Monster (Pt1) [Horror/Erotica]

*( An attempted attack at a woman’s home takes a dramatic, murderous and lustful twist…)*

Blood dripped down her arm onto the handle of the knife and then onto the blade. The flow from her own wound mixed with his.

Trembling and white with shock she moved closer. Her bare feet feeling the texture of the wooden floor beneath her steps. Her nightgown billowed around her slender frame, dancing across her petite curves, the evening light shimmering through it and creating an x-ray effect.

Had she killed him? She hoped so.

He was a predator, he was evil incarnate.

He’d defiled her body, her mind, her soul.

The shadows cast a dark cloak across his him. It was impossible to make out any details as they wrapped around his slumped form.

Did he move or was it a trick of the night?

She slowed her approach.

Tentatively, almost on tiptoe, she edged toward him.

She tightened her grip on the knife to prepare and focus her strength, and to stop the shaking.

His arm shot out and grabbed onto her delicate ankle with such force that the pain caused her to wince.

In a split second she decided her course of action, she didn’t resist and went with the motion, using his strength combined with hers to force herself on top of him.

She landed and quickly straddled him, her legs on either side of his as he lay on his back.

With wrath she brought the knife down, she felt it strike his arm and bounce off of the bone after slicing through skin and muscle.

His defence wouldn’t hold, she raged the knife down again, this time she felt it get caught on a rib just under the flesh of his abdomen, but it quickly pushed through and entered his inside.

She felt a tingling between her legs as she writhed back and forth.

It brought a memory of the first time she felt it, as a young girl, out horse riding. The sun in her golden hair and blinding in her eyes. The motion of the horse caused her to rub against the saddle and caused that new and strange sensation. At the time she didn’t know why, she just knew that she didn’t want it to stop.

The blade flew through the air again and again as she rode him, grinding herself into him as he gurgled and spluttered.

“Die you fucking bastard!”.

She screamed as her anger and arousal combined.

She didn’t stop even when he stopped moving, she continued hammering the steel into him and gyrating against him.

Finally, out of pure exhaustion, she stopped. Came to rest and let her arms drop and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

She sat, her nightgown soaked in blood, stuck tightly to her body, making her look like a naked, red, glossy doll. Her face was an abstract painting of pale canvas and crimson splashes, with streaks running from her eyes as the tears washed away the sin.

It was only then that she realised that she hadn’t quit until she’d climaxed. His lifeless body posing no threat or resistance hadn’t ended her attack.

She’d stopped when she was done, when she had finished.

When she had finished what?

She wondered.

When she had emptied her rage or when she had emptied her orgasm?

Was she now the monster?

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/yb0sl6/monster_pt1_horrorerotica