Selene couldn’t even get off on her own and no man or woman had ever brought her to climax. Her sexual trysts always ended with her kicking some loser out of her apartment and trying desperately to satisfy herself with the help of one of her battery-powered friends or with her cursing and breaking things before collapsing to the bed in tears. She was tired of being sexually frustrated. That’s why she’d been so intrigued by Joe and his unique style of passion.
She lifted the filet knife from where she’d dropped it on the floor beside Mark’s body. It was coated in a thick sheen of blood. Selene brought it over to the sink and washed it off under the faucet. She shook it dry and then sat back down at the table and sliced off a piece of meat. The knife slid easily through the moist, tender flesh. It looked a lot like turkey or lean pork. She brought the meat to her lips and bit into it. The taste wasn’t bad. She took another bite and then another and another, slicing off piece after piece, hungry for that orgasmic tidal wave that Joe described. She began ripping off chunks of the meat with her hands and cramming it into her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
Eighteen
A week went by without a letter from Selene, then a month, and then two. Joe wrote to her every day with no reply. He accused the guards of keeping his mail from him, but Cindy had assured him that no mail had been withheld. Selene had forgotten him.
Today, Cindy had finally managed to change her work schedule to the morning shift, midnight to eight a.m. They had been flirting for weeks and tonight they would finally consummate their mutual affections. She came for him just after midnight. Cindy unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was too dark to see anything, but he knew it was her. She was wearing the perfume he’d asked her to, the same kind Alicia had worn: White Shoulders. Her skin smelled fresh and clean. She’d washed for him. He stepped forward and inhaled the intoxicating scents.
“Cindy?”
She kissed his lips to quiet him. It was the first time he’d been kissed by anyone in several years. Alicia had been the last woman he’d embraced before being caged.
“Shhh. Don’t say anything. I could lose my job if anyone catches us.”
Joe didn’t say another word. Cindy took his hand, and he allowed himself to be led from his cell, down the hall, to the stairwell. The stairwell smelled of both urine and disinfectant, as if it had been recently cleaned but the cleaner had missed a few spots or his work had literally been pissed on.
The prison library was in the basement. All the inmates were locked down for the night, so the basement was completely empty. They passed the laundry, the kitchen, and the exercise yard. Joe stared longingly at the yard used by the inmates in general population. It had a basketball court, a wall for playing handball, and even a weight training area. He wished Selene had not abandoned him; even if he never escaped, just being allowed back amongst his fellow inmates would have made an immeasurable difference in the quality of his life.
They made it to the library without incident and Cindy used her keys to let them in. Bookcases lined the walls and filled every available space, arranged in even rows just slightly wider than Joseph’s shoulders. There were several eight-foot banquet tables with chairs and even a couple of computers, though Internet usage was restricted. Two small windows located at the top of the wall above the bookcases let in light from the spotlights in the yard, illuminating the room with a blue-white glow like starlight. In the daytime, the place would have looked just like any library you’d see in the average inner-city high school. At night it looked eerie and haunted.
The glow from the guard tower’s roving spotlights made shadows dance and rage across the room. The smell of Cindy’s perfume, the touch of her hand in his, enflamed his senses and made the monster rage in Joseph’s pants. He could smell her slow-burning soul, smoldering with the scent of blood and flame. His mind was a riot of lascivious images of sex and death. Joe tried his best to bring the monster under control before the door closed behind them and they were completely alone.
Cindy turned and locked the door. “Has anyone ever told you you look just like Superman? The same black hair and blue eyes. Even your amazing body. Except for your teeth. Why did you file them down like that?”
Joe squinted at her. “You haven’t read my file? You didn’t read about me in the news?”
“I know a little about you. They said you ate a woman. Is that true? Did you do it?”
“Yes.” Cindy took an involuntary step backward. “Why? I mean, why did you kill her?” “I loved her and she asked me to.” “Do you want to kill me too?” “I won’t kill you, Cindy.”
