Looking across at the deep-freeze I imagined the remains of Ham staring at me from within with it’s head-holes.
She had turned him. His blood — what little of it that remained — was now ageless blood. Distasteful as it was, I could surely be turned by consuming his blood just as well as my mistress’s. Once the thought crossed my mind, I knew I had to do it.
She’d be so pleased. She’d be proud of me, for having figured it out, for not having to put her through the discomfort and bother of turning me.
Eagerly, I dragged myself across the floor, enduring the waves of pain shooting through my ruined body as a mark of pride that I was enduring it for her. Shuffling and moaning and chuckling at my cleverness, I worked my unwilling body across the floor as rapidly as I could toward the deep freeze and the bloody corpse that lay within.
When I reached it, I was faced with my biggest challenge yet. In order to access the body within, I’d have to stand up. On my ruined ankles. But it was for her. For us.
Biting my lip so hard it bled, I pulled myself up with my one good arm, putting as little weight as possible on my screaming feet. With one hand for support, I used the other to lift open the lid. With it propped up against the wall, I leaned back into it, and sat on the edge, finally releasing the anguish of my lower legs.
I stopped and stared for a moment at the leaking torn apart mess that once had been a person. The ageless heart, despite its unfathomable power, had stopped when there simply hadn’t been enough blood left to pump through it’s mostly drained arteries and veins.
Mostly drained.
But not completely.
There was still plenty of blood, still hopefully fresh enough and teeming with ageless strength waiting for me.
“Thank you, Ham.”
I meant it.
Then with a moan of delight, I reached in and pulled him out. He was light like a doll. I sat him on my lap, and then buried my face into the remains of his neck and began to lap and slurp and suck. The sweet-irony taste sent waves of soothing pleasure through me. The pain in some of my injuries began to fade.
The more I took, the more I wanted. When I couldn’t get much out of the neck, I began to move my head all over the remains of the body, chomping and snapping at bits of flesh, eagerly looking for untapped veins and arteries to feed my growing thirst.
My mind began to grow clear as strength returned to my limbs. As the wreathing-fog lifted from my mind, I began to realize many things, the first of which was that I was fucking hungry. I began to rip off chunks of skin and flesh from Ham, barely chewing them as I swallowed them down. I worked on the corpse for a while, but it wasn’t enough to satiate me. He was all skin and bones, barely anything left of him after months in Cassie’s cellar.
I dropped him onto the floor and reached into the freezer. Ham was done, but there was more in there.
My mind was clear like it’d never been in my twenty-one years of life — if you could call what I’d had before now living. The first thing I pulled out was the fleshless remains of Jake’s head. I held it in front of me for a moment, chuckling, before tossing it across the room where it thudded against the wall above where Ham had been. There wasn’t much meat on that.
Reaching in for something else, I grabbed a much more likely looking piece of meat: one of the two largest cuts of flesh, which incorporated his upper thighs and rump.
I sat back on the floor and began to tear off frozen chunks of Jake. He was cold, hard, no longer fresh, and lacked the richness of Ham. I was disappointed, but it made me understand why Cassie liked to keep her meat living. And why she had turned Ham before finishing him off.
Unable to consume the frozen flesh as ravenously as I had with Ham,I worked on it slowly, instead allowing my focus to turn to my thoughts.
My mind began to whirr as realization followed realization. Not just about me, but about everything. About how the world works, about how society functions, how goddamn blind everyone fucking is.
Humans had been so held back by their own limitations. By their inbuilt prejudices, preconceived ideas and brainwashing. 99% of the rules imposed by society were nonsense, sheer ridiculousness.
Then my thoughts turned to my own life. To my own immediate circumstances.
To Cassie.
Ripping into Jake’s frozen thigh with a snarling bite another realization crossed my mind.
That bitch lied to me.
22 Cassie
I went down the stairs with an iron-strong will. This would be my last time down here and I was going to end this nonsense. I was already halfway down the stairs when my eyes flitted across the room.
Something was wrong.
The eyeless, flesh-removed head of Jake, lying on its side, was staring up at me. What the —
Faster than I could comprehend, my feet were ripped out from under me and my upper torso flew backward at an incredible rate, my head crashing so hard into the wooden steps that it broke one of them. I flew into the air like a lawn chair in a cyclone as a wicked tight grip cinched around my shins so tight the bones snapped.
Legs broken, head reeling, I found myself hanging upside down from the ceiling of my cellar, held in place by a steel cable.
I’d fucked up.
In my depraved indulgence the day before I’d fucked up as badly as anyone ever fucked up in history.
“You fucked up,” said the cellar-meat into my ear.
“No shit.”
I whipped my arm out in a fist to punch and crush his throat. He caught it like it was a ball gently tossed by a father to a young kid.
Twisting my body, I used his hold on my hand as leverage to swing my other arm around in a vicious roundhouse punch. To my delight it connected with the side of his cheek, and he began to drop to the ground, but he didn’t lose his iron-grip on my first hand.
From his lower position, he reached up and snatched my other hand out of the air. Holding both my wrists in one hand, he wrapped more steel cable around them, cinching it tight enough to cut to the bone.
