Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  That was it…

  I was in power, now.

  I groaned once more as the feeling that had been encompassing every fiber of my being once again spiraled out of control. I watched his eyes as my hand continued its journey down my belly, my skin seeking the touch as it drew closer to my hips. I felt the goose bumps rise as the warm blood marked my skin. Finally, I reached the point where his hips covered mine, and my hand lifted along the front of his pants, teasing him through the seam.

  He smiled and leaned closer.

  “That’s my girl…”

  His tongue darted out to enter my mouth as I met him full force, my hand still working him. When his warm blood dripped onto my chest from above, my body rocketed with arousal. I shivered, becoming pliant against the floor, even as every muscle in my body tensed.

  Seeing my reaction, he pressed his chest to mine as he kissed me, rubbing the blood over my sensitized skin.

  I moaned loudly into his mouth.

  He backed away and repositioned himself, releasing his erection and burying himself in me as I shuddered and groaned loudly. I had never felt such intense pleasure in my life. My hands went back to his chest, fisting the wet fabric, feeling the blood trickle once again down my arm and cloud my head in intoxication.

  Dana pounded into me mercilessly, but all that did was build the pleasure deeper within. It grabbed every part of my being, held it tight, kept it close, waiting for just the right moment…

  I wasn’t sure who was making all the sounds echoing around us in the empty testing room. All that was there was intensity and hunger. The hunger in my body refused to be satisfied, even with the incredible pleasure. I wanted more. I needed more.

  I pulled him closer, wanting to feel his blood over my skin again. When he was close enough, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and bucked my hips, using one of my legs to hook his calves and roll him so I was straddling him.

  He did not stop me, his hands settling at my hips as his mouth went to my shoulder, biting, the pain of the small wound only adding to my arousal.

  I rubbed myself along his bloodied chest as I rode him hard, groaning, my vision white. My eyes rolled around in their sockets, useless as I shut off all sensation other than touch.

  I sat straight, my hands moving to my chest, rubbing the soft blood over my skin as if I was covering myself in a blanket, feeling the pleasure spark to a higher level.

  I saw him smiling, his expression calm apart from the intense fire in his unnatural golden eyes. I groaned once again and his smile turned into a chuckle. I smiled, continuing to grind on him as I brought one hand to my mouth and fingered my already bloodied lips, chuckling, feeling the power radiate through me.

  He sat up and his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, countering my movements. I pressed my hand to his mouth. His teeth opened and he nipped at my fingers, licking the blood as if he were a cat. As I smeared the blood over him, he groaned and pushed himself deeper into me, his eyes sliding shut as I felt myself reach the precipice. I pushed my fingers into his mouth and he moved his tongue over them, thrusting into me deeper and deeper.

  I felt it…I was at the edge.

  My vision went white and my body lit on fire, coursing with something that I had never felt before. Every muscle within me was bound tight, tense with pleasure, and soon, it was going to be too much. I welcomed the feeling.

  My back arched and I felt myself slip over the edge. My eyes rolled back into my head and everything went black.

  I knew then.

  I could fight.

  I was still powerful.

  I could play the game on his level.

  I was a predator…

  He was a predator…

  And we were each other’s prey.

  I was alive again.

  * *** *

  The game started again.

  For several days, I was unable to enjoy the hunt. I was left in my cell. No tests were done, nothing changed, Dana didn’t come to see me.

  For someone who said he knew how I operated, he seemed to forget quickly how I hated to be caged.

  I was pacing, concocting ways to regain that feeling from before, like a drug addict chasing a high. I did not sleep. I could not eat. Every time the food came I would stare at the tray for a long time, seeing the dead slab of animal and the bastardized vegetables that I had been receiving for the past three meals. For me, dirt seemed more appetizing.

  The emptiness in my belly was not hunger. I needed to hunt. I needed to play.

  When they came to get me for another test, I felt my body perk up immediately, seeing who was coming into the cell. The T-Team leader walked to me and crouched down to bind my wrists. I watched him approach, studying his face carefully.

