Heartless Heathens

by Santana Knox

A story can hurt you. A good story can wound, maim, and scar. A good story will leave you questioning what you believe to be right or wrong for the sake of pseudo-pleasure fulfilled by some neurons shooting off sparks in your brain. A good story will tear your soul out from your chest and keep you from moving on until you find another that can take its place.”

“I don’t know, Pet. I’m not a monster. I’m a son of the Devil. I don’t ask for anything; it’s offered to me freely.”

“And to you?” she asked. “That depends: do you want to be safe or desired? You can’t have both with me.”

“Oh my sweet little pet, make no mistake: I am that abomination,” he said, reaching out to caress my face. “And it is your soul I will devour.”

“I want everything you can give me, including the air in your lungs. I want your blood. I want your life. I want your fucking death, Romina.”

“I’ve corrupted you enough, Pet. I want no part in the removal of the last bit of your innocence. When you come to me, I want it fully stripped away. I want you bare and covered in sin.”

“You call out God’s name one more time while I’m between your legs, even he won’t be able to save you, little lamb.”

“If you so much as look at another man, you can consider it his death warrant. If another man looks at you, I’ll rip his head off with my bare hands and make you watch. If you let someone who isn’t the three of us touch you? I’ll split them open from throat to dick so slowly, they’ll die three times before their heart finally stops beating. Do you understand?”

I was theirs and they were mine, sealed in blood, cum, and something like faith.