who could supply him with a constant supply of his favorite thrill. People would sell their souls to cheat death, for themselves, their spouses, their children.
Dr. Richard Mathes found souls very appetizing.
When he came out, Diana was at her vanity, brushing her hair. He could tell from the glitter in her eyes that she was angry.
“He wants to look over his investment?” she said. “Check your teeth, look over your pedigree? Put you through your paces?”
He opened her closet, took out a starched white shirt. He knew exactly where she was going with this. She wanted to lure him into having sex again. She labored under the fond misconception that she controlled him that way. It amused him to let her keep her illusions.
“He wants to do that alpha dog pissing thing, right? And you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you? You’d love to stare down a mob boss. I bet that gives you a hard-on, Richie. You’re such a danger junkie.”
He shrugged the shirt on. “Diana—”
“That’s why you get off on sticking your hands in people’s viscera,” she said. “It’s not to help them. It’s just for fun. You might as well be jumping out of a plane, for all you give a shit about them.”
Diana surprised him sometimes with her sharp side. When not in the OR, she played the part of the dizzy cunt so convincingly it tended to lull him into relaxed complacency. “You’re boring me,” he warned her softly.
“Just make sure he doesn’t piss on you, Richie. Some girls get turned on by golden showers, but I’m the traditional type. I think I’d be turned off by the stench of urine. Even a mob boss’s urine. You know?”
Now she really was annoying him. He moved up behind her, slid his arms around her in a tight embrace. He pinched her nipple and her clitoris simultaneously—hard enough to make her suck in a sharp, gasping breath. Her eyes went glassy. Her lips trembled.
“Don’t be a dirty bitch, Diana,” he whispered.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Of course,” he agreed pleasantly. “You asked for it.”
Richard straightened up and wiped his fingers upon the silk that covered her damp, trembling back. He resumed buttoning his shirt.
Diana let out a gasp, her hand going to her ear. “I’m missing an earring!” She knocked the stool back, and rushed to the rumpled bed. She climbed onto her hands and knees, and scrabbled through the bedclothes. “It must be here, in the bed. You were so rough.”
Richard stared at her smooth buttocks. The scrap of lingerie hid nothing. Her back arched, taunting him, inviting. He could smell the hot scent of her sex from across the room. He groaned inwardly. He’d just bathed, for God’s sake.
“I have to go,” he said plaintively.
“Yes, of course, Richie. Go back home to wifey. Don’t let me stop you. I’m just looking for my earring.”
Richard unfastened his trousers and let his penis spring out, heavy and red and ready as he approached the bed. He gripped her hips, jerked them into position. Diana trembled with eagerness as he breached her slick opening and slammed against her, with the unchecked violence she craved.
He used his private trick to make himself come. In those rare instances that he was overly tired and could not bring himself easily to climax, he had only to close his eyes and bring to mind those blood-drenched Parisian girls tied to the bedpost. That image revived a flagging erection—and brought him to an explosive orgasm.
Yes, he reflected, with chilly detachment, as the pleasure pumped through him, he could handle Diana. She would give no trouble at all.
The whole world was like that. Easily managed. Begging to be used, for his convenience, his advantage, his profit, his pleasure.
What could he do but oblige them all?
Sveti listened intently at the door of the private quarters of the guards. She could hear muted sounds of some sports event on their cable TV. She clenched her teeth and knocked. No answer.
She knocked
Dr. Richard Mathes found souls very appetizing.
When he came out, Diana was at her vanity, brushing her hair. He could tell from the glitter in her eyes that she was angry.
“He wants to look over his investment?” she said. “Check your teeth, look over your pedigree? Put you through your paces?”
He opened her closet, took out a starched white shirt. He knew exactly where she was going with this. She wanted to lure him into having sex again. She labored under the fond misconception that she controlled him that way. It amused him to let her keep her illusions.
“He wants to do that alpha dog pissing thing, right? And you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you? You’d love to stare down a mob boss. I bet that gives you a hard-on, Richie. You’re such a danger junkie.”
He shrugged the shirt on. “Diana—”
“That’s why you get off on sticking your hands in people’s viscera,” she said. “It’s not to help them. It’s just for fun. You might as well be jumping out of a plane, for all you give a shit about them.”
Diana surprised him sometimes with her sharp side. When not in the OR, she played the part of the dizzy cunt so convincingly it tended to lull him into relaxed complacency. “You’re boring me,” he warned her softly.
“Just make sure he doesn’t piss on you, Richie. Some girls get turned on by golden showers, but I’m the traditional type. I think I’d be turned off by the stench of urine. Even a mob boss’s urine. You know?”
Now she really was annoying him. He moved up behind her, slid his arms around her in a tight embrace. He pinched her nipple and her clitoris simultaneously—hard enough to make her suck in a sharp, gasping breath. Her eyes went glassy. Her lips trembled.
“Don’t be a dirty bitch, Diana,” he whispered.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Of course,” he agreed pleasantly. “You asked for it.”
Richard straightened up and wiped his fingers upon the silk that covered her damp, trembling back. He resumed buttoning his shirt.
Diana let out a gasp, her hand going to her ear. “I’m missing an earring!” She knocked the stool back, and rushed to the rumpled bed. She climbed onto her hands and knees, and scrabbled through the bedclothes. “It must be here, in the bed. You were so rough.”
Richard stared at her smooth buttocks. The scrap of lingerie hid nothing. Her back arched, taunting him, inviting. He could smell the hot scent of her sex from across the room. He groaned inwardly. He’d just bathed, for God’s sake.
“I have to go,” he said plaintively.
“Yes, of course, Richie. Go back home to wifey. Don’t let me stop you. I’m just looking for my earring.”
Richard unfastened his trousers and let his penis spring out, heavy and red and ready as he approached the bed. He gripped her hips, jerked them into position. Diana trembled with eagerness as he breached her slick opening and slammed against her, with the unchecked violence she craved.
He used his private trick to make himself come. In those rare instances that he was overly tired and could not bring himself easily to climax, he had only to close his eyes and bring to mind those blood-drenched Parisian girls tied to the bedpost. That image revived a flagging erection—and brought him to an explosive orgasm.
Yes, he reflected, with chilly detachment, as the pleasure pumped through him, he could handle Diana. She would give no trouble at all.
The whole world was like that. Easily managed. Begging to be used, for his convenience, his advantage, his profit, his pleasure.
What could he do but oblige them all?
Sveti listened intently at the door of the private quarters of the guards. She could hear muted sounds of some sports event on their cable TV. She clenched her teeth and knocked. No answer.
She knocked
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