The stench of the vomit was putrid; the sound of it splattering against the floor audible in the long hall in spite of my distance from the owner whose stomach contents had been spilled. The odor was absolutely disgusting—no more disgusting than I found the man—and I couldn't help but glare hatefully at the pitiful creature. "Calvin," I called, the younger man overlooking the retching thing, "if you'd like, you may have this one." I knew this wouldn't even suffice to my palate.

"Yes," he said, grinding the nauseous man's face into his own pool of vomit, his intention to drown him. The method worked as the man began to flail about in an attempt to find leverage and push his self up, but he failed and ended up choking on his mess. As Calvin flipped the lifeless body over, he sneered at the sight of the residue that covered the man's face and had soaked into the front of his clothing. The shirt had gotten a few large chunks caught in it, much to both Calvin and my own distaste.

The reason I gave the man over to Calvin was not only because of my disgust of this sort of specimen but rather my acute...interest and like of Calvin's consumption process. Calvin fell to the ground, his legs straddling the hips of the body in a position considered most compromising, though Calvin himself never seemed to notice himself. He flung open the dirty shirt, buttons flying across the floor and bouncing about with the force. The cloth was easily torn apart and carelessly tossed aside to join its button parts.

I suppose it was this part that began my infatuation with Calvin. He had always been near me—serving under me or one of my acquaintances—but it was only when I saw him in the act for the first time that this fetish of his piqued my interest. Currently, Calvin was working on the face. Generally he would spend more time on the face, caressing it sensually, but because of the acids stuck to his face, Calvin made quick to rip the layer of skin right off. I knew that if I were to blink, I would miss something that would offer me more gratification. I licked my lips, watching intently in anticipation as he began to work about the visible muscles of the face, leaning forward in my seat to get a better look.

His lips were right on the man's cheek, and I began to wonder if his intention was to make love to the dead body in some morbid act of necrophilia—though I'd seen him do it before and gotten off on it all the same. He ran his tongue forcefully over the tender muscle, the pressure causing it to bounce satisfyingly. My eyes zoned in on all of the movements Calvin's tongue was making, causing me to feel intense hunger and need—extreme arousal. I wanted to join him, only vaguely aware of my former disinclined attitude toward the body. However, I held myself to the seat, continuing to watch.

His slow and savoring motions continued as his hands curled into the hair that remained atop the man's head. He noticed this, grabbing the knife from his belt and proceeding in slowly scalping the man. This part I always found unappetizing, and I found myself turning away for a moment as Calvin chucked the flesh and hair to the side to rest on top of the shirt. Now all that was left of the head was flesh and bone, though the skin of the neck was still there.

He took a different angle of approach—dissection. I'd seen him use this method before just as I'd seen him tear fit young men and curvaceous maidens apart with such carnal lust I couldn't help but leave to relieve myself of the blood-rush to my nether region.

My fingers found their way to my mouth as I gnawed anxiously, observing Calvin as he tossed aside the knife he'd used skillfully yet carelessly to scalp the creature for an actual scalpel. I chuckled as he made the incisions; carefully tearing through the top layer of skin so that he might view the muscles hidden underneath the man's fairly toned abdominal skin. He tore it back with uninhibited strength as well as an animalistic vigor, gazing in hunger at the pectorals.

I couldn't suppress my chuckle as Calvin began to grind his hips against the corpse, plunging an arm deep into the chest in order to grab a rib and rip it out. After accomplishing his goal, the meat-covered bone reached his mouth where he tore a huge chunk off, cleaning the bone with a conservational yet glutton-like dedication. He proceeded on in the same manner, tearing out more bones, all the while feeding and spurring on his long-lasting arousal. It was a wonder how he kept going and how such a lifeless thing could help him get off. I could only think that human flesh was a personal aphrodisiac, though I sometimes found myself in the 'mood' while eating.

Now that the upper body was as close to a pile of rubbish as it could get, Calvin gave his attention to the lower body.

Dear god.

I stood up abruptly, causing his head to jerk in my direction as if he was awoken by a loud noise. I strode out of the hall as quickly as I could, my eyes focusing only ahead of me in order to avoid Calvin's gaze that I was sure had followed me out. It took me a while to notice that he himself was following me out. I watched him approach out of the corner of my eyes, wondering what could be going through his head. I also knew he wasn't one to leave a half-eaten body rotting in the hall. He typically took care of his messes before running off.

