I
look up in to the eyes, those beautiful eyes, I stare into their depths and a
smile grows on my lips. I love that look, the look of fear, of pain and anger.
How can I explain how it excites and thrills me, as I stare I run a
finger along the jaw line. My poor love. But
he is right to be afraid, my finger moves to his neck and down his jugular and
into the small cut I’ve made at the base of his throat. I let my finger slip into its soft, comfortable warmth, my
fingernail scraping against his bone.
This
is my latest love and yet his name escapes me.
But who needs names when their screams identify them, each and every one
in my head. This one has a scream so rich and pure, it makes my lust for him
seem just as pure. As my finger
slowly enters him, deeper and deeper I lean forward and place a kiss on his
lips, there I bite the skin, just enough for his precious fluid to fill my
mouth. My finger extends the wound,
just slightly; my other hand reaches down to play with his cock, delicately
playing it until he can’t help himself anymore. Again I look into his eyes
“
You see my love, I knew you would like this as much as me” I say this knowing
that he can no longer deny it, his tongue is sitting in a jar next to me.
I carefully removed it yesterday, savouring every moment, watching as the
skin broke and blood welled. I know
just how to do these things, how to make the pain last, how to enjoy every
moment of it, for I have a lot of practice.
I see the fear well again in his eyes, the fear that he is really
enjoying the true pleasures of the flesh. I
take a step back, removing my finger from his beauty.
I look at my handy work, this body, hanging, hands bound by chains above
his head, his feet chained to the floor. His
entire body laced with feather like cuts, just deep enough to draw blood, all
healing at different paces. I’ve
only loved him for a day and already I know I want him forever, for him to stay
chained in my cellar, my secret love, and one I can enjoy for months, if only he
isn’t weak like the others. As my
cutthroat razor makes another incision along his torso, from his neck to the
delicate curls of his pubic hair I smile as I watch the blood spring forth, I
lick the blood from his body, enjoying his flavour, that sweet blend of sweat
and terror. I gently kiss his
forehead.
“
Now my love I’m going to tell you a story, I’m going to tell you of all my
other loves and why you have the pleasure of enjoying my company”
With
that I curl up on my sofa, his wonderful body filling my view.
I take up the jar, which contains his tongue, and stare in to its depths
turning it around slowly as I do so.
“
I was born, yes born, for the first time, in the spring of 1975, a beautiful
clear day which my parents deemed to be most auspicious. I will not give away my birth name for it means nothing to me
now; it was never really me, such a disappointment to my parents.
But nevermind that, needless to say I never lived up to the hopes my
parents had for me. I was the
disillusionment of their dreams, the child who finds beauty in things they
abhorred. Lucky for me I had a
younger brother who fulfilled their every wish. I was happy he came along; it took the pressure from me, left
me free to find myself and enjoy my life. My
childhood itself is pretty uneventful (I smile) yes I know it’s hard to
believe. The only real high point
was when I found out where true beauty lies.
I was ten years old and our pet dog was shot dead by some angry farmer.
No one else was home when it happened, so I sat with him while he died,
watching the blood ooze from the wound, I remember taking some of it and putting
it in a jar. I still have that jar
you know, I sealed it tight, airtight and hid it in my room.
But soon this wasn’t enough, I had to know where all this beautiful red
fluid came from. I stole a knife
from the kitchen, making sure it was sharp and I cut in to him.
I didn’t know where I cut, but I was lucky, I cut him like I just cut
you, from the soft neck to his flaccid cock.
I opened him up as much as I could, which I admit wasn’t much.
I was too young to be able to wrench open his ribcage, but as soon as I
saw the long string of his intestines I knew beauty in its purest form.
I plunged my hands into him, pulling out his insides and wrapping them
round me, revelling in being covered in blood, I licked it from my hands and
nibbled on his liver. I was in
heaven. I don’t know what made me
enjoy this the way I did, I guess some people are built that way.