  I remembered his slightly crooked nose that always led me to look up at his narrow eyes set into the wrinkled face. I had always hated the way he looked. I wanted to slice at the corners of those narrow eyes and make them wider, see how large his eyes could really be…fix the angle of his nose…slice away at those wrinkles until they were channels of blood…I had so many plans for my T-Team…

  I was hauled to my feet and led out of the ward. I studied the leader, trying to decide how best to change his face as he walked beside me.

  I had found my prey. My toy.

  He had no idea what I was thinking of doing to him. That was the most exciting part.

  It was a short walk to the lab and I slowly moved onto the table, my eyes sliding to glance at the narrow-eyed leader. His eyes were green…they were pretty…it was too bad I couldn’t see more of them around the wrinkled skin of a smoker.

  The fabric restraints on the table irritated my skin. I growled, annoyed.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When my lungs were filled with the stale, chemical-tasting air, the stretch of my muscles caused my body to ignite. The power surged through me. I was ready…

  “We’re running a B-4.1,” one of them explained as the others busied themselves with the vials. I used to count their steps. I used to note the number of vials. Counting…numbers…solid facts…they didn’t matter anymore. All that was left was feeling…touch…sound…stimulus that caused my body to react and my brain to fire different signals. Immediate gratification…

  Latex was on my arm as a hand touched me…It was not the feeling I wanted…

  The needle pricked my skin and the cool serum pumped through my arm as my heartbeat—that’s awfully steady, isn’t it?—pushed the blood through my veins.

  I turned to the narrow-eyed man. The movement caught his attention. I smiled at him and parted my chapped lips. He was watching…he was interested…

  I moaned and my eyelids fluttered.

  Watch me…

  His eyes widened. He blinked once…twice…surprised…excited.

  I moaned again and tightened the muscles in my abdomen and thighs.

  “This is not a recorded reaction…” one of them whispered. It’s the one on my left…the second one standing to my left…

  The narrow-eyed man was watching me with those pretty green eyes. I could feel the trail of his gaze as it traveled down my body. He was pretending to study my reaction to the test. He was really watching me because he felt a fire within his own body. He was reacting to my arousal…

  Good boy…

  I groaned again and bucked my hips.

  “What should we do?”

  That’s the fourth one, the one by my feet.

  I gasped and turned my head, my eyes closed. I didn’t need to see them, I could feel them. I could feel my prey watching me, wanting to get closer…wanting to reach out and touch…

  “I don’t know…” the one on the left side of my head muttered, confused.

  I opened my eyes slowly, tantalizing my prey, urging him to come closer…

  He swallowed hard. I watched his throat contract.

  “Check her vitals,” another ordered. My eyes were locked on his pretty green eyes hidden by skin and too many
wrinkles. I wanted to see more. I felt my power reach out and wrap around him, pulling him closer.

  He stepped forward and reached out. I saw the muscles in his hand tremble as he extended his fingers. He reached for my neck…Cautiously, that hand approached.

  He knew he was the target…he knew that I was controlling him…he knew that he was in danger…I could see all his thoughts playing behind the narrow eyes.

  But he still could not resist.

  How could he? I was pulling his strings.

  His fingers brushed at the base of my neck, searching out a pulse.

  I pounced.

  Breaking the restraints, I grabbed his wrist. I heard their shouts, their surprise, but I was focused. The others could do nothing to me. They were not part of the hunt.

  I pulled him closer, throwing the leader down on the table and wrapping the chains of the restraints around his wrists—they were such delicate wrists for a burly, older man—and pulled them taught, seeing the skin break and the bone begin to strain as he let out a pained cry. I rolled off the table, still attached by my left ankle. He was half-splayed on the table, his wrist fastened across the dirty metal so that his face was pressed to the head rest.

  I chuckled, quickly unfastening my leg.

  At this point, the irritating flies buzzed forward and attempted to grab me, to restrain me, but they were powerless and pathetic. I kicked two of them away with little difficulty and one of them crashed into a rolling cart, spilling beakers and cutting himself on the broken glass and scalpels.

