Page 64 of Morsel

Pretend.

Another prop for her art.

When I don’t take the bottle, she twists the cap and begins pouring the olive oil into my hands, then she moves me, making me do what she wants. There’s a coldness in her movements, like she’s a cardboard cutout at a puppet show, and this is a performance. Give her dirty talk and a bottle prop, and the artistic bitch has everything she wants out of me.

Maybe I’m just a prop too.

She moves my hands to her upper thighs, her skin slimy with the slick yellow oil.

My dick stays limp.

“Just like that,” she says. “Pretend you’re preparing me for the oven.”

Pretend. There’s that word again.

Heat funnels inside of me, filling my lungs with ash. Mona is the same as the sex worker in the black lingerie, the same as the stupid whore who accused me of raping her, the same as every shy cunt I’ve ever dated.

They all wanted to play pretend. They wanted me to hide who I really am. They never wanted me.

Mona is supposed to be different. Better than them.

She moves my hands closer to her pussy, and she giggles. “The oil tickles.”

I growl. “Meat doesn’t speak.”

She avoids my eyes and subtly sighs. “I’m not meat. I’m obviously still livestock.”

The anger rushes in, and every blood vessel and nerve ending in my body is scorching with rage. Her condescension is ripe. She wants me to pretend?

Then a marinade isn’t where it stops.

“All right,” I say.

I grab the hair at the bottom of her neck and drag her up the platform to the industrial meat grinder. She trips over the steps, and my fist tugs her hair harder, yanking at the strands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she asks.

I force her head into the metal hopper. “Putting my livestock in the meat grinder,” I say. “I’ve always heard livestock tastes best when the meat is ground while it’s still alive. Let’s test that theory.”

I power on the machine, and it whirs, the metal screeching through the air. My fingers accidentally slip over the dial, and the metal grinding increases. A slosh of old meat drops to the bottom of the holding container, breaking up the metal orchestra, but it’s Mona’s protesting that brings it to another level. She thrashes, her small frame bucking against my erection, and my muscles are heavy with tension. It feels so fucking good to dangle prey right above its death.

Her oily body slips in my grasp. I reposition myself and use her extra clothing to get a better hold on her. It’s enough to keep her still.

“Kent!” she screams. “Kent, don’t you dare?—”

This time, I purposefully twist the dial as I unzip my pants. It’s only switching plates, but she doesn’t know that. Mona’s head isn’t fully inside of the grinder, but she screams, and I pin my full weight against her body, keeping the front half of her stuck inside of the machine. My dick slips in the olive oil as I slide into her pussy. She’s wet though. No—the dumb little bitch is fucking soaked, and fuck, my dick twitches with each of her greedy little protests.

“Let me go!”

She keeps screaming, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. The nearest hint of civilization is the landfill, and even then, their machines are louder than mine. The workers can’t hear a thing.

I squeeze her neck and her cunt retaliates, her cream squishing out around me. I always knew fear would make her wet, and that confirmation fills my head with a seductive mist, putting me in a trance. She pulls at my hands, but her oily fingers slip like mine did.

“You’re mocking me,” I say loudly into her ear. I thrust against her and her cunt constricts around me so nicely, it’s like she thinks she can grind my meat with her pussy. “With your head in the meat grinder, it’s a little hard to fuck with me, isn’t it?”

I tighten my grip on her neck, and she struggles, her exposed skin bulging red with blood. Her pussy tries strangling me to death, but I’m the one with my hands around her throat right now.

I press my lips to her ear. “You know what I’d do after I cut off your arm? I’d cut a hole in the bicep and fuck the wound. Then you wouldn’t mock me, would you? You wouldn’t think I was a stupid, little boy then.”

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