Prey Drive (13 page)

“You’re beautiful, Joe. You really are.”

“So are you, Cindy,” Joe said before letting loose a primal roar and ejaculating a stream of hot semen onto his painting, mixing his seed with the flesh-colored mayhem.

Seventeen 

The frat boy’s apartment was as unkempt as she would have imagined. It was right out of a teen sex comedy with nude centerfolds, football and basketball stars Selene had never heard of, and comic book and “World of Warcraft” posters on the walls. Empty beer bottles, pizza, fried chicken, and Chinese food boxes adorned the counters and tables, and a 52” flat-screen HD television was mounted on the wall, a World War II video game on pause.

Mark was all over her from the moment she knocked on his door and stepped over the threshold into his apartment. He stammered out an apology for the condition of his home and then kissed her artlessly and went right for her breasts. Selene endured the awkward groping and pawing and even returned his sloppy, alcohol-laced kiss. His breath reeked of beer and pot and she could smell sweat and perfume on him. The perfume was undoubtedly from the girl he’d left behind at the sex club. Obviously they were much more than the friends he’d said they were.

Selene unzipped, unbuckled, and unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to his knees. His throbbing pink cock bobbled above her head as she helped him out of his shoes. There was nothing particularly exciting about this boy who was so much smaller, so much clumsier, so much less passionate, less dangerous, less ferocious than the man waiting for her behind bars, yet Selene was so aroused she thought there was no way she would fail to cum this time, no matter how terrible a lover this moron was.

She took the frat boy’s cock into her mouth. He moaned and shuddered as her tongue swirled around the head of his manhood and she took it deeper, deeper, past her tonsils, burying her lips in his pubic hair as his penis filled her throat.

“Shit! Oh, fuck! Oh, yeah! That’s it, you sexy bitch! Suck this cock! Suck it, you nasty whore!”

It wasn’t just his ridiculous attempt at dirty talk that pissed her off. It was the fact that she could already feel him approaching orgasm. She had wanted to enjoy herself a little and this selfish prick was going to get off and leave her unsatisfied … as usual. Fucking men were all the same. He grabbed her by the back of the head and began fucking her mouth, rushing toward orgasm. That was the last straw. Selene jerked away from him, biting down hard and taking the tip of his cock with her as she pulled away.

“AHHHHHH! NOOOOOO! YOU BIT OFF MY DICK! You fucking BITCH!”

For a moment, the bleeding stump of his cock bobbed in the air, still erect, spraying blood and semen from his urethra, spattering Selene’s face like some gore-soaked bukakke session. Then the frat boy collapsed screaming and twitching. Selene chewed the bleeding lump of meat, retching and gagging as she attempted to swallow it, choked, and then vomited it back up. Mark was still on the floor, shrieking like a cat on fire and clutching his bleeding cock when Selene’s stomach rejected his half-eaten glans and she vomited it onto the floor beside him. She waited for that orgasmic rush Joseph had described to her. Her entire body was on fire. Her clitoris throbbed and tingled and she felt like she’d cum immediately if she touched it, but that was just the adrenaline, the excitement, it wasn’t what Joe had described to her. The powerful climax he had described did not come. Selene took out the pepper spray as Mark groped for his cell phone. She sprayed him in the face and then took out the filet knife she’d purchased from the supermarket.

“AHHHHHHFUUUUUCK! MY EYES! MY FUCKING EYES!”

The knife was still in its packaging. She’d been in such a hurry to get to the frat boy’s apartment before he gave up on her and went back to the club that she hadn’t bothered to unwrap the knife. Now that she needed it, it was encased in plastic so thick that she couldn’t even tear it with her teeth. She climbed up from the floor and ran into Mark’s kitchen. She opened the drawers on both sides of his stove, looking for a knife to use to open her knife. It never occurred to her how ridiculous that was. She finally found a steak knife in a drawer on the left of the kitchen sink and sawed through the packaging. Mark was still on the floor screaming and calling her words no man had called her since her father died. If she didn’t silence him soon, the neighbors would summon the cops.

Selene ran out of the kitchen and straddled Mark’s chest. Blood was pumping from his wounded penis and he was squeezing it, trying to stop the flow.

“Help me! You have to help me! Call an ambulance. I’m bleeding to death! Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t do anything to you. I didn’t DO ANYTHING! You have to take me to the hospital. I’m DYIIIING!”