  I turned to the other distractions.

  Two more flies to worry about, and they were buzzing about my prey, trying to unwrap the chain that dug deep into his skin.

  I lunged forward, teeth bared, biting deeply into one of those fleshy arms, feeling the fabric and skin break beneath my teeth. He reeled backwards and I did not let up, pulling away fabric and lose skin as he retreated. The coppery taste on my tongue fueled me…reminded me of soft, soft blood…how much I wanted to feel it over my skin, between my teeth, on my tongue, down my throat…

  I moaned at the acute sensation in my abdomen and moved to straddle my face-down subject’s back, grabbing the last fly’s face, bringing him close to me, looking into his wide, terrified eyes. His eyes were brown…but there was no life in them…he was not interesting.

  “This one is mine…” I growled, pressing our noses together and looking deep into his eyes. “Don’t you dare take him from me…” I pushed him away, feeling his neck jerk sharply as his body followed the force of the shove.

  A hand tried to grab my knee and my attention went to my prey. He was trying to grab at me, to remove me. He was adorable, thinking he could fight.

  “Oh, no worries…we have plenty of time, pup,” I chuckled. I rubbed my hips across his back before scooting down to sit over his flabby, untoned ass. “I plan to enjoy this slowly…”

  I slid off, standing behind him, my pelvis pressed to his trembling thighs.

  “Do you like it this way?” I asked, pressing closer, grabbing his hips and rutting against him. I felt his tremor. It was surprise, not pleasure…it was fear, not excitement…it was exactly what I wanted. “Or do you only like to do this to girls who can’t fight back?” I hissed. I wanted to play with him a little…

  I looked at the flies, still buzzing angrily.

  One of them had obtained new restraints and was starting toward me. I saw the nervous flick of his eyes, the way the muscles around his mouth quivered. He told me that the other one was starting to walk toward me from behind. They were trying to trick me, distract me…

  I smiled when I saw him take another step.

  I heard the whistle of air behind me and ducked, grabbing one of the fallen scalpels, smiling at the fallen scientist clutching his wounded neck from where he had fallen on a beaker. I didn’t know where the fourth fly was, but I was not concerned. He was no longer in the room.

  When I ducked, one scientist hit the other in the face with the chain intended for me. As the other one fell, I placed my hand over his crotch, my fingers squeezing enough to make contact as he halted, surprised. I watched as his eyes slowly fell to me and I smiled, flexing my fingers around him.

  Every cell on my hand was a different sensor, able to feel only what was in that area. I felt the heel of my hand close to a warmer part of his body…a throbbing, pulsing vein…

  I pinpointed the location as if I could see the pliant tube of blood, and quickly lifted my scalpel, sliding it along the inside of his thigh, over the artery, severing it and feeling blood strike my face, chest, and arm. I gasped, a wave consuming me as I was tossed about in a violent storm of sensation that I wanted no shelter from.

  He screamed. He crumpled. His life was leaking out of him. I watched the process, fascinated, even as he tried to clamp his hands around the wound, trying to go for his belt. He wanted to make a tourniquet.

  I ignored him. It mattered little to me if he lived or died. It was inconsequential. I had someone who needed my attention more.

  I glanced at the scientist with the bleeding neck. He was no longer going to interfere.

  The scientist who had been hit by the chain had a broken jaw. It was a funny face, and I had to laugh.

  Now, it was time to get to the business at hand.

  I crouched down and sliced at that thick cord of tendons on the back of my prey’s ankles, watching the blood leak into the frayed fabric of his damaged socks. I could just imagine the blood leaking down into his shoes, squishing with that delicious sound every time he moved…but his feet were useless now, just limp fish on the ends of sticks. His hand that had been trying to work the chain out of his skin and away from his bone suddenly fell limp and I could taste his scream on my tongue as it echoed around the room.