The searchlight outside passed by the library window, illuminating the room briefly. Joe could see Cindy’s bottom lip trembling in fear. She’d apparently just realized the reality of her situation. She was alone in a room with a serial killer and nobody knew where she was.
“What if I wanted you to? What if I wanted you to eat me?”
“Do you?”
“N-no. No, I don’t. I just want you to make love to me.”
“Then come closer.”
Officer Cindy Addison stepped into Joe’s arms, pressed her soft, trembling body to his unyielding flesh … and the monster roared.
Part III
Drunken Long Pig
One medium-size adult 150 to 160 lbs
2 gallons vegetable oil
2 gallons sesame oil
3 tablespoons ginger root, shredded
2 gallons Chinese wine
2 1/2 tablespoons salt
1 cup sugar
2 cups fresh cilantro
Drown one medium-size adult (male or female depending on personal preference) in 1 gallon of Chinese wine until reasonably intoxicated. This works as a sedative and helps marinate the meat.
Heat oil in large pot or steel tub big enough to accommodate one adult.
Add drunken adult and fry for 1 minute.
Add remaining rice wine and stir-fry until tender and brown. Add ginger. Blend in salt and sugar.
Serve immediately with cilantro for garnish.
Nineteen
Cindy would barely look at him. She hurried past his cell as she walked her rounds. Her uniform hid the scratches, bruises, and bite marks. Joe had been unable to completely control himself. He’d drawn blood in several places but he’d retained enough self-control to keep himself from tearing her apart. Her bruises would heal. At least the ones that could be seen.
As soon as she’d closed the door, all the tender words, all the loving caresses he’d intended had fled his consciousness. All that remained was the monster’s ravenous hunger and lust. He took her down like a wolf taking down a fawn. His sharp canines dug into the back of her neck, piercing the skin.
“Ouch! Wait! That hurt!”
Blood filled his mouth and Joe eagerly gulped it down. The taste was maddening. He pushed her to the floor and dragged her pants down to her ankles.
“Easy, Joe! Easy! Slow down.”
Joe nodded. He reached out and rubbed her massive buttocks. He squeezed and caressed it lovingly. Slowly, he removed her red, lace thong.
“You like it?”
“I love it. I adore it!”
Cindy smiled while wiping the blood from the back of her neck. “You hurt me.”
“Let me kiss it and make it better.”
He grabbed her by the hips and pulled Cindy’s ass toward him. He kissed and sucked each pale globe. “It’s so beautiful. You’re exquisite.”
He buried his face between her buttocks and slid his tongue inside her, flicking his tongue from her rectum to her vagina and back.
“Oh, Jesus! Oh God, Joe!”
He dug his hard fingers into her hips, bruising the skin and leaving the impression of his hands in the soft, doughy flesh as he pulled her closer, fucking her puckered anus with his tongue. His eyes rolled backward in his skull. He saw into his own mind. His inner consciousness, at all the things the monster wanted to do with Cindy Addison. He abruptly withdrew his tongue and fli
pped her over onto her back. Cindy spread her legs and purred, grinding her pelvis in the air.
“Fuck me, Joe,” she moaned.
“Yes.”
He pulled off his prison clothes and lay on top of her, entering her quickly, desperate to fuck the gruesome thoughts from his mind. He fought hard to suppress the voracious beast roaring within him, straining to get out, to feed. As much as he desperately wanted to indulge his feral instincts, to let the monster out to play, if he killed her now he’d be stuck in supermax forever. They would bury him in one of the strip cells until he went completely mad and tore out his own throat with his fingernails.
She was tighter than expected. His cock was so swollen with blood it felt like it had gained an inch on its already impressive length and girth. Cindy gasped as he eased the tip in and then screamed as he rammed the rest of his length deep into her loins.
“Oh, God. You’re so huge!”
