My appetites had been fully transformed.
Tanya and D had been lust masquerading as crushes. Isha was a voyeuristic exploration of control. Tracey and Sally were acts of spite, Jing just a guinea pig. Nina and Jen were brutal dominations. With each conquest I became crueller. Colder. I saw the girls- not just the ones I had claimed, but all girls everywhere- as objects. Things. Food for my fantasies to be gobbled up and savoured and then spat out, chewed up and useless.
I didn't have any friends at that point- male or female. But it didn't bother me, either. Why would it? I was unique. Special. Above them. I had the power to make or unmake their lives and I knew it. I became reclusive. I sat alone in lectures, ignoring the lecturers as I checked out fresh victims; I conjured up elaborate new plans for fresh girls while homework sat untouched. I ignored the rumours swirling around me about the ruined friendships, ruined relationships and ruined lives that had sprung up in my wake. My roommate requested- and got- a transfer away from me, citing a mixture of unwelcome guests and general creepiness; that I was giving off, as he put it, 'serious serial killer vibes'. I didn't care. I really didn't care about anything else other than my next victim.
***
In a past life when I was - or at least I thought I was- a better person, I had often wondered what had happened to Yara. She was a slim, pale thing, always wearing baggy clothes, always slipping away from conversations. Always with a sense about her like she was ready to bolt. She wasn't ugly- for all that she did her best to hide her slim figure and tied up her dark, voluminous hair, she clearly would look great naked- but she excluded an aura that made one think of frightened rabbits. We had been friends once, before my obsession. Since then I had spied her from afar from time to time, drifting through the campus halls like a ghost.
Yara was fragile. Yara was damaged. Yara was isolated.
Yara was
prey
.
I first thought of using her back when I was dating D. I dismissed her at the time, of course; too many other more tempting targets, big-breasted and skimpily dressed, for me to stalk. Besides, back then the hungers she aroused were too much for me. Too dark. Too shameful.
But after Nina and Jen? No. There were no more limits, no more moral pretences.
It was a week after Jen escaped my clutches when I made my move. I ended up spending four days wandering the labyrinth in search of her; something about her avoidant personality made her difficult to pin down. I had spent that time thinking very, very hard about the sort of fantasies I was going to inflict on her.
Yara ran through the woods, sobbing with fear. She ran as fast as she could, terror fuelling her aching limbs but like some awful nightmare every step, every stumble seemed to be sluggish and slow. Brambles and thorns tore at her dress and roots seemed to dart out to slap her ankles. Her breaths came out in heaving, desperate gaps and her heart pounded with the mindless despair of the hunted. She was blind, running blind through gnarled and twisted trees, and then she was stumbling out into a clearing, dark grass below and a pale full moon above-
Something snatched her from behind and she screamed, her reedy voice echoing hopelessly in the depths of the forest. There was a shove and she was thrown down onto the grass, sprawling onto her hands and knees. She turned around-
Barry loomed over her. He was naked other than a pair of trousers and the moonlight gleamed over his pale flesh. Barry was thin and scrawny compared to most men but to Yara's terrified eyes he was a brute; a looming ogre that seemed to swell with evil intent. He leered at her body, clad only in a short, ragged dress.
Moaning, she turned to flee. A heartbeat later he was atop her, slamming her back down onto the grass. She fought but he slapped her, the whip-crack of his open palm silencing her cries. She stared up, eyes wide, as he grinned at her.
"You're going to be my slave," he said. "You're going to be my victim. And you're going to thank me for it."
His hands moved to tear apart the front of her dress, the fabric tearing like paper. Her small breasts were exposed to his lustful gaze as she fought and struggled beneath him. Laughing, he pinned her arms above her head with one hand; the other moved to grasp her chin. He bent down and forced his mouth against hers, tongue slithering in. The obscene kiss continued as she feebly kicked and writhed beneath him.
"There's nothing you can do," he said. "It is pointless to resist me."
And with that he ripped apart the rest of her dress, the tattered fragments fading away. She was naked with this monster- this brute- as she closed her legs together, desperate to protect her wet, hot pussy-
Wait.
What?
With a deep stab of horror she realised that her body was betraying her, heating up with an unexpected need even as she tried to push him off. He rose to his feet and for a second she though that she had been spared; but he merely tugged down his pants. They were both naked now under the silver light of the moon and she shivered at a scene that in any other context might have been romantic. Exciting-
It
was
exciting-
She tried to move but he intercepted her, pushing her back down. "By the time we're done you'll be so well trained that you'll spread your legs when I snap your fingers. You'll tremble when I enter a room and even you won't be able to tell if it's from fear or lust." He reached down and wrenched her legs open. She shrieked and then moaned as his fingers slid down to rub up and down against her pussy lips, laughing as they came out slick with her need. "Look at you. Already a nice slut. Don't worry. You'll love being fucked by me."
And with that he moved to line himself up, throbbing erection pressing against her lower lips. She closed her eyes as she weakly fought against him, already a small but growing part of her anticipating his touch-
And then his cock forced it's way into her pussy and pleasure- hot, violent, desperate pleasure- filled her being.
She writhed as she was pinned to the earth by his erection. He was rough, his hands moving to claim her tits, hard enough to bruise, heavy enough to drive the air from her lungs. He rutted with her in the night-time forest, the air full of her gasps and moans as she was fucked against her will.
Tara felt fear. She felt hate. She felt despair. But all these things seemed to shrivel against the pleasure that rose in her, filling her body, chasing away the discomfort and pain and then bleeding into her mind, rising and rising as her hips began to push back against his thrusts and then she felt her orgasm swell inside of her like a cancer, filling her body with white fire-
***
I was going to break her. Break her in the dream world and physical world both. I mean, could there have been a more natural victim? What else was she put on this world to do, other than bend to another's will? In my lust-addled, isolated and megalomaniacal mind, the logic was obvious. She was prey, I was a predator. The story wrote itself.
Yara the maid bowed her head, tears flowing down her eyes as her master tapped his riding crop. "Do we understand each other?"
"Y-yes. If I want to keep my job..."
"If you want to keep your job," he said, sneering, "then you will need to start performing all sorts of additional...duties...around here. Duties which will start immediately." He snapped his fingers. "Strip."
