Heart in a Box

by Syra Bond

  Pastor Wick’s voice broke my reverie. It was like being woken from a deep sleep - like being yanked back into a world that had seemed lost.

  ‘Ah, Syra, I see the sight of blood inflames you. The germ in you cannot be resisted. Can you smell it? Can you already taste it on your lips? Here, come closer. Put your lips against her delicate neck. Lick out your tongue; touch the fragrance that calls us all to the source. Here, Syra, come and drink at the well of life. Your little elf is waiting to give you her essence. Here, sup at the wounds that I have made for you, drink from them they are not yet healed.’

  I felt myself stepping forward. Everything he said made sense. Yes, I wanted to drink from her - needed to drink from her. Nothing else mattered. I walked closer to Sparky. It was as if I was in a trance. Her eyes widened even more. She nodded her head, as if trying to tell me something. Her excitement was overflowing, boiling out of her. She was frantic. I raised my eyebrows, to show her I didn’t understand, but really all I was thinking about was the wounds in her neck and the blood that was still flowing from them. All I could think she was trying to say was “Drink from me! Drink from me!”.

  I didn’t notice him taking hold of the box - I had completely forgotten I had it! I watched him slipping it from my grasp, but its loss meant nothing to me. All I could think of was Sparky’s neck, the taste of blood and my need to feed on it - to drink it, to have it within me, to know her completely through it.

  Suddenly, he pushed me forward. I stumbled and fell. He drove his knee into my back, pulled my arms behind me and tied them tightly together. It all happened in a second. The next thing I knew he was dragging me over to the bed. He threw me down and lashed my ankles together. I rolled onto my side unable to get up. I twisted and writhed - filled with panic, terrorised by my sudden captivity, horrified by the way I had lost control of myself.

  It was pointless trying to free myself. I lay on my side, my heart pounding and gasping for breath. I watched Sparky still animated and excited, still nodding her head, still trying to tell me something that still I didn’t understand.

  Pastor Wick stroked my forehead.

  ‘Oh, Syra, this could have been so much easier for you. You know we must have you back - the flock is nothing without you. But you don’t have to go willingly. Your agreement is irrelevant. The next thing you know you will be there again, in Pacific Heights. In fact you may not even know that. I may keep you sedated so that the flock can feed without hindrance. You don’t need to be conscious to be of service. Just think of it, Syra. Think how marvellous it will be. They will come to you daily; they will wait patiently for their turn to feed. They will use the same wounds I expect, although some of them will sometimes want to start afresh. Your neck is the best place, but some will want to use the insides of your thighs, or under your arms - all good places to draw your special blood. And you will know nothing of it. Syra! Don’t you find that so exciting? You will sleep through it all.’

  The thought made me shiver - my blood ran cold with the thought of it. I squirmed against my bonds, but it was useless, they were far too tight.

  He ran his hands down my neck and onto my breasts. He encircled them and pinched my nipples through the thin material that covered them. He slid his hands down the front of my stomach and down between the tops of my thighs. He squeezed his fingers against my cunt. The material of my dress was folded over his hand and the movement of it against my flesh sent a rush of excitement through me. I shivered again, but this time not in fear but with exhilaration. He lifted the hem of my dress and looked at my slit - I had no panties on. He pressed my knees wide and held them apart. I tried to push them together - not knowing why - but he was strong and it was impossible anyway.

  ‘That is such a sweet slit,’ he said running his fingers along the soft crack.

  I felt the harshness of his nails against the sensitive folds and, because he was no longer holding my knees apart, and even though I knew I didn’t want to, I quickly brought my legs together.

  ‘That was a mistake, Syra,’ he said angrily.

  He reached back and held up some thin leather laces. I stared at their potential and my stomach filled with anxiety. He wound one around my left knee and stretched it over to one of the legs of the bed. He pulled it tight, yanking my knee down against the bed before tying it off. He did the same with my right knee. I was spread out completely. I felt so exposed, so prone, so open. My slit was splayed wide, the glistening valley of flesh at its centre so open and bare. I wriggled against my bonds and could turn my shoulders from one side to the other, but my hips and legs were firmly fixed by the tightly pulled laces.

