Wrath James White presents Poisoning Eros I & II

by Monica J. O'Rourke

  “Does anyone in this fucking room have a backbone?” she cried.

  She tossed the girl to the floor like a forgotten toy, and then turned and staggered back down to the basement. The bitch had ruined her high.

  Part VII

  Nathan Weathers was the only son of a United States Congressman. His mother’s family were tobacco tycoons. He’d grown up in a mansion attended to by nannies and servants. He’d attended the best private schools. In college he’d begun experimenting with drugs and got hooked on heroin and cocaine, graduated to meth, and spent the last few years in and out of rehab facilities that were more like country clubs.

  Then he found religion: experimenting with Buddhism, a brief turn as a Hari Krishna, and then studying Scientology before meeting Bill Vlad after his last stint in rehab.

  Eventually he wound up at the old church on Ninth Street, enthralled now by the most amazing creature he’d ever beheld. Living proof of heaven and hell. He’d signed over his trust fund to Vlad, along with all of his worldly possessions in exchange for being among the privileged few to meet Gloria face to face in her private chambers. Nathan had never needed or wanted for anything and he had never been so scared in his entire privileged life the way he’d been last night in that basement.

  The beautiful ebon-skinned demoness had been like something from his wettest dreams and darkest nightmares. He’d almost suffocated between her thighs; his jaw had locked up and his tongue had chafed from licking her thumb-sized clitoris. When she came he’d nearly drowned in her juices, burning his throat like cheap tequila. Dying with his face between her thighs would have been a blessing to him. What he’d felt for her, from the moment he’d set eyes on her, went beyond adoration or even awe, it was more like love or a spiritual lust. Even when she’d ordered the Italian to fuck Nathan in the ass and he’d felt violated, humiliated and debased, he’d still felt honored, blessed to be in her presence, to do whatever she desired, to die for her if she commanded it. He had been terrified beyond reason yet so powerfully entranced that he couldn’t leave, couldn’t turn away. Even as she began to eviscerate and dismember the Italian and the Middle Eastern guy, neither the love swelling in his chest nor the erection straining at his core had diminished one iota. He’d found himself rooted to the spot, still enthralled by her beauty, her savagery, her raw power and sexuality, waiting for her to bring him his death, longing to feel her flesh once more even if it was rending and tearing his own. He’d closed his eyes and imagined her claws digging into his entrails, her fangs tearing out his throat and he’d nearly ejaculated. But she’d dismissed him, refused him the salacious annihilation she’d granted her other subjects. He’d been unworthy.

  Nathan couldn’t look at the other worshippers as he made his way back up the basement steps and into the main chapel. Shame raged on his cheeks, a burning reminder of his unworthiness.

  He’d touched a god, had made love to her, offered his life—and she’d rejected him. He felt like everyone around him now looked at him differently. Their questions brought tears to his eyes.

  “What was it like?”

  “Man, I thought for sure she was going to kill you.”

  “What happened to those other dudes who went down there with you?”

  Tears stung Nathan’s cheeks as he turned and ran out of the building, still naked, clutching his clothes and shoes to his chest as he dashed down the church steps and into the night. He paused at the corner to dress himself. It was raining, but Nathan appeared not to notice as he made his way through the dark streets, sobbing uncontrollably, stricken with grief and disappointment and shame.

  Nathan had been a fuck-up all his life. A disgrace to his father, a burden to his mother, and now he wasn’t even worthy of hell—not even good enough to be disemboweled and dismembered by a demon. But this was one thing he wouldn’t fuck up. Not this time. This brutal death was the only end that would make sense of his life. It would drive his parents crazy imagining how much he must have suffered, wondering how he could have volunteered for such an end. They would be forever haunted by the look of satisfaction on his face as he lay in his coffin. There was nothing left of his life; he needed this death. But first, he knew he needed to prove his worthiness to Gloria so she would take him to hell with her.

  He passed a pizzeria filled with cops, and then a newsstand attended by an old man in a raincoat who was desperately trying to pull his newspapers and magazines in out of the rain. Nathan kept walking. He passed liquor stores, and the few straggling peepshows left in post-Giuliani New York, storefront churches with signs almost indistinguishable from the peepshows except for the “Jesus Saves!” plastered in flashing bright red neon letters instead of “Live Nude Girls!”

