lina is prey 02
The touch of your hand on her face makes her flinch away but then lean against it. Her cheek feels hot against your cool hand. She answers you honestly, in the most oblique fashion. “Are they really real? Show me…”
Your fangs are not flashed in brazen display. Instead, without taking your eyes off hers, you take one of her hands and bring the wrist to your lips. Without pause, only with that same deliberate inevitability, you dip the cutting edge beneath the sensitive skin. Sweet, somehow perfumed, like apple blossom, her blood wells smoothly into your mouth. You’re salivating for the taste of her straight away, and an all-too biological grumble in your stomach greets the first swallowed mouthful.
Three little gulps down and faced with an impolite indicator of very animal hunger, it’s time to see just how much Lina is prey.
She brushes your jawline with feather-light fingertips, seeming content to let you drink. A curious fact: bleeding doesn’t feel like anything. Since the blood isn’t flowing over her own body the indicators she would get that something is wrong will occur only when she is much closer to danger. So perhaps a part of her doesn’t believe what you are doing…
… You disabuse her of any such ideas with a kiss that seals the wound, and a sigh of delight that shows her blood colouring your teeth, the insides of your lips. She withdraws her wrist and marvels at it, turning it this way and that in the moonlight, seeing twin silver patches of scare tissue like frostbite, ringed with ruddy kiss marks.
You suck her taste from your mouth and pull her close by the waist. She folds to you, but fear makes her lean back, eyes shining. “Am I going to die?”
“Yes.” In your arms she trembles like a baby bird in the palm. “Make your peace with it now. You will never be alone, though.”
She stares into space then starts to scrabble for her handbag. “I need to call my mum, tell her—”
“No, you are no longer part of the world. You being to me, now.”
It takes time, the transition from living person with plans and people, to a walking ghost whom people may discuss but never meet again. You are gentle. You give her time to process.
“Will it hurt?”
“Yes.” You lean in so close that your reply brushes your lips against hers. “I will make it as painless as I can.”
She kisses you. Her tears are raw salt in your mouth. And when you press her down onto Lucy’s bench her hands grasp at your waistcoat, pulling you with her.
You kiss away her tears. She throws back her head as your kisses trail down her jawline to the dangerous pulse at her throat. The animal in her recognises danger, seeks to protect the vulnerable parts you are now favouring with alternating kisses and nibbles. Except the expression is neither fight, flight, freeze or fawn: her legs lock around your hips and pull you close, till you are a shape in the dark poised over her. The sharp, spiced scent of her arousal kindles other needs in you.
Every touch of your lips or tongue on her long neck causes her to pull you closer. She’s panting by the time you graze her with your fangs. Already she has urgently tugged aside her underwear and angled against your cock, which sprang ready when you allowed her to fumble open your belt.
And so it is two cauldrons of heat you sip at. When you bite, her blood rushes into your mouth, filling your senses with metal and apple blossom. When you simultaneously thrust, you chase a ring of heat that rolls down your length until you are all swallowed up in her. Except you can withdraw, granting you the prospect of another stroke; but what you swallow is gone from her, gushing thick down your throat to pool in your toned stomach.
She first cums when each thrust begins to cause you to slosh. Velvety pressure crushes you, but her body will have to work so much harder to satisfy you. You pull down another great mouthful of her heart’s essence, causing her to become more lightheaded and pliable.
“Enjoy me… take me, please…”
Desire rises in you, filling your veins with the heat you’re stealing from her own. You begin to rut, rocking her back and forth (though fixed at the throat) on the rough wooden bench, a willing conduit for your desire. The wilder you become, grunting through your nose in between great noisy gulps of her blood, the more giving she becomes, stroking and scratching your back, clenching her legs tighter around you. She bucks, gathering momentum for a second orgasm.
The curious repetition of calls for mercy alerts you to the fact that you have withdrawn and healed her bite, only to sink your teeth back into her throat, again and again. Somehow chewing her carotid like this has not yet proved fatal, but you have other needs to satisfy first.