I know psychologists spend hours analysing and speculating, but this is
the only time I can truly put my finger on that opened up the world of red
exquisiteness. But at the same time
I knew that my parents would be angry, after I had explored as much of him as I
could, as soon as I’d tasted every part of him, I tried to hide my handy work
and jumped in to the shower.
Do
you want to know how angry my parents were when they found dear fido?? They
cursed every god and goddess; they blamed man and his fascist government that
let sickos like that free. It was
then I knew that it was only me who saw this loveliness, this divine
magnificence. I was always careful
from then on, I spent time in the woods near my home, setting traps for rabbits
and other wildlife. After only a
few months I had a whole collection of bodies, or more correctly parts of
bodies, stashed away in my hideaway. It
wasn’t until I hit puberty that my need for more became apparent.
I soon realised that I was sexually excited by the site and smell of
blood, that rubbing rotting flesh onto my living skin could make me come.
The need to kill became more desperate, I would sit at my desk looking
out of the window and when I looked down I’d I had drawn a man naked and cut
open, I would go to the library and read books on anatomy, learned the names of
the gorgeous lumps of flesh that made my nipples hard and my breath run fast.
My porno collection became medical dictionaries, flicking through their
precious pages I would masturbate.
Do
not look so shocked my love, for I see you are enjoying my story,” I say as I
notice his cock is again hard and swollen.
I kneel before it, taking it into my mouth, sucking, nibbling and running
my teeth along the shaft, I hear his attempts to moan, deep in his throat, I dig
my teeth in harder and feel his precious blood in my mouth, the sounds he makes
making me want to open him up there and then, to feel his kidney wet on my face,
to wrap his intestines around my waist and to rub the ends on my cunt.
But I resist and pull back, his semen dripping from the corner of my
mouth, mixed with blood. I return
to my seat to carry on my tail.
“
Did you know my darling, that I didn’t find this kind of love until I was
twenty years old. While I studied
at university, I won’t bore you with subjects as you can probably guess, I
managed to try a few “ normal” relationships, but found that the feel of
living breathing flesh inside me left me cold.
Lover’s fingers massaging me could do nothing; I was so frustrated that
I nearly killed my first true lover as soon as I saw fear in his eyes. But I restrained myself.
I
went to a kinky s and m club, dressed as I was in borrowed PVC. I walked around the club for hours, watching dominatrix after
dominatrix whip bound men. I though
I might get by with that, with inflicting pain on living willing flesh, but to
no avail. I could only see one end
for them and it wasn’t life. I
became the queen of tricks, seeming innocent and yet strong. Do you know I used to spend most days working out, developing
muscles so I could restrain my victims? Men
are always so much stronger than women and I always had to find a way of
weakening them beyond their ability to fight me off.
But luckily for me it’s amazing how many men want to be tied up or down
and whipped. I was always careful
never to be seen leaving with any one man, always arranging to meet them outside
or far from the club. It’s strange my love for never once did I fear for my own
life, until that night, but I rush ahead. My
first lover was as beautiful as you, his long black hair to his waist, shining
under the light of my lamps. His
figure was lean, not muscular, he was whippet thin, I could see his ribs through
the tender flesh and that excited me beyond imagining. I took him to my cellar, not this one, but one very much the
same, there I tied him down with ropes, I gagged him and took out my razor.
Oh the fear in his eyes was delicious, I decided I would have to eat part
of him, take him in to me, to never be without him again.
I made my favourite cut, seeing his eyes widen and hearing the gurgling
in his throat as he tried to scream. But
sitting astride this beauty I didn’t care, carefully I peeled back the skin,
running my tongue along the wound, as I did for you, thrusting my hand into his
tender flesh, letting it fill me, cover me.
I licked at blood as it clotted on my sheets.
His cock deep inside me as I did this I came again and again.
After this I knew I could never turn back.