“You fucked up again, bitch.”
I snarled at him.
Then my voice turned to honey.
“What’s the matter? Why are you doing this?”
“You had me. You actually had me. I believed it — your lies, the ones you told with your lips, and the ones you told with your body. You messed with my mind and made me think I was something more than another meal for you.”
Actually, you would have made many, many carefully portioned meals, asshole.
He paced around me as he spoke, his rippling muscles now flowing with ageless blood. Despite being newly turned — it couldn’t have been more than eighteen hours — he was already stronger than me.
“My mind was so desperately twisted that I would have done anything for you. Anything. You could have eaten me piece by piece, like you did to him, all the while whispering in my ear that you were doing it for my own good, and soon you’d turn me. Soon, soon, soon… that’s what you would keep telling me as piece by wretched piece you consumed me.”
I bit my lip, shaking my head at him even though every word he said was true.
“I wanted to please you. That was your mistake. I wanted to please you so badly that I crawled across this floor, despite my broken bones and broken mind. I crawled across the floor to the body of Ham to turn myself, just so that I wouldn’t inconvenience you.”
The truth of it hurt so very much. My gluttony had led to this. My lack of self-control. My lack of self-discipline.
I shouldn’t have limited myself to just once a year, because when I did, I couldn’t hold myself back. I should have done what I’d been told to do by every other ageless — feed at least every month, move around, don’t stay in one place, and only take those who won’t be missed. But I’d thought I’d known better.
I’d thought I’d known better.
“As soon as my mind cleared I realized it. Realized that you’d never had any intention of turning me. It was just a tease. Te
ll me I’m wrong.”
He looked at me pointedly. I softened my features and looked at him with imploring eyes.
“Rich, I… I’m sorry. I thought you were just another weak fool. I didn’t realize how strong you were, how powerful you were. You’re more of a man than anyone I’ve ever seen before. Together we can do anything. You and me.”
Come on asshole. Fall for my charm you dumb prick. I’ll rip your fucking throat out.
“You and me?”
I nodded my head gently. Despite being strung up from the ceiling hanging from my feet I tried to make my features look alluring. Pupils wide, mouth in a soft smile, a hint of innocence gently lay across my features.
“You and me, forever. Screw this life I’ve made here. We’ll live freely. We’ll hunt together… bring girls back to hotel rooms and vans, to their places, and ones we borrow. With our gifts we can have anyone we want. No one will be able to resist us.”
I bit my lip and let my cheeks blush red.
“We could share girls, Rich. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to see me wrap my legs around the face of a hot young babe? Then me and her could treat you like a king… before you and me tear our prey apart and fuck in a pool of her blood.”
I could see his heart beating faster under his bare chest. His cock was hard.
“We could do that?”
I nodded and motioned toward him, opening my mouth and running my tongue against my lips.
Compliantly he came toward me. I had him. I had him.
“Give it to me now,” I told him.
And he did. He pushed himself between my lips, into my mouth, back toward my throat. I had to resist the urge to bite it off right then and there — if I did I’d still be strung up and he’d be more than pissed off. No, that would have to wait.
I moaned like I was enjoying it as he held my head still and fucked my mouth.
“Are you still my fuckpuppet?” he asked in a strained voice.
A slurping moan of agreement was all I could manage as he began to furiously thrust himself in and out.
When he came I swallowed it all greedily. He was ageless now and I wanted, needed more strength.
He withdrew.
“Fuck, I love you,” I lied.
He looked down at me with a soft smile.
Gullible fuck.
“No you don’t.”
One hand grabbed me firmly around the neck to keep me still and stop me from snapping at him with my teeth. The other grabbed my upper thigh and held it still.
“No, you fucking don’t.”
Then he buried his face into my leg and bit. I could feel the blood pouring out of my leg into his mouth, his probing tongue penetrating my wounds before he bit into them again, deeper.
I screamed.
And screamed.
Until his grip tightened and he shut me up.
He squeezed and squeezed until it all went…
... black.
23 Rich
Look.
I’m keeping a diary now, instead of the tapes.
The tapes were her thing, not mine.
Kind of stupid if you ask me. I made her make one, of course. I mean, it seemed fitting, after what she’d done. I made her get it right too — even including all the insults about my intelligence and other such nonsense. It makes it more amusing, doesn’t it?
I don’t really get off on the tapes like she must have. She told me she used to listen to them while she went out jogging, or when she was bored of an evening. I think they were a kind of therapy for her, a way to limit her natural instincts to hunt and prey.
I have found one slightly amusing use for them though: sometimes when I bring a girl back, I’ll play one of them for her. It’s funny watching their expressions as they slowly go from mild curiosity, to being freaked out, to, usually, abject terror when I don’t let them turn it off. Or leave.
There was one funny occasion though with some Goth girl called Tina or Fucktard or something (I forget) who listened to one whole tape with growing excitement all the way through. By the time it finished she’d removed her panties from under her leather miniskirt and was furiously fingering herself. I had fun with that one, I tell you.