He caught me by the arm, grinning at me. I could do nothing but stare back at him in confusion. We stood there for only a moment before he released me, his grin still in place. I raised an eyebrow at him trying to read him—however, nothing changed. Growing irritated, I reproached him, "If you have nothing to say, return to your meal."

His grin grew, becoming what I considered to be an arrogant smirk. "Go entertain yourself," I growled, but he was already halfway back to the hall, his head still turned back to offer me a smile.

Composing myself, I straightened my bow tie and rubbed down my coat, ridding it of the unwanted and numerous creases. I turned sharply on the heel of my boot, making my way back to my own quarters. I had business to do—business that would only take place if Calvin left my thoughts for the rest of the night. I wasn't certain how simple the act of cleansing my mind would be, but I was willing to try in order to maintain my status—or rather keep the organization's doings within our circle. There was no knowing what would happen if one learned of our doings within this sanctuary.

I sat at my desk, illuminated by the light of a single candle as I scribbled my name away on papers with too many meaningless clauses to read fully. I didn't quite understand the point of this work. In the end it all equalled a meaningless façade. The money was an essential, but it was only a cover for what our organization was. We hid behind the pretense of business, glamour, and social standing. Behind this mask our secret hid: power. While we were all seemingly normal, every single person in this 'business' was more powerful than any mere human. By consuming our own kind, we were able to attain a power far beyond that of the average human. The only cost was our diet—and humanity, some say. The power was great, but the exclusiveness was another case.

At the top of this social structure I stood, towering above the others due to my experience and strength in spite of my youth. Though having such superiority was an honor, the responsibility behind it was too much sometimes. Occasionally I would find myself forgetting entire evenings or meetings. These gaps made me wonder about my health—my sanity—and whether or not my strength was worth the seniority I held. The feeling of dread that consumed me whenever I thought of how I had gotten such power...I knew it couldn't have been worth being superior.

I heaved a sigh, leaning back so I might rest the arch of my neck against the top of my headrest. I breathed deeply in an attempt to calm myself...I was beginning to feel a sinking yet unsatisfied feeling deep within myself, slowly crawling about my body in order to spread throughout and consume me. I found my thoughts returning to Calvin, my mind imagining what was under his tie, his coat, his pants, his undergarments—what his c**k looked like—the flavor of it—whether or not he would moan as I sucked him off—

—what he would look like, sprawled underneath me, his face flushed in embarrassment at the lewd noises he made while I pounded into him incessantly.

My hand had gradually undone my belt buckle, unzipped my pants, and navigated its way into my pants. I forcibly rubbed up and down, allowing my other hand to join in the pleasure-making. My sex was becoming moist and sticky from the continuous rubbing, squeezing, and pulling. One hand began to cup my balls, rubbing and rolling them together like dice.

I groaned as I climaxed, creating a sticky mess about myself, the desk, and my stone floor. Feeling about as careless as Calvin had earlier, I stripped myself completely, leaving the clothing and mess to sit at and under the desk until the morrow when I felt up to cleaning it. Lying naked atop the sheets and bedspread, I slowly fell into what I thought would be a very restless sleep.
I knew this to be the truth when I woke the next morning, my limbs tangled in the bedding and a cold sweat about me. I had to slowly maneuver myself out of the sheets due to what seemed to be a very...invigorating dream I had had the other night.

I checked the large antique clock stationed on a mantle, noting that I was much later than I usually was to some important meeting that I should've been more mindful of. I rushed to my restroom, splashing water on my face to remove last night's dirt while yanking on some scarlet slacks to go with one of my overcoats. I looked through my closet for a top hat, deciding on a garnet-colored one with a ink-black feather sticking out of the brim.

While picking out a pair of suitable boots I only glanced at the pile of yesterday's clothing at the desk, deciding to clean it up even later. The boots I chose were black like the ones I had worn the other day save for the fact these had a thicker heel and went over the bottoms of my slacks.

I checked the mirror, nodding in approval at my outfit. It was perfectly suitable for any occasion—save for an informal one, but most occasions here called for a showy outfit at the height of fashion.

Content with myself, I set out. The meeting took place in a smaller area located behind the hall I had been in with Calvin the other day. It was placed behind a false wall in order to keep its location secret. It really wasn't done to keep the meetings secret, but rather the abnormal things that took place post-meeting and prior to it hidden. I tapped the wall, causing a panel to flip up and reveal a lever. Pulling at it, I was able to turn the wall completely. We had made both sides of the wall completely identical, making it so there was no possibility of anyone noticing the wall was a fake.

