Bloody Painter X Puppeteer Novels & Stories

Pushed her ass out for more. I returned to her front. Dropped the flogger. Picked up a thin paintbrush. Dipped it in crimson paint. I painted a single line down the centre of her body. From the hollow of her throat. Between her breasts. Over her navel. Stopping just above her clit. “You are my sculpture,” I said. “My living offering. Every mark I make on you is a prayer. Every sound you make is a hymn.” I dipped the brush again. Painted a spiral around her left nipple. Then her right. The cold paint made her whimper. I blew on it. The air made her nipples ache.

Void rolled his dancing eyes at me “and you dragged the Blood Demon into it too?” “Oh, I’m nowhere near done” Neeb grinned “it was just to stop me from eating you.” Echo chuckled at Void, who made himself scarce. She had a wooden bowl between her crossed legs, that she smeared the contents of across Mace’s eyes and down its beak. It was red like blood, but lumpy like dirt. Mace accepted the paint graciously, never flinching as it was smeared over the glorious feathers. I sat beside Echo and watched her work on Mace. The warriors paint was beautiful to look at; turning Mace into an expressionless work of art.

Theresa alone had been altered. The pain caught up with me again as I glided over the stairs. I coughed, clutching my bloody belly, and stumbled to the ground, my blood spilling onto the floor. I had to get up, had to keep moving, but it was so painful . . . Then I noticed movements in Salem’s murals. The figures portrayed were distorting, bulging, until they pushed out from the walls and ceiling, becoming flesh and form. Claws and maws grew from every wall. The maids tore open as Uncivil ripped out from the paintings behind them. Their blood splattered against the walls, becoming part of the vast paintings.

"I want to go home!" One of the hoods moves as a council member signals something to someone on my right. I turn in time to see broad shoulders too close to have time to run. The light flickers upon a silver blade. My mouth opens to scream in dismay, but nothing comes out. Why? As I touch my throat, my fingers are bathed in a warm, thick liquid. A fine line along my neck ignites a pang of pain. I raise my hands only to discover they are painted in red. My muscles aren't mine to control anymore. My body falls to one side, blood pumping out of my neck as I suffocate and choke.

Adrian muttered as he continued to stare at Alexis there. “The pure blood vampire hunters will be fine. Believe in your abilities, and in her abilities. She'll be fine for sure. We can't dream of a vampire, or someone who is about to become a new born vampire. That's why we're doing what we can right now." said a man from one of the psychics.

The battlefield around me blurred, the clash of claws and the scent of blood becoming a disorienting symphony. Alpha Draxler, undeterred by my waning strength, refocused on Trevor. A vicious slash, a grotesque ballet of violence, painted Trevor's chest in a vivid display of crimson. The scene unfolded in agonizing slow motion, each drop of blood a testament to the sacrifices demanded by our world.

"But that is a problem. You see, when two sadists meet, there is an unavoidable fate..." Xavier stood over her, his face having lost the mask of humanity. He grinned at her with his teeth looking like the cartridge of a nail gun. He had his hand over his face like a mask, with his tongue now several times its original length and wrapped around his wrist, and razor claws at the tips of his fingers, one of which he dragged across the surface of his eye and tore open. "When two sadists meet, one inevitably devours the other, and you are way out of your league."

“As I did before.” The white puppets from outside hurtled toward Stringmaster, gathering around her. Footsteps echoed outside, as if the inmates all stepped toward the cell at once. “Do not test me, sylph.” “I’ll fight back,” she said, holding her ground. “I won’t feel guilty hurting your current human shields.” Her eyes swept over the big man beside her, noticing the tattoos covering his skin. At first glance, the inkwork seemed chaotic—a mishmash of poorly shaded lines and jagged outlines. Sloppy work, she thought. But the more she looked, the more deliberate it seemed. Hidden within the mess were grotesque images—women in chains, women with animals…

He was completely drained and truly had no more energy. His blood was almost dry, and every inch of his body was covered with injuries. At the same time, his soul showed signs of perishing. James stared blankly into the air. The sky slowly returned to calm, and the golden puppet warrior reappeared within his field of vision. The golden puppet warrior’s back had a bloody wound from the explosions. It paid no attention to his injury. Instead, it smiled and said, “Amazing. You managed to exert such a powerful force and break my defenses even in such a terrible state.”

No doubt, this must be the room where the puppeteer is. I slip back into the shadows and weave my way through the shadows until I am past the door. A knife heads in my direction, and I jump out of the shadows to dodge the attack. “A hunter with a shadow step? Now that’s interesting.” The puppeteer is just like I saw in my vision. He is possessed by one of the sponsors of this exam, and as far as I know, that man is dead. What a fool. He must have succumbed to his greed, allowing this demon to take over his body.