Maybe I’ll take some videos of some of my own conquests — just audio doesn’t cut it — but really, what’s the point? The problem with Cassie was that she had that futile effort at self-control, an attempt to tie down her inner-self.
Once a year.
She just wanted to hunt once a year. To limit herself to one meager adventure. Can you believe that? I can’t. It’s insane. Now I feel the power, the strength, coursing through me I know I’m unstoppable. And it’s not just that I’m powerful. I have desires and needs that I’d never known before.
Have you ever teared open a delicate young virgin with your bare hands? Have you ever ripped out her throat with your teeth and gorged yourself like a drunk on her fresh, young blood just as she orgasmed on your cock?
I hadn’t.
Now I realize I’d never lived, not really. Only the shallowest of human experiences had been open to me. But not anymore. Now my eyes are wide-fucking open and I know I can do anything.
Anything.
The built in limiting beliefs that most humans suffer from — morals, guilt — have melted away. I now see the world in crystal clarity.
And do you know what I see?
I see that it’s like ripe fruit, fresh for the plucking.
And it’s there for ME.
We’re staying in a hotel now. Not a fancy one, but a clean one, with good sound-proofing that doesn’t take too much of an interest in what you’re up to. When I arrived, I took out my toy from the canvas bag she travels in. When she’s good, I don’t drop it much.
It always makes me laugh when I look at her.
Picture it.
The prettiest face you’ve ever seen, matched by the fiercest scowl. Pissed off doesn’t even begin to do justice to the look on her face most of the time.
I usually lift her out of the bag by the hair. Because it’s convenient. And, well, if I do it suddenly enough I get an amusing little shriek.
There’s not all that much left to her now. She’s like Ham, except I didn’t fuck with her face. That’d be a waste, wouldn’t it?
Of course I had to remove her arms and legs; I couldn’t have her escaping on me; no doubt if she did, she’d soon be back for revenge. That just wouldn’t do at all.
And I didn’t want to kill her. No, no, no. It was thanks to her that I became ME. The real, unfettered, unlimited me that I would never have discovered, never RELEASED if it wasn’t for her.
So, I just spent a fun afternoon with her hanging from the ceiling, slowly taking her to (bite-sized) pieces and fucking her. I got through near a whole tank of propane feeding the blowtorch I used to cauterize the wounds as I went. Truth be told, it was lucky she was ageless already or I definitely would have lost her along the way.
I’ve let her keep her mouth, and tongue and even her teeth. She wouldn’t ever dare hurt me, because if she did… well… things wouldn’t work out well for her, would they?
I keep her well fed, too. Not only does she get laid almost as often as me, I let her feed on whatever I can’t consume.
Well, I think that’s enough for my first journal entry. It’s taken me long enough just to write this.
More later.
I’m going out now.
THE END
(Dead)endnotes and The Story of Ham
Thanks for reading the book. This is the first written by me, Crowley Barns, and only the second Barns Brothers release. There will be many, many more to come! Oh and by the way, if you haven’t read Headhunter by my MAN Warren Barns yet, then drop what you’re doing and go read it. See you in a day or two. I’ll be patient.
Read it?
Good.
Now where was I?
…
Right.
If you’ve noticed any mistakes or have any
tips or suggestions I’d love to hear from you. You can write to me at [email protected] or twitter at me at @crowleybarns. I’ve only just signed up for Twitter though, so I’m not really sure how that works haha. I’m interested to hear if you have any comments. My bro’ Warren Barns DID have a few comments on Kink — for example, he told me that Cassie shouldn’t have used the word “afeared”. I agree that it was a totally archaic and dated word, but it felt right to me — because she was like 130 years old (you do the math(s) ) . Old people use (/used to use) words like that, yo!
That reminds me of another time I wrote a romance book under a pen name. I wrote it from dual first person perspectives (like Kink), and the characters were, like Kink, both American and British. BUT I made the mistake of writing the British character entirely in British English (including British spellings) and the American character entirely in American English (including American spellings). Instead of being ‘clever’, I instead ended up being categorized as somewhere between merely ungrammatical and actually totally illiterate by most of BOTH my American AND British audiences. Oops. Colo(u)r me surprised.
It’s ok, I could(n’t) care less
Thanks to this, I tend to write purely in ‘American’ English (oxymoron? No, no, no) now except for a few pieces of dialog or internal thoughts if British (or other nationality) characters are involved. If you have noticed any errors in either my British, or my American, in Kink then please let me know. I’ve spent the entirety of my adult life outside of England, but I still sometimes forget what is “American” and what is “British/Australian/etc.”. You should have seen the mockery I got from a Canadian friend the first time he heard me pronounce the word ‘urinal’…
Anyway, if you send me corrections I won’t be pissed off and hunt you down and… put you in my next book. Promise.
Like most authors these days, I’d love it if you could signup to my mailing list. Why? Because then when I release a new book you can buy it / borrow it right away, and if you do that then Amazon will see my book is popular and its internal promotion engine might get kicked into gear… leading to more book sales! And, as an author, I’m definitely pro book sales.
Kink: An Extreme Horror Story Page 10