Once inside her he pounded her sopping wet vagina with maniacal fervor. The monster wanted blood, and if he couldn’t tear it from her flesh he would fuck the blood from her sex, ripping her wide. But the monster was still not satisfied. He pounded harder and harder as it fed him images of her beautiful ass and all the fun he could have biting chunks from it. Delirious fantasies of cannibalizing her labia and clitoris, biting off each delicate fold one at a time flashed through his mind as he thrust deeper, harder, faster.
“Oh my, God. Joe. It hurts! It hurts so good! Fuck me harder, Joe. Harder!”
He withdrew from her and flipped her over, entering her from behind so he could watch the bounce and jiggle of that most perfect ass. Joe grabbed her by the hips again and pulled her forward to meet each thrust.
“Oh shit, Joe! Oh shit! I’m cumming! Oh God!” Her body trembled and shook. Her already tight pussy contracted as the orgasm wracked her body. The sensation was overwhelming and Joe could feel his own orgasm building. Joe licked his thumb to coat it in saliva and then eased it into Cindy’s ass. He slid his cock out of her vagina and replaced his thumb with his engorged and throbbing sex organ, easing it in slowly, inch by inch.
“Oh no, Joe. I don’t think I can. I think you’re too big. I don’t think it will fit.”
But his cock slid in easily, despite its size. Her anus was slippery with the lubrication of her vaginal juices and Joe’s saliva. Joe began to slowly thrust in and out of her anus. It was even tighter than her vagina, and now his view of her large wobbly ass was at the perfect angle. Moonlight alternated with the guard’s spotlights, spilling through the window above the bookcase to illuminate her pale skin so her ass appeared to glow. Joe sped up his rhythm, thrusting harder and deeper as Cindy continued to moan. Her sounds switching from grunts and groans of pain back to cries of ecstasy and pleasure.
Joe knelt down and bit her neck again.
“Ouch! That hurts! Stop it, Joe. Don’t bite. That hurts. Stop it, Joe! STOP!”
But the blood tasted so delicious. It wasn’t the meat he craved, but it was a suitable surrogate. He bit deeper into her neck as he fucked her harder and the monster’s thoughts filled his mind. Suddenly, he erupted. He maintained his grip on her neck as he shuddered and thrashed and roared, spilling his seed deep inside her succulent ass. When he was spent, he withdrew from her and collapsed onto the rough carpet. His knees were bleeding from scraping against the floor, but even that was a welcome sensation, more proof of his existence.
He licked the rest of the blood from his lips as he lay back, staring at the light dancing across the walls and luxuriating in each tremor of pleasure. Cindy was already getting dressed. She was pressing a rag to the back of her neck that Joe realized was an undershirt. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. He’d taken great care to avoid any major arteries, but his sharpened teeth had lacerated the flesh at the base of her skull to a bleeding ruin.
“Get dressed, Joe. I need to get you back in your cell and I need to get down to see the doctor and have her stitch me up.”
“I’m sorry, Cindy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She nodded, with her back to the window so her face was obscured in shadow and Joe could not read her expression.
“Hurry up and get dressed.”
She barely spoke to him as she led him back to his cell and locked him in for the night.
“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Goodnight, Joe.”
She walked off quickly down the tier, still holding the blood-soaked rag to the back of her neck. Joe wondered what she would tell the doctors when they asked what happened. He wondered if he had fucked up his best chance for escape.
She walked past his cell several times throughout the day. He could see the bandage on the back of her neck. It wasn’t as large as he would have expected. He figured she must have had stitches. Joe wondered how many times she’d had to explain the bandage and what explanation she’d used. Running through rose bushes and being snagged by thorns? A car accident? A pit bull attack? Sex with a convicted serial killer during her watch? He was certain the latter explanation was unlikely. He was already in prison for life. There was little more they could do to punish him, but such an admission would have ruined her.
