The Chapel

The stone was cold against her bare knees, but it was worn smooth by centuries of prostrate penitents. The cold air shifted around her as he entered. His bare feet made little sound on the stone, but his shadow filled the tiny chapel, his chapel.

chapelShe stayed on her knees as he came toward her, a hungry predator seeking prey. His hands clamped around her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. Her dress fluttered around her thighs, and she met his dark gaze.

His kiss was brutal, and possessing, and he released her arms. She responded, wrapping her arms around him, her hands tangling in his thick black hair. He pressed her against the stone wall, his long fingers climbing under her skirt, slipping inside her.

When he bent his head to her neck, her cry echoed in the stone chapel. His teeth pierced her flesh as his fingers coaxed an orgasm from her. She shivered as his fingers withdrew, her warm, wetness dripped down her thighs. His lips pressed into her neck, sucking, drinking.

He broke away, his lips dark with her blood, and drew her into his arms, pressing her against the wall, guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist. His cock entered her, and once again her cries echoed in the chamber. His thrusts were rough, and she wrapped her arms around his neck again. She felt her body responding, the tightening of her belly and once again she came.

When he lowered his head to her neck again, she arched toward him giving herself more space.

The wooden blade concealed in her sleeve slipped into her palm.  When his teeth sank into her neck again, she raised the blade and plunged it into his back, unerringly seeking his heart.chapel1

He stiffened and cried out, before turning to dust.

 

 

Straightening her dress, she replaced the blade in her sleeve, and went to collect her bounty from the townspeople.

(323 words)

 Read more stories inspired by the imageFF

 

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