Page 35 of Mara
Her leash fell on each step behind her as she ran, making little thump noises. Shocking me further, my prey had locked herself back into her cage, choosing to hide behind the foul-smelling buckets of waste. The leash was wedged into the metal door.
If I yanked hard enough, it would open the door, but likely shatter her neck bones as well. There was zero slack. Her body was a tether to the fine material of the leash. She couldn’t so much as move her hands or legs without the sharp edges inside the collar slicing her carotid.
Interesting.
I walked to the cage, assessing the angles and her inability to move. Tilting my head in amusement, I waved to her slowly. She tried to cower back but shrieked at the collar-biting adornments.
I didn’t often have such malleable toys to play with. And neither…did Fluffy.
This woman was no doubt akin to that pitiful spider, trapped until the predator decided to strike and end its misery.
But what fun would it be to pull the leash and end the skittish woman’s existence in a bucket of her own disgusting waste?
There had to be a more useful way of disposal—a unique opportunity called for a unique approach. I thought of Fluffy’s hard-shelled body simply glowed in his enclosure from the light of the moon peeking through the windows.
Would his body glow brighter if he had a better…diet?
Fluffy was magnificent, a feared and complex creature that could not thrive on something as little as a spider for a challenge. Fluffy needed bigger prey.
A smile spread wider and wider across my face as I practically skipped up the stairs and into my bedroom.
“Oh, Fluffy,” I called out, approaching his massive tank and reaching my hand into the lair of the beast. My pet knew me. He knew my scent. That never ensured I was safe, but from one monster to another…we respected each other. I could squish him with my fist just as easily as he could poison my blood and paralyze me before an agonizing death.
Fluffy was the one thing in this world that understood me, the only thing to see me without any masks but appreciate my presence all the same. He was a gift to me—more of a warning to conceal my nature.
My mother loved me. She knew who I was. She’d hidden all the animals that went missing, and later the people who strayed too far. My mother knew I was a monster. Gifting Fluffy to me was her way of atoning for the sins of burying my secrets…her plea and her apology.
In the end, she couldn’t look me in the eye without fear. And so the creature she brought to me, the very thing meant to tame my darkness, was what ended her light.
Fluffy killed her, his barbed stinger lashing out and into her hand, protecting me, guarding me from the world. She froze on the ground that night. Convulsing long after the look of pain had settled into her eyes.
I was a child then. Eleven years old, staring into the dead eyes of my mother. She stayed with us in my home for a week, until some neighbors complained about a smell. I didn’t have a father. He had never dared to admit to the monster he created, and my mother, having been nothing more than a whore on the streets, kept anyone from caring.
I grew up with my aunt. A better life than the foster system, and I quickly learned how to conceal who I was. To her blind eyes, I was a good child, biding my time until I was an adult.
Fluffy was my only constant, and never once had he been taken from my side. We were more than companions. He was family.
I didn’t see him before he popped free of the spider web inside his cage. His beautiful body revealed itself, searching around my extended hand for any food I may have dropped.
I wiggled my fingers, beckoning him to come to me.
“Come on, Boy. I have a game for you to play.”
Fluffy crawled onto my hand, the spiked bottoms of his feet made my skin itch, and I stroked one finger down his exoskeleton. His big black eyes gave him an almost cute look, a sharp contrast to the lethal poison packed into a single strike of his tail.
I walked down the steps to the basement, Fluffy crawling around on my arm and hand. As soon as I arrived at the cage, the woman, who was normally quiet, started to scream. Those types of pheromones were a buffet for killers. The taste of fear in the air was intoxicating. Fluffy vibrated, his color seeming to appear iridescent.
“Wha-what is that?” she shrieked, pushing her head backward despite the blood trickling down her chest from the punctures on her neck.
The metallic tang was indescribable. I licked my lips, remembering how it pooled from my Little Reaper’s mouth just hours ago as I fucked her savagely. I knew her cunt tore around my dick. I could feel her skin breaking, see the slight red tinge in the water, but unlike Gianna, Mara kept going.
My Little Reaper liked pain.
“I have done everything you asked of me,” the woman shouted. “I gave you all the information about Mara Abara, and I taught you how to sign better than most interpreters even have the ability to do.”
I remained silent, leaning down with Fluffy and watching as he clipped his claw onto the bar.
“Yes, you have. And I am grateful. Truly. My plans for Mara extend beyond any comprehensible experience. She will shatter before I kill her. I have you to thank for that.”