  He stretched out his fingertips and ran his long nails along the exposed flesh. It sent shivers through my hips and, when I struggled to move and realised I could not, the shivers intensified. He did it again. The thrilling shivers ran into my anus. I felt it dilating. I couldn’t stop it. I squeezed my buttocks together and the sensation only deepened.

  ‘Before you go to sleep, you might appreciate help with your dreams. Yes, if your life is to be only dreams, let them be drawn from memories which gave you pleasure. And not only memories of past events but memories of what you wished for, what you anticipated. And aren’t the best things, Syra, those expectations, those yearnings, those hopes? Think how it feels right now, Syra. Are you wondering what will happen? Are you thinking of the things I might bring to you? Are you anticipating the joys that might come? Are you imagining that beautiful thought that will stay in your mind forever? Of course you are. And they are the root of your pleasure. Imagine this state fixed in your mind, Syra, forever there, forever in your dreams. Imagine, Syra, dreaming forever.’

  He grabbed the arms of the chair Sparky was bound to. He dragged it closer to the bed. He grasped her by the hair and held her face so that she was looking straight at me.

  ‘Your little friend can watch. Perhaps she will enjoy the show? Yes, I can see she is already excited by the prospect! And when you dream your eternal dream you will be able to see her face forever looking at you, enjoying you, wanting you.’

  Sparky’s eyes were wide. I stared at her pink panties pulled so tightly against her cunt. She looked so fresh and delightful. She shook her head from side to side, trying to free herself, trying to throw the strap from her mouth. She was seized with desire, filled with purpose. I could only think she wanted to free herself so that she could bury her head between my legs, suck at my cunt, lick it, and probe it with her tongue.

  Pastor Wick unbuckled his brown leather belt. He drew it out of the loops at the waistband and wound it around his hand. Its brass, heart shaped buckle twinkled as it picked up reflections of light from the spluttering gas fire. It was as if the belt itself had flames at its end - a blazing heart ready to burn itself into my very soul. The image scorched itself into my mind.

  He opened his hand and let it unfurl. It was long and broad. Its hard glossy edges shone like strips of light. Its shaped end, forked and with serrated holes for the pin, was like the tongue of a venomous snake. I pictured it flicking out at me - threatening me with its poison, terrorising me with its potential for my destruction.

  I realised my mouth was open - gaping, hanging loosely as if I had been put into a trance. I tried to close it and realised I couldn’t; I had lost control, my terror had taken me over.

  He stood back and smiled. It was that look of arrogance, of mastery over me, which finally overwhelmed me. With that one arrogant grin my fear, already making me shake with terror, turned to an uncontrollable panic that dissolved everything I could hang onto into an ungraspable fluid of dread. Everything that had happened to me had led me here, everything that I had tried to achieve had failed, and now I was tied out like a captured beast before my tormentor, exposed and waiting for his punishment, entirely at his mercy, my destiny at his whim. And there would be no end to it. He planned a life of sleep for me, a life where my blood woul
d service the ends of others but of which I would be unaware. The horror of it all descended over me like a dark poisonous cloud. I was buried beneath it, choking on it, my lungs stuffed with the awfulness of it all, my mind filled with revulsion and despair.

  He was careful to aim the belt so that it landed precisely at right angles across the slit of my cunt. The picture of it coming down was terrifying but when it struck, the impact, the penetrating pain, the dragging of my flesh, the burning, the shock of it all was so great that I screamed louder than I could ever have believed possible. He held back on the second, watching my contorted face, seeing my twitching uncontrolled body, witnessing my twisting hips and squirming shoulders. When he had seen enough, he took aim again. I didn’t know if I could stand it, and yet I didn’t know what failing to stand it meant. Would I pass out? Is that what he wanted? Would this punishment itself be the sedative that would drive me into the lifelong unconsciousness he had planned?