  He turned the corner onto a dimly lit street lined with prostitutes of various ages. An array of old, young, Black, White, Asian, Puerto Rican, tall, short, slim, and morbidly obese strutting in the rain before a line of slowly cruising cars, johns feeding their disease before returning home to their wives and children or their lonely apartments. Most of the streetwalkers wore miniskirts or Daisy Dukes, some wore sheer catsuits or fishnet body stockings. Some wore only a G-string and a halter top, looking pitiful and shivering in the rain. Nathan passed a pregnant whore wearing a bikini and a fluffy pink faux-fur jacket. She looked like she was ready to drop at any moment.

  Nathan knew exactly what he needed to do to make himself worthy of Gloria. He would bring her a sacrifice.

  The handsome young son of a US congressman walked up to the pregnant whore, pulled out his wallet, and removed the last six hundred dollars he had left to his name. “How much for the whole night?”

  The whore smiled at him. It would be the last smile of her life. She snatched the money from his hands, shoved it into a tiny sequined purse, and then stuffed the purse into her skimpy bra.

  “This’ll be enough. You can call me Kitty. Where to, handsome? Where’s your car? There’s a motel around the corner, the owner knows me there.” She adjusted her breasts and shifted the purse around in her bra. “Or maybe I should get a cab? We could go to your place.”

  Her face had once been pretty but was now haggard and pockmarked, her teeth rotted from meth and crack and bad hygiene. Her breasts were bloated leaking milk sacks that stained the little pink triangles of fabric that strained against her nipples. Her legs were thick and muscular but jiggled with cottage cheese where her thighs met her gluteus maximus, which was large and round and likewise dimpled with cottage cheese. Her eyes were still a gorgeous ocean blue and her lips were still full and seductive. She even had dimples. Her hair was jet black, long and curly. She had no doubt been quite attractive at one time, before drugs and pimps and johns had leeched away her beauty. She looked like what Sandra Bullock would have looked like as a pregnant crack-whore.

  “We should walk,” he said. “It’s just a few blocks. I live at that old church on Ninth.”

  “A church?” She looked at him suspiciously.

  “It used to be. Me and a few friends are renovating it. Going to turn it into lofts or something.”

  “And these friends—they part of the bargain?” She hadn’t started walking yet and was looking around as if planning an escape route.

  “Does it matter?”

  She snorted. “Hell yeah, it matters! I’m fuckin’ with child here, in case you hadn’t noticed. I ain’t in no kind of shape for a gangbang.”

  He smiled kindly at her. “How nice of you to be concerned for your unborn child.” He cleared his throat. “It’ll just be me and my lady. Nobody else.”

  That seemed to relax her. “She wants to fuck a prostitute? Or just watch?”

  “Oh, she participates. You’ll like her. In fact, I’m sure you’ll love her.”

  “Does she eat pussy? It’s been forever since I had another bitch lick my pussy. Not since I got knocked up.”

  “I have a feeling she’ll eat the hell out of your pussy.”

  Kitty’s smile widened. “And she won’t care, me be
ing knocked up?”

  “I have a feeling she’ll be delighted by it.”

  “Well, fuck, let’s go! I feel like I should be payin’ you!”

  *

  Gloria woke from her drug-induced stupor to the sound of screaming. On the edge of the bed was a pregnant whore in a fuzzy pink jacket. She wore a pink bikini that just barely covered huge lactating breasts perched atop an enormous belly.

  The woman was screaming at the top of her lungs and backing away from Gloria’s bed. She tripped and landed on her ass but kept scooting away. The blond boy whose life Gloria had spared the night before was trying to drag the crazy bitch back to the bed.

  The whore’s screams intensified as Gloria rose from her bed. An excruciating high-pitched shrill oozed from every pore as she tried her best to scramble back up the basement steps, fighting with the blond boy, kicking and scratching at him with her long fake nails.

  Gloria was tempted to kill her just to stop her from screaming. “What’s this?” Gloria stepped off her bed, which had been decked out like a throne, encrusted with gold and diamonds and human teeth and bone.

  “A sacrifice,” he murmured, head cowed. He trembled in Gloria’s presence.

  The six-foot demoness with skin like moonlight moved quickly toward the two idiots tussling on the floor.

