screamed like the world was ending,
convinced that he was dead.
When Joe woke up, drenched in his own
sweat and screaming at the top of his
lungs, the sun was already high in the
sky and his alarm clock was blaring. It was time for class.
Joe dressed and showered before
going back into the bedroom to confront his captive. She looked awful, with blood caked on her breasts and stomach.
She'd urinated on herself sometime
during the night, unable to ask to use the bathroom with the gag in her mouth or
perhaps hoping that she'd make herself
too disgusting to rape. Joe removed the bal gag then lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom where he
scrubbed off al the blood and washed
her tenderly, lovingly, fighting to keep his mind on getting to school on time. He led her to the toilet and watched as she
relieved herself, glaring at him
murderously the entire time. He did his best to avoid her gaze. He knew he
deserved her hatred. When she was
done using the toilet he washed her
again.
Joe carried Alicia over to the bed and
affixed an other chain to a loop in the ceiling, which he then connected to her wrist restraints. The chain was slack
enough to al ow her to move about the
bed but if she tried to get off the bed she would wind up dangling in the air 'til he got home. He explained al of this to her and her eyes began to tear up again.
"I'm sorry," Joe said to her as he kissed her on the cheek. "I just can't help myself. I real y don't want to hurt you. I just don't know how to stop."
He turned to walk out of the door.
"You are beautiful, though. So beautiful." Then he left, locking the bedroom door
behind him. Alicia heard the front door slam and the dead bolt click into place. Then she was alone. Alone in a
madman's apartment with no way to
escape.
Chapter Eleven
Alicia sat in silence for a long moment listening to the sound of her own
breathing, trying to steady her pulse and keep herself from going crazy and
perhaps going into shock. She began to
catalogue her injuries. Aside from the
nauseating ache in her bruised and
bitten breasts where her nipples had
been torn off, she had no major injuries. She had a few other bruises from where
the col ege boy had smacked her
buttocks and pul ed her hair as he
grunted, growled, and thrusted deep into her. Nothing she wasn't used to.
Her wrists were scraped raw from trying Her wrists were scraped raw from trying to wriggle out of the leather restraints last night after she'd been left alone. Joe had cleaned them as best he could with
hydrogen peroxide but stil the skin
ripped and bled as she tried again to
squeeze out of the leather cuffs. Again, nothing she wasn't accustomed to.
Joe had left a bucket by the side of the bed in case she had to use the restroom before he returned. On the nightstand he left a bowl of water. Alicia would have to kneel on al fours and lap it up like a kitten in order to drink from it with her arms stil bound be hind her. She didn't want to think of what she'd have to do in order to use the bucket.
Her shoulders were kil ing her. No matter how she turned on the bed her weight
rested on them unless she turned over
onto her face, which aggravated the
throbbing pain where her nipples had
been, or sat completely upright, which
felt uncomfortable with the bar wedged
between her legs keeping them apart.
Even when she set upright, Alicia's
shoulders stil felt under pressure from being forced backward with her arms
locked behind her.
Alicia tried to scream again. She
thrashed, kicking and bucking on the
bed, hoping someone would come to
her rescue, but she didn't hear a single sound coming from any of the other
apartments. Either the wal s were
soundproof or there were no other
neighbors. She thought about what the
rest of the building had looked like, the smel of garbage and urine, the cracked drywal and deteriorating paint, the fact that she had not seen any evidence of
anyone else on her way to his apartment. The lobby had been dark when she'd
come stumbling in late last night and
there had been no sounds of televisions or radios or children crying, lovers
quarrel ing. It had seemed completely
empty to her, but she'd paid no attention to it, attributing it to the lateness of the hour. She'd been too busy concentrating on getting some of that young gorgeous
col ege athlete's cock to think about how shitty his apartment building was. Now
that she knew that her gorgeous athlete was a kidnapper and a cannibal, she
wondered if perhaps she'd been lured
into an abandoned building. The gang
she used to hang out with had once
converted an entire vacant department
store into one big crack house and
shooting gal ery. Maybe she was in a
condemned apartment building that he
was just squatting in?
Giving up on screaming, Alicia began
once again trying to work her way free of the restraints. The pain in her wrists
competed with the pain she imagined if
the cannibal returned to finish his meal. She began to jerk and pul furiously at the cuffs, only succeeding in cutting the leather deeper into her already abraded skin.
"Oh God! I'm going to die here!" She began to cry again and forced herself to stop. That wasn't going to help anything. It would only get in the way of her
thinking. She had to come up with a
plan.
