Succulent Prey Page 6

Joe pul ed her arms behind her back, stil kissing her shoulders and neck. He fastened the restraints around Alicia's wrists, cinching them tight and then affixing them to the thick chain attached to the leg spreader wedged between her calves, pausing to gnaw and suckle at the tender fat that hung from the back of her arms. He then leaned down to buckle the leather cuffs around her ankles and lock the ankle restraints to the leg spreader. When he was done he forced the bal gag into her mouth and strapped it around her head, locking it into her jaw. Then he knelt back down to suck at her nipples.

  The gag stifled Alicia's moans, but even with the bal wedged firmly between her lips, Joe could stil hear her scream when he chewed off her nipple and swal owed it.

  Chapter Nine

  Alicia bit down on the bal gag and tried her best to kick out at her attacker as she felt his teeth clamp down on her left nipple. Her legs were securely fastened to the pole wedged between her ankles, keeping them spread wide and making her feel even more vulnerable. She screamed her voice raw when she felt his teeth bite harder and harder, the tug as he began tearing into her breast and ripping her areola free from her body.

  Her stomach rol ed with nausea as she watched the nipple disengage from her breast between his clenched teeth, staring in horror as he chewed it, his eyes fluttering as if in the grips of the most profound rapture, then final y swal owing it and licking the blood from his lips with a satisfied grin. Her breast throbbed, pulsing in agony where her flesh had been. It had taken a heroic effort to keep from regurgitating with the gag in her mouth and drowning on her own vomit.

  The big col ege boy turned his head toward her one remaining nipple. Alicia tried her best to move away from his mouth but the chains held her firm. His mouth groped for her breast and then seized her nipple between his teeth.

  Alicia bucked and thrashed as she felt his teeth begin to saw through her right nipple.

  The pain was somehow both intense and erotic. Recal ing al the pleasure he'd just given her and marrying that to the pain she'd just experienced at his hands as wel as the horror of seeing him devour her nipple. It created a confusion of emotions and sensations within her. She hoped that eating her nipples was perhaps the worst he would do. Perhaps just a fetish that, though painful and revolting, did not mean he was a serial kil er. She didn't want to die. She'd heard about the things that perverts did to women. She didn't want to be tortured and mutilated. The thought of a slow painful death made her begin to sob uncontrol ably.

  Why had she come alone to the house of a man she'd met at a swinger's club?

  Because you're a sex addict, her mind answered back.

  Why had she al owed this stranger to chain her up like this?

  Because you're a sex addict, it replied again, and now you are going to be tortured and murdered and probably mutilated and cannibalized.

  Alicia wept openly as she watched the big cannibal gnaw away her other nipple. A vicious and uncharacteristic hatred swept over her. This man had tricked her. He had been kind and loving to her just so that he could lure her here and hurt her. She wanted to kil him. She wanted to rip his eyes out, to castrate him, to make him scream the way he'd made her scream. But she could do nothing and soon her burning rage turned back to the more familiar fear and sadness.

  Once again she had fucked up and this time it would more than likely lead to her death. Stil, there was a part of her that hoped he was not a kil er, not just because she was afraid of dying.

  Alicia was ashamed at her body's reaction to the cannibal's assault. How could she stil be attracted to that monster? She closed her eyes to avoid looking at him as he tugged and pul ed at her nipple with his teeth. He had his thick venous dick in hand, stroking it furiously. Watching him was turning her on even more, even as the hatred and revulsion came boiling back up inside her. She bit down on the bal gag and concentrated on the pain to try to combat her own traitorous body's unwelcome arousal, yet she knew that the problem wasn't in her body but in her mind. She was al fucked up and she'd known it long before tonight. If she were normal she wouldn't have even been in that club to begin with.

  Joe's teeth sawed through her nipple and she started to scream into the gag again as he tore it from her and gobbled it up with that bizarre look of ecstasy on his face. He was stil masturbating and he stood up so that he towered over her with his cock hovering directly above her head. He swal owed and his whole body went rigid and then began to quiver as an orgasm whipped through him. He aimed his turgid meat at her face. The monster erupted with a roar, once again baptizing her face in his seed. She wanted to bite his cock right off of him and spit it back in his face but the gag in her mouth prevented her.

