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Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
That’s the sound of Kamimura’s blood, specifically the sound of Kamimura’s blood dripping from the bottom of his neck.
Okazaki just had to get a closer look; to really look at what she’s done. It’s such a nice sight, despite the gruesome, gritty bits that were laying around. If you looked close enough at his stomach, you could see the shreds of guts that were hanging out; well, the bits that Okazaki had gotten out before they changed their mind and went for the head. It was all wonderful; truly!
She couldn’t wait for Tsuno to find his corpse; Okazaki to guide her to the woodshop, and for that trap to activate, and for her midriff to be impaled– Just as she’d planned for it all to go! The mere thought of it had Okazaki stifling giggles, her own breath managing to keep her face a bit warmer from the motive still affecting the school.
Something felt a bit missing, though. Sure, Kamimura was all decapitated, guts out, and all mangled and gory, just as she had planned, but she needed something more. Something to make barely anybody want to look too close. Something that would ward off even the mentally strongest. Okazaki had a few ideas in mind, but all the positioning and the posing, and the lingering idea of dismemberment would all take much too long, for they’d find his corpse while she was still arranging everything.
Okazaki’s gaze drifted to Kamimura’s tongueless mouth. She still remembered how he looked when he was having it cut out, the flash of panic, the sudden struggle before he passed back out, and the fading of any emotion he had before going back unconscious. It was honestly kind of funny, when she thought back on it.
Right. She had to focus. What was missing?
Her eyes now stayed on his mouth. It looked pretty hollow. So hollow, that they could stick something inside. She lifted a hand, sticking her finger in and wiggling it around a bit.
So wet… Was he still bleeding?
She gently pressed a bit further– just out of curiosity– and found that it was certainly still bleeding. You don’t forget how blood feels when that’s probably the only liquid you’ve been feeling for the last… what? Thirty minutes? Hour? Somewhere along those lines? Didn’t Kamimura say that his blood doesn’t clot, at some point? This isn’t really important right now, though. Why was she thinking about all this again?
Okazaki then pulled her finger out, and stared at his mouth. Still open. Almost as if waiting for a treat. It kind of reminded her of how he was acting at that whole “dining experience” that Yanagi and Hayashi had set up. She could still remember him cheering when Hiroaki had spotted Yanagi carrying soup downstairs. How excited was he to eat his leftovers? The ones specifically for him, and nobody else? Did nobody realize how easy it would be to take advantage of that?
Kamimura is easy to take advantage of too, when you make him at ease first. The motive didn’t even seem all too bad at first, with how the temperature only shifted to something not-so overbearing under her coat. When everyone gathered, ate together, warmed up in more ways than one, she could honestly forget all about the plans that had started winding around in her head after Harada died. Kamimura had certainly let his grudges down, that oh-so calculative brain grinding to a stop, when presented with warm food and the comforting air of the dining hall at that moment.
Okazaki dragged a finger down, staring a bit closer at Kamimura’s tongueless mouth. It looked awfully empty without it. What could she fill that empty space with?
. . .
She could just use that mouth of his for her pleasure? She was quite pent up, after all. So much freedom, without anyone to restrain her, door locked for now too. Nobody had seemed to take much notice of her having her coat closed, due to the bitter cold that those fans were pumping through.
. . . And they still were. Okazaki’s dampened shirt didn’t really help this, but at least she could warm herself up with something. Even though it was a rather taboo thought.
Her hands quickly glided down to her pants, fumbling with the button and quickly sliding them just below her hipbone. She made quick work of it; doing the very same with her boxers, allowing herself some relief, to an extent. Of course, simply letting it breathe isn’t enough to truly keep her satisfied, especially not with the bitter cold practically stinging at her tip.
She moved a hand to the back of Kamimura’s head, and gently adjusted her grip on where she had severed it off. Can’t have the guy falling apart now, can she? She pulled back just a bit on his hair, and watched his mouth open.
Without his tongue in the way, he looked pretty docile.
She attempted to angle herself without using her hands, and managed to drag her cock along his bloody lips. They were rather cracked. If she had some chapstick right now, she’d use it on him.
Too bad, though. Can’t really get out of here until this is done, someone’ll notice how hard she is. And maybe the blood too.
She drags the tip over the top teeth, before pulling his hair back further to make some room for herself. If he was alive, would he struggle much? Before he passed out again from the spike in his heart rate, obviously. He was always pretty mouthy, but with his conditions, he’s not exactly viable for physical combat.
Especially not fighting off this. He’d take it easier than most, she thinks.
When Okazaki presses half the way inside, it’s an odd feeling. It’s slightly warmer inside, but the blood’s beginning to cool. She can feel the base of his tongue on her tip— oh-so mushy and soft, and completely limp after the head was cut off, and she decides to smear the pre-cum beginning to drip from her cock along that flesh. Just to remind him what’s missing.
It feels good, honestly. Okazaki’s breathing is heavier than usual, and her grip tightens at every subtle graze of his teeth on her skin, and loosens when the tip hits one of the walls. She’s only halfway inside, and her body is working overtime to make her warmer and push more blood to her lower, exposed half. His head feels great on her. It’s kind of unfortunate that they won’t get a chance like this again.
Okazaki pulls back, and moves her hands to grip his head better, her fingers reaching over to part his lips further.
Okazaki pushes all the way through— bottoming out in his empty throat. It doesn’t constrict, it doesn’t loosen, it just allows Okazaki to move as she pleases. Maybe that’s why the idea came to mind. Completely and utterly helpless, is what Kamimura is right now, and that was only one of the factors leading her to this.
Okazaki pulls back, the lack of any noticeable flesh bringing ever-so slightly cold air. She was already close, if she was reading her body right. The throbbing and pulsing was a good sign— keeping herself warm enough with his head so that she could cum down his throat without getting frostbite on her tip. That certainly wouldn’t be good.
She began picking up the pace, feeling his flesh grow colder with each press of her hips to his detached corpse. He’s a lot better like this, honestly. No witty remarks, no calling her a serial killer, (completely untrue!) and no way for him to fight back.
It’s a shame this is the only time she’ll get to do it.
Her hips begin to stutter, as she pants underneath the mask to keep her face warm. She only now seems to take note of the blood coating her length, making the cold worsen every time it’s exposed to the chilling air. She’s close— and should really begin to wrap this up.
About 10 more minutes before Hasegawa comes looking through the cracked door. She almost wishes she could stay behind and watch her supposed client’s face.
She pushes down Kamimura’s throat with a strained huff, feeling herself come undone inside his severed head. White painting over crimson, the edges blending softly to create a light hue of pink. Some of her fluid dripping out of Kamimura’s exposed throat onto the art room floor.
. . .
This shouldn’t take too long to clean up.