It dawned on Joe that he now had power over Officer Cindy Addison. Sex between inmates and COs was expressly forbidden, not just because of the potential for inmates to receive preferential treatment but because of the power the guards held over them. Inmates were not in any position to refuse. It was akin to statutory rape. If he told, her career was over and she might even wind up in jail. All he needed was proof of their affair. That meant he had to convince her to have sex with him again. He needed to start a new painting.
Joe took out his last remaining bag of Skittles and separated the different colors, placing a handful of each color in its own plastic cup and adding a small bit of water. He then took out a piece of typing paper and several wads of toilet paper. Painstakingly, he mixed the colors on the page, taking care this time, not letting the monster take control. It was a portrait of her, naked, a look of ecstasy on her face, her body idealized, smooth, not a wrinkle or ripple. She was bathed in moonlight, glowing. Even the fat on her hips and thighs was smooth and sensuous. Before long, Joe could sense her at his door. Curiosity had gotten the better of her and she was staring in at his painting.
“It’s you, Cindy.” Joe said.
There was no reply.
“You really are beautiful, you know? Exquisite.”
Again, no reply.
Joe opened his pants and took out his cock. He began to masturbate.
“Save it. I’ll be back later.”
Joe smiled. He hadn’t ruined everything between them after all.
It was already getting dark outside. It would be lights-out soon. Cindy was on swing shift today, probably working a double shift. If not, then her shift would end at midnight, just two hours after lights-out. That wouldn’t leave them much time. But, if she was working a double-shift, they had all night. He hoped he was in luck. Even more, he hoped he could control his violent urges this time.
Time passed with little to mark its progression. Joe had a hard time distinguishing night from day. In supermax, there were no routines to mark the passage of time except breakfast, lunch, exercise time, and dinner. Joe could not remember how long it had been since Cindy brought him his dinner.
The TV in Joe’s cell was on, another televangelist station blared an unending torrent of anti-intellectual bullshit designed to leech as much currency as possible from the legions of true-believers. Joe missed the lectures and discussions he’d participated in at school, arguing politics, religion, psychology, and sociology with his professors and fellow students. Even though they all thought he was weird and creepy, the discussions had been amazing. It was during one such discussion in Professor Locke’s abnormal psychology class that he’d first developed his theory of homicidal impulses as a symptom of a communicable disease. But, there was no arguing with the television. The dogma spewin
g forth hour after hour from the 13” TV screen embedded in the wall and covered by a steel cage was completely one-sided. Joe growled and snarled and paced in his cell. After months of this type of aural assault, it was beginning to get to him.
A black preacher in a four thousand dollar suit was talking about how God didn’t want anyone to be poor and how tithing generously would increase your economic fortunes. He was asking for everyone to donate 10 percent of their income to the church. When he spoke, he waved his hands in large grandiose gestures that displayed the platinum Rolex and diamond rings God had given him by way of his congregation’s generous tithing. Obviously he selectively ignored the part in the Bible where Jesus said a rich man has as much chance of entering heaven as a camel has of passing through the eye of a needle. Joe wasn’t sure how he managed to reinterpret that into believing God wanted everyone to be rich, but obviously his congregation had made the same cognitive leap. He wondered how many of his fellow inmates believed the same thing and how many were here because of their effort to claim their God-given right to luxurious wealth.
One thing was evident—the prison was dominated by Christians. That’s why Joe thought it was odd that they pushed religion so hard in supermax as if it were some kind of panacea for crime when obviously it hadn’t kept anyone from committing the offenses that had brought them here. It seemed odd that the prison officials expected it to work the second time, but the evangelical stations were some of the only stations they allowed in supermax. It was either religious programming or prison programming that consisted of announcements from the warden and “educational” programs on anger management and literacy, and some basic entertainment channels, primarily news, game shows, soap operas, and sitcoms. Since the guard in the control booth operated the TV, game shows, sitcoms, and even the news were rare treats. The programming on most days were never-ending streams of religious propaganda followed by patronizing videos on how to avoid conflict and other anger management tools.
Prey Drive Page 11
