FSE

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Contains: Gryphon/griffon/griffin, Arctic fox, anthro, furry, soft vore, swallowing, unwilling, emotional and physical torture, blood

THE TASTE OF TERROR

CHAPTER 3: MIND OVER MURDER

He's so beautiful.

I admire his snowy fur, stark against my own midnight-black pelt as he sleeps on my chest. I can see every individual hair, rippling as he breathes. It parts as I run my claws through it, caressing him with the utmost gentleness. He mumbles something indistinct, and snuggles into the silky warmth of my feathers. I can feel his delicate little heart, its beats, slower than usual as he sleeps, yet still far faster and far weaker than my own, fluttering in his fragile ribcage. I smell his scent, intrinsically delicious, and feel the ache, the blazing obsession, begin to flare again.

Everything about him takes my breath away... and yet, as I look at him again, with another sense that no denizen of this universe could hope to comprehend, I forget totally about his physical qualities.

The consciousness of the fox opens up before me like a flower blossoming. Every thought he has ever had. Every dream he has ever imagined. Every sensation he has ever experienced. Just laid out, like a vast city at night-time. No, more than that. A planet... a whole galaxy of shimmering stars, pulsing gently in time with his unconscious mind. I could spend decades on end poring over the tiniest sliver of his soul, and yet there is a whole lifetime in there.

As I swoop through the ethereal cascades of emotion, memories of his short, wonderful life erupt at me. His seventh birthday party.... his first kiss, behind the bike sheds of his high school... that brilliant report where he finally got an A in maths... leaving home for university, starting a new and exciting life...

...feeling my slick tongue, hungrily lapping up his tears as he is swallowed alive...

Even in this otherworld of pure thought, the memories of what I have done to him seem to be burning with an unnatural, malicious darkness. And the black tendrils of his terror are growing, spreading insidiously through his thoughts. Slowly, I can see his entire mind be consumed by my torments - just as I have consumed him.

For now, however, he sleeps, and I am content to give him that one small mercy: a few hours oblivion from the hell I am transforming his life into. The long night passes, he dreams of a life he will never be able to have again, and I prowl amongst the glowing stars of his dreams. It's strange, but for this short time, we are actually at peace.

It is as the first light of dawn hits the eastern windows that he starts to stir at last. I sense the lights of his consciousness start to glow brighter, complex patterns running through them at the speed of thought. He shifts, trying to burrow further into my chestfur, and murmurs confusedly, realising that the luxuriant silkiness is not the usual old mattress he sleeps on.

The symphony of his mind seems to accelerate, getting closer to the dark parts, the memories of our experiences together. I feel a shiver of anticipation run through my body, shaking his form oh-so-slightly. It's only seconds now, until he remembers what's happened to him. What's happened to his life.

This is going to be exquisite.

Closer... So very close...

Contact.

Alex wakes up.

His mind explodes into life, as if every star in this shimmering galaxy has gone supernova. Almost blinding me, but so incredibly, insanely beautiful. It all comes back to him. The terror sears through his head like a serpent of fire.

_ _

...no. it's impossible. gryphons can't exist. oh god. please no...

How he died.

_ _

...that hot wet darkness. my struggles only gave him pleasure. so helpless...

Twice.

_ _

...refused to let it end...no, no, no....not again...just let me die...please...

My final promise: it will not end, until I have wrung every last drop of pain out of his tormented mind.

_ _

...a thousand times...no, please, no... he can't be this cruel, he can't...

And finally, he realises what the silky fur, the musky exotic scent filling his sensitive nose, means for him.

_ _

...oh no. he's here. right now. OH GOD...

It all happens in less than a second. His mind is suddenly ablaze with pure terror, thoughts moving frantically, faster than I can perceive. It is, quite simply, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

_ _

...run. for god's sake run...

Gently but firmly, I grasp hold of him in just the right places, and a split second later, he convulses, screaming at the top of his voice in pure horror. He should have fallen straight out of my arms, onto the hard floor, but I don't want him to hurt. Not yet.

The fox thrashes wildly in my grip for a few moments (...no no no please god no let me out...), then collapses, gasping frantically for breath. His heart beats fast and desperate. Imagine the sudden, lethal silence if I stopped it now, and just let him die in my arms... but I'm not going to kill him yet. There's so much I want to do first. So much pain I want to cause.