  "You evil motherfucking pervert! You sick bastard! You twisted crazy fuck!" she screamed in rage at him, but the gag in her mouth prevented any of the words from leaving her mouth as anything but incoherent shrieks. She was sure he had gotten the picture, though. His eyes softened with emotion when he looked at her as if her words had wounded him.

  Ridiculously she almost felt sorry for him, sorry for hurting him. She knew it was the victim in her talking. The sick creature that believed she deserved al of this. That she'd deserved every hateful thing a man had ever done to her.

  Alicia fought hard to keep her hatred burning, but even with the big cannibal hovering above her, she found it hard to hate him. He was just doing what men do: hurt women. Women like her always got hurt. It was the way her life had always been. And when Joe eventual y kil ed her it would just complete the cycle of violence that had begun with her very first sexual experience, consensual sex turned gang rape in the basement of the local gang leader.

  Men had never been kind to her. Why should she have expected her life to end any differently than this? Watching him cum while chewing up her nipples had convinced her that she was going to die. Stil, she did not find the thought as terrifying as she should have. A part of her had always known that she would end up this way. Ever since the day her father caught her in the garage giving blowjobs to twelve guys from the neighborhood street gang and she'd gone down on him too to keep him from kicking her ass, she knew that she was no good. Alicia's father had looked at her with hurt and disgust on his face after he'd ejaculated down her throat. She'd giggled as she saw the defeated look on his face. She licked her lips thinking about how things would change around the house now, how she'd replace her mother as the woman of the house.

  No way he could tel her what to do or keep her from doing whatever she wanted now that she'd sucked his cock.

  Alicia would always wield the power to not only get him thrown in jail, but ostracized from family and friends, and excommunicated from the church. He'd been tempted into sin by his own adolescent daughter. Alicia had hurled her laughter like daggers at his back as he fled the garage. Later that night he'd blown his head off with a shotgun. Alicia had run into the garage to find him sitting at his workbench with the shotgun stil clenched between his teeth, the top of his skul and al the contents of his brain pan sliding down the bare Sheetrock in a gruesome col age of blood and gray matter. She had screamed loud and long. She'd never stopped screaming.

  Every time she came she screamed out for her dead father.

  At the funeral everyone had asked the normal question: "Why did he do it? He had so much to live for." Only Alicia had known why. He kil ed himself because he'd had sex with his own daughter and because he'd enjoyed it and he'd have done it again. Alicia ran away from home after the funeral. She couldn't face her mother knowing what she'd done.

  She didn't even have the luxury of one of those tragic stories that most runaways had. She hadn't been raped or molested by her old man, she'd molested him, seduced him to avoid punishment. Yeah, he could have resisted, but she knew he wouldn't. At age twelve she already knew al about what made men weak.

  She'd saved her little brother from being forced into joining the Puerto Rican gang that ran the neighborhood by sucking off the whole crew. She hadn't done it just for him, but because she'd always wanted to
feel a man's cock in her mouth, ever since she'd discovered those videos under her father's bed. So she'd done it and she'd liked it, and she liked the fact that the toughest guys in the neighborhood now treated her like a woman and not like just another dumb kid. So she did it again and again until she got caught.

  After she ran away, she'd gone to live with some of the guys from the gang, getting gang raped almost daily until she was able to afford her own place. Alicia had known then, as she lay on that sweaty mattress in the basement of a gang member named Big Monk, that her life story would be a tragedy.

  Fuck that! I don't deserve this! I don't deserve to die like this! She tried to struggle free of her bonds but the straps did not yield. Her eyes shot daggers at her captor as he wiped her blood from his lips. He turned away from her enraged stare with a look of shame and stood up from the bed.

  "Fuck you! You should be ashamed.

  Now let me go! Let me go!" she screamed at his back, but once again the bal gag smothered her words.

  She watched as Joe staggered out of the bedroom, and she was afraid that he would leave her there alone. As much as she feared the things he might do to her, being left chained up in this dark apartment terrified her even more. She tried to scream for him to come back but her strained cries just barely squeaked out around the rubber bal shoved firmly between her teeth.