  “A sacrifice,” he repeated. “She’s pregnant.” He wrestled the woman onto her back so Gloria could see her bloated, stretch-marked stomach. “I thought you’d be pleased. I brought you two sacrifices, see. You can take the baby too.” He was smiling like an ape with a handful of shit.

  “Excellent.” The voice came from the stairs. Gloria and the blond boy turned as Bill Vlad waltzed down the stairs, looking more foppish than Hugh Heffner-esque in his silk smoking jacket while chomping on a fat Cuban cigar. Gloria wondered just what kind of look Vlad was attempting to pull off, and if he ever realized how absurd he actually looked.

  “How perfect, Nathan. I’m sure your goddess is pleased with your thoughtful offering. I know I sure as shit am.” Vlad smiled that unnerving stretching of the lips that revealed too many teeth. He reached down and rubbed the whore’s belly.

  The prostitute had stopped screaming and was staring at Gloria, panting rapidly, shivering, making wheezing and moaning sounds as if she was experiencing terror, shock, and withdrawal symptoms all at once.

  She reminded Gloria far too much of herself once upon a time. “I don’t want it. Get it out of here.”

  “But, Goddess …”

  Gloria kicked Nathan in the side. He crashed onto his back, grimacing in pain as he held his shattered ribs.

  She reached down and grabbed Nathan by the front of his shirt, pulling him partly off the floor. “I said get this whore out of here! Take her back to whatever street corner you got her from and never come back here again!”

  Nathan’s bottom lip trembled. He supported his busted ribs as he climbed to his feet and turned to leave, struggling to breathe, wondering if he’d punctured a lung. The whore scrambled to her feet with him, clutching his arm as if he were her protector and not the one who’d brought her here to be sacrificed.

  Vlad stepped into their path and barred the stairway. “No one’s leaving. The goddess will accept your sacrifice.”

  “No, Vlad,” Gloria started but Vlad ignored her, raising his voice to drown out her protests.

  “The goddess knows what it’s like to be human. She knows what it’s like to be human in hell. And she never wants to go through that again. Right?” Vlad chuckled, shaking his head, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth in an overtly sexual gesture that made Gloria’s skin crawl.

  “Of course, if she doesn’t want to be a goddess anymore we can always arrange for her to be human again. That way the two of us can spend the rest of eternity in hell getting reacquainted. How does that sound, lover?” Vlad smiled again and chills raced up Gloria’s spine.

  She rushed forward, grabbed the whore by the throat, and tossed her flat on her back onto the bed. The girl barely struggled, making this easier for Gloria. Vlad had made it rather clear it was either the prostitute or Gloria, and she wasn’t about to sacrifice herself for some whore. Not for a lifetime of damnation.

  Gloria stoically parted the prostitute’s legs, leaning into her to keep her still. The woman struggled a bit but she seemed paralyzed with fear, right up until Gloria began easing one talon, and then another and another until she had all five fingers up to the knuckles inside her. The girl began to kick and scream, but Gloria held her tight.

  The whore moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh God. Oh heavenly father. Oh fuck.”

  Gloria shoved her fist inside, stretching the whore’s vagina worse than any john ever had as Gloria pushed through her cervix and into her womb, seizing the fetus inside the woman’s uterus and dragging it out in an avalanche of blood and amniotic fluid.

  The whore writhed and screamed, bleeding all over Gloria’s bed. Gloria held the baby up, the umbilical cord still attached and trailing from the agonized mother’s bloodied snatch. The fetus wailed like a tortured goat.

  Vlad applauded slowly, smiling that lecherous, predatory smile. “Wonderful, Gloria. But you’re not done yet.”

  “What? I took the damned sacrifice! I took the sacrifice! I played your demon-god for you,” Gloria said, raising her arm to indicate the viscera hanging from her claws, her skin, at the vital tissue shreds and clumps of busted blood vessels that had once been on the inside of the whore now scattered on the bedspread. “She’s dead, Vlad.”

  “That’s not.” He pointed at the fetus.

  “Do what you want with it.” She held it up for Vlad to take but he shook his head.

  “I don’t want it,” he said, taking a step back. “I think maybe you need to do something more than snap its little neck.”

