The Animal…Dog Eat Dog

I couldn’t even change the title for fun. The concept is in itself totally delicious. We all have a need to top someone else, whether in business or at home. We challenge our friends and push our limits – just to be better than the next guy. What if this goes to the extreme? What if we can’t stop in vying to be top of the heap – the Alpha dog? Yes, what if… What lengths would you go? I’m continuing my tasty and oh-so evil path highlighting the authors in The Animal – terrifying look at the darkness lurking deep within. Up today is Bryn Tilly.

DOG EAT DOG

It might’ve been the Lord’s Day, but I felt like a demon had shat inside my head. I’d The Animal FInal Concept Coverthrown up so much my gut felt raw. I’d be throwing up blood next.

After work, drinks commenced the moment Bob closed the door at ten and pulled out a couple of six packs. I threw Hostel: Part II on. Lisa immediately spouted her usual torture porn whine, so Bob intervened and took the disc out. I chose Seven instead. Lisa gave me a dirty look.

I like Angus. He talks the right shit, has good taste in movies. We rabbited on about slasher flicks for ages. Lisa got bored and left. Then it was off to the Dog. Turned out it was Bob’s birthday yesterday, but he was reluctant to mention anything. It was Angus who spilled the beans.

This friend of Bob’s turned up with a cute chick, Angelina, who looked like a girl who dumped me years ago. I got fixated on her. I felt old wounds being fingered; nerve endings I thought were dead prickled. My mood soured, so I kept on drinking, trying to drown out the angry voice pecking away in my mind, trying to dampen a bitter lust.

I think I ended up going home to her place and breaking her off. I think, because I was so fucking drunk I can’t really remember what happened. I woke up in the afternoon lying sideways on my bed, almost fully clothed, the headache from hell, and scratches on my neck and chest as souvenirs. Fragments of the night keep stabbing at me. I vaguely remember leaving the Dog with the girl, but unsure whether I put the hard word on her, or if she invited me back to her place. I have an image of her running hysterically around her bedroom while I tried to grab her. Did she hit me? Did I hit her? It’s pretty dark and hazy. I think she was freaked out by all the noise we were making. I think she kicked me out. I remember hammering on her front door for my sneakers. Hammered, all right.

Now I’ve got this strange sensation, like a coil in the pit of my stomach, in my gut, which tightens and loosens. When I drink, the coil feels like it enlarges and spreads. When I smoke, it hardens and hurts. If I don’t drink or smoke I get a blinder headache, and a rage consumes me.

I got to work late on Monday, still recovering from Friday night’s bender. Filthy looks from Lisa. Then Bob called me into the office and handed it to me: I was fired. He grilled me about Ange. She called Bob’s friend in tears on Sunday, told him that I tried to rape her, that I threatened her, and that she is too frightened to press charges. Bob agreed that I had been acting really sleazy around her at the Dog, and Alex, the friend, was really uncomfortable. Rock and roll, deal with it. I gave Lisa the finger on the way out. I spent the rest of the day at the pub.

Later in the week, I met Angus at The Box. He felt bad for me that I’d lost my job. We chewed the fat for a while; sunk about four or five pints, and then he went for a slash. I was nursing my pint and this strange older chick came up to me, put her hand on my leg, and said she’d been watching me, told me to ditch the dork friend. She was like some kind of freak cougar, so I told her to prowl somewhere else. Reluctantly, she moved away. Then Angus tells me that he’s seen the woman several times before, a real bar fly. Apparently, she always leaves with a younger man. She was okay looking, but she smelled a bit weird. Angus buggered off, and wished me luck.

Haunted woman for Lost & ForgottenBonza Saturday. I was at Fiddlers. It was early evening, and I was already half-drunk. I’d been on the Jack n’ Cokes and crystal meth at home before I stepped out. I saw that shifty, older woman again. I was watching her work on some young dude who was alone at the jukebox. He seemed disinterested, tried to ignore her, said something and walked away. She watched him join a table. She turned in my direction, but I glanced away before she could catch my eye.

