You've got your back to the wall, there's nowhere else to go, you're at a dead end. he came in tight and grabbed you by the neck, squeezing it. It was as if he was measuring how much pressure he needed to crack it. you tried to take at least one sip, but it didn't work, he loosened his grip a little so that you wouldn't die prematurely. He changed his appearance, his badge says "milkman" and he had claws on his hands. He put his hand to your neck and made an incision, and you writhed in unpleasant pain. he grinned and, approaching, began to lick the flow of blood over your delicate skin. you felt that the blood was no longer flowing. He stopped and looked at you again. He tore the sleeves off your shirt to give you access to your arms. he bit you on the shoulder, leaving a mark and licking the leaking blood. you were bigger and you were charging into the wall, trying to be further away from him. He didn't take his eyes off you. He put his hands on your back and dug his claws into your back and made wounds all over the length of your back. You couldn't stand it, you wanted to be killed as soon as possible.. your knees buckled and you started to fall, but he didn't let you do it. he roughly took you on his arm and, turning your back to him, began to lick the wounds on your back, sucking the blood out of them, pressing my hands into your ribs. When he finished, he turned you face to face and looked at you with chagrin.

You... why don't you scream, don't you beg to stop? You're spoiling my appetite.

He grumbled when you were almost passed out from the pain shock. he grumbled something and slapped you so that you wouldn't lose consciousness.

Don't you dare die, I haven't played enough yet, mouse.