My entrance was obviously as disruptive as I'd predicted because all eleven of the men present turned their heads to gawk at the person who had come so very late. To my surprise, Calvin turned to me and said, "Perfect timing. We were wondering when you would show up. It seems this thing," he gestured to the woman who I'd not noticed lying on the platform at the front, "will not be joining us in spite of her request. Though she seemed so much the type…” His voice trailed off there as he stared at invisible scars that appeared to be marks of a whip. “None of us have observed you in quite some time, and we all wanted a bit of entertainment." I raised an eyebrow at this suggestion.

Seeing my confusion, Calvin arose from his seat at the table similar to the one seen in a dining hall. He approached the tiled platform and roughly grabbed the woman's arm, jerking her up to him. At this moment, I took in her full appearance:

No clothing graced her body, and most of it was covered in blood. Judging from the uneven marks that patterned her body I assumed she had received a whipping. Her breasts were full in size and her nipples pert. Seeing the attention I gave them, he pressed her back to him while grabbing her breasts in both of his hands, giving them appreciative and cruel squeezes that made her cry out in pain. He massaged them aggressively, laughing as tears began to fall out of the blindfold that prevented her from seeing the men before her smile and get off at her suffering. Her face was flushed in shame, pain, and the sick pleasure that came from being dominated by a man.

I couldn't help the blood that began to flow down into my sex and the perspiration that was slowly collecting on my forehead. The aroma of the rustic colored liquid pooling about her and all over the floor was making me swoon, and I found myself slipping into a subconscious state of sleeping arousal.

I watched my top hat as it was thrown to the floor by me along with my overcoat and belt. My feet strode to the platform where Calvin stood, incessantly fondling and molesting the woman with his hands. Grabbing the woman's wrist, I snatched her away from the sniggering Calvin. He returned to his seat eagerly, leaving me the girl. I pressed her to me with one arm that I wrapped around her waist while the other tilted her chin up so that she would look at me. Her deep blue eyes stared into the scarlet of my own in complete fear and mesmerization. The contrast of her black wavy hair to the paleness of her skin gave her the effect of a temptress, and the bath of blood did nothing but help me in proceeding.

Raising her with the arm that bound her, I was able to press my face into her breasts, biting and gnawing at them while my unoccupied arm crawled up to her mouth, prying it open to let her bite and suck at my fingers. My d**k began to swell with pride more than lust in knowing that she was being filled with the blood that she mistakenly drew from my fingers. She groaned at the metallic taste filled her mouth and slid down her throat making me grin as my teeth ground at her n****e, biting it off entirely. A fit of sob-filled screams left her as I gnawed of the other one to leave her chest an entirely bloody mess, all the while my ears being filled with her agonizing howls.

Our pressing bodies were causing me trouble and making my remaining clothing dirty. I threw her body down to the floor, an audible splash filling the room as she fell into her own blood. I promptly undressed, removing my slacks, button-up, and boots. The woman's eyes seemed to be fixed on me as I stood before her naked, but they also had a glaze to them that told me that she wasn't completely conscious. I fell to my knees, my hands already working to part her knees. There was little resistance—as far as I could tell. The woman was weak compared to me, and she was even weaker in her current state.

A sardonic grin spread across my face as I noticed the look of complete and total shame on the woman as I viewed her womanhood. I laughed, "Shaven like a whore." A few groans filled the room as I began to give attention to her lower regions, appreciative of the lack of hair. The skin wasn’t smooth, but it wasn’t as prickly and rough as an unshaven—or worse: poorly shaven—v****a was. I suckled the sensitive flesh like a babe would its mother’s breasts, gently and yet urgently at first. The intermingling of blood and feminine stick had an intoxicating scent, and the flavor was even better. The woman lay panting on the floor, not enjoying but rather accepting the break in the abuse. I was not so kind.

As my tongue explored her cavern, my hands explored her a**, squeezing hard and mercilessly in a torturous massage as my fingernails left raking blood marks on her sensitive female skin. After growing bored with tormenting her in that particular area, I let my mouth leave her c**t and find its way up to her peak-less breasts. Though she was not lactating, her succulent misshapen breasts released a more delicious juice than milk. My hands squeezed her as if trying to wring her dry of any of the life-giving liquid she had left. I could feel the woman growing fainter and fainter as she lost more blood, but she held on. I presumed it was the fact that she knew if she fell asleep here she would never again wake up.

