*This is a RE-UPLOAD with extended scenes.
Trigger Warnings: Themes of death, demonic activity, and non-consensual scenes.
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There it is again.
It would start in the pit of my stomach; those butterflies he used to give me. They bounced all around before coming together in a tight ball that sent dread coursing through my limbs. It's the gradual build up to what would lead to a powerful orgasm, but I was horrified at its introduction.
"Not again, I can't do this again!"
The butterflies, they'd rise to my beating heart and pump blood through my veins so quickly it was like a heart attack that would undoubtably claim my life, but I've gone through these enough times to know it was worse than that. I tried to sit up and go to the bathroom, find something to distract me from the urge, but he's kept me pinned on the bed and sang sweet words into my ear.
"Sara, you feel so good..."
I kept refuting him as if the outcome will change, but the resistance only increased his advances. Knowing how stubborn he was, this had to be some sort of power play to prove how much I still loved him. How he knew what was best for me and that I do want this- whether I was certain or not.
I helplessly stared up at the ceiling with pitiful whimpers. Arms bound above my head and legs spread wide, I called for my lover. "Oh God...please," the butterflies were long gone and in their absence was a flame that they set off inside me. It burned so hot; I could feel the heat all over my skin. I could smell my own sweat as it beaded off my forehead. "It hurts. It hurts so much..."
He hushed me with darkness coating his words, and with what felt like a cool lick going from my collarbone to my earlobe, my hips snapped.
They arched up from the bed so high you'd think I had become paralyzed by my own orgasm. The rush of the climax was simply that hard that I couldn't fight it anymore. I clung to the bed sheets with my eyes bolted shut; my jaw was almost unhinged as I screamed through the pleasure.
Breaking out into a sob, I cried, "O-oh fuck, I can't stop!"
"Good girl..."
He sounded tired, like he just came too, but he's eager for me to go on. Before I could recover from my first climax, I'm flipped over to my stomach and the sensation of a circular object is pushed past the tight rim of muscles in my asshole. Cool touches grip onto my hips as he begun to rock.
"Not yet! I'm not ready!" I tried crawling away, reaching for the headboard for some leverage over this one-sided fight, but I was caught off guard when I felt a second set of icy hands massage my breasts whilst the first pair were still planted at the hips. His fingers toyed with my pink nipples, rolling one between his thick digits.
"Hah!" I gasped, his tounge caressing the other nipple, even though he was still fucking my ass. This was all abnormal; I could feel him consuming my entire body in ways that a human could never, but I had already known that. Even so, the reminder always startled me.
The need to cum overpowered me again and I gave up the fight before it truly began.
"Fuck me harder. If you're gonna keep doing it, might as well do it good- AH!"
He didn't find humor in my back talk, so a third set of hands went to my throat and squeezed. His cock had grown bigger and moved quicker; his hairy balls slapped violently against my sensitive clit.
"Here it comes. Take all of me..."
Unlike his icy hands, the seed he shot inside my asshole signed my insides. I was left clinging to life as my heart stopped for just a second, learning to accommodate his heavy load.
"Sara," he collected his breath with a smile coating his words, "I love you..."
He always pushed me over my limit, just as he has done since his death. If he didn't let up, this guy would turn out to be the death of me as well. My true love and my first ever heartbreak: Patrick Sexton.
Patrick grew up being made fun of for a lot of things, including his name.
"Patrick, like that dumb starfish? So, you're just a fat pink blob with rocks for brains!"
"Sexton? That's funny, 'cause you'd be the last person to get a ton of sex!"
Our high school bullies weren't very clever. But, it still bothered me how much they teased him. I knew how it felt to be discriminated against. Before high school, I was the black sheep of the class with acne, a chubby body, and round glasses. Through peer pressure, I would makeup every day, starve for hours, and never wear my glasses- which cost me a lot of trips to the nurses' office. But Patrick never changed.
When I first spoke to him during our study break, one of the first things he asked me was, "You're not doing this because you feel sorry for me, right?"
"No! Of course not!"
"You don't need to lie. I know I'm a freak to them, but I don't care. At least I'm not boring," he swiped on his tablet to find his favorite manga, "They're lame to always talk about me and have nothing to say about their own lives. Wanna read with me?"
We sat in the cafeteria reading together every break since then, and from there I learned he was part of the anime club, and then I met his best friends: Robin and Caspian. In a matter of weeks, I went from a try-hard popular girl to embracing my true self again.
"Wow Sara, you really look amazing!" people would say after I embraced my natural beauty, regained my body fat, and I wore glasses again. The same people who taunted me were now praising me; I assumed it was in part of their fear of Patrick who by then made it clear he wasn't afraid to be suspended to defend my honor.
Patrick and I spent four wonderful years together as high school sweethearts, but we never made love until after we graduated.
"Sara, what are you doing?"
We were cuddling in his bed one night while we tried to watch a movie but being so close to him made me notice how much he had matured. His round face had finally chiseled and the mustache he wanted so badly had arrived tenfold, completely bushy with a beard and sideburns attached. My sweet woodsman, I would joke.
You wouldn't think he'd be such a sensitive guy, because when I planted kisses on his face and chest and rubbed his penis over his clothing, he was getting wet on the spot. I giggled when I felt it through the fabric of his boxers.
"Wait! I don't wanna cum yet. Not like this." He threw away the blanket covering the two of us, laid me down on my back and said, "Let me take care of you..."
I told him I loved him five times that night.
But now, he's dead.
"Over a stupid drunk driver!" Robin slammed her drink on the table. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve and said, "I can't believe you're not angry right now."
"I am," I said, "It's just hard for me to show my emotions."
"You're better than me, because I show all my feelings!"
I kept in touch with Robin after Patrick died. She was a good person. A little eccentric, but a good person. I only cried that night when I got the phone call, and a little tear went down my cheek when I was told it'd be a closed casket, but nothing more. Robin invited me for drinks the evening after the funeral.
"Do you want me to stay over? We could play some games, watch a movie."
I shook my head, "No, I'd rather just be alone."
"We could also, you know..." Robin lowered her voice, "Call him again."
I loved my boyfriend, but that was the last thing I wanted to do.
