Doom Slayer Chainsaw Novels & Stories

Souls push him to sit on the chair and he does, but he seats on the side making the chair fall back with it. “Bloody hell! Give me that damn chainsaw. If he won’t sit, then pieces of him will be on that chair but one way or the other, he will end up on that damn chair!” Souls goes for the chainsaw while guy's guy scrambles up and sits on the chair. He is shaking like a leaf being blown by the wind and I don’t know why but I find pleasure in his fear. “Was that so hard?” ask as I receive the chainsaw from Souls. The man shakes his head.

I turned pale when his erect manhood exposed in front of me. He smirked at my reaction. "Scared baby?" "I-it's freacking big," I commented. I'm not good at math but if I measure his weapon I can say it's almost 9inches. "I-it won't fit. I-I don't think my pearl can take it all," I continued. He's not just long, it's also fat. I don't know when I became a mathematician but I felt like he’s three fingers wide. He briefly laughed before slowly crawling over me. He kissed my neck then licked my chest, with that, the fire in my body started to flame again.

Suddenly, his hands grasped my throat. Choking, gagging for air clutched at his hands with my own. The sting of power that lived within him struck me like an electric shock. “I think in the future you should think about your words more carefully before letting them spill out of that pretty little mouth. I’d so hate to see those lips ripped from your skull, Chief Darksyde.” He snickered before throwing me to the ground.

“She’s inside and there is another man!” “Wait here.” Omar replied, helping the she-wolf to rest against the only wall not covered in blood. Omar moved calmly, pulling a hunting knife from his coat pocket. The way the blade winked wickedly in the pale light sent a chill down Chloe’s spine. She decided there and then she had seen enough of weapons and murder today and turned away from the door, gulping in air. Her throat burned and the bitter taste of bile still haunted Chloe’s mouth. Above her the clouds were breaking and golden sunlight was now filtering through, casting long shadows between the trees. It was too beautiful for the gruesome scene.

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

It was a pathetic and undeniable craven existence but it was how they were winning the war. Dave let out a sigh. "No. He used a HG blade." I nodded. A brilliant man named Henry Gomez spent his life developing a UV spiked, but essentially silver based liquid that could be applied to any metallic object, leaving a coat of active poison that would kill both shade and host upon entering the their shared body. Something in perfectly balanced formula temporarily imprisoned the shade and as long as the wounds you inflicted on the human were mortal, the shade shared the same fate. The HG liquid had become as precious to us as light bulbs. It was hard to come by at the best of times, especially out h

He didn't knock; he used a heavy iron bar to strike a rhythmic pattern against the metal—three slow, two fast. ​A small viewing slit hissed open. A pair of eyes, scarred and milky with cataracts, stared out at us. There was no exchange of words, only the heavy, grinding sound of chains being pulled from the other side. The door groaned open, revealing a cavernous space illuminated by the flickering orange glow of oil drums and makeshift braziers.

These were an original invention of the brown Slayers of the south and were designed for climbing trees, but they were sometimes borrowed by the other clans for scaling castle walls. There were also several throwing knives, a pair of sharpened sai knives with their prongs curving fire-like, and a kusari-gama, which was a sickle at the end of a long chain. Vulcanus Slayers were renowned for their skill in wielding the kurasi-gama, which looked stunning when lit with their trademark flames. A curious thing was a pair of gloves with flint and steel attached to the palm of either, but then she recalled what Temujin said about red Slayers needing at least a spark within a hundred yards of them to

Get rid of them, Gary ordered. Beating back the horrendous pain, Damonq slid his tongue across his lifemate’s skin, closing the small wounds left by his bite. He set her from him and strode to the edge of the healing grounds where the cement wall was the thickest. He forced the worms from his blood, pushing them through his pores. They burned and bit, fighting to attack him, to kill him, Darkness’s commands making them vicious. He made certain they dropped on the cement slab. Andor called down the lightning to incinerate the creatures, bringing it through the cracks in the wooden wall Tensel had designed for just such an occasion. Damonq took a deep breath, pausing to gather his strength and

I saw the Reaper only wearing clouds on his bottoms and his bare shining body screaming to my face. "I said I have a name," Doom complained, his face turned sour. He was sitting on a floating cloud couch. "What would you want me to do, 'Doom'?" I made an emphasis on his name. He's too obsessed with that name. "Also, for starters, I am not comfortable seeing you naked when we are alo—" in a snap, Doom was instantly wearing a black and white Reaper suit.