Abruptly pulling away, I sat up and turned to my audience. A majority of the audience had at least one of their hands in their pants. Of course, the women that were present were the exception—they crossed their legs…very tightly. I cleared my throat, requesting, “Someone retrieve some needles from the cupboard.” Calvin was the one to stand—I noticed he hadn’t been getting as acquainted with his right hand as the others, notably because he was left-handed—hurriedly getting needles from the cupboard with an anticipating grin on his face. He eagerly handed them off to me, leaning anxiously against the wall nearest the platform, eagerly waiting to see what I would do next.

I was ready for penetration, and the woman was too far gone to care whether her womanhood was making her feel such pain or her breasts. I examined the needles: they were quite lengthy and thin, making them perfect instruments for what I had planned. The bleeding thing began whimpering as she barely noticed what I help in my hands. “I wouldn’t cry too loudly,” I advised, setting the majority of the needles down next to us on the floor while I brought the three I held up to her face. She stared at me in wide-eyed horror as I squeezed her mouth tightly shut with on hand, allowing the other to pin the far end of her mouth closed. She tried to scream, but the power with which I held her prevented her from crying out just yet. I then pinned the center of her mouth shut, chuckling as she flailed about under me. She looked more like she was having a seizure than protesting. After finishing with the last pin, I released her lips, allowing her to scream as much as she liked.

The self-induced torture that ensued involving the tearing of much skin: the needles had torn all the way through her lips, leaving her mouth a bloodied mess. She now had only to worry of choking on her own blood. Her naïveté only contributed to her pain.

I positioned myself at her entrance, ramming all the way in. Her core was slick with her own wetness and the blood that had run down and mixed with her stick. She cried out hysterically as I pulled in and out, the force of each of my thrusts causing her more pain. I kept steadily forcing myself in and out, her cries falling on deaf ears as I continued to pound into her. Eventually her incessant yelping began to grate on my ears. “Calvin,” I called.

“Yes,” he called back. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “What is it?”

“Do we have any thread?” I could feel the rush rising, and I could tell she could as her moans and screams seemed to become one. “A hatchet would be nice too.” I could tell she heard me as her eyes conveyed her terror.

“I think you’re fine for now,” Calvin replied, surprising me. I turned back to look at his face, but I couldn’t at all read him. “She looks like she’s nearly gone anyway.” I turned back to look down at the woman as I released inside of her. Her chest had stopped moving. I pulled out of her in disgust.

“Someone clean up this mess,” I ordered as I stood, preparing to leave. ____________________________________________________________
I looked about the room in a sort of a daze. The décor looked nothing like that of my quarters, and the atmosphere was familiar—as if I had been here maybe once or twice before. I felt a smooth satin caressing my back as I noticed myself lying in a luxurious bed much like my own save for a few notable differences: the canopy and sheets of the bed were a deep, sensual crimson color like the painted lips of a fallen woman who sought a night of pleasure. Placed methodically about the area of the bed—this bed was partially enclosed by a space of wall like my own, but it also had cabinets to the side with certain jars displayed—were sets of mirrors. Two were set parallel each other while the final one covered the expanse of the small area of ceiling that stretched the length of the bed. The last one was placed at the head of the bed. The canopy seemed to purposefully neglect covering the above area. In fact, it appeared to have been deliberately—and artfully—cut out at the top for the sake of gratification.

“You’re just like an old man, you know?” I turned to the voice. Calvin laughed. “Whenever you have a session like that you’re out like a light afterwards.”

I groaned, “What are you talking about?” I sat up in the bed. “Where am I?”

“My quarters,” he replied. “You’re so wasteful. Once your food dies when you’re having sex with it, you refuse to eat it.” He laughed, approaching the bed.“And then you put on this innocent façade. You must know what you’re doing. You made such a mess. I even had to give you a bath because you were covered in so much blood.” I raised an eyebrow at this. He seemed delusional at the moment. I hadn’t done anything all morning save go to the meeting. I couldn’t quite remember what had happened, so I presumed there was some sort of commotion that I was made to handle at the time and I ended up taking a hit to the head. “You must know all the things you were doing to that woman.”