I allow myself a pause of two -sevenths of a second, before I speak, just to appreciate that one moment of lucidity before the hunger and the blazing, all-consuming obsession take me. Every nerve in my body is thrumming with anticipation.

"Hello, Alex."

It begins.

I let the arctic fox to turn to face me. I see his blue eyes, already beginning to glisten with tears, in glorious clarity, and I can almost watch the pure abject terror starting to unfold behind them. A low whimper escapes his throat as he meets my eyes, and for a long moment we are just transfixed by each other.

...oh gods...those eyes...

Every moment I spend even simply aware of his existence is ecstatic, but now, when he's terrified and so, beautifully, achingly innocent, and about to die, it goes beyond words.

I love him. It's as simple as that. I love him. And I'm willing to sacrifice anything to feel that passion.

Even his life.

"No...please... I don't want to..."

His entire body shudders with a choking, wracking sob. It seems to vibrate through my body as well as his. Alex buries his head in my silky fur, tries to hide his despair; tries to find a small scrap of comfort in the dark, luxurious warmth. He fails miserably. Almost unconsciously, I feel my claws embrace him, tenderly massaging the sleek contours of his lithe, shaking body. It is not hard to imagine it being caressed by the rippling muscular flesh of my throat instead, as he squirms, struggles, screams to his inevitable death. I feel a more basic urge flare within me: the longing to feed, to hunt, to kill... but not yet. Don't let him die yet.

His weeping has subsided slightly, and now he gazes up at me with tear-stained anguish, still weakly trembling. "Are you... are you going to kill me again?"

"Yes." I hug him close, nuzzling him hungrily. "But... I think we'll try something new this time."

He shies away from the contact (...oh god. what does that mean .what the HELL does that mean? OH GOD... please help me...), whimpering feebly, but it is too late.

_ _His scent, now laced with the sweet tang of despair, overwhelms me. The beast inside snarls, and suddenly, my claws are poised, to rip and rend and tear. I've eaten nothing for the past few months, since I last consumed him, but the taste of his struggling, writhing body, sliding down my gullet, still seems to haunt me. Suddenly I realise how ravenous I am, and how impossibly, incredibly delicious he is. There is no contest, really. I have lost my patience. It is time to hunt.

**************************************

I had been on my back, both claws caressing him, and trapping him at the same time. In one smooth movement, I roll over and throw him into the wall, like a petulant child in a temper tantrum, who throws all his toys about until they get broken.

With a difference. I want to break him.

Alex hits it - not hard enough to fracture bones, but enough to cause a scream of pain, trailing off into the fast, weak breathing of the mortally afraid. I consider myself to be reasonably skilled at appreciating music, but even the sweetest symphony has nothing on that sound. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, and replay the scene in perfect detail in my mind, analysing the angle at which he hits the wall, the resultant forces and what effect they've had on him. Let us see... Weakening of the left scapula, resulting in a tiny fragmentation of the third, fourth and fifth ribs. Considerable internal damage to the diaphragm, resulting in dangerous internal bleeding. Massive bruising of most of his back. It's not even fatal. I smile slowly. We've got plenty of time.

"You see..." I murmur gently as he raises his head, still gasping with pain and fear. "I've decided that I've been neglecting the physical side of our relationship."

"Ph...Physical?"

He knows exactly what I'm talking about. I can see the dread oozing to engulf his mind, the colour of freshly spilt blood. He just doesn't want to believe it. It's adorable, really. But... I ought to explain anyway. I must be polite, after all.

"Your body contains two hundred and seventeen bones, Alex. Do you think I can break all of them before you die?"

He stares at me, aghast, and the expression on his face takes my breath away: not just his despair, but the heart- stopping horror of knowing that it is about to become far, far worse. I can actually see the adrenaline flood his system, his delicate heart pumping frantically faster, harder: as if it knows it has not much time left to continue beating.

"No...please...You... you can't...no..."

"You're probably right. I won't be able to wait that long. But I can try."

I take my time as I stalk towards him. Let the terror grow and blossom, watch his mind dance to the frantic, blurring tempo of a cornered animal... His crystal blue eyes flicker to the door, to the cracked paint of the ceiling, to the window where the city is waking up, oblivious and uncaring of his hopeless fate. Anything to save himself from being forced to look at me.

