As she slowly walked into the room toward me I pulled off her stocking that was over my hard-on letting it fall to the floor. I tried to cover up my erection with both hands and felt the nylons I was wearing fall and gather below my knees. Her semi-sheer opaque nylon legs swished, and the sunlight from the bedroom window made them sparkle as she walked toward me; her ankles wiggled from her pointed toe, black Nike shoes as she gave me the look usually reserved for rapists and pedophiles.
"You have no idea what you've got yourself into."
Bad, I suppose. Bad for most people. And then I began to bleed. I never really felt anything at first, maybe because I was in shock, as it took my brains a full five seconds to register the small puddle blood in front of me, growing ever so slowly, a drop at a time. And as I brought my hand to cup my mouth, it hit me - I was dribbling blood from my mouth.
I looked up in horror - she stood there, towering over me, smug in her confidence, her looks, as I slumped to the floor, my legs putting up no resistance, my torso acting out its own will. I told you, I never felt the pain, not at first, but as I hit the cold tiles, my head laying on a side, arms and legs splayed out in a bizarre fashion, my stomach cramped. In the last pain-free conscious moments I remember, all I saw was her smile, a twisted wicked smile.
"Told you so." Flicking a strand of hair aside, her eyes burning into mine, lording over my helplessness.
And then it began.
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