Slap Forehead Novels & Stories

~Rock~ ~Paper~ ~Scissors~ ~SLAP~ "Shit, Shit, Shit .... its hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. How is this a game, he is definitely cheating... This is nuts, fuck! I can't back off now." After the second slap, the pain was so unbearable that it made Ryan's head hurt. He could clearly feel the blood flow on the left side of his face. His temples hurt like hell. The fact that there were three more slaps left, Ryan's breath became harsh, his eyes became teary.

Another couple of shots, but they didn’t deter the kid either, in spite of the fact McBride was sure he got him in the stomach with one. Then the Sleeper they’d picked up was on him, drawing back a fist and smashing it against the protective glass of the facemask. If he’d only been wearing a gasmask like the rest of the men out there, he’d have been a goner already, but as it was the Hazmat was affording him at least some protection. It wouldn’t last long under this onslaught however, Holst’s music now the backdrop to their bizarre ballet. The lad was strong, too, unnaturally so for his height and weight. It was like wrestling with a bear, but McBride was able to keep hold of his gun, actual

She could do so many things to break his illusion, ego and misunderstanding, and she needed to show how much power she held in his matters. “My one complaint will increase the days of your therapy. Rather, I’d say that it’ll take you to the very beginning, Hades.” There he squeezed his eyes shut. His hand immediately went to his forehead and he gently slapped his it. His lips escaped a dramatic hiss when he slapped his forehead and then shook his head. Alessandra could not understand what was happening to him. She could see he was just doing this for nothing but entertainment—to him. But she could not understand the point of doing this. She watched him confusedly.

I hissed, trembling, “I could kill for you. I could kill because of you. And you would still look at me like I was nothing.” He said nothing. “Talk, damn it!” I screamed. And then I raised my hand. It was pure instinct—rage boiling over, grief tipping me past the edge. But before I could land the blow— SLAP. Pain exploded across my face as my head snapped sideways. My body stumbled backward, and I staggered into the shattered glass on the floor. I blinked. My cheek burned. My ears rang. Fernando had slapped me.

The... fuck?? I stand frozen for a fraction of a second, my hand instinctively flying up to cradle my throbbing, burning left cheek. The stinging heat of Brooke's palm radiates through my jaw, and something inside me snaps. Before my brain can even consciously register the movement, I pull my shoulders back, spin my hips, and launch my right hand forward, delivering a hard slap directly back across Brooke’s perfectly powdered face.

The moment my heels found purchase on the floor, I stood up, attempting to dart past his massive frame toward the door. But Alaric was faster. His heavy body slammed into mine, pinning me back down onto the leather cushions, his immense weight completely trapping me. Slap! The sharp, deafening crack of my palm colliding with his jaw echoed through the quiet room. I hit him with everything I had left. The force of the blow snapped his head to the side. Alaric froze, his muscles locking instantly. A thin bead of crimson welled where his teeth had bit into the inside of his lower lip. For a long, agonizing beat, he didn't move. He just stared at the wall, the dark, beastly fog in his eyes slowl

The dark purplish-red bruise from Noah’s slap still marked his swollen jawline like a permanent brand of submission. "Noah!" Adrian choked out, his voice a low, rough rattle that bounced off the marble walls like a gunshot. He took a heavy, unstable step forward, his knees trembling violently under the weight of his own desperate obsession. "Noah, please! Stop! Look at me! Don't let him take you away!"

THUD. A hard slap landed across my face, stinging sharply. I had never been slapped like this before, not even by my father. My reddened cheek burned, and I clenched my jaws, suppressing tears. His grip tightened around my throat as he lifted my face closer. “B*tch, what are you high on? Today, I shall show you your real place.” He struck me again and again, my face swelling and lips reddened. I folded my bleeding lips inside my mouth, determined not to show weakness and let him feel superior.

He is my only hope in getting out of this alive. My other hand finds his cheek, and I use my nails to grab hard and dig into the flesh I manage to cup there. Piercing into softness and digging with all my might. There’s an angry roar as acrylics connect fully, and he cruelly yanks my face sideways, pushing my body by letting me go with the arm around my waist. I’m spun towards him, and he delivers a brutal slap right across my left cheekbone and eye socket, encompassing a vast area with one sharp smack. A burning, spiky pain that instantly spreads to make you feel like half your skull just exploded and rattles your brain inside its chamber. It knocks me momentarily senseless.

“That’s what I love most about you. Your spirit. Your fire. The way you never give up even when you should.” His thumb brushed across my cheek. And then he struck. The slap came so fast I didn’t see it. I didn’t even have time to brace myself. My head snapped to the side. Pain exploded across my face. I tasted blood. “That,” Sylvester said pleasantly, “is for five hundred years of defiance.” I tried to pull away. But his grip on my face tightened. Fingers digging into my jaw. Another slap. Much harder this time. This one drove me fully to the ground. My vision swam. My ears rang as more blood spilled out.