Romans & histoires Can't Use Festering Bloody Finger

I froze. There was something wrong. Something violated. Tender. Marked. My fingers trembled as I slid them beneath the sheets, down between my legs. My breath caught. The sensation was raw, the skin there swollen and sticky with dried fluids. Some patches had a crusted texture that was unmistakably blood. I pulled my hand back. Crimson specks clung to my fingers like some cursed reminder. I didn’t cry. Nor did I Didn’t scream. Instead, I smirked.

She puffs. “Your finger is bleeding,” I speak, finally. I hold her hand gently and take a look at her bleeding finger. “You call this not getting injured often?” “I-” She pauses. “My finger was stuck when I closed the box. I yanked my hand and the box fell.” “You are so clumsy.” I press her distal phalanx tightly, causing the blood to ooze out even more. Hm…Intoxicating~ My instincts are threatening to overpower my control. An immense desire to suck on her finger to taste a small drop of the crimson liquid gnaws me.

I bit his shoulder hard, moaning loudly without any shame in my voice. “Yes… yes… just like that… I love how your fingers alone are going deeper… your fingers are just fire because they are doing the work well just like how I want to be fucked all the time… your fingers are wrecking my pussy… don’t stop… please don’t stop go even deeper because I love love it… I’m such a dirty greedy little slut for you and your long massive cock together with your thick fingers…”

How close I came to death, how close Giovanni had been at death’s door. Soap spilled through my hands, bubbling and foaming as I lathered my hands. I scrubbed the grime that had embedded in my skin, the hardened crimson dirt that lined my finger nails. I scrubbed and scraped at my fingers and hands, trying to rid the murky residue. No amount of water and soap seemed to be able to remove the scarlett muddiness.

Selena jumping out of the shadows and into the clearing startled everyone. Fester's unwavering concentration faltered for a mere fraction of a second, a lapse that would seal his doom. It was all the opportunity Sangre needed, a sinister opening in the armor of invincibility. In an instant, Sangre's hands thrust forward, piercing through Fester's chest with brutal force, emerging on the other side like macabre sentinels of impending demise.

Blood blooms on my fingertips. “We give to you a piece of ourselves in return.” She says as she gently squeezes my wound, a drop of blood falls on the soil. She gently kisses my finger and whispers what sounds like a song. So quiet I can barely hear the melody. “Mama it hurts!” I cry.

I watched, mouth agape as he pressed down on Cal's index finger beneath his shoe and squashed, his ankle twisting left and right as a scream crawled up Cal's throat. "I don't like it when people touch what is mine. Or threaten to do so," he murmured darkly, before squashing another finger. "It is why I'm breaking your fingers, and blocking off your healing process. You can't heal, not until I allow it. And I don't think I would." He hissed. "I've always hated men like you, who are disgusting pieces of lowly excuse of escaped cums." Another finger. And just like that, he squashed each of their fingers, their loud screams filling the locker room.

She threw her hands around in anger while shouting and that's when she hurt her finger which was already cut by the rose thorn. And as usual, because of her slow healing ability, it was still in a bad state. She hissed out loud in pain and immediately clutched her fingers which started to bleed again. "Show me!" Kendrick exclaimed with a frustrated look before taking her hand forcefully. He clenched his jaw seeing her bleeding so badly.

I wiped it, but my fingers came back gold. Not tears. Just blood. My ichor. I didn't have tears left anyway.

His body doesn’t expect the opposition and rocks forward, continuing its forward momentum as his hands slip from the hilt and slide down the dangerously sharp blade, slicing two of his fingers clean off. The vampire’s scream is as horrendous to his minions as it is satisfying to the wolves around me. “Motherfucker! My hands! My fucking hands!” He continues to scream as he buckles over and clutches his damaged hand, trying to stem the generous flow of blood. It should begin healing by now, but for some reason, it isn’t.