Orgasm is not one of them, yet. When you withdraw she looks at you with vague, misty incomprehension. You stare down with eyes that freeze her in place. So far there has been pain but she knows to look at you that she is about to be eaten, somehow, and the fate of food is not kind.
You’re just so ravenous.
Not a scrap of strength remains in her body to fight your raising her legs: you have bitten and drained her to deaths threshold. Your stretched middle gurgles absently as you shift to discard her spiked platform heels. With a thought, blades crowning tendrils invisible in the black of the churchyard sever the tights from her chubby legs. Lina has no spare breath to protest the shallow cuts you open up.
Not even when you sink them into your mouth. She tastes like blood and clean, honest perspiration. Her flavour is shallow but her weight stretches your throat so pleasurably your hands can’t help but claw into her captive hips. You moan.
“N… no… Not like…” It seems Lina wanted the poetry of being drained dry. Feeling herself squidged down your slick throat like a pork chop awakens the horror that should have first met your bite, with none of the capability to fight back. Wicked silver snips away her dress to the bosom.
Your lips follow. Her arse is a treasure, heavy and packed firm with muscle and softened with shapely fat. You suck it down, working her squirming and yielding body inside the muscular shell of your own. Where you penetrated her softness, she now penetrates you, filling you up deep inside.
You can sit up once her belly had squeezed its path through the arch of your throat. It makes welcoming her generous tits all the easier. A hard nipple traces the roof your mouth, catches your uvula and makes you hiccup before being gulped down in the same mouthful as its sister.
As her head is worked diligently inside by your tongue and throat she gets a front-row, close-up view of those fangs she was so fascinated with, mere centimetres from her eyeballs. Then your ridged palate, darkening as she goes deeper; and then her eyes never see anything ever again. You sit back on the bench and massage the still-growing sphere of your belly as Lina’s arms tuck neatly after the rest of her.
Soon, the churchyard is once again deserted. You bear your weakly-struggling prey beneath shirt ridden-up and framed by hastily unbuttoned waistcoat. The 199 steps feel especially long when quietly releasing belches and carefully swallowing air to preserve the life within you. Your tummy flutters with exploring fingertips.
Shortly, though not quickly enough for you or your guest on the precipice of suffocation, you make it to your AirBnB. The bed creaks like something permanent has happened when you collapse back into it and undress yourself.
By now air is a secondary concern. The pain has begun. Lina’s consciousness is sharpened by your digestive juices being rubbed into the cuts in her body. No longer fingertips but fists, knees and shoulders explore her confines and plead release.
She won’t find it. You lie back on your bed and stroke your belly. You swallowed a chubby woman, and when your gut is through with her some of her fat will surely lie upon your own trained and powerful frame. You swallowed a beauty, and when she is melted down she will become masculine, layering your powerful chest, arms, long and agile legs.
It is awkward to stroke your cock with the bulge of Lina struggling and distantly screaming and crying in the way, but you crunch to one side and make do. You build and build as your belches grow more raucous, begin to taste not only of blood but meat. She’s still struggling, churning herself up as much as your stomach walls are churning her, when you finally cum. Sleep steals over you hard but you fight it, stroking your dome of a gut. You promised she would not be alone.
It takes a long time for her to die for you.
In the end, she goes the way all prey goes. You leave the seaside resort with her smeared all through your guts, quietly burbling away as she is processed and absorbed. In the car on the way home you feel the first inkling that your body is reaching the end of what it can do with her digested remains. You give her the courtesy of permitting her to build up in your colon, though you shuffle uncomfortably from time to time in the car. When you are one service station from home you figure it’s time.
Lina has traveled much of the country and also several yards of stinking burning sucking darkness. She emerges through a pinpoint of light, squeezing free and then packing far over the waterline, just filth and fading memories. The rest of her comes with you, wobbling beneath your skin and especially on your belly. You stroke it as you climb back in the car and drive away.