Alex staggers to his feet, whimpering as his bruised muscles protest, still slumped against the wall. He's going to try to run. It's wonderfully invigorating. This little fox just won't give up. I have no doubt that if I swallowed him a thousand times over, he'd still attempt to flee. He'd still struggle. The fact that it's a doomed attempt just adds to the delight.

Gasping for a ragged breath, he feints right, and goes left, hoping to evade me. It's a determined effort, but I have seen the idea forming in his head several seconds before he moves. It won't work. I pounce, and hit him a mere metre from the door. A few feet from freedom.

We roll over several times, a blur of white and black, and in the tangle of limbs and tails and fur my right claw finds his left arm and -

SNAP.

We come to a halt just as Alex's nervous system picks up the electrical impulses. I watch his eyes intently, and I can actually see them cloud over as the agony hits him. He shrieks, and at the sound, I cannot help but loose a low roar of glee. It is excruciating - beyond his capacity to imagine. His mind blazes bright with fireworks, and I cannot resist diving in again, just for a moment, swooping amongst the explosions of raw pain filling his consciousness. Alex has never had any broken bones. He has never been seriously injured. He has, in short, never, in his entire life, suffered any agony as intense as this. The scream keeps going even after his breath runs out, his muzzle contorted in silent torment. His breath comes in great, heaving sobs, and tears roll down his face as I examine the limp appendage. It's a clean break, but no less agonising for that. Not for the first time today, I find myself wondering why in the world I've been so reluctant to simply give in to my more feral instincts. This is magnificent.

"Please..." he chokes off as I feel another wave of agony roll through his mind. "...no... oh Christ oh Christ..."

He presses himself into the thick warmth of my fur, still weeping with pain, and doesn't dare resist as I nuzzle the broken arm - gently, but it still causes a fresh gasp. His scent is intoxicating beyond belief, but I can't help but feel that something's missing...

Of course. I'm a predator, after all. And much as I prefer my prey still squirming, the bloodlust still growls viciously within my heart. My claws, once so gentle and loving in their caresses, do not hesitate.

Not deep enough to puncture any vital organs, of course. Nothing fatal. The layers of muscle surrounding his lower back, however, part like butter before a knife. I feel him stiffen, trembling like a leaf, and a low keening sound comes from his throat. He can't scream. It's too painful.

The crimson liquid spreads, defiling his pure, snowy fur, and white hot lines of agony sear into his beautiful, ravaged soul like brilliant bolts of lightning. Every movement - every moment - brings another wave of delicious excruciation.

"I hope... you... burn. In hell." He's unable to speak louder than a whisper without hurting, but I can feel the hopeless hatred blazing in every syllable.

I chuckle softly, tracing tenderly over the lines of bloody laceration. Each touch triggers another whimper. Hell? An eternity of torment, from which not even death can provide an escape?

"I think you're already there, little one."

I feel him start to shudder again, but every sob brings another wave of pain from the ragged cuts. Any attempt to express his despair simply results in more despair. It is exquisite.

I let him cry into my chestfur for a few minutes, still cradling his broken arm. His mind burns with misery and agony, but now it is less of an explosion and more like a smouldering flame, slowly turning him to ash. His scent - of pain and despair and, of course, blood, as his vital fluids gently trickle onto the dark wood below- is unimaginably enticing, and my starving stomach snarls lustfully. Almost automatically, I feel my long tongue lap hungrily at the scarlet droplets, and I am unable to suppress the low growl of desperate ecstasy that erupts from low in my throat, thrumming through his helpless body. His taste goes beyond perfection; beyond anything I can imagine. It is utterly impossible to resist.

We were right. I'll never be able to wait that long.

Lazily, playfully, I toss him across the room again, and Alex lands hard. I see the bolt of pain streak across his mind, leaving trails of dark flame, and normally I could have examined it for an eternity, but not now.

I've been waiting for this for so long. I can't wait any longer.

As he tries to get up - too slow, too slow - I catch a glimpse of what I look like from his mind. It is, admittedly, terrifying. My eyes almost glow with the sheer force of bloodlust and incandescent cruelty. This time, there's nothing else in those eyes. No amusement at his pathetic attempts to flee. No depraved love for his beautiful innocent soul. Just murder. I am utterly focussed on his death and his pain, and nothing else.

It is wonderful.

