👉👈lawrence getting drugged with aphrodesiacs and his cute fem captive suddenly becomes irresistable
Lawrence was certain he'd blended the tea perfectly, he'd done so dozens of times, and it wasn't an overly complex recipe.
A simple mood enhancer, something to keep his darker thoughts and urges at bay monster he's a monster the absolute worst normal people don't need such things, he'd sipped at it while pacing back and forth, as if there weren't a young woman taped to an old office chair.
Right. Her. His other problem. He doesn't know her name, nor does he want to know makes it harder to carve her up guilty guilty guilty stop it. Lawrence can't exactly give her his full attention at the moment.
Not when he feels like he's on fire, a strange contrast to his usual ever-present chill. He reluctantly shrugs off his hoodie, but it does little to help. If anything, he feels worse.
The bathroom is his sanctuary. Lawrence bites down on his shirt sleeve, his other hand desperately fisting his cock in a futile attempt at curbing his sudden lust.
It's all for naught, however.
His first orgasm comes and goes uneventfully, as does his second, and his third, his pace never even stuttering.
He needs to... needs to be inside someone.
When he finally pulls himself off the tile floor and stumbles back into the main area of his apartment, he's looking much worse for wear; face red, pupils blown wide, and clothes haphazardly pulled back into pace.
If he didn't know better, he'd think the expression on his captive companion's face was one of concern it's not it never is they all hate him.
Even in his disoriented state, Lawrence makes sure to slap several extra layers of duct tape over her mouth, as if from muscle memory he’s done this before so many times cold flesh and maggots and scavengers and rot.
Her eyes are wide and wet and leaking salty, clear tears. Lawrence isn’t used to being this close to another human, forehead pressed against hers, her stuttering breaths warm against his icy flesh, large hands gripping at the undersides of her thighs as he yanks her lower half forwards.
Lawrence whines and babbles under his breath when he finally sinks into her tight, warm pussy. It’s almost too tight, squeezing and offering resistance against his cock, but he can’t muster up the effort to pull out and prep her properly, too focused on chasing his own pleasure.
She squirms and kicks and makes little muffled noises behind all the tape. Lawrence simply pushes her legs further and further back until their bodies are pressed flush against each other, her legs thrown over Lawrence’s broad shoulders, and his low voice whispering in her ears.
The way she shudders, eyes fluttering as cum floods her pussy is so beautiful. It brings to mind images of people bleeding out, slowly fading away as their eyelids grow heavy.
How would she look if he did that to her would she go into hypovolemic shock would she shiver the same way would the light in her pretty eyes dim or would they go glassy like a doll’s.
Lawrence allows himself to lay there, body supported by the old, bloodstained chair, her quiet sobs and hiccups and whines almost like a lullaby.
Finally, he reaches up to run a hand through her hair, a repetitive motion, one with very little thought behind it. His nose nuzzles against her throat, stubble tickling her skin, in some strange mockery of affection.
He can still feel the aphrodisiac under his skin, dulled but still present. That’s fine. Lawrence has plenty of time to get it out of his system.