I do remember a woman when I first walked into the room being…caressed by Calvin. Someone must’ve known it was her intention to come here—someone who knew what we were. They must’ve come in order to save her, though they’d have to be quite powerful in order to have held someone as powerful as myself off. There was, however, the growing doubt within me that perhaps the meeting might've been one of those gaps in my memory. “Matthias.” My thought process was disturbed as I noticed Calvin’s face in front of mine. “You must be doing this on purpose.” His meaning was unclear to me, and my face surely portrayed my confusion well because he went on to further explain. “You put on this innocent, pure act in an attempt to seduce me. You know that loving a man is a lot different from loving a woman, don’t you? You may never go back to the way you were.”

The turn this conversation was taking was still confusing to me, but it was at least a bit more to my understanding. "It wouldn't be my first time," I admitted. "I've never quite been as innocent as I was then." I was on top every time before, but I could see in Calvin's eyes that he planned on having control.

"Innocent is one thing you will never be," he teased, pushing me back into the bed to grip my chin. "Is this what you want?" I nodded as his free hand began to trace circles on my naked chest. "What do you want me to do? Do you want my hands or my mouth?" I answered by wrapping my arms around his neck, forcing him to press his lips to my neck. He started with gentle kisses, progressively turning into sucks and then bites. His fingers began to play with my nipples while I stripped him of his vest and shirt. I traced the contours of his muscular chest as he trailed kisses and bite marks down my neck and collarbone until he found my n****e. I let my hands find their way to his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping it. He grabbed my hand, preventing me from offering him any pleasure.

"You know," he said, leaving a path of drool down my stomach all the way to my navel, "if you really wanted to, you could take over, and I'd have no option but to submit to you." His tongue began to swirl about my navel, his hands still paying attention to my nipples as I gripped at the sheets and spread my legs in anticipation. He suddenly pulled away. "Do you want me to take care of your predicament," he gestured to my erect member, "or would you rather have me inside you and go from there?"

I pulled his face up to mine, forcing my tongue inside while rolling until he was underneath me. "Stay still," I ordered as I transferred my attention to his lower region. "You don't seem prepared down here." I cupped his balls and rolled them in hand letting my other hand travel the length of him. He groaned and arched his back in pleasure. "You can't feel that good quite yet." Releasing his length, I took him in my mouth as far as I could, relaxing my throat in an attempt to fit him. My hands held him flat against the bed to prevent him from bucking in my throat, and he was earnestly trying not to—but it was all in vain. He groaned as I began to suck him, increasing my speed—each time taking him deeper and deeper into my mouth.

To my surprise, he pushed me away from him, scrambling off the bed in search of something or other. I watched in puzzlement as he dug through his cabinet frantically. He noticed my stare, and in answer to my confusion said, "Lube." He pulled it from the door and pounced on me, my chest pressed against the bed just as his torso seemed to conform to the curve of my back. I could feel his hard-on pressed against my thigh causing more blood to rush down into my d**k.

"Calvin," I asked, "do you have what I think you have in those jars?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, obviously not paying to much attention. "Oh. If what you're referring to is an aphrodisiac," he chuckled, "then you are certainly correct. I'd be happy to utilize it, that is if you are willing..." He trailed off, the question lingering in his voice teasingly.

"Perhaps some other time," I offered, allowing him to proceed with the lubricant.

I heard as he opened up the container of lubricant, anticipating what was to come. At first he only let his finger linger at the hole, tentatively pressing at it and pulling back. This repeated for so long I gasped at the intrusion of his first finger. He pushed it in and out, bending his finger over and over again. Then he added the second—and then the third. I groaned as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out slowly at first and gradually gaining speed. I raised my head from the sheets only to see Calvin's reflection in the mirror gazing at my hot, flushed face, his own arousal apparent, his eyes glazed and his mouth slightly parted. "Are you ready for me?" I nodded, knowing he could see my response in the mirror. He pulled his fingers out for a moment, a groan escaping my lips at the absense. He rose off of me, grabbing my shoulder in order to flip me over so I could view his face. "How do you want to do this?" He lifted me into his lap, positioning me so that his head teased at my entrance. Slowly and painstakingly, he grazed my entrance, gently prodding at my hole in a torturous dance of pleasure.

"Do you want it like this?" He pressed in the tiniest bit, causing me to groan at the intrusion. He was much larger than I'd thought when I was sucking him off.