  The leather belt fell again on its target. It pulled sideways at the flesh of my cunt. I howled. It was so heavy. Its smacking sound filled my head. The next time it came down, I couldn’t hear anything - I was screeching before it even landed.

  I thought of looking over to Sparky but I couldn’t lift my head. Another smack came down, another howl, followed by another and yet another screech of pain. Some of the blows struck my anus - I felt it dilate then contract. Some of them struck the backs of my outspread thighs, some the insides of my knees, but always in the end he returned to my cunt, always he found his aim again across the slit of my most sensitive flesh. And when he did I was totally consumed by the pain it inflicted - everything else was driven from my mind.

  I opened my eyes and stared up at him. I thought of it as my last sight. I imagined capturing the image of him in my mind forever; knowing my punisher, seeing his face burned into my brain for eternity.

  He pulled the belt back. I could not tense again, any resistance or reaction I had was now gone. He held it there. I waited, expecting this to be my final image. But he did not bring it down. I waited and still nothing happened. He struggled, as if fighting with himself, as if his body was unable to carry out his brain’s instructions. He twisted and turned. A shadow was about him - a dark creature on his back! I thought it was a devil, an evil presence come to commend me to hell. The shape clawed at his face, I saw its hands covering his eyes, its fingers grasping the corners of his mouth. A flurry of bright red hair appeared behind his head. It was not a devil clawing against his back. It was Anicka!

  I was still jerking with pain as I watched her wrestle him to the ground. He fell sideways under the combined weight of her body and the frenzy of her attack. She was manic - her face filled with purpose and anger, her limbs, agile and wild as she pounded him with her fists, clawed at him with her finger nails, bit into his ears with her gnashing teeth, and kicked at him with the pointed toes of her wrinkled leather boots.

  He dropped heavily to the floor, his head banged hard against the gas fire. He was limp and unconscious by the time his arms had settled loosely by his side. A spurting flame erupted from the fire as if to testify to her victory.

  Anicka crawled away from him, like a tide-washed crab, she scuttled to Sparky and dragged the leather strap from her mouth.

  Spit flew from Sparky’s mouth.

  ‘Syra! Syra! Look at my panties! Do you like them? They are pink like before. Do you like the way they cover my cunt so tightly? Syra! Syra! It’s so exciting!’

  She couldn’t keep still as Anicka released her. Straightaway, she rushed over and began helping me free. I dropped back still with my legs apart. Sparky dropped her face between them, splaying her open mouth across my flesh, filled it with her tongue and covered it with her spit. My fear and pain was immediately replaced with an overwhelming feeling of delight. It was as if angels had suddenly transported me from the bowels of hell and dropped me into paradise. I was being licked by an angel, pampered by a heavenly elf whose only concern was my happiness. I closed my knees around her head and squeezed her face as close as I could. I knew she couldn’t breathe and I felt her holding her breath. I knew she would stay there until I was ready to release her.

  She gasped when I let her go. She sat up straight on the edge of the bed and placed the flat palms of her hands against the sides of her face.

  ‘Syra! I have had such a time! I was waiting for you. I knew you’d come. And you’ve brought Anicka with you - dear Anicka. Now we can all be best friends!’

  She threw herself forward and again buried her face against my cunt. I felt her lapping at it, sucking at the flesh, biting at my clitoris. Anicka watched, stroking Sparky’s back tenderly, happy again just to be with her and be counted as her friend.

  Sparky drew back again breathlessly, kissed me on the mouth, sucked at my nipples one by one then jumped down and picked up the box which had fallen to the floor. She placed it next to some passports on the small table with the green baize top. She looked amongst them, retrieved one and held it up as a prize.

  ‘Here you are, Syra! At last! The mission is complete! We have found your passport!’

  I smiled at her - she looked so happy, so charming, so pleased.

  ‘Yes, Sparky, the mission is complete.’

