Page 39 of Morsel

I grit my teeth. Did she call me a rabbit? Scared of what? Her lead?

She touches me again with bloody hands. Over my shirt. My pants. My neck. She removes my clothes one layer at a time. The jumper. The socks. The boxers. My body yields to her silent instructions, but my dick is hard and ready, and then I’m bare before her. Too naked. Too stunned to do anything. Too fucking vulnerable. She’s not forcing me to do this, and yet, she is physically making me do it.

And, damn it, I want to do more.

She guides me until I’m lying flat on the floor. Finally, she undresses, and I’m glued to her body. Fingerprints dart against her pale skin in red blotches. Her stringy black hair drops over her collarbones like spider legs, and her dark eyes are tunnels driving deep into an empty soul. I’m not supposed to eat her, but I can still fantasize and pretend. If that means I’m reduced to roleplaying with Mona, then so be it.

She glances at the top of the table, checking the camera.

It’s just her art, I tell myself. This is pretend. It’s roleplaying. A game. Like that idiot, Artemis, said.

I still want more.

She slides down on my cock and impales herself on me, her needy slit slick with arousal. Her cunt crushes me like a vise.

I want more than pig’s blood, but I can control myself.

Control yourself. Control your?—

“We could take off my toes,” she says, her voice raspy with lust. “One by one.”

I involuntarily thrust my hips, pummeling her meat hole. I know the answer; I just want to hear her say it. “Cut off your toes for what?”

“A toe here. A toe there. It’s not much, but it’s something. A little snack. An hors d’oeuvres. A mere, little morsel. Hah!” She grabs my hair like reins, then throws her head back. “What if you called me your ‘little morsel’? That would be a cute pet name for me, wouldn’t it, love?”

I grit my teeth, desperate to keep myself at that boundary, to protect her from the hunger raging inside of me. I can’t give in. I can’t do it. I’m not a cannibal…right?

Eating her toes wouldn’t kill her though. We could do it safely. She may walk with a limp, but she’d be okay. She’d live. Knowing Mona, she would somehow do better without her toes.

It’s wrong to eat people though. I know that. I swear I do.

“Mona,” I try to say. I try so fucking hard to get the words out, to disagree, to do anything to show my resistance when I desperately want this, probably more than she does. “This is?—”

“I need my fingers to create, but my toes?” A smirk spreads across her face, and she lifts her hips, then drops her weight on me. A harsh huff expels from my chest. It’s like she’s forcing me to submit, smothering me with her power. “Being off-balance will be difficult at first. I’m still young though. I can compensate. I can find a new way to walk.”

She’s reading my mind, and I love it. We are perfect for each other. The meat to my carnivore.

Is this love? Is this what I’ve always needed?

Control yourself, my brain screams. Say something! Stop this, you pathetic piece of?—

“This is going too far!” I shout.

She freezes on top of me, her pussy contracting around my cock. My eyes roll to white, and I grind my teeth until the pleasure is numb, and I can’t feel my cock anymore.

“We’re taking this too far,” I gasp. “It’s dangerous. I can’t eat your?—”

“I thought you were better than Artemis,” she snaps.

As she exhales, her entire expression changes. She cocks her head to the side and squints at me in disgust. Not because I’m a cannibal fetishist, but because I’m not.

My shoulders tense. I stay firm. I can be good. I may fantasize about cannibalism, but I’m not a cannibal. If I eat her, then she’ll be gone. I won’t have her anymore, and I won’t let my stupid, fucked-up cravings get in the way of our potential future together.

“Don’t be a scared little boy,” she snarls. “This is me: my meat, my choice.”

She grabs the bucket, then spills the pig’s blood all over us, the liquid chilling me to my core. It spreads like oil. She slides back onto my dick again, and my body heats. Her harsh breath dances on my wet skin.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do,” she says.

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