"Or would you rather be taken like this?" Pushing me down into the bed, he lifted one of my legs to his shoulder as he straddled the other, his member pushing yet again at my tight entrance.

"Just—just do as you'd like," I yelped as he pressed our sexes together, kneading them with one hand while the other roughly massaged one of the mounds of my arse.

He laughed, his voice dripping with mischief. "You know very well it makes no difference to me how I take you, though I am growing rather impatient. I would prefer you tell me what you want me to do so that I can satisfy as best as I possibly can." Deep, sensual moans escaped my lips as he ground our sacs together, pressing them together lightly at one moment and then changing so drastically as to incite a cry from my throat. "You have a nice tenor voice." It was at that moment I finally opted to reply to his question.

"F—from the front," I mumbled just as he squeezed us in a particularly tight way—and in a spot I was more sensitive, which I was sure he would use to his own advantage. He continued his ministrations, ignoring my request. I moaned, "Please."

He suddenly ceased all movements. "What was that you said?" He didn't bother to hide the condescending smirk that played at his lips.

"I want to look right at you," I pleaded. "Must I beg?"

"I would never give you cause to beg." Surprising me with his urgency, he brought both of my legs to his shoulders, wasting no time in thrusting inside me. There was no still moment as he pounded away at me incessantly, finding my prostate just as easily as he had with his fingers. With each thrust I saw white, making me gasp and pant in ecstacy. I dug my fingers into his sandy blonde hair, throwing my head back in the heat of the moment.

In spite of this absorbing pleasure, I found myself studying his face. Sweat trickled down his face, neck—the contours of his chest, and this made his body glisten with the moisture. His eyes would occasionally close as he concentrated solely on the pleasure—both what he received and what he constantly gave to me. Noticing my scrutiny, he sped up in retaliation. Each thrust seemed to send me further and further into pleasure as he began to stroke me.

My cries became louder and louder, echoing throughout the room as well as his own gasps and groans. Lifting me back into the first position he suggested he continued to thrust into me—faster and harder. I could feel myself getting closer and closer, and he knew this. I tightened my muscles in an attempt to make him c** faster, but this only provoked him into stroking me harder. It soon became a battle to see who would give in first, and though I had no intention of losing, I couldn't help but give in to the rush that overcame me.

I gasped, crying out at my release as it spattered all over our abdomens. In spite of my succumbing to pleasure, it seemed he was far from finished. Pulling out, he turned me around so that he could take me in a way similar to that of an animal. Each time he grazed the sweet spot inside me he gained speed and strength, thrusting into me with the force of a beast. After what felt like ages—which was only in reality a semi-short series of thrusts—he came. The sensation of the hot seed spilling inside of me was greater than that of my own release, and the two of us collapsed on top of the bed. We stayed like that for a while, the two of us in a daze. Staring into the mirror, I witnessed our afterglow. I also watched Calvin as he began to drift off into sleep.

"Calvin?" I called in an attempt to delay his slumber—though it truly was a matter of discomfort.


"You're going to have to change your sheets after this. We completely soiled them."


"Or maybe you'd prefer to leave them this way in remembrance of this. After all, it is both our release and sweat that has dirtied them."


"I suppose you aren't interested in hearing things like this, so I suppose we'll just have to end this relationship now. It was a nice rendezvous."

"Mmmm... Oh," he gasped, my words finally registering. He spoke with drowsiness apparent in his voice. "This certainly is something we need to discuss..." I nodded. "I am not one to be tied down, Matthias. I know you must understand this." He reached around me, shocking me by grabbing my now limp member. "This is yours to do as you please with....but from now on," his hand traveled behind me to join his other in cupping my a**, "this is mine. I will do as I like with the others, and you may do as you please as well as long as this part remains coated in my seed alone." Though I was far more powerful than him, I found his words binding. I knew I couldn't help but have relations with others—women, in particular. However, Calvin now possessed me, and I held him to a certain degree. Though we may desire others and be fulfilled by others, our relationship would be the only one that stood. In spite of this detached relationship we agreed on, he smiled at me—emotion reaching his eyes in exhibition of genuine feeling: a mixture of jubilance and an emotion I recognized as a melancholy sort.

"Now," he drawled, "since this has been resolved, I will go to sleep—preferably on top of you." He pulled me on top of his lap in order to throw back the sheets, crawling under them for warmth. Enticed by the idea of sleeping after such an episode, I joined him and allowed him to envelope me in his warmth.

