My Lovely Little Peach

I run my hands over her supple skin, studying her. She hardly yields to my touch, young and firm little thing that she is. The soft fuzz of her cheek floods me with desire. My lips ghost her skin, breathing in her lovely scent. Delectable. I find my mark, the soft expanse of blushing skin. My teeth pierce her flesh, fresh juices flooding my mouth. Invigorated by the taste, I dig deeper, tearing her firm yet tender flesh. I rip a piece of her away, staring at the weeping hole in her side. She’s so stoic through all this, refusing to submit even now. Not an ounce of pain mars her rounded face. I swallow my first taste of her, fluids dripping down my chin. There’s no holding back now. I go in, again and again, the initial tenderness vanishing in favor of ravaging every part of her. I strike bone, flesh peeling back from its pitted surface. She’s such a sweet girl, so tender. She’s laying back and letting me break her, not even a token protest passes her lips. What a pity, I’d been looking for a fight. My hands are covered in her slick. The little thing was probably enjoying this, being torn apart and swallowed. That’s what she was bred and bought for after all. She’s running out of flesh to give. I caress her exposed bones, ready to end this. The last shreds of her succulent flesh disappear between my teeth. She’s unrecognizable now that her pretty little face was torn away. I discard her useless remains without a thought. She left a mess all over me, they’re always so inconsiderate. I wash away any evidence of what I’ve done. Better to deal with it now than letting all her juices dry onto the floor. Her taste lingers on my tongue. My lovely little peach is already half-forgotten, even as I'm pulling pieces of her from between my teeth.