Page 87 of Morsel

I hate to think I had always planned to kill her and denied that need to my inner self, but I guess I have. I need to kill her as much as I need to eat her. Maybe even more.

And soon, I will kill her.

I bare my canines, and Mona creeps back into the bed as far as she can with her one arm. Her neck bends against the headboard. She blocks her face with her arm, protecting herself from me.

But the thing is that if you cut off someone’s legs and arms, then they can never leave you. And when you eat parts of them, they literally feed your body and soul. Your system digests their flesh, and they become a part of you.

This is who I am. A cannibal. A man who kills and eats women. Mona isn’t the first woman I’ve killed and eaten, and she won’t be the last.

Finally, after all of this time, I can accept myself completely. I should thank her for that.

“I was going to keep you alive for a long, long time,” I murmur as I bend down, close to her face. “I thought I loved you, but I guess I never did. You can’t kill someone you love, can you?”

Her pupils dilate, her mouth dropping slightly, and I see it there, right where I want it: her desperate need for survival, even though she knows it’s fucking hopeless, and that fear is savory, like crispy slices of skin sautéed in a garlic butter sauce.

I pin her arm to the side, then I lean on my elbows again. I lick her face, then her nostrils, her eyelids, and finally, her lips. The sweat and grime coats my tongue, and there’s a sharp sourness to her mouth, like an expensive cheese, mixed with the mild sweetness of the green smoothie. I’ve been sponge-bathing her, but I guess I haven’t paid much attention to her teeth.

Her rancid breath doesn’t stop me.

I shove my tongue back into her throat, tasting everything: the sharp, sour flavor and that mild bitterness. I stretch my tongue, eager to tongue-fuck her esophagus. I’ll never make it, but my dick is so fucking hard as I try and try and try until I can’t breathe. I pull off of her, swallow some air, then dive back down with my tongue. My fat muscle snakes between her teeth.

A sharp pain pricks me.

I rip myself off of her and clutch my mouth.

Blood drips over Mona’s lips. As she chews, she smirks at me.

I touch my tongue. She didn’t get much—not more than a pinch of muscle—but she succeeded.

She fucking bit me.

Maybe she does understand me.

I try to smile, but the rage overpowers it. I grab pliers and a knife from the dresser, then mount the cunt again. The sobs rake through her chest, and the meat panics, clamping her jaws and lips shut. So I punch her, my knuckles crashing into her eye sockets, and she relents. Then I yank that fucking organ out of her mouth, and her garbled cries are like screams from a drowning victim. I saw through the flesh. The muscle frays like the strings of a wet blanket. Her sloshy sobs become screams, and those chortled noises push me on.

Finally, the pressure releases. The tongue is severed from her body.

I toss it in my mouth. It’s chewy. Metallic. A slight toughness to the tastebuds, more than I remember with my mother. I gnaw on it as I stare down at Mona, and my dick throbs, ready to impale her.

I lift her hips. She’s light now, like a blow-up doll from the sex shop, and it’s so fucking easy to fling her around. We can’t stay here for long, but maybe for these last few days, I’ll indulge as much as I can and fuck her like a sex toy.

Mona twists to the side and spits blood.

“Look at me,” I say with my mouth full. I let our blood trickle down my lips. Pain stings my tongue. I scream it again anyway. “Look at me, you fucking bitch!”

She doesn’t move, so I grab her chin and force her to face me. She scrunches her eyelids shut, but then I push my thumbs on her eyeballs for a few seconds, and she opens them.

Her pupils are dilated, and her sclera is streaked with blood. I tuck her tongue into my cheek.

“Good girl,” I mock.

I slide my dick inside of her, forcing her to watch me as I eat her voice. The blood stains her pale skin so beautifully, and I’m grateful for this moment. Take away someone’s tongue, and they can’t even verbally refuse you anymore. There’s no reason for me to feel anything right now, except for inner peace. She’s mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to kill. All fucking mine.

Her eyes are so glossy, they’re almost like cups of water, and I love it when she looks at me like that.

“One day,” I say, her tongue barely muffling my words now, chewed down to a smaller size. “As soon as you stop being worth my time, I’m going to kill you, and you can’t do anything to stop me,” I say. “And I’ll enjoy watching you die as much as I enjoy eating you.”

With that thought, the orgasm punches through my body and fills my head with overwhelming bliss.

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