  Chapter Ten

  Joe walked out of the bedroom in a daze. He plopped down on the couch and stared at the ancient black-andwhite television as if awaiting revelation, but he'd received his revelation back there in the bedroom. The disease was progressing. He'd now mutilated a woman. More than that, he'd eaten some of her flesh and ejaculated while doing it. He had crossed the line. A deep depression settled over him as he considered himself, who he was, and who and what he was becoming. The possibility of kil ing was now more than just a sweaty fantasy haunting his wet dreams. It was very real and very imminent. He had to figure out what to do with her now.

  There was no way Joe could release her after mutilating her breasts; not without going to jail. He would face charges of kidnapping, rape, assault, and of course cannibalism. He'd spend a minimum of twenty years behind bars unless he got an early parole for good behavior or pleaded insanity. He considered checking himself in to an insane asylum. He could go right to the hospital and tel them about the girl chained up in the apartment, about how he'd chewed off her nipples and would probably eat the rest of her if nobody stopped him. He'd tel them about how he couldn't look at anyone without wondering how their flesh would taste, which appendages would be the most tender, which organs would melt on his tongue like an extravagant confection.

  Perhaps they would give him a nice padded cel, drug him, and give him group therapy sessions with other cannibals and murderers. Maybe they would give him private sessions with a psychiatrist who would listen to tales about his childhood. About how he'd creep down the hal at night to watch his mother and father fuck through the keyhole in the door. How his father would strangle her until her face turned blue just before he came, growling like a wolf.

  How he'd once seen his father cut a stray dog to pieces or how he'd been kidnapped and molested by a young child kil er when he was eight. Maybe they would cure him. Maybe they would give him shock treatments or chemical castration or a lobotomy. Maybe they would declare him legal y sane and he would go to prison after al and get raped or murdered himself by some big angry convicts.

  Joe shuddered. He did not want to risk turning himself in. He did not relish the prospect of ending his days wrapped in a straitjacket and locked in a padded room, drooling on himself in a near catatonic stupor from a cocktail of antipsychotics. Besides that, he didn't want to release Alicia. He wanted to taste more of her succulent flesh.

  Joe curled up on the couch and tried to ignore the whimpering cries coming from the next room. He didn't know what he would do with her, but whatever it was, it wouldn't be tonight. It was already nearly sunrise and he had a class at

  10:00 A.M. That left him barely four hours of sleep. He didn't want to be late for class. Joe was convinced that somewhere there was a cure for his il ness and that with the help of the professor he would find it. First he had to convince the man that he wasn't a lunatic with some ridiculous implausible theory by finding the proof himself. That meant a trip back to the library.

  Joe knew that he was getting close.

  Finding the link between the werewolf and vampire mythology and the serial kil er phenomenon might lead directly to a cure. If he was right, those old myths not only held the answer to how the disease was transmitted but also how it could be stopped. He wasn't wil ing to drive a stake through his own heart and nail himself inside a coffin or chop off his head and fil his mouth with garlic. Those were the last-ditch remedies for those monsters who had progressed to the point where they could no longer be saved. There had to be a less dramatic solution to the cloying hunger that raked at his mind and spirit, beyond al the hype and superstition. He had to find the cure soon. Before he kil ed Alicia.

  Sunlight ripped the curtain of night, bleeding morning into the sky just as Joe final y succumbed to sleep. He tossed and turned fitful y on his couch and dreamt of the day he'd been kidnapped from the playground by a budding child murderer named Damon Trent, who'd no doubt intended to make him his first victim. He could stil hear the fat teenager's tittering, high-pitched voice, like an overexcited young girl's, as he dragged him into his minivan and sped off down the street with Joe kicking and screaming for his life in the front seat. Joe stil had the faded bite marks and knife wounds on his ass, chest, neck, arms, and thighs from where the man had abused him.

  No one knew why the kid had released him the next morning instead of torturing him to death, as he would with his later victims. Perhaps he had thought Joe was near death anyway and would die of exposure before anyone found him.

