My name is Faith: Tortured sex slave turned brutal murderer. Men have abused my body for inhuman pleasures, hurt me and made me feel helpless. But now... They fear me. I wish I could say that it is all for the good of the world that I kill them slowly and give them a taste of what they have made others feel, but that would be a lie. Turns out, I have a lust for blood and get off on making THEM my slave. They may be way past being offended at that point, but I sure enjoy my living dead boys. Just one small problem. I am falling for my newest conquest and don't know anymore if I want to tie him up and kill him slowly. He supposedly sexually assaulted a woman horribly ten years ago and is currently on parole for the crime, but something about those genuine sea green eyes and that beguiling mouth makes me weak. I still want to tie him up but what I want to do to him- will make us both scream. Something about his darkness and pain calls to my own, and he knows I could kill him at any time, but still fights to possess me in every dripping, consuming and tantalizing way. Come inside if you dare where real sex slave stories are my inspiration and I'll tell you the story of a serial murderess and the life altering events that made her a Lover of the Dead.

How can I admit to myself that I have fallen for the one thing I fear the most? I should kill him, as I have visited bloody death on many others just like him but... Instead I have let him inside me. Deeply, painfully and with all-consuming psychotic passion. My body hums when he hurts it, as he's brought out a hidden side of me that thrives off his rough touch. I have never felt so alive. Here he is by my side as we travel the country, staying in the finest hotels and savagely getting revenge on those who have sexually tortured me. What a ride. Kill, rough sex. Try to kill each other, more rough sex... And repeat. But something changes my dark lover with each kill and I fear I will lose him forever. The blood thirsty beast he struggles to keep locked up within thrashes against its cage, and I don't know how much time we have left together. Oh, but I WILL make the most of it.

My enemy becomes my lover... “Please let me go,” I say. He takes a deep breath. “I can’t. Why don’t you see that you are meant for me? You’re a killer, you’re a sexual predator, and my dark soul demands I take yours. I need to \\\\ your body mercilessly and make you scream from beneath me. I have no choice because I’ve never wanted anything so bad.” His lips move to ear. “Say you want me, Faith.” He sucks my neck into his mouth and the ache feels good. He leaves bruises. “I will do anything.” I cringe and stare into nothingness. This is my way out. If he has become obsessed with me because I escaped him years ago, because his best friend wants me, and because I challenge him, then I can use it to escape. I refocus and allow my demoness to take hold. “I shouldn’t want you James.” He moves inside me, lifting me up and forcing me back down over his thickness and I cry out. “But you do,” he breathes. I won’t make it that easy. “You excite me. You make my body sing and scream at the same time.” His \\\\ rubs through me igniting incredible sensations and I haven’t lied to him yet. “I want you,” I say breathlessly. He feels so good because this is so bad and my sanity is being pushed to the limit. I run my fingers across the shaved sides of his head and rip his blond hair backward. I ride him hard. “You’re beautiful,” I say, trying to breathe. “Because you tear me to pieces.” He grasps my hips, the killer who has never gotten off without hurting a woman first, and digs his fingers into my flesh. With a desperate kiss, his eyes roll back and his body tenses in anticipation...