Her Blood Ran Cold

By Elysium Sexsmith 

Staring out the window of her apartment, she watched as passers-by wandered back and forth along the street beneath her window.

She wondered what they would think if they could see her now, a half empty bottle of bourbon besides her, a straight-edged razor smeared in blood - her blood.

Would they try and stop her? Would they jeer her on, hoping that she would end her life for their amusement?

A drip of blood spattered on her painted toes and she wriggled them excitedly, feeling the slickness of her lifeblood coat her toes as it oozed between.

Of course, she had no interest in killing herself. She merely enjoyed the feeling of her skin being opened: the brief stinging pain of the wound followed by a rush of endorphins that made her head rush and the sensual, sensual sensation of blood running, dripping, oozing and spattering across her body.

In her her darkest fantasies she dreamt it was the blood of another: a rival or ex-lover bound and exsanguinated for her perverted pleasure as she masturbated to climax underneath the shower of blood as their bodies kicked and twitched to a standstill...but they were just fantasies. She had her own flesh and her own blood to enjoy without the need to commit murder.

She picked up the whiskey bottle besides her and, blade still grasped between her fingers, took a large gulp from the bottle. Looking down at her left arm, she marvelled at the criss-cross pattern of slices. She had taken her time with each one, carving a random yet intricate pattern of pain and destruction across her forearm and

It.

Was.

Beautiful.

She placed the knife edge against her skin once more and pressed, biting her lip with pleasure as the sharpened steel bit deep and a bead of blood formed around the blade. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head backwards and drew the blade across flesh.

A tender moan left her lips as she felt warm blood run down her arm and her blade hand, coating her fingers and making it hard to grip the knife. It was a deep cut and it felt amazing.

She let the knife fall from her hand and lay backwards. Outside her window, she could hear people passing by but heartbeat by heartbeat they grew fainter and more distant as she focused on the blood running from her veins.

She opened her eyes and raised her left hand into the air. The wound was deep, almost to bone and the blood flowing from it was thick and viscous and plentiful. It spattered on her face and her tits, each wet impact eliciting a dirty moan from her lips as she rubbed it into her skin.

Between blood loss and drunkenness, she felt ecstatic and she pushed her fingers into the wound and motioned them back and forth to promote more blood, she giggled excitedly as the wound squicked and squelched around her fingers.

"More blood! More blood!" She cackled hysterically as she reached for the knife and in an orgy of violence, hacked into her arm and her stomach and her thighs until her body was a canvas of cuts - a Jackson Pollack painted with pain.

She laughed loudly as she lay there, her body on fire from the dozens of lacerations now issuing forth their bounty. It was too much for her: her cunt now quivered and demanded release and so she held the knife by the blade, its steel surface digging into her fingers as she plunged its handle inside her aching twat and pounded it without mercy.

Moans of rapture escaped her lips as she fucked herself hard and deep, the blood from her injured fingers mingling with her juices but still it was not enough, she needed more: more pleasure, more pain, more blood.

Pulling the blade from her overflowing twat, she took instead to using the fingers of her right fingers to fill her hole and massage her clit, using her left hand to wield the knife and hack at her right arm as it worked her sex.

Each slash drove her higher and higher, the pain exquisite as she moaned like a drunken whore in the palace of ecstasy but still she could not find the release she so badly craved.

There was but one thing left. One last act that could drive her into realms of unknown pleasure and without hesitation, she took to it.

The knife moved back to her right hand and she held her breath. Her left hand pulled back the hood of her clitoris and she squeezed it tightly between her fingers. There would be no going back from here but in this very moment, she did not care. All she wanted was to experience release like no other and if this was what it took, then all else be damned.

Her fingers twitched.

Her clitoris thumped.

She held her breath.

And with a single slice of the knife she swore she saw the face of god staring down at her as she came.

And then all was still. Her body lay staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide and unblinking. Around her the sound of traffic rushed and roared but still she did not move.

Soon came the flashing lights and siren wail of an ambulance, followed by paramedics bursting through her door. She listened to their shocked and horrified responses to the bloody masterpiece she'd left them to discover but still she did not move.

Instead, as they carried her body down the stairs and stashed her safely in the ambulance, she smiled.