Page 32 of Morsel

I yank the rope from his hands and tie her myself, placing her into an actual hogtie. In porn, they like to tie the ankles and wrists behind the woman, but like this—lying on her side with her limbs tied to the front—she’s more like a pig, ready to hang from the rotisserie.

I put a slice of wagyu on the curve of her ass and bite it off of her. She jumps, and I keep my mouth suctioned to her skin. The meat disintegrates on my tongue, and I stroke myself, enjoying every last flavor and texture as if it’s a full body orgasm.

Once it dissolves, I pull back and marvel at my masterpiece. My art. I’m teaching Artemis about our art, like Mona wanted.

A bright light flashes, illuminating us like we’ve been caught by the authorities. It’s probably a camera. I ignore it. All I want is her. Mona is alive, and it should be too cold for us to be naked right now, but with the bonfire and the blood rushing through my veins, I don’t feel the cold, nor do I mind that she’s not actually my meat. I squeeze the head of my cock, a groan bursting through me, and I imagine I’m a caveman, taking what’s mine.

I stuff another handful of wagyu into my mouth, then I bite Mona’s nipple so hard, tears pool in her eyes. Another flash of light. I bite Mona again. She’s an offering, a delicious feast, and I’m her god. The pressure in my cock consumes me, a geyser bubbling with the need for release.

Artemis puts the camera on the table, then kneels down and removes the apple from Mona’s mouth. Then he unties her wrists and ankles, before pulling her body on top of him and letting her take the reins.

Deep inside of my brain, I know there’s some part of Mona that likes Artemis too. A weak little man. A person that lets her control everything. And right next to those thoughts, I know I’m jealous of him.

I’m not a caveman. I don’t have to eat Mona. I can be like Artemis. I can be a good man who indulges. Who lets her do what she wants. She can have the best of both worlds with me.

Fuck that. I am the best man for her. I am better than my mother and my mother’s boyfriend. I’m better than fucking Artemis. I am better than everyone who has ever doubted me.

And I choose her.

Mona tosses her head back in pleasure, but my dick stays limp. I close my eyes and focus on my own needs until I’m back in that prehistoric fantasy: Mona stretched out before me, her body flickering in the firelight.

My dick hardens again.

The visions push further: blood gushes from her cut labia as I gore her cunt with my dick. Then, when it seems like she can’t take another thrust, I bring the fleshy slivers of her pussy lips to my mouth. Her ripe flesh disintegrates over my tongue.

And that’s when I come.

Chapter 12

The last pulses of pleasure course through me like a tidal wave, cum splattering my palm and the cement.

I open my eyes and find Mona and Artemis staring at me like I’m the finale of their show.

“Was that good?” Mona asks.

Her mouth is open and wet. She enjoyed watching me come, then.

Artemis grins next to her, and my throat tightens. Is Mona being serious, or are they laughing at me?

I shrug. “It was fine.”

Mona limps toward the house; she must be sore from either the fucking or the hogtie. My shoulders expand, knowing the effect I have on her body. She hobbles inside, probably to clean up.

I take that as my signal to leave. I get dressed in the guest room and bring my duffel bag to the backyard to gather the rope. A partially bitten apple lies by the fire, and a chunk of the fruit’s flesh hangs by the red skin, the spot where Mona bit when she was my pig roast.

My head buzzes, the sensation fluttering down to my knuckles. I curl my fists. Wasting food is an insult, especially when it’s food that’s good for your health. Mona shouldn’t be eating meat; she should be eating fruit.

I zip up the bag, then I stand by the fire and finish the apple.

Footsteps clop against the stone flooring, too weighty to be Mona.

It’s fucking Artemis.

My skin crawls. If I leave now, he’ll think I’m weak and bowing down to his authority.

And I’m not fucking weak.

“She’s in bed now,” Artemis says.

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