  I grabbed his ankle, feeling the severed flesh give way under my fingers and lifted his leg. He was dead weight, too limp from pain to offer assistance as I maneuvered him clumsily onto the table. I laughed when he continued to scream, tears streaming down his face, following the crevices and wrinkles, as if obeying some sort of traffic law on his face. His skin glistened from the tears in the dim light. It strengthened my desire to see his eyes. Like a stone when wet, I was sure those eyes were even more beautiful drenched in tears.

  Once he was on his back, I pulled his legs to the two restraints I had freed myself of and strapped him in, the rigid leather wrapped in sweat-stiffened fabric pressing into the deep wounds in his ankles.

  “You’re not going anywhere, pup…”

  “P-Please…”

  “P-Please what?” I imitated with a giggle. “Straighten out,” I ordered. His arm, still trapped in the chain, was causing his torso to bend in an awkward angle. When I saw that he could not straighten, I groaned, annoyed. This was not fun…

  I stomped over and roughly twisted the chain, which caused his wrist to break, but his arm was now in a position where it could be brought to his side. He screamed and cried, a sound I was starting to believe I could sing to. I giggled and skipped to the other side, wrapping the chain around his other thin wrist.

  “There we go…now, you won’t disobey me…” I said, taking the bloodied scalpel and pressing it to his cheek, spinning it on its tip, watching the blood well around the blade and then drip down his face. His eyes opened, turning in an attempt to focus on what the scalpel was doing.

  I was right. The glistening in his eyes made the color even more outstanding, and the green was so beautiful that I was filled with a sense of calm. I wanted more…I wanted to be engulfed by that feeling. I needed to see more.

  I pulled my scalpel down his face, leaving a small, red canyon in his skin before dragging it down one of those two tendons in his neck that I loved to look at to the fabric covering his chest.

  “Are you frightened?” I whispered.

  His lip was quivering and his eyes were focused on me, tears running down his face. The skin was getting red around his eyes and nose…but that blood was on the other
side of that thin membrane. I wanted to see it outside…

  “Answer me, are you frightened?” My scalpel never left his chest, sometimes snagging in the fabric of his coat or sweater, scraping over the cheap plastic of his name tag, bumping over the pens in his coat pocket, causing his skin to prickle in response to the placement of the blade.

  He hesitated, and then shook his head.

  I slid toward his face, angry.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

  He nodded quickly, closing those eyes tight. I watched him shake, his lips quivering, his tears falling out from under clenched folds of skin that could have been considered eyelids when he was younger. I straightened, my scalpel continuing to dance over him.

  “How frightened are you?” I asked, watching the silver metal beneath the blood glint in the dim light. “Scared? Terrified? Petrified? …stupefied? Or just plain stupid?”

  I climbed onto the table and straddled his waist, causing his eyes to fly open and focus on me.

  That’s it, my little puppy…

  Look at me.

  I lifted the scalpel to my mouth and pressed it to my lower lip, looking over him. I saw his eyes dart between my eyes and the bloodied scalpel against my lip. I smiled and straightened, pressing one hand on his soft belly, leaning forward, arching my back, thrusting my breasts forward to catch his attention as I dropped the scalpel to rest against my sternum.

  “Are you excited?” I whispered, my body shaking with excitement, with lust, with overall need, hunger, and heat.

  His eyes were frightened. They were confused. Oh, the emotion playing in them was more fascinating than any of the great theatre productions in the history of humanity.

  I laughed, throwing my head back as I dropped the scalpel down my sternum to my belly and my navel. I shivered and smiled broadly, my eyes sliding shut.

  “Do you want to fuck me?” I asked. “Do you want to be inside me? Do you want to feel me writhing on you?” I circled my hips over his and moved the scalpel up to my right breast, running the side of the blade over my nipple and feeling electricity shoot through me.

  He shook his head and I grinned.

  “No? But you had no problems raping me, or any other girl that you strapped onto the table…” I said. I smiling knowingly. “You wanted that power…that high…and you didn’t care about violating anyone else for it, did you? You could ignore the screams, the pleading…because in the end, you were the one who would walk away with the benefits, right?”