Maybe she could talk him into releasing her from the cuffs when he returned? He did seem to be remorseful. He even
seemed to real y like her. Maybe he
wouldn't kil her after al ? Then she
remembered the look on his face when
he bit into her breast. He hadn't looked himself. He hadn't looked human at al . The thing that she'd seen gnawing into
her nipples had been al appetite and
lust. Maybe he had two personalities?
One that was caring and gentle, the one who'd washed her wounds and cleaned
her up this morning and apologized for
hurting her before leaving, and one that was vicious and dangerous, the one
who'd lost control. Somehow she had to
talk one of them into letting her go.
Chapter Twelve
Joe walked to the campus in a daze. He
imagined that the fog rol ing through the street was emanating from him. He felt
protected by it. As long as the fog
remained to cloak his thoughts he didn't have to face what he'd become in the
last twenty-four hours. He didn't have to think about the pain in that Spanish girl's beautiful eyes when he'd bitten into her breast. It wasn't just the physical pain that had caused that wounded look. It
was the pain of betrayal. She'd thought she'd found the perfect man in him.
He'd seen the look before. Even before
he'd started having the uncontrol able
he'd started having the uncontrol able
urge to eat human flesh there had been
his maniacal sex drive. Women would be
amazed at his stamina when he would
make love to them al night and then
further amazed when he would cal them
the next night for a repeat performance. It would go on for weeks w
ith him seeing them every minute of every day for
marathon sex sessions. Then, he'd
suddenly lose interest and disappear
without a word. Usual y after meeting
another woman. Or when his col ection
of women grew too vast for him to keep
track of and he would simply forget
about some of them as he met new
ones. None of them would ever suspect
that there were others.
No way he can make love to me for three or four hours straight and stil have
anything left for anyone else, they would think.
But Joe was a sex addict. His bedroom
was like a revolving door. He knew
exactly how long each woman was good
for, when they needed to leave for work, or pick their kids up from day care, or would just be too exhausted or chafed
for another round. When he wasn't
having sex he was hunting for new sex
partners. Then he'd started having the
urges and everything began to change.
He'd experimented with S&M before,
even extreme bondage and blood play. It was more pleasure than he'd expected
to derive from whipping a man's naked
ass with a cat-o'-nine-tails or sticking needles through a woman's labia or
burning a woman's nipples with a candle flame or the powerful orgasm he'd had
when he'd strangled unconscious a kid
he'd met on campus while fucking him in the ass with a dildo. The kid dropped out of school the next day and had never
returned.
Joe's enjoyment of these things had
been completely unexpected. The fact
that he'd wanted to take it further was even more unexpected.
He'd been circumcising a man at an
S&M sex club. The man had approached him with this huge uncircumcised cock in hand. He had big blue puppydog eyes
that looked wounded but trusting. His
body was lithe and delicate like a young girl's, in stark contrast to the hardened flesh straining between his thighs. He
had a castration fantasy. So Joe had
agreed to circumcise him. He had just
sliced off half his foreskin when he'd
suddenly had the urge to bite the man's penis off. He imagined chewing it up and swal owing it, what the tender flesh would taste like going down his throat. He
plopped the man's foreskin into his
mouth and began to chew it. The man's
eyes had widened in amazement and a
tremor of excitement had gone through
the crowd of onlookers, many of whom
were masturbating as they watched
them play.
The rush of pleasure that went through
Joe's body al the way down to his
manhood was overwhelming as he
consumed the morsel. Then he'd
lowered his head down between the
man's thighs, baring his teeth, preparing to devour that luscious nine inches of
rigid flesh, to bite the man's penis clean off. Joe could sense the man's
excitement and terror rising as they
combined into a rapture that vibrated
through him like a bass drum. Joe's
mouth enveloped his cock and the man
moaned as the pain from where the
razor had done its work mingled with the pleasure of that rough slippery tongue
probing the wound. . . . ... . ... . . . .. As the man watched his throbbing hard
cock disappear between Joe's lips and
push its way down his throat, he let out a sigh of soul deep ecstasy. Joe's teeth bit into the base of his cock and the man
shuddered on the edge of orgasm. He
began to convulse with a screaming
climax as he felt Joe's teeth bite deeper and begin to tug, trying to tear his cock right off of him. He ejaculated down
Joe's throat and Joe released him,
gagging and coughing. The man smiled
at him with a look on his face of utter satisfaction.
"That was incredible, man! Do you want me to do you now?"
