She used me. The bloody chit used me to take out her damned aggressions on and
I –let- her? I turn to glare at the witch’s house, walking backwards. Why did I
let her do it? And why did I have to enjoy it so much? Why couldn’t I just
drain the mouse dry and leave her body for the Slayer to find?

Oh lord, now I’m starting to sound like Peaches – leaving bodies for the Slayer
to find. Just bloody marvelous. Sleep with one of Bitchy’s friends and end up
acting like the Great Poof. Just effin great.

Stupid little Slayer’s pet - this is all her fault.

Why in the bloody hell did I let her do it? How bloody hard would it have been
to just kill her?!? The Slayer is going to dust me for sure when she hears
about this one. The witch did say she and the annoying bint weren’t getting
along – maybe she won’t come after me. I hope not. I don’t want her to know
I’m in town yet. Want it to be one big bloody surprise. One night when she’s
getting ready for a date with Farmboy…

Surprise Slayer – you die.

I turn back around, trying to put thoughts of the Slayer and her little band of
do-gooders out of my mind. Blood. Death. Gore. Witch. Blood. Killing. Red
hair. Fire. Killing the Slayer. Shagging the witch. BUGGER! I can’t stop
thinking about the stupid cow.

I wonder if the morons she calls her friends have ever seen the fire I just
witnessed? I doubt it. They’d have her shipped off to a loony house if they
ever knew what she was really like. Pure bloody fire. Hot and passionate. She’s
too good for their lot. They don’t even know what they have sitting in front of
them – wouldn’t know what to do with it even if they did. But I do.

I step in the door to the apartment I left behind months before, surprised to
find the electricity still on and all my stuff still there. I guess wonders
never cease. I shrug off my duster, dropping it onto the couch. Turning on the
bathroom light I step into the shower, turning the cold on full blast.

Little tart actually left me hard up. She said she would – and I still let her
do it. I can’t believe one little human chit has turned me into an effin
wanker. As my hand wraps around my cock I’m picturing her – riding me like she
did only an hour past. Shagging me. Making me come. I’m thinking of her cunt
wrapped around me as my hand pumps and squeezes. Even the anger I feel towards
her is pushed aside for the moment.

I lean against the side of the shower, barely noticing the cold water as I toss
off, images of a red haired goddess in my head. I watch my seed float down the
rusting drain, the whole action seeming distant as I continue to replay the
night in my head.

How the hell did –I-, the Big Bad himself, get reduced to tossing off in the
bloody shower? Oh wait, I remember now. Stupid little witch with her own hard
on to hurt someone, to make someone –feel- her effin pain.

Well I felt her pain. Felt her slam herself onto me. Felt her shag me
senseless. Felt her leave me bloody hanging! I felt every ounce of pain she
could possibly had in her and I liked it.

Stupid cunt! Damn little girl trying to play big girl’s games. Maybe –I- should
tell the Slayer. I bet that would knock her for a loop. I won’t, though, and
that thought annoys me more than anything else. I don’t want to turn her in to
her friends. I want her to continue to suffer. I want her to run to me to
relieve her frustrations.

NO! I DON’T! I don’t want her to effin use me again! I have had enough of
whatever bloody game she is playing!

I turn off the shower, wrapping a towel around me before stalking into the
hall. The image of the fire goddess, sitting on me, shagging me, is enough to
make me hard again. Bugger. Stupid little…

What in the bloody hell has gotten into me? It has to be some sort of spell.
The witch cast a spell on me. It’s the only explanation. Well that settles it.
She’ll just have to undo it. This won’t do at all.

I should go back there. March right up to her little girl’s room and shag her
to her bloody demise. The thought races through me and I know my demon is
showing. I don’t care. All I can think about is having her underneath me,
screaming my name as I shag her into oblivion.

I sigh. It’s not a spell. Why in the bloody hell would she cast a spell to let
her get herself off with me as her own personal vibrator? Just doesn’t make
sense. There are plenty of other wankers she could use for that. That means…

I’m lusting after the witch all on my own. No bloody spells tying me to her. I
don’t like it. She’s nothing but trouble – friends with the Slayer and a witch
to boot. Nothing but bloody trouble. Cross her and I’ll wake up with a soul or
just won’t wake up at all. Just bloody marvelous.

But, Cor, she was magnificent in bed. So tight and hot and full of life. The
way she rode me ,– hard -, kept breaking me in. It was effin amazing. I just
wanted her to keep bending me until I was broken in entirely. I wanted to be so
bloody bent I could never get put back together.

I want her.

I want her legs wrapped around me. I want to shag her senseless and hear her
scream my bloody name over and over again until she can’t bloody well scream
anymore.

Why does it have to be so effin complicated though? I just want her to touch
me. And then touch me again. I want her to bend me and break me and I want to
do the same to her.

I’m pacing back and forth, leaving a path in the hideous brown carpeting that
came with the apartment. I stop, shutting my eyes. “If I need some of your
love again, will you give me more than I can stand? Huh, Red? WILL YOU?!?” I’m
screaming and I don’t care if the neighbors hear. Let them come investigate. I
will rip their bloody throats out and drain them dry. Feeling a little hungry
anyway.

Can she sympathize with my needs? I know she thinks I need a lot, as a demon,
but I don’t. Just death and blood.

And sex. Sex with a red haired fire goddess.

Now I’m being a whiny little git. A regular nancyboy. My sire would be so
‘proud’. Who says she would even –want- to be with me? Who says she would care
to know about my needs? She was just bloody using me, after all. In a few days
she’ll be all nice-y nice with her ‘friends’. There’s no reason for me to
assume it will ever happen again.

Unless I make sure it does. She started out clean but she’s jaded now. She’s
falling and, sod it, I want to be there to catch her when she reaches the
bottom.

That kind of fire deserves to burn bright away from twits that would snuff it
out. –She- deserves better than they can give her. They would never understand
her. But I will. When she’s so bent she can’t get put back together – that’s
when I will be there, waiting for her. Waiting to hold her, then hold her
again.

That day isn’t that far away. As I lay down to sleep I realize its probably
going to be sooner than even I bloody well know. Soon we’ll meet again and
she’ll get what she deserves. What she needs. She can use me for a little
while, but in the end we’ll both get what we bloody want.

Soon I’m going to make her mine.
 

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