Morsel

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

After class, the wheelchair rattles over the cement like chains, and the zoo lion roars, but Mona laughs, not noticing the racket. During the ride from the lecture hall to her office, Mona keeps a smug smirk on her lips. The college students side-eye her, and a few professors gawk. No one asks any questions though.

I can see Mona enjoys the rumors and the controversy. There’s a sort of power in it.

We roll inside of the elevator, and luckily, the wheelchair hides my erection. We exit on the fourth floor. I give Mona a hand as she walks up the ramp to her desk chair, then I take my seat on the other side.

Since her desk is on a riser, I’m in a lower position than her; it doesn’t bother me though, because I’m confident now. I have Mona right where I want her. And I can admit that I have cannibalistic tendencies, but the fact is that I haven’t eaten a whole person yet, so I’m not really a cannibal. Besides, I haven’t eaten from her body without her consent. She wants it too. A cannibal doesn’t wait for the meat’s permission to eat it; a cannibal simply takes.

“Give me another toe,” I say, my fingers thrumming my thigh. My dick pokes a tent in my pants. I’m aware that I’m being overly persistent, but it’s so close. I know she’ll give it to me if I just ask her the right way. “I’ll wait for it if I have to.”

A grin crowds her pursed lips. “I know you will.”

She gestures for me to come back around the desk. I walk up the ramp until our feet are on the same level, then I look down at her.

She pulls my shirt until I’m on my knees between her spread thighs. She murmurs, “Tell me, love. What would you do to me?”

I exhale slowly. There’s no camera in her hands for once, but she has floor-to-ceiling windows, and there are cameras set up throughout her office. I should assume she’s recording with those devices, as I should assume that she’s still using me for her project.

Art is what brought her to me though, and I’m not going to stop reaching for what I want because we’re on display. Being watched right now is the least of my worries, especially when I’m so close to capturing the woman of my dreams.

My chest swells, and my blood vessels open up for that sweet, fantastical ecstasy. I’m on my knees, bowing before Mona right now, but in this position, I don’t feel small.

I’ve eaten parts of her, and that gives me strength. Over others. Over her.

And I can take charge of what I want.

I swipe the contents off of her desk. Papers, books, pens, and paints crash to the floor. Mona’s mouth gapes, her lips wet, her eyelids heavy with lust. I cup her ass and carry her, then lie her down on the desk. She bites her bottom lip, and I push the straps of her blouse from her shoulders.

She’s a sacrifice on my altar. The mother of a feast. My little morsel warming under the heat lamp.

“I’d chain you to a bed,” I say. I kiss and bite and lick her collarbone, then move toward her meaty neck. Goosebumps crest her body, and my own muscles relax as that juicy warmth spreads over me. My lips hover over her neck, and fuck me, prepared the right way, her esophagus would taste like pork rinds. My body grows taller, stronger, wider, as I embrace that sensation: my control over her.

“These goosebumps,” I murmur. “I’d shave you to keep your textures nice and smooth. I’d fry your skin until it was nice and crispy. I’d cut off small parts of you everywhere, my little morsel, fucking everywhere”—I nibble on her ear, her cheek, her lip—“until I had to move on to your limbs. I’d cut those too, you know. And let me tell you something, little morsel: I’d fuck you every day and every night, but I would never let you move. We need to keep your flesh tender, don’t we?”

A breath escapes her. “Is that why you insisted on a wheelchair?”

There’s hesitation in her voice, a new tone dancing under her words, and that tone sounds like desire and fear and selfless love wrapped into one. She should be scared. Love is a scary fucking thing; it can ruin you. And we both know she needs this as much as I do.

I’m going to take such good care of her.

“There’s no need to be scared, little morsel,” I say, my heated words breathing over her skin. “I’ll feed you fruits and vegetables. Everything will be organic. You’ll want for nothing. I’ll get you everything you deserve. Only the best for my meat.” I crush the head of my dick, then lower my lips to her ear. “You’ll be sweet inside and out.”

I pull off her pants, and those bandaged toes make my cock so painfully hard that I can barely move.

A few more cuts. That’s all I need. It’s a few more cuts, and she won’t be able to move anymore. She’ll be completely at my mercy.

“Kent,” she whispers. “Why don’t we wait to have sex until we’re at your home later?”

She’s posing it as a question, and that means she’s finally giving me the respect I deserve, letting me decide, realizing I know what’s best for us. She’s probably worried about the windows, but this high up, away from the edge of the room, there’s a good chance the students can’t see anything. And it’s not like Mona is asking me to stop. Waiting and stopping are different. Even if she did ask me to stop, I’m not sure I would listen. It’s not up to her anymore.

Fear clouds Mona’s eyes, a storm washing over her dark pupils, and it’s like she’s finally seeing my true self for the first time. Me, the real me. The one that’s always been here, waiting for her to open her eyes.

Her breath lodges in her throat like a lump of unchewed food. I shove my dick inside of her, and her cunt clenches around me like a cocoon. I concentrate on that frightened expression; it fills me with hunger for more.

If I got to cut her—if I carved her meat with my own hands—she would squeeze me harder. Deeper. Tighter. Like a rabbit snatched in a wolf’s jaws, struggling to get away.

Her pussy walls close in on me, so fucking tight, so full of fear, it’s invigorating.

“Would you hunt me?” she whispers. Her eyes are wide, and she asks the question like it’ll give her power again.

“Hunt you, baby?” I ask. “I already have you.”

As my dick impales her, I imagine it’s not my dick, but a bone and keratin horn, goring her like a fighting bull. It slices through her pussy, her uterus, her intestines. If the horn was big enough, it could impale her from her ass to her esophagus.

I twist her nipples, and she cries, her sweet moan filling my ears with love. With need. With hunger. Like the scent of barbecued flesh on the wind.

This is too much though. I can’t kill her. It’s just dirty talk, I tell myself. It’s a fantasy. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s nothing ? —

But it’s not nothing. It’s not like the sex workers or my shy ex-girlfriends. Mona isn’t like those stupid cunts. She knows what I’m capable of. With Mona, it’s something, like I’m only another fingertip away from my dreams.

“I’ll fuck you and kill you slowly, little morsel,” I groan, my dick pulsing, so close to orgasm, the crown of my cock dribbles with pre-cum . “All you have to do is ask.”

A knock bangs into the door. “Who is it?” she yelps.

An angry male voice shouts, his voice muffled by the door.

“Tell him to go away,” I order in a low voice.

“Come in,” she squeaks, her voice eerily weak. “Come in! Come in!”

I roll my eyes and ready myself for whatever comes next. She’s not listening to me. I’ll have to change that. I’ll teach her a lesson in obedience if I have to. I know what’s best for both of us, especially when it comes to her meat.

It’s the only way we can make this work.