One little kiss on her
Left cheek and my
First mark is left.
She moans and writhes,
Anticipating the end result.
Shhh, patience is key.

The second kiss is planted
With my trusty scalpel,
This time between her breasts.
The blood flows smoothly
Down her abdomen.
Oh how crimson and fluid
This river flows.

No need to rush the third
And final kiss.
Not yet.
Soon, though.

A few slices here and there
Across her thighs just
To pass the time
And to control my ever growing
Lust for blood.
Lust for torture.
Lust for death.

I kneel down and slowly slide
The blade in circular motions
On her thighs.
The blood that runs from
The incisions...
I can almost taste the iron.

Two more teases before
The final kiss.

Deeply, I cut her Achilles's tendons
With the scalpel and cringe.
The one thing I can do
To someone that always makes me cringe.
But those screams are oh so worth it.

As her feet hang limply,
I stand up and place the
Blade against her pale neck
And smile into her closing eyes.
"And kiss number three shall
Set you free..."

With a slow, precise motion of the
Wrist, her blood soaks my hand
And pumps with each
Beat of her failing heart.
She gurgles as she struggles
To find air.
"Shh. Be free and happily accept
My three little kisses."