Selene smiled. She slashed his face with the knife and snarled. “I don’t have to do shit but bleed once a month, pay taxes, and die. But not before you do, you piece of shit!”

She raised the knife above her head and began stabbing him. The first stab was shallow, sinking no more than three inches into Mark’s pectoral muscle. Blood spurted from the wound, but it wasn’t the lush arterial spray she had been expecting. Mark groped blindly for her wrists and Selene sliced at his fingers with the filet knife while punching at his face with her other hand. She stabbed him in the chest again and this time the blade sank deeper. Selene needed both hands to wrench it free and bring it down again.

“AHHHhhhrgh! GET OFF ME, you CRAZY BITCH!”

Just as she brought the knife down into Mark’s chest, he threw a punch that caught her in the eye and knocked her sideways onto the floor with blue lightning flashing in her head. She dropped the knife and Mark scrambled over the top of her, groping for it with his eyes still squeezed shut, pouring burning tears. Selene brought her knee up into his bleeding cock and climbed from underneath him while Mark cried out and fell onto his side, vomiting his lunch along with a lungful of blood. Even as he regurgitated over and over, he still tried to grope for the knife. Selene’s heart thundered in her chest and she could barely catch her breath. She could see exactly where the knife was. She snatched it away just as Mark’s fingers were about to touch it. He grabbed her arm to keep her from stabbing him again, trying to pry the knife from her hands. Selene reached down between his thighs and seized his ravaged penis, twisting it and raking it with her nails.

“AHHHhhh! FUUUuuuck! NOOOOO! Let it go! LET IT GOOOOoo!” He seized her hand with both hands and pulled. She didn’t let go, and the tender, bleeding flesh between Mark’s legs stretched until it looked like it was going to tear off. Selene stabbed the filet knife upward into Mark’s throat. He toppled over, holding his punctured trachea as blood sprayed in that delicious arterial eruption Selene had been waiting for. Rather than try to pull the knife out again, Selene stood up and walked back into the kitchen. She knew where the knife drawer was.

When she walked back into the living room, Mark was barely conscious. His face and chest were caked with blood and vomit and he was wheezing in long shallow breaths. She held a steak knife and a dull carving knife, but she barely needed either now. She straddled him again and could feel the frat boy’s diminishing heartbeat against her clitoris. For a moment, she thought she was about to experience that orgasmic rush she’d witnessed when Joseph swallowed her nipple. Her vagina was drenched. The thrill of killing had her quivering at the threshold of orgasm, but she couldn’t quite seem to get there. Something was holding her back as it always did. In frustration, Selene took the steak knife and stabbed Mark in the chest a few more times until she’d buried it so deep in his pectoral muscle that the handle broke off and the blade remained embedded inside him. Mark finally stopped moving. She could no longer feel the pulse of his heart against her swollen clitoris.

“Wow. Oh, shit. That was fucking incredible,” Selene whispered breathlessly. Her thighs were trembling. Her clitoris throbbed, engorged with blood. She reached down between her thighs and rubbed it, flicking her fingers across the swollen nub. So close. So close. Nothing. Selene screamed in rage. She stood up and began kicking Mark’s body. She stomped his face until it was unrecognizable, little more than a bleeding, misshapen lump.

She collapsed, panting with exhaustion, across Mark’s chest. She lay there on Mark’s bleeding corpse for several long moments, trying to calm her breathing. She couldn’t believe she’d just murdered a man. She felt enormously powerful, unstoppable, like a goddamn juggernaut, but she still had not reached orgasm. Joseph had been wrong, wrong, wrong! Maybe if she hadn’t spit out Mark’s cock? Maybe if she had been able to keep it down she would have felt it? Still, even though she hadn’t been able to cum, this had been the closest to orgasm she’d ever been. It was close enough that she knew she’d have to try the experiment again.

She had just regained control of her breathing when she realized that Mark was still breathing as well, faint, hoarse breaths whistling out from the gash in his throat, up from his ruptured lungs. Selene lifted herself from Mark’s chest and raised herself back to a sitting position. She studied the frat boy’s face for some sign of consciousness before reaching out to grab the hilt of the filet knife still protruding from his throat. Slowly, she slid the blade from his trachea. Blood spattered her face again as Mark’s ventricles filled and his heart contracted a few final times, emptying his blood vessels onto the floor. Without bothering to feel for a pulse, she began to saw off his pectoral muscle. She slid the thin, sharp blade beneath the muscle and scraped it along his ribcage, exactly how Joe had once described removing a woman’s breast. She lifted the muscle from his ribcage and carried it into the kitchen.

