THUNK.
It buries deep into his right thigh. The wheel jerks, his cock twitching with pleasure. Blood sprays the guests in the front row, and he groans—a sharp, choked, utterlydelicioussound.
“Oooh, ten points for me!” I purr. “Nice distance, excellent splash. Someone give me a fucking medal!”
Indie throws next. Her axe slices into his shoulder with a satisfying crack, and the wheel spins half a turn, twisting his torso so his cock bounces. Still hard. Still desperate.
“Look at that stamina.” She grins. “Do you think he’s saving his cum for the gods or is he justthatinto pain?”
“Why not both?” I giggle.
Alaska’s crawling again, licking the blood pooling beneath him. She hums like she’s drinking nectar.
“Tastes like blasphemy.”
The next axe lands inches from his ribs. He bucks, moans, and his cock pulses.
“He’s getting close.” Indie smirks. “You should tease him a little.”
I don’t need encouragement.
I strut up onto the platform, lean in close, and drag my tongue up his stomach, collecting sweat and blood in one long, slow lick. He whimpers.
“You like that?” I whisper, kissing just beneath his ear. “You wanna come, don’t you?”
His whole body shakes.
“Oopsie, sugarplum,” I coo, tilting my head with a wicked little smirk. “If you blow before I say so, I’m takin’ your fuckin’ head and usin’ it as a fruit bowl.”
I trail the blade of my axe along his shaft like I’m frosting a goddamn cake—slow, precise, just enough pressure to kiss the skin open. A thin ribbon of red rolls down over his balls.
His eyes roll back like he’s seeing Valhalla.
I hum, dip two fingers into the blood, then slide them between my thighs—moaning like a sinner in church, just loud enough for the front row to lose their minds.
The crowd? Explodes.
One guest drops to their knees sobbing. Another starts screaming to be next.
And me?
I just giggle.
Like the goddess of gore I am.
Indie’s stroking his jaw, whispering sweet things. “You’re gonna die so beautifully, baby. You’re gonna decorate this tent with glory.”
I climb onto his lap, grinding my blood-slick pussy against his belly as I whisper prayers in his ear.
“You wanna spill for me? You wanna be my offering?”
He nods, a wild, desperate nod.
I take the final axe—lightweight, silver-bladed, etched with runes, and hold it to his throat.
“Then give me everything, baby. Come for me. Come for us.”
And he does.