Our relationship continued this way. We would meet each other in secret while continuing to have sexual relations with others. Though it might have been considered dysfunctional if discovered, we still felt fullness in it. We were both satisfied in the company of the other, whether or not we were releasing our sexual frustration on each other or having a genuine conversation. This was how we lived.

I woke up that particular day at the usual time—I dressed in my typical way, ate what I normally ate for breakfast, did my work in as detached of a manner as always... yet the day was not at all normal. The strangeness began with the absence of Calvin, something that I immediately took note of. I wouldn't say that I dismissed the matter but rather ignored it in order to avoid the worry I knew that would come if I dwelled on it.

However, time went on and nobody spoke of it. The stares and glances directed at me were unnerving and increased as time went on. Whenever I walked by a wave of whispers replaced each step, and I was beginning to suspect a conspiracy. I desperately wanted Calvin—to talk to and confide in. I never found him. Someone did come find me. As I was working at my own desk, a few of my underlings—Jeb, Hosiah, and Katerina—appeared before me. I hadn't summoned them so I was puzzled.

"What is it I need to be concerned about?" I asked, wondering if I would finally know what had caused Calvin's present absence.

The three of them exchanged nervous glances. "It has been requested that you come with us." I nodded, wondering now at why they would send three people in order to fetch me. It seemed a waste when two of them could be off doing something far more productive than lurking about in a pod in order to accomplish a single task. Nevertheless, I stood to follow them out the door. As we walked along, I noticed that once in a while one or two of them would peer back at me with an expression I couldn't quite identify as anything but fearful. The three surprised me when instead of turning in the direction of the meeting hall they went opposite it. The direction was that of the room I constantly was using for interrogations and the annihilation of certain people that requested membership into our organization but were incapable of following through after hearing the conditions.

"It is required that you enter this room," Jeb said. I raised an eyebrow at him, questioning if he truly thought it was in his power to tell me I was required to go somewhere or to do something. My attention was then diverted by the nervous laugh that escaped Katerina's lips.

"Not required, Sir. It is apparently rather urgent, you see," she explained. I nodded, refusing to waste time on the ramblings of these three. Throwing the door open in a show of power and confidence, I stared about the room. There was only one other person in the room: Marcy. He was an older man with a name I often scolded myself for gawking or chuckling over, but he was smart and fitted his position just fine. It was a mystery why he would be here.

"Marcy, I take it this has to do with Calvin's absence. I would like to be able to vouch for him and say he hasn't been slacking on his duties, but I am at a loss as to why he wouldn't be present." He raised his hand as if to cut me off. Again, I was puzzled by the behavior of my inferiors. Did he truly think he had the right to silence me? Did he think he somehow was allowed to tell me what I could or could not do; I who had paved the way for him and everyone else in this forsaken place—?

"We are all aware of the fact Calvin is...missing. We have reason to believe you are the cause of this." I processed these words, turning them about in my head. I hadn't slighted him at all recently or given him cause to run off. "Can you tell me where you were toward the end of the day yesterday?" I genuinely thought this over, straining myself in order to remember.

"I'm afraid I cannot," I answered, my face twisted by my own frustration. He nodded, a heavy sigh escaping him.

"No one else can, Matthias. Your convenient spontaneous bouts of amnesia seem to pop up only when you've done some lewd—something grotesque and inhuman. We let this go due to your kind and responsible nature, but you were the last person with Calvin the other day. Are you sure you have no idea where he is or what might have happened?" I shook my head, anticipating whatever news might come of him. "We found his body this morning."

I was able to form no response due to my heart's leap into my throat. I was having trouble breathing, and I watched as my skin grew paler and paler. "B-body? Is he injured?" I let the words leave my mouth already knowing what the answer would be. No one spoke of a living person as a body. I was growing dizzy from lack of oxygen. Calvin—he couldn't be dead. I just saw him—full of energy and alive! Nothing could possibly have happened to someone as lively as him in such a short period of time. No response was heard, and I finally gained back enough of my vision to see Marcy's face: it was hard and cold with a mixed look of disdain and pity. He stood abruptly, approaching me slowly.

"Do you have any idea what state he was in when we located his body?" I just stared at the floor, not willing to hear what had become of him. "He was missing limbs. Large chunks of flesh were torn out of him. He was bleeding internally; there was blood still oozing out of his rectum..." He stopped then, stifling a gag with his hand so that he might have the will to continue.