I noticed a chick saying goodbye to her friends, and then leaving the bar. My coil had spread out and hardened, the ice coating it like armor. My palms were itchy. Outside, I saw the cougar across the road getting into a car, a young man behind the wheel. The chick with the hard body was strutting away, her legs pumping. She turned down the narrow street on the corner. This was good. I put my gloves on, pulled up my collar to obscure my face, and picked up my pace, but when I turned the corner I saw her getting her car keys out, and unlocking a car parked several meters ahead. I needed to move quickly. I glanced behind me, checking for witnesses. As she opened the driver’s door, I scanned feverishly: across the street, beyond the car, back behind me again. No one. Street was dimly lit. I rushed her and in a flash, I’d shoved her across into the passenger side, and I was in the car. She kicked out at me, and her high heel gashed my neck. I felt warmness spread, just like the hot coil surging in my gut.

She screamed, but in a swift motion I had my arm around her head and my hand over her mouth, tight, her jaw clamped shut with my other hand, and I hauled myself between the two front seats, into the back seat, pulling her with me. I tried to wrestle her around, so I could straddle her, but she was stronger than I thought, and she punched me in the nuts. I slapped her hard across the face, and split her lip. Blood splattered across the back window. I punched her again, on the temple, and she was out.

I unbuttoned her jeans, yanking them and her underwear down to her ankles. She had a tattoo of a scorpion with the barb pointing to her clit. I unzipped, and pulled my cock free. It was throbbing. I spit on my fingers and greased the pole, then rammed it in. Suddenly, her knee jerked up and slammed into my jaw. I was momentarily dazed. The bitch was awake and had the back door open and had managed to half wriggle out. She screamed, and I yanked her back in by her hair and smashed my fist hard into her nose, crushing it, blood gushing. She went limp. Now I had to move. But I wasn’t finished with her. The coil was so tight I could feel the tendrils scratching up into my throat. I spotted the car keys on the front passenger seat floor. In a flash, I’d pulled the back door shut, and wedged her small purse in her mouth. My hands were sticky with blood. I needed to act quickly. Into the front seat, the car came alive, and I was down the street, turning, turning again, and again, and down an avenue, into a warehouse car park. Engine off, and I threw myself into the back, hand tight over her mouth, and I waited, heart pounding, the coil thrashing like a cut snake. I could hear a voice, voices.

Five minutes passed. Ten. The voices had gone. No siren. She was still out cold. Her cheeks haunted_forest__-smallwere bruised, her nose squashed, ruined. I pushed my face into her neck, licking her salty flesh, running my tongue down and around the scorpion’s barb. No response. I stroked myself while I ate her hairless vagina, then I put her legs up over my shoulders, and fucked her hard in the ass, slamming myself against her butt cheeks, over and over and over, but she wouldn’t wake up.

I realized how much I liked fucking her limp body, this rag doll. I felt liberated. The coil had loosened, softened. I left her dead to the world in the back seat. Soaked in sweat, I walked a couple of blocks, then caught a cab, and threw up on the way. The cabbie turfed me out, and I had to walk the rest of the way.

Friday night, I got blind drunk at home, while the coil lay like a sleeping dog. I watched gonzo porn until I passed out. But I woke up with an aching gut and a pounding head. I was in a foul mood for the rest of the weekend. I binged on pizza, cheap beer, and ice. I jerked off in the shower until my nuts hurt, and I’d rubbed the skin raw on my cock.

I felt like a hobo walking through the district in the afternoon. Paper bag in hand, a full beard. I finished off the hip, and picked up the least ugly one. We walked to the far end of the park, and I paid her for a blowjob, but I couldn’t get hard. I started getting angry and she simply walked off. I couldn’t do nothing ‘cos some other bitches came out of the toilets and saw us. I wasn’t ready to bring a hooker back to my hole, so I decided to boost a car. Hadn’t done that since I was a teenager.

It was a long few hours until dark. I chose the best of the bunch, which wasn’t saying a lot. I drove into Chippendale, behind a warehouse, no one around. I had her raise her ass up, but she was too bony, no flesh on her. I must have been blind when I picked her up. I pushed her face down into the back seat, but she kept wriggling free, and I kept pushing harder. I had one hand over her mouth yanking it around, and she bit it, so I fucking laid into her. She went limp, and I humped her like that other rag doll. She came to, and that’s when I started strangling her, got her to thrash again, gave me another hard on. I had her facedown into the vinyl, my hands so tight around her throat that my fingers were almost interlocking. I could feel an itch burning behind my eyes, saliva thick in my mouth, the coil bristling with heat scalding the inside of my gut. She tried to scream and I screamed for her.

I am fire.

I can only imagine the bite…

Kisses and dog tails…

Cassandre

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About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
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