Alex sobs as I pounce, crushing him to the floor, his entire form shuddering, warm and fragile and so, so delicious. Perhaps I might say something at this point, some gentle murmur to remind him of his fate (as if he needs reminding) but... there is nothing I can say. I simply take one last gaze into those exquisite crystal blue eyes and the hopeless terror behind them, smile gently, and tenderly take his head into my maw.

It is all I can do to stop my legs collapsing with the intensity of Alex's taste. My tongue seems to have a life of its own as it gluts itself on his snowy fur. I moan around him, feeling his form, still wracked with misery and agony, squirm inside my beak, and slowly swallow once, pulling him hungrily into my throat. It stretches and ripples around his lithe body, rubbing against every inch. Drenching him with my thick saliva. I can taste every single hair of his fur, feel every tremble he makes.

He's doing a lot more than trembling. Alex howls in hatred and rage, slamming his head back hard into the roof of my mouth, twisting like an eel. As if there was a chance he could escape. Playfully, I probe his mind, and suppress a growl of pleasure. The anger, the absolute terror, has set his soul alight, and it burns magnificently. I swoop and dance amidst the blazing emotions, roaring psychically with pure ecstasy. Here, it is perfect. Here, I am God.

Savouring every second, I gulp again, greedily taking Alex in up to his abdomen. A fresh howl of agony rips loose from his lips as his broken arm is crushed against his side, twisting it. The fragmented bone cuts raggedly into the flesh that surrounds it. It is painful, beyond his ability to comprehend - literally. The fox actually passes out under the shattering power of the torture, the burning lights of his delirious soul growing dim... but that's not what I want. That's not how it goes. Narrowing my eyes, I drive a dagger of pure thought into his mind, forcing him into consciousness in the same way as a bucket of ice-cold water. Alex wakes up screaming, flailing wildly in my maw, scratching, swearing, squirming within the squeezing, rippling muscles. It's hopeless. His thick fluff of chestfur , slick with great gobbets of my saliva, starts to shudder, and beneath my own thrumming growls of pleasure as I swallow him up to his hips, I hear him begin to sob again.

"Please..." he whispers and I can feel every fibre of his entire being begging me with every word. "For god's sake...no..."

...Do you want death?... Even I am surprised by the brutal calmness of my voice. He stiffens, halfway inside me, breaths shallow and desperate. His mouth twists, trying to form the words that he hates himself for even thinking of.

"I...I..."

DO YOU WANT DEATH? His soul crumples under my mental assault like an eggshell, ripping him apart. He screams so hard the fragmented ribs actually fracture, wave after wave of agony and despair engulfing his consciousness.

"Yes! P...Please!" Alex shrieks. "Kill me! PLEASE just kill me!" I sense his hatred and his pain and snarl hungrily with pleasure. Blood pours from the lacerations on his side, from his nose and from... his... eyes...

He's crying tears of blood.

Oh my God.

I actually feel my vision fail me. Everything turns black, black, black as my midnight fur as my entire being gorges itself on the sensation, the ecstasy of this experience. I am rendered utterly catatonic by the searing inferno of absolute, unadulterated pleasure and cruelty. Without a moment's hesitation, I swallow hard, twice, and the feeling of his head, still squirming, as it enters my stomach, stretching me, filling me, creates a screech of such unparalleled delight that Alex's eardrums puncture.

Mewling, howling sobs shake him, as, utterly insatiable, I gulp three times and swallow him, whole, entirely, forever, gulping with roars of frantic, desperate hunger, pulling him fully inside my starving belly. I need him. The desire consumes me, mind body and soul. I let the fox hear me groan with pleasure as his sleek, squirming, weeping form is squeezed inside my stomach, crushing him into a tight ball. I sense the pain, still red hot inside his mind, and the hopeless, all consuming misery, and shudder with delight.

I blink several times as my eyes start to function again, the raw, mind shattering hunger and pleasure fading. I examine the bulge he makes below in my normally trim belly grotesquely distended, still twitching slightly at his every sob, and shiver again. It is exquisi-

"Please."

The words, barely more than a whisper in the starved air of my insides, attract my attention for one reason: they are clearly not addressed to me. Head cocked, I probe Alex's dying mind, and chuckle, a gentle laugh that makes him moan in terror. He's praying. To anything that will listen.

"Please... I can't... just make sure... he can't b-bring me back." He is crying softly as he dies, weeping into the crushing dark. "Just let me die. Please... I- I'm begging you... Just let me die, God..."

But I never will.