It
wasn’t until a couple of years later that I came up with the idea to make my
lovers last forever. Disposing of
them is such a sad job, for despite the fact that I know they are in me, in a
way they are still leaving me; I am always abandoned in the end. But this way
they never really leave, and I am not the only one who gets to see their true
beauty their inward, deep splendour. And
(I grin) it makes me money and brings me lovers such as you, those who wish to
worship at my feet, to learn my art, to find out how I capture such realism in
my work. Well my love in a while
you will really know, for you are my next piece, the centre for my new
exhibition.”
I
lean back and watch him absorb what I say, I see the horror in his eyes, the
despair, oh the joy of knowing what I will do to him will expose all this to the
world, that he will be immortal in plaster, living forever in the home of a rich
or artsy couple, such as my parents. I
laugh at the irony, an all consuming laugh which bubbles it’s way up my body,
making me shake and tears to spring from my eyes.
I
stand up and move towards him, I run my fingers through his sweat coated hair
and gently kiss the tip of his nose. Returning
to my seat I start to speak again
“
But my love, you above all others deserve my whole story, for you are to be the
pinnacle of my work, and I will entrust to you more than you could ever wish to
know. Despite my best efforts my work came to the attention of someone, and this
man searched me out and let me lead him to my studio.
There he changed everything, he made me something more, he took my
humanity but left me my art. He
gave me gifts beyond your human mind could ever believe so that I could further
my work, explore new and deeper deaths. With
his kiss I learned how to keep my work alive longer, a mere drop of my blood
will heal you and make you like new, for me it’s like having a fresh canvas to
work on, to open up again your beauty. To
truly feast on you as I never could before.
But my love even for you I will not tell you the how or the why, I am
sworn to hold that secret, even to my lovers.
And my darling, you are the best of them, I love you more than any of
them, and I’ll keep you in my arms, keep your precious heart beating for as
long as you promise to love me in return”
I
stop and wait for the nod of the head that they always give, I know they always
hope that I will weaken at the last and let them go, or end the pain.
Pain, he hasn’t seen pain yet. I
grin as I think of what I’ll do to him before that pure, strong heart beats
for that last sweet moment. Before
I can take it in my hand, sink my teeth deep and feel the flesh in my mouth, the
blood flow down my throat, sweet as nectar.
Suddenly I am angry, I can’t truly enjoy my lovers anymore, I can’t
take their flesh into mine, I can’t feel that bliss as their inner body joins
with mine. No more that feeling, only their blood now.
When he told me I didn’t believe him and my first lover after the
change I ate, only to throw it all back up seconds later.
The taste gone, the beauty gone. Why
didn’t he tell me before?
In
anger I dig my nail into the wound on my lover’s neck and savagely rip
downwards, I stop myself before I can spoil him forever.
“
Damn, damn it all” I scream as I storm out of the room, he is supposed to be
my masterpiece.” I stop and remember my blood.
Turning round I stalk back in and bite into my wrist, forcing my blood
into his mouth
“
Drink damn you” I can still feel my anger, but as my blood gently slides down
his throat and the wound heals up I calm down.
“
I’m sorry, my love, I shouldn’t have shouted at you that way, but sometimes
I just get so angry, so frustrated, and I shouldn’t take it out on you my
love” I kiss the place where the wound was, small light butterfly kisses, I
kiss his stomach, letting my tongue explore his belly button. I stop myself there; he has had enough for today.
I kiss him on the lips, softly at first then harder, pushing my tongue
between his lips, exploring him in a way I haven’t done for years.
With that I turn and walk away.
I
climb the stair up to my studio and look at my sketches, the myriad poses, the
expressions I want to draw from him before he dies, as they all do in the end.
Out of habit I pick up a cigarette and light it, well at least that
won’t kill me anymore. I smile as the phone rings, picking it up I answer:
“
Good evening, Zenith Arts here, how may we help?”
It’s
my agent, letting me know that my new exhibition has got the go ahead.
In that moment I am both happy and devastated, for I know I must loose my
lover for the sake of my art, but then I see him, cold, hard, white, on a
pedestal being admired by millions, just like Michael Angelo’s
“ David”. The smile
grows across my face, as I set to work planning the cuts I will make along his
tender velvet skin, the needles I shall insert into his veins.