Joe ran out of the club, horrified by both what he had done and what he'd been
about to do. Now he had done far worse. Joe awoke from his reverie standing in
the campus courtyard, not knowing how
he had gotten there. There were three
minutes before his class started. He
sprinted across campus, arriving at the lecture hal just as the professor was
preparing to begin his lesson.
"We were just talking about you, Joseph. Thanks for joining us. Take a seat
please. As I was saying ... cannibalism is at the end of the continuum of a sadistic murderer's evolution, the ultimate
expression of dominance and control,
predation at its base essence, the
devouring of human blood and flesh to
satisfy sexual fantasies. This actual y ties in with your theory of a progressive
disease, Joseph. If we assume that
serial murderers are like drug addicts in that they develop a tolerance for normal
`lesser' forms of pleasure then they
would eventual y develop a tolerance for the run-of-the-mil rape-and-murder
scenarios requiring more extreme
stimulation, multiple victims, an increase in the frequency of their attacks, and an increase in the level of violence.
"Trophy taking begins to go beyond jewelry and photographs into the
harvesting of body parts for later use in necrophiliac activities, to relive the
murders. In some cases these trophies
become the very reason for the murders
as in the case of Jeffrey Dahmer, part of his compulsion to own his victims. Some murderers find secluded places where
they can not only murder their victims but also store their bodies, to maintain
control over their victims even after
death. This degenerative cycle leads to the most extreme psychosexual
behaviors. Cannibalism is at the
pinnacle of this arc. To consume their
victims is the ultimate expression of
The professor seemed to be staring
directly into Joe's eyes as he spoke, as if each statement was for his sole
benefit. As if he knew. Joe shifted
nervously in his chair and wrung his
sweaty hands. The professor's words
bore down on him like accusations and
Joe had the sudden feeling of being on
trial. This is what it would feel like when they caught him. He stared intensely at Professor Locke as the polished old
gentleman described the inner workings
of his mind as clearly as if he had read his thoughts, saw each lurid fantasy and felt each shivering sensation, giving
voice to the demons in his soul in front of a crowd of strangers.
Joe wanted to scream and run out of the room. Instead he forced a smile onto his face and endured the onslaught of words until he couldn't take it any longer.
"But what if it isn't just about control?" Joe suddenly blurted out.
The entire room turned to look at him
and he felt suddenly vulnerable and
exposed.
"What else would it be about, Joseph? A man murders, rapes, and devours a
stranger. What else would it be about
other than to prove his dominance and
power? To sublimate another human
being to his wil ? These men are
sadists!"
"No!" Again everyone turned to stare at him. Joe nervously stood and took a
deep breath to steady his
voice. "I mean
... maybe not al of them. Not al of them torture their victims. Some kil them
quickly before they do anything to them. Maybe not al of them mean to cause
pain."
"Then why do they do it, Joseph?"
"Maybe it's love." A roar of laughter rose up and Joe looked from face to face
while the blood rushed to his cheeks.
"Love?"
"Yes. What is love but the desire to unite with the love object? That's why people get married, to make two souls into one. But of course that's merely symbolic,
imperfect. Marriage is an il usion of a true union. Cannibalism is the real deal. It could be the ultimate expression of
love."
Professor Locke stared at Joe with
concern clearly visible on his face. The entire hal was staring at him,
speechless. Some of them had smirks
on their faces and others wore scowls of disgust. Al of them clearly thought Joe was crazy. Joe stood there with his
hands held out before him as if
beseeching the professor to understand
him.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor." Joe plopped down into his chair.
"Nothing at al to be ashamed of. I respect your passion and your ... uh ... interesting perspective. You may be
closer to understanding these monsters
than you think. You are absolutely right. That's exactly how some of these
monsters would justify their actions.
Jeffrey Dahmer, for instance, said he just wanted a friend who would never leave
him. But when it comes down to it, those are al just rationalizations. These
monsters do it because it gets them off. Because they enjoy hurting and
humiliating people. They enjoy the
power. They enjoy the control."
He was staring directly into Joe's eyes again as he spoke. Joe's mouth creaked
open as if to say something but he had
no words left within him. His mind was
reeling as if he'd been struck.
I'm a monster, he thought and then
looked around to make sure he hadn't
spoken aloud. He snapped his mouth
shut and leaned back in his chair.
Professor Locke smiled and turned his
back to the class to erase the
blackboard, shaking his head as if
laughing at some private joke.
Joe gathered up his books and sprinted
from the room, nearly knocking over
several classmates as he dashed out
into the sunlight struggling to catch his breath. The world seemed to be closing