  “But why?” Nathan cried, stepping from the shadows. “I thought you—I thought you’d just …”

  “Just what?” Vlad demanded, moving toward Nathan. “What did you think? That we’d kill the creature’s mother and maybe send him to live with Mary fucking Poppins? That this thing would have a happy ending? Just what were you thinking?”

  Nathan shook his head and his cheeks reddened. “I-I-I-” he stammered. “I wanted to please my goddess. I didn’t think that far!”

  Vlad snorted. “And now? What did you think you’d accomplish speaking up now?”

  Nathan opened his mouth but had nothing to add. He swallowed hard.

  “Too bad, kid. I guess you didn’t think that far—again.” Vlad turned to Gloria. “There’s still too much humanity in you. You know that, don’t ya?”

  She stared at him but knew he was right, knew the empathy she felt for the whore and her progeny would be her undoing. Beneath all of her demonic flesh and might, she was still human, still Gloria. She didn’t know if this was a strength or a weakness. Right now, it felt weak.

  She was a god and shouldn’t have to constantly remind herself. She looked at the knotted cords of muscle running down her arms and the sharp talons at the ends of her fingertips, still dripping in blood. There was nothing human left in her besides her conscience, her soul. She was a demon, a goddess, a being far superior to the wretched whore she had been, the victim, far superior to these wretched creatures she still pitied. But she didn’t feel love or compassion toward them. They had, after all, never felt any for her. It was for them that she had fucked thousands of men on camera. It was for them that she’d had sex with dogs and pigs and cows and mules and horses. They were the ones watching on the other side of the computer. They were the ones buying that shit. They were the ones who could have helped her and didn’t. She had felt compassion for Angela, her own flesh and blood, and had been betrayed, had wound up in hell. Then she had done it again, given up heaven for the ungrateful brat. Was she about to be stupid again? Give up godhood for these selfish, ungrateful, corrupt, and greedy humans?

  Fuck, no.

  She felt sorry for the baby, the way on
e might feel having to put down a favorite pet. They were her pets now. They were her fuck toys. Her cattle. Her sheep. And no matter how small, they were here to do her bidding. Nothing more. If they were in her place, they would have done the same to her. They had murdered her soul and filmed it for all to see. What was the difference?

  And just like that, victim became victimizer. Gloria knelt on the bed beside the dead whore and raised her arms over her head, stretching the umbilical cord until it was nothing but a long string. The newborn wailed and kicked uselessly, its tiny bloody body too new to this world.

  “I think it misses its mother,” she said, bringing it to her face to stare at it. Vlad huffed, as if preparing to deliver another lecture on humanity, when she added, “I think I’ll reunite them.”

  Gloria took a deep breath, preparing to take a step so far outside her nature, her humanity, there would be no going back. With this act, her humanity would forever be a thing of the past. Part of her wondered if there truly was such a thing as inhuman cruelty. She wondered if there was anything so cruel that humans had not done it many times before. In Hitler’s Germany, in Darfur, Rwanda, Europe during the Inquisition? Was there any act so heinous that committing it would make you truly inhuman? Truly monstrous? Truly evil? She was about to find out.

  Grabbing the infant around its middle, she shoved it back inside the whore’s snatch headfirst, pushing the squealing newborn deep inside its dead mother’s cavity.

  “Oh, God, no!” Nathan screamed, blood draining from his face, fingernails dragging track marks down his cheeks. “Please!” he sobbed, falling to his knees.

  Gloria’s body quivered, shaken by her own cruelty, but not yet finished. She had not yet gone far enough, not yet gone beyond her own humanity, beyond child soldiers being forced to gang rape women and chop off the limbs of their own parents. She had not yet gone beyond the Nazi death camps, the human experiments, lampshades made of human skin and placed on display at museums. She had not yet gone beyond the physical interrogation techniques like burning, skinning, dismembering, dislocating limbs, and mutilating genitalia that were employed by the Christian church to ferret out witches. She hadn’t gone beyond virgins being stoned and burned alive for sinning against Allah by letting themselves get raped against their will. She hadn’t gone beyond women like her being forced to suck off donkeys to feed their heroin addiction or get gang-banged by fifty men and then covered from head to toe with their cum for a couple thousand dollars. What she had done so far was nothing. It was amateur, small-time.