Chapter 53: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 7
He was going to be raped.
He was going to be raped, damn it, and there was very little he could do to resist with his arms and legs tied so securely. Now he had a very different motivation to escape these shackles, though in the end, it was all the same.
Determination wasn’t enough; nothing could change how messed up he was.
Oh, yes. Very messed up, unless he thought of something and quickly.
Hunger straddled him very sensually. Hip to hip, chest to chest. She was well-developed in every way.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Did you think it was a joke?” Hunger licked his cheek.
It took all his willpower not to shudder.
He was the one who violated, not the one being violated. Was this some kind of karma? Well, he hadn’t exactly raped Christina, but he had consented to have sex with someone he wasn’t, so it was pretty close. On the other hand, if Sam had remained Sam, he probably would never have slept with her. Things were a bit confusing.
Why was he mulling over stupid, irrelevant things? The only thing he should be worried about was that this bitch was going to rape him, for God’s sake.
“But why?”
Hunger leaned back, sitting on his stomach, a trail of saliva sliding from her lips.
She had left too much on his cheek. He told himself it was more like a dog’s licks given the amount of saliva she had left him with, trying to disgust himself.
It didn’t work.
He always knew it wouldn’t work. After all, the hunger he felt wasn’t even his own. He couldn’t even resist her manipulation of his feelings. A violation in many ways.
If only he could take this lightly: What? A hot chick is going to rape me? She went crazy the moment she saw me and could only think about me plugging her up with my special cork? What a misfortune; it wouldn’t satisfy my male ego at all.
In his old life, he had joked about it with his friends (rather, coworkers he had to tolerate and please). That if an ugly fat woman tried to take advantage of him, of course, he would call the police immediately, but if a hot chick did it, he would shed crocodile tears while enjoying his good fortune.
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Probably most men thought they would react like that if they found themselves in that situation, too.
However, now that it had become reality for him, he just felt cornered.
“I’ve been out of this world for a long time, with only my sisters for company. Maybe it’s just that I miss being properly fucked. Maybe I just want you to put me on all fours and split me in half with your cock.” The woman laughed softly. “Although, of course, I’m not stupid enough to let you go for that.”
“Maybe,” Sam repeated, “but I doubt it.”
“You’re not half as clever as you think, you know? It’s obvious you’re just trying to buy time. But since I don’t care, I’ll tell you anyway.” Her left hand rested on his pants. Sam swallowed hard, despite himself. “You’re the son of Satan. His next body, not exactly like him, but compatible enough for him to inhabit.”
Hunger smiled as if she were thinking of a private joke. Her cheeks flushed; her imagination must have kicked into overdrive.
“So I want you to get me pregnant.”
His blood froze in his veins. It would have been better if she had no other goal than pleasure. Being used for a plan was somehow worse than the idea of being used just for his body, as strange as it felt to think in those terms.
“No,” Sam said reflexively.
“I said ‘I want,’ but I’m not asking for your permission. I get what I want, Sammy, no matter what.”
Sam kept his mouth shut. If he talked so much, it was because Hunger was right; at this rate, she would get what she wanted. If he didn’t manage to do something other than just tongue-lashing, his integrity was at stake.
Worse still, his pride.
Though what he should be worried about was the idea of bringing competition into the world. The son of the son of Satan could also be considered the Antichrist, right?
Hunger pulled down his pants and underwear.
He was rock hard.
Of course he was, much to his dismay, but…
“Wow, it’s smaller than I thought.”
“Bitch.” Sam spat in her face; he wouldn’t allow that.
Hunger laughed and licked her lips, not even bothering to wipe off the spit. Considering she had just slobbered all over his face like a damn dog less than a minute ago, he probably should have seen it coming.
“I am. And so what? Humans are creatures of desire, who contradict themselves and invent millions of excuses not to satisfy their hunger. Faith, morality, duty, family. Oh, but what will others think of me? Or the simple fear of the consequences, too, but I’m not afraid and don’t hide from myself. I am who I am. I’m an honest creature. What’s wrong with that?”
Sam didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond.
He would never admit it out loud, but those were essentially his thoughts. The way his determination had taken shape since arriving in this world. No matter the consequences, without paying attention to weak excuses like morality, he would pursue only his own desires. Because he was greedy.
Because he had…
Hunger. A hunger that hadn’t been satisfied in his past life and still haunted him, pushing him to the top.
[Redacted cuz too naughty for this site. I'm not happy about it, but it is what it is. I'm already skirting the line enough.]
However, the most humiliating thing of all was that his salvation arrived with the door opening. The undulating silhouette of a woman entered the indecent basement.
“What the hell are you doing?” she spat.
It was War, of course.
He never thought he would be happy to see her. That in itself was a humiliation, but he was. He was pathetically happy; he would have accepted help from anyone at this point.
I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 7: FIN