You have not let me cum for two and a half years although
you have had numerous partners in that time and made me watch many of them fuck you.
You watched a lot of them fuck me.
You mount me and sink onto me, groaning.
You ask me if I understand the price I must pay,
you know I do, and I nod meekly.
You rise and fall, filling yourself with me, your head back, your magnificent breasts bouncing, your passion rising, hot and wet.
You find my jugular with one hand and take the small, silver craft knife with the other, and as
you feel me start to cum,
you push it swiftly, expertly into my throat, thrilling at the sensation of steel against flesh and artery.
You push the palm of your hand onto the incision, filling my throat with my blood.
You feel another gush of my orgasm squirt hotly into you and
you start to cum yourself, riding me harder and deeper. I try to say “I love you” but all that comes from my mouth is a plume of thick red bubbles.
You watch me bleed.
You kiss me, and feel my orgasm begin to peak, and
you cum harder than you have ever known as my life begins to ebb.
You reach down behind and under you and squeeze my balls, disgust and delight fill
you as you feel first one and then the other burst like cherry tomatoes under a car.
You make sure my final seconds are seconds of agony as
you watch the fire go out behind my eyes.
You do not climb off me until my body has stopped twitching.