Just another meal.
 

“What the fuck are you staring at?”

I just smile. I have no tolerance for arrogant people, but women with their nose permanently raised toward the heavens spark a blaze of fury in me. I continue to smile.

What the fuck am I staring at? I’m staring at the typical blonde, blue-eyes, socialite Bitch that has walked on the clouds created by her daddy’s money and power. I’m staring at the spawn of a rich old man and his trophy wife. I am staring at my prey. As I walk away from the self-anointed goddess (maybe daddy anointed her, dreaming of incest), I keep my frozen smile.

It’s two AM, and the party is over. All the pretty people are driving home (or any place with plenty of liquor and a king-sized bed) to complete their sins. The gods have smiled on me and my purpose-Bitch is leaving alone. I am the lion in the Sahara; my camouflages, as I close in, are the cars in the garage, the stumbling drunks searching for their keys.

I do not believe in guns or knives. Too easy. The lion uses his weapons given by the gods.

When the Bitch turns around, there is no smile to greet her. I greet her with a punch in the stomach to steal her wind. I grab her keys and drag her to the Porsche (of course). A few blue-blood drunks notice us, but give the “poor girl can’t handle her liquor” face. It’s always easy.

Bitch is lying on the single-bed in my one-room apartment, trying to whine through the oily rag I have stuffed in that precious mouth. Bitch fights the cuffs. Now I stare without the hope of a smile. Bitch is the prey. Bitch is the gazelle. Bitch is the meal.

(Unlike the lion) first is the cleansing. This part I detest, but I refuse to have a bitch vomit on me. I drag the whimpering Bitch down the hallway to the bathroom and toilet. I remove the rag, and remove the cuffs. I order her to gag herself (the finger-down-the-throat-treatment). Bitch obliges, and the apartment fills with the aroma of spoiled champagne and finger-food. Let the games begin.

I do not speak to her. When Bitch begs, I slap that aristocratic face. Three bruising slaps and Bitch returns to whimpering.

I write it on paper. I will not give her my voice. “Strip for me, like you do for daddy”

Am I about power? Am I about the lion? Yes. Yes.

Do you envy me? I watch Bitch slide out of a dress that would pay my rent for months. I watch the fear rise on her tanned skin as Bitch fumbles with her black silk bra. I will lick those goose bumps. That is power. Perfect breasts (nipples tight with cold and fear), no surprise, she is a trophy child. No soul.

She has a navel ring and a shaved cunt. I am not surprised. Two sudden fingers up that cunt, and she screams, dry and unprepared. I slap the scream from her mouth, and then force her mouth wide. I refuse to speak. As I plunge my hard cock into her mouth, no words are needed.

I love the gagging. Because of the cleansing, nothing but throat-juice on my raging cock. I can feel my cock pulsing in Bitch’s throat.

Power is grabbing two fists full of that blonde hair, and forcing your way. Power is watching those blue eyes fill up with tears as she tries to find breathe around your attacks. Power over the prey.

I expect the shaved cunt, but am still disappointed

But I know these rich bitches. The cunt is fine (as long as I get mine). Only poor girls give up the ass willingly. I pull her dirty mouth off my cock, and slap her for the damage done by her teeth. I slap her face again simply because my blood is past boiling.

When I flip Bitch over on her stomach, I revel in the fact that she knows what is coming. The upper class takes it up the ass. Trophy-child has such a tight ass. I stare (remember the “stare”, ironic) at that perfect ass for what seems an eternity. The Lion wants pink meat. I spank that beautiful ass until the Lion gets his pink.


I hear her cries, as I slip in that virgin hole. She begs, and I slap her for silence, but the longer I pound the more the cries come. Bitch turns me on to the sound. As I fuck her ass from behind, I put my ear to her mouth to enjoy the torment. The thought comes to me to pull out of her asshole and make Bitch suck me while I explode. I never get there. The ass is so tight, and her cries are so desperate that I shake with a violent come. When I ease out of her ass, I love watching my come seep from a place that I violated.

True misogynist
 

What the fuck you talking about here, huh, boy?

What the fuck you know about us po' gals?

Yo need to come on down here, bring lots of rope, and duct tape.

String me up and take me, and see if this here po' gal
gives it up willingly, yeah.

LIke they say the chase is better than the kill.

Love yo' story, boy. Strap me down and take me.


Come 'n listen to my story 'bout a man named Jed
A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed
And then one day, he was shootin' at some food
And up through the ground come a bubblin' crude
Oil, that is, black gold, Texas tea

/ C - G - / - - C - / - - F - / G - - C / - - - - /

Well, the first thing you know, old Jed's a millionaire
Kin folk said, Jed, move away from there
Said, Californy is the place you oughta be
So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly
Hills, that is, swimmin' pools, movie stars

Well, now it's time to say goodbye to Jed and all his kin
They would like to thank you folks for kindly droppin' in
You're all invited back again to this locality
To have a heapin' helpin' of their hospitality
Hillbilly, that is, set a spell, take your shoes off

Y'all come back now, hear?

http://www.discoverynet.com/~ajsnead...1/bevrlyh.html

Come and get it, suppers on the bed! The bed?

Yes it is!!

http://img304.imageshack.us/img304/8857/torom9fk.jpg

I don't hate women. Without them, there would be nothing left to keep their cunts alive. lol

Seriously, just a rape fantasy story brought on by a loathing for the Paris Hilton type, and an unhealthly amount of vodka.

Beautiful body. A tasty treat. Sad I can not see the eyes. That's where the true "meal" lies.