Psycho Scream Novels & Stories

He buried his head in my tits, licking the nipples every chance he got. Heat bled from my veins to my core and the pressure started to build. The power of his strokes built to an unbearable friction. Every stroke, every lick sent me out of control. A scream ripped through me. “Yeah, baby. That's it, take it, take all of me.” “You’re so good. Don't stop.”

Now shaking violently, she let out a prolonged scream. Like a fission bomb, strong waves broke out of her and exploded in the park, pushing everything and everyone from their position, and throwing them to different places. She screamed ceaselessly for close to a minute as her rage kept growing. Both creatures and humans bled through their ears at the sound of the sonic scream. The sonic scream was powerful enough that it burst the vampires that heard it and weakened the humans who heard it, making some humans swoon.

Modern, furnished and beautiful and looking new everyday although the house was five years old already. Juana's coffee was transparent, lot of water,lot of sugar, no milk. So she could see her face while sipping at it. Her big blue eyes were a bit undefined, her expression showed fear with a mixture of helplessness and unusual calm. Then the dream came again. Avocado. Garden. Branch. Third branch. Corpse dripping with blood. Loose. Screaming. Empty House. Dream. "Oh my goodness" she sighed, dropping her half empty mug. She tried to make meaning out of it, but it was a little creepy..

She squeezed it two more times before dropping it in the water close to her chest. Leaning back and relaxing, she let her hands drop on either side of the bath tub. Her left hand reached out for the bottle of wine which laid just below the tub and she lifted it up. Deciding not to bother refilling the now empty glass, she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head backward, gulping the red liquid down in a rush. She choked and coughed, placed the bottle down and chuckled sadly. "Omar, I'm really sorry." Hiccup. "I'm really really sorry. But I needed this break, at least I thought that was what I needed.... Bit I miss you terribly...."

Dad snapped in. That sound of it sucks!

“ Is he really that scary ? “ whispered Damian . “ You haven’t seen my mommy when she is angry Damian . He can be very very very scary . “ whispered Angelo . “ What are you two whispering ? “ said Antonio staring at them doubtfully . “ No….Nothing ! “ said Angelo nervously . Antonio took his phone out and called Alex to tell him about Angelo . In the meantime , Alex wears freaking out . “ I am summed ! I am summed ! If Antonio’s learns that I have lost Angelo , he will kill me . My dear godson , where are you ? “ said Alex with a desperate expression looking around everywhere for Angelo . His phone rang and Alex freaked out even more when he saw Antonio’s name on it . “ Oh no ! What do I tel

Without wasting time, she quickly removed it, and at the sight of that face that reminded her so much of her mother, she broke down to0 tears. Bryan jumped about happily, holding onto the big soft hand that held him. it was his aunty walking him down the same pond they had both met. He was glad he got to meet her again. They made canoes and boats with paper and she helped him sail them. This was just the perfect moment. He wished this moment would never come to an end. But just then, his hands began to slip from hers. It was like a force that kept pulling her away from him. He screamed out her name but she only turned and smiled at him in return. He screamed again, even louder this time but

He was… amused. I found myself by the lake, the vast expanse of gray water doing nothing to calm the panic rising in my chest. I should call someone. Matteo. Alessia. The police. But what would I say? A man I used to know sent me a creepy text? There was no explicit threat. It was psychological warfare, and Sebastian was a master of it. My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I flinched, my heart leaping into my throat. I pulled it out slowly, dread a cold stone in my gut.

The smell of the room—bleach and dust—mixes with the scent of my own distress. I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my screams. It tastes like stale smoke. "Purge it," Echo commands. "Get it out." I climax. It hurts. My muscles spasm violently, cramping around the toy. I scream into the pillow, tears soaking the fabric. It feels like I’m vomiting up the trauma, expelling the memory of the camera lens, the guard’s gun, the look on Lena’s face. "Again," Echo says. He doesn't let me rest. He keeps the toy hammering.

Just her and the work and the plan laid out in the notebooks stacked neatly at the end of the bench. She pulled the first notebook toward her. Opened it. Her own handwriting from three years ago. Neat and precise and completely certain about everything it was doing. *Subject profile: Damien Voss. CEO Voss Industries. Age 31. Psychological assessment consistent with primary psychopathy with elevated fixation markers. History of obsessive attachment to objects and concepts. No documented romantic relationships. Suspected olfactory sensitivity above baseline. Potential susceptibility to compound V7 estimated at 89% based on psychographic modeling.*