carefully and slowly, I undo the zipper and a low hissing sound creeps out. His head snaps towards the direction of the sound and his eyes go wide with fear as he spots the black serpent slithering out of the pillowcase. His screams fill the room as he flails and bucks wildly underneath me. Just as quickly, the snake responds to his thrashing and strikes, biting his face once, then twice, again and again. Each bite injecting him with dangerous amounts of venom. Within seconds, his body begins to convulse frantically underneath me until I'm exploding into a soul-shattering orgasm. It goes on for minutes, prolonging the sensation of bliss and satisfaction coursing through me. Every thought of him, every image in my mind bursting through my breath into a billion pieces of release until finally, his body stills. The first breath after the release is life-giving, as if it were the first breath I have ever taken. I take the moment and let my body still, the walls of my vagina still pulsing around the now-dead shaft still inside me and glance down. His wide, dead eyes are bloodshot, foam is spilling from the corners of his mouth and my darling serpent has coiled around his neck tightly. Dear husband, you’ve never looked so good.

How does it work?
Read next: 9 Non-Pornographic Films Starring Pornographic Actresses
Iris Morales

In my darkest moments, the only thing to console me was the black ink of my pen and the blank pieces of paper in which I could consult with. Today I hope to delight your senses and give you stories that you will remember. 

See all posts by Iris Morales