Your Turn to Suffer by Tim Waggoner (free romance novels .TXT) 📗

always brought his bag and put it where he could keep an eye on it. He was a professional, after all.

Camille wanted to switch positions, and a moment later, she lay on her back, legs up in the air and spread wide, mashing her left breast with one hand and furiously working her clit with the other while he continued drilling her. Both of them were slick with sweat, and Norman was wondering if she would squirt when she came today. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice a tendril of darkness slide through the tiny spaces in one of the window screens, pushing its way silently between the curtains, and begin slithering into the room. The Shadowkin arced downward toward the floor, moved across the carpet, then stretched upward along the side of the bed. The tip of its tendril reached to the top of the bed near Camille’s left shoulder, and then, swift as a striking cobra, it lunged toward her mouth. She’d been in the process of her sexual monologue – words coming faster, voice pitched higher, breathing more rapid as she got closer to climax – so her mouth was open when the Shadowkin’s tendril came at her, and it jammed itself past her teeth, over her tongue, and down her throat. Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she tried to scream, but the Shadowkin’s thick, dark substance filled her throat, preventing her from making any sound or, for that matter, taking in air. The Shadowkin continued flowing into her, doing so rapidly, and by the time Norman was aware there was some kind of weird-looking snake-like thing crawling down Camille’s throat, the last of the Shadowkin’s substance had come through the window screen, shot toward Camille, and vanished into her.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she removed her hands from her breast and clitoris and grabbed Norman’s wrists. His hands were palm down on the mattress, supporting him while he’d been fucking Camille, only now he wanted nothing more than to pull out of her and throw himself backward off the bed in order to get away from her and the thing inside her. But her hands tightened around his in twin death grips, and he couldn’t free himself. The woman might’ve been twice his age, but damn, she was strong!

He watched in horror as bulges appeared on her upper and lower abdomen, and he realized the black stuff – whatever the hell it was – was racing through her, down her alimentary canal, into her stomach, then her intestines, and from there—

Her body arched against him, her muscles tightened, and she threw her head back. The tail end of the Shadowkin had penetrated deeply enough inside her that she was able to breathe again, and she used that breath to scream. It struck Norman that she was caught in the throes of pain so intense that it seemed like a grotesque parody of an orgasm. Something was happening inside her – something bad. He still couldn’t pull free from her grip, felt her fingernails cutting into the flesh of his wrists, but his cock – still inside her – began to deflate. Then he felt something tickle the opening of his penis, almost as if a finger was poking him from inside her.

Good Christ. The tentacle-thing had burst through her intestines, into her uterus, and had slid down her vaginal canal, where it was now fondling him.

“No!” he shouted. “No, no, no!”

He gritted his teeth, put everything he had into yanking his arms free of Camille’s hands, but she continued holding him fast, her grip like iron.

And then the Shadowkin entered him.

Norman had never been catheterized before, but it had always seemed to him like one of the most painful things a person – especially a man – could endure. But this was worse than anything he could’ve imagined. It was like molten fire had been injected into his penis, and he screamed without being aware that he did. He redoubled his efforts to pull free from Camille’s grip, but she continued holding on to him tight, so tight he felt the bones in his wrists grind together. If this continued, they might well break, but he didn’t care about that. He had worse things to worry about.

Her body began spasming more violently, as if she were caught in a massive seizure. Then her head snapped forward, and her eyes focused on him. For an instant, he saw awareness in them, along with absolute terror. And then her mouth opened wide and she vomited a torrent of dark blood onto him. It splashed onto his chest, so hot it almost burned, and then her eyes rolled white once again, her head fell back on the pillow, and her body – breasts and belly also splattered with blood now – fell still. Her grip loosened and he was finally able to pull away from her. He yanked his arms free so hard that he fell backward, slid off the foot of the bed, and hit the floor. He didn’t feel the impact, though. The agonizing fire in his penis – which had now spread to his lower abdomen – overwhelmed all other sensation. He saw the black stuff, looking like a thick ebon snake, protruding from the end of his cock and stretching up onto the bed where it was still in the process of exiting Camille’s dead body. He instinctively grabbed hold of the thing, intending to pull it out of him, but its surface was slick with Camille’s blood, and it slid through his hands with ease. The pain intensified as the dark tentacle pushed its way further into his body, and he no longer possessed the ability to think or act. His hands fell away from the tentacle’s blood-slick surface, and he lay back against the carpet and screamed. He saw the tail end of the tentacle wiggle into him,