Kill the Man, Take the Woman

With feline grace, you slide smoothly and quietly up behind the couple, looking down upon the bouncing breasts of the woman and she is pounded into by the grunting man. Not inches away, neither of them have taken notice of you yet; the woman's eyes closed and her mind lost in the fucking she is receiving. You can't help but wait...wait for the slightest inclination...wait for them to notice before you strike. The man was going to die, but the woman was all far too delicious to waste on a simple feeding.

Moments pass with nothing; you simply look down the pair. Finally, it happens. The woman's eyes slip open to look up at her mate, only to lock on to your glistening eyes in the darkness and crooked smile. Before she can even utter a scream, your hand shoots down to cover her mouth. At the same time, your other hand firmly grasps the man's hair as you lean down to viciously tear into his throat. He never knew what hit him.

Hot, steaming crimson pours across your lips, soaking your mouth, his bare chest, and splashing across her bouncing tits. You feel your strength blossoming with a renewed sense of power, the blood giving birth to a new hunger. Below you, the woman is trying to scream, to cry out, to do anything to escape the terror in front of her; however she is trapped under your iron grip...her dying mate still balls deep inside her.

Several delicious minutes later, the man is dead and gone, probably still not even sure what happened. Grasping him by the hair, you toss his body away like a ragdoll: you'll deal with the body later, you tell yourself. Looking down at the struggling woman below you, you most admire her beauty. Luscious curves. A tight, soaking pussy. Large, supple tits. And chestnut eyes to match her hair. You stare directly into those eyes...

The glamor takes a second. It always does. Just a brief second as the brain tries to fight back against the overwhelming power you wield. Of course, it didn't matter. Staring into her eyes, you watch them softly glaze over. Her body slackens under your restrictions and then, for a change of pace, begins to push back in a hole new way.

A soft pink tongue slips from her lips, originally trying to scream, now to lick at your finger tips. Hands that pried and fought against your own iron grip begin to rub up and down along her body, often finding her soaking pussy and hardening clit to reawaken the passion she had been feeling ever so recently...and the passion she'd be feeling again all too soon. Certain she will not be fighting back again, you release her from your grip.

"Master..." she barely whispers.

Leaning forward, her hands instantly find the waist of your trousers and begin to fumble with buttons and zippers. Not a moment later, your now throbbing dick is exposed to the night air, standing proud in the darkness and not inches from her face. Her slender fingers wrap around the base, squeezing gently and giving one long tug up and down your length.

"Master..."