The taste of the frat boy’s penis had caused her to gag. The chewy texture of it, like munching on raw chicken … just thinking about it made her want to vomit all over again. She didn’t even like her steak rare and could only eat sushi when it was rolled in seaweed with rice, cucumber, avocado, and cream cheese. Eating raw human flesh had been absolutely revolting and only the expectation of ecstasy had permitted her to keep chewing it. Perhaps it was the nauseating taste that was getting in the way of her enjoyment. She opened the white cabinet doors and removed a frying pan and a paper plate. She plopped the severed pectoral muscle on the plate and went hunting for something to season it with.

Years ago, Selene read an article about Jeffrey Dahmer cooking a man’s bicep with garlic and onions. Selene opened Mark’s refrigerator and found an onion in the vegetable crisper next to a moldy cucumber and a quarter stick of butter on the door shelf along with a couple prepackaged slices of American cheese. Besides a jar of mayonnaise that looked like it had seen better days, a package of bologna, and a two-liter cola, there was nothing else in the refrigerator. Obviously, Mark didn’t cook much. Selene discovered a couple packets of garlic powder and dried oregano from a place called Pizza Buffet in the same drawer she’d found the steak knife now buried in Mark’s chest. She turned to the stove and lit one of the burners.

The corpse bleeding on the floor in the next room was all but forgotten as Selene placed the pan on the flame, added the butter, and watched it sizzle. Blood had soaked through the paper plate and covered the counter. She lifted the plate and dumped the muscle into the pan with the butter. The blood and butter mixed to form a brown gravy. Selene wondered what it tasted like but wanted to wait until it had been seasoned properly before trying it. She emptied the packets of garlic and oregano into the pan and tossed the meat with a half-melted plastic spatula she found in the utensil drawer. She let it simmer as she quickly diced half the onion and added it to the pan. She wished she had a glass of wine. Everything went down easier with wine.

The smell of butter and onions filled the kitchen. The aroma was delicious, but the memory of her attempt to swallow the disembodied head of Mark’s cock still troubled her. She flipped the meat over several times, basting it in the butter until it was brown on all sides with a slight crisp to the skin, and then she grabbed another paper plate and slid the meat out onto it. She walked over to Mark’s rickety kitchen table and sat down on a chair with one loose leg, almost pitching herself over onto the floor. She stared at the meat, trying to figure out how to begin. There were a couple hairs sticking out of it that she reached out and plucked. She realized that it would have probably been a good idea to remove the nipple. Even after being sautéed with butter and onions, it still looked like a human chest. She stood up and walked back into the living room.

Mark looked like something from one of the more gratuitously violent Lucio Fulci or Dario Argento movies. His ribcage was completely exposed on the left side and the right side of his chest had been slashed and stabbed viciously and now resembled ground beef. The knife wound in his neck yawned wide and continued to leak a sluggish drip of blood onto the carpet.

Selene was surprised she didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse over the frat boy’s death. All she felt was disappointment. The kill itself had been exhilarating, a tremendous high, but his flesh had been disgusting. She wanted the profound ecstasy that Joe felt when consuming human flesh, but that had been unreachable for her. She’d even failed to finish the job with her own hand just as she had every time she did anything sexual with a man, with the same results.

Selene couldn’t even get off on her own and no man or woman had ever brought her to climax. Her sexual trysts always ended with her kicking some loser out of her apartment and trying desperately to satisfy herself with the help of one of her battery-powered friends or with her cursing and breaking things before collapsing to the bed in tears. She was tired of being sexually frustrated. That’s why she’d been so intrigued by Joe and his unique style of passion.

She lifted the filet knife from where she’d dropped it on the floor beside Mark’s body. It was coated in a thick sheen of blood. Selene brought it over to the sink and washed it off under the faucet. She shook it dry and then sat back down at the table and sliced off a piece of meat. The knife slid easily through the moist, tender flesh. It looked a lot like turkey or lean pork. She brought the meat to her lips and bit into it. The taste wasn’t bad. She took another bite and then another and another, slicing off piece after piece, hungry for that orgasmic tidal wave that Joe described. She began ripping off chunks of the meat with her hands and cramming it into her mouth, tears streaming down her face.