  Perhaps he'd had mercy. He certainly hadn't shown mercy to his next three victims. He'd torn them apart. Joe could stil remember the feel of the knife plunging into his rectum as the man stabbed him repeatedly, and how he'd screamed like the world was ending, convinced that he was dead.

  When Joe woke up, drenched in his own sweat and screaming at the top of his lungs, the sun was already high in the sky and his alarm clock was blaring. It was time for class.

  Joe dressed and showered before going back into the bedroom to confront his captive. She looked awful, with blood caked on her breasts and stomach.

  She'd urinated on herself sometime during the night, unable to ask to use the bathroom with the gag in her mouth or perhaps hoping that she'd make herself too disgusting to rape. Joe removed the bal gag then lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom where he scrubbed off al the blood and washed her tenderly, lovingly, fighting to keep his mind on getting to school on time. He led her to the toilet and watched as she relieved herself, glaring at him murderously the entire time. He did his best to avoid her gaze. He knew he deserved her hatred. When she was done using the toilet he washed her again.

  Joe carried Alicia over to the bed and affixed an other chain to a loop in the ceiling, which he then connected to her wrist restraints. The chain was slack enough to al ow her to move about the bed but if she tried to get off the bed she would wind up dangling in the air 'til he got home. He explained al of this to her and her eyes began to tear up again.

  "I'm sorry," Joe said to her as he kissed her on the cheek. "I just can't help myself. I real y don't want to hurt you. I just don't know how to stop."

  He turned to walk out of the door.

  "You are beautiful, though. So beautiful." Then he left, locking the bedroom door behind him. Alicia heard the front door slam and the dead bolt click into place. Then she was alone. Alone in a madman's apartment with no way to escape.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alicia sat in silence for a long moment listening to the sound of her own breathing, trying to steady her pulse and keep herself from going crazy and perhaps going into shock. She began to catalogu
e her injuries. Aside from the nauseating ache in her bruised and bitten breasts where her nipples had been torn off, she had no major injuries. She had a few other bruises from where the col ege boy had smacked her buttocks and pul ed her hair as he grunted, growled, and thrusted deep into her. Nothing she wasn't used to.

  Her wrists were scraped raw from trying Her wrists were scraped raw from trying to wriggle out of the leather restraints last night after she'd been left alone. Joe had cleaned them as best he could with hydrogen peroxide but stil the skin ripped and bled as she tried again to squeeze out of the leather cuffs. Again, nothing she wasn't accustomed to.

  Joe had left a bucket by the side of the bed in case she had to use the restroom before he returned. On the nightstand he left a bowl of water. Alicia would have to kneel on al fours and lap it up like a kitten in order to drink from it with her arms stil bound be hind her. She didn't want to think of what she'd have to do in order to use the bucket.

  Her shoulders were kil ing her. No matter how she turned on the bed her weight rested on them unless she turned over onto her face, which aggravated the throbbing pain where her nipples had been, or sat completely upright, which felt uncomfortable with the bar wedged between her legs keeping them apart.

  Even when she set upright, Alicia's shoulders stil felt under pressure from being forced backward with her arms locked behind her.

  Alicia tried to scream again. She thrashed, kicking and bucking on the bed, hoping someone would come to her rescue, but she didn't hear a single sound coming from any of the other apartments. Either the wal s were soundproof or there were no other neighbors. She thought about what the rest of the building had looked like, the smel of garbage and urine, the cracked drywal and deteriorating paint, the fact that she had not seen any evidence of anyone else on her way to his apartment. The lobby had been dark when she'd come stumbling in late last night and there had been no sounds of televisions or radios or children crying, lovers quarrel ing. It had seemed completely empty to her, but she'd paid no attention to it, attributing it to the lateness of the hour. She'd been too busy concentrating on getting some of that young gorgeous col ege athlete's cock to think about how shitty his apartment building was. Now that she knew that her gorgeous athlete was a kidnapper and a cannibal, she wondered if perhaps she'd been lured into an abandoned building. The gang she used to hang out with had once converted an entire vacant department store into one big crack house and shooting gal ery. Maybe she was in a condemned apartment building that he was just squatting in?