He then whispered, "I loved her better." I glared at him, upset that he would say something so nonsensical at a time like this.

"We've all heard rumors about you—about how you became so much stronger than the rest of us. We had all thought she'd just disappeared...vanished. People had said it was suicide. They said she couldn't take being a 'murderer' anymore... but some people said they knew better. They said you were the one who killed her! They said you ate her! They knew you would do it again, too. It happened to Calvin. I just wonder if you'd done it deliberately."

I felt the vomit slowly rising in my throat, knowing it wouldn't be long before the contents of my stomach spilled onto the cold hard floor.

It was true.

It was my mistake; one I could never take back.

"Will you admit to your crime? Why did you do it?!"

I was so nauseous. I remembered the whole thing: Her dark hair cascading down her naked shoulders as she tempted me to her bed, begging me to kill her. Her eyes shut as she endured the pain of the knife she cut herself with, pleading with me to consume her so that she would live on in me... I swore I wouldn't do it, but she was my lover... And she wouldn't stop tempting me. By the time I gave in, she was half dead in my arms, and the two of us were far away in the deep woods, becoming one as I consumed her.

I had no idea what I had been given and what I had given up. I never thought that I would become something other than what I was—something worse than the predator I was before. I had become a savage beast incapable of control, something I had feared since the beginning. Now the evidence stared me in the face as Marcy wailed at me his agry accusations—accusations that I was almost certain were true. "Did you enjoy raping him?! Did you enjoy torturing him—?! We all knew how much he cared for you, b*****d!" His breathing was as hysterical as I was, but he suddenly became solemn. "He loved you. He would never have done anything to hurt you."

I would never give you cause to beg.

"He always helped you, even when he knew what you were doing was much worse than anything imagineable—even when he was disgusted with your actions. Never once was he disgusted with you."

I slid to the floor, my gaze fixed on nothing as hysteria took over me. Had I really become this?

But I knew I had. So I found the strength to stand.

And I ran.

"Catch him!" Marcy screamed the order. Knowing they wouldn't catch me, I sprinted onward. Through the halls I went until I reached the entrance—because no one ever exited—where I rammed my way through the doors, my speed only growing. I kept running down the dirt path that was paved outside, not caring about the sky that I hadn't seen in so long—the chirping of the crickets and the noises that filled the air of living creatures I hadn't heard in ages. I kept running—faster and faster, my heart drumming in my ears as I ran to reach that spot.

It was next to a pond where I finally ceased my running. I had known immediately when the memory struck me so vividly what it was I intended to do.

Then I forced myself under, letting memories I hadn't known existed flow into me:

I laughed uncontrollably at the expression on his face—the fear and agony mixing to form a most satisfying look. I couldn't help but whip him once more—twice more—thrice—until the mark of my whip was stretched across his scalp in a bloody line. I was only upset by the lack of terror. Why was it he refused to scream? Why couldn't he cry out like all normal people in his situation would?

Even worse, he held my gaze. No matter how much I hit him—smacked him—tore into his flesh and seared my image into his brain he continued to look at me with pity. Why wouldn't he get angry? Why couldn't he try to escape? Was it his pride that kept him from doing anything humiliating?! "Why do you do this to me?"

He still stared back as if to challenge me, the shackles on his arms as still as ever as he made no attempt to escape my grasp on him in the depths of the dungeon. "I always wondered what it was..." he rasped, his voice hoarse. "I thought there was something distant about you... I knew you couldn't have been so cruel. I knew you weren't just lying to ease your conscience." His exertion of energy from talking caused him to cough and gasp uncontrollably during his breathing intervals in what I considered a bad attempt at annoying me. "This isn't really you. I won't lie to you: I like you—as a person and as a superior. I made it a point to never cross you or do anything to hurt you, and I soon found myself wanting to be something to you... but right now, I look at you and all I see is something entirely inhuman."

I felt the murky liquid fill my lungs and kept myself from thrashing about to save myself. My consciousness was slipping and instead being filled with thoughts of another person—another me. This was the me that was created from the simple mistake. I had gone from simply the predator to a beastly creature whose only pleasure was giving pain to others no matter who they were to me or anyone else.

As I drifted into blackness, a strangely comforting image came to mind...

It involved chains.. and raw flesh.