  Excitedly, she picked up another two passports and looked quizzically at the pictures on them.

  ‘Syra! Here is Anicka and me. But why do we have different names? Syra! Why do we have different names? I feel lost, Syra. I’m all mixed up. I feel as if I don’t know who I am. What’s happening, Syra. Tell me, please, what’s happening? I am not me. Anicka is not Anicka. Syra, please help me, please!’

  ‘Sparky, it’s so - ’

  ‘Oh, Syra! It’s so exciting! The mission is complete!’

  I stared at the box. Sparky saw me and shared my gaze. Her eyes lit up. The box was at the centre of all that was going on. Suddenly, I was transfixed with it. In this room, with all the horror and fear, still with Pastor Wick lying on the floor, with Sparky and Anicka, and knowing we must get out - still with all these things I had to look inside!

  I opened it! I just grabbed the clips on the side, undid them and flung it open!

  The heart inside was wrapped in cling film. There had been ice around it, but it had been too long and now it was melted. The melt water flowed out as soon as the box was opened. The heart was more brown than red, its entire surface covered by the shiny cling film that helped it keep its shape. This was Father Dawson’s heart - the very organ that kept his evil alive. I couldn’t believe it! I took it out - it was heavy. I nodded to Sparky. She sat on her hands, hardly able to control her excitement - bobbing up and down, licking her lips, and jogging from side to side.

  I unwrapped the heart carefully. It lost its shape as the covering came off. I held it in my hands - flaccid and wet, oozing blood, the arteries and veins that connected it now whitened and hard.

  Anicka draped her arm around Sparky’s shoulders as they both moved closer.

  There was only one thing to do. I knew that I must consume it. I didn’t feel apprehensive. There was no revulsion, no horror, I just needed to eat it.

  I offered it to Sparky. She opened her mouth as it approached. I pushed it forward, knowing she shared my wish, that her only desire was to feed on it. She was infected by Pastor Wick. The heart would consolidate that infection - now she would know the taste of the original master. It touched her lips. The stale blood ran down her chin. She opened her mouth wide and began to tighten her jaw onto the muscular flesh. I leant forward. I couldn’t hold back any longer - the yearning for it was running through me in huge waves. As she brought her teeth down into the heart so I did the same - biting into it as she did, holding it between us, kissing through it, eating the flesh of it, sucking up its brown blood, gnawing on its sinewy tissues, feeding on its evil.

  Sweat rolled down my cheeks as we fed, its salt add
ing piquancy to our feast. I watched Sparky’s eyes - bright, enlivened, full of vigour and energy. Our lips kept touching as we ate the heart. In the end we were only kissing - our mouths open, our tongues probing, our banquet complete, our appetites satiated.

  Finally we lay back on the floor. Sparky’s face was covered in blood, her legs were wide open, her pink panties still pulled tightly against her cunt. I leant over and licked along the gusset. I pulled it away at the edges and tasted her bare flesh - soft, delectable, sweet.

  I listened to the gas fire spluttering as I licked her deeper. I felt so hot. I heard Pastor Wick moan - he must be coming to. I had forgotten he was even there. Suddenly there was a strange muffled bang. I felt the pressure of it against my skin - hot and forceful. I turned and saw huge yellow flames pouring from the front of the gas fire. The carpet was already alight.

  I jumped up and stood by the French windows. Anicka was already on the balcony. Thinking only of escape I ran to her. The flames were now reaching around the chair that Sparky had been bound to

  ‘Sparky! Sparky!’ I called out. ‘Quickly! We must get out!’

  ‘The box! Syra! Your passport! Our mission!’

  She stood on the other side of what now was a wall of flames. It was like a curtain between us. She had the box open and was pushing some paper or something into it. She seemed oblivious to the threat of the flames around her. Pastor Wick was by her side, struggling to his feet, holding his bleeding head. Sparky reached out to me, as if she suddenly realised she must try and escape, but the flames were already too fierce for her to break through and the curtain of flames drew together and parted us completely.