Captured Souls (3 page)

Specimen 3

If there is a goddess on earth, I found her, too, at the sex club. Tall, slender, her flesh a coppery brown, perfectly shaped from her shoulders to her round, firm ass. She was walking around in nothing but stilettos and a giant butterfly painted in latex across her breasts. Her perfect nipples were round hard buttons that barely moved when she walked—no, strutted—around the club. Her heels were so high that when I was introduced to her I couldn’t help but lick the nipple that was inches from my mouth. It was just as well because I was tongue-tied for once.
 

I met the older man she was with and we politely shook hands. He cast me a cold stare. I knew that a threesome would be out with them. He was looking for a young, tight unicorn. I was too old for his barometer.

The beauty and I were ships that passed in the night, but I’ll never forget her glowing green eyes and angelic face.

I watched her glide around the room, kissing men and women alike as her lecherous date looked on. She smiled at me often. At last, she kissed a girl and the old man liked it. They disappeared to a private room and I never saw her again.

The bartender told me she’s a model from California and gave me a name. I Googled her immediately when I got home that night.

Her online portfolio is magnificent. She will be a stunning addition to my experiment.

Journal

I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. I’ve picked my three lusts—the beauty, the artist and the jock.

The preparations are ready. The final touches were finished this morning and the house has been prepared. The laboratory is ready. All the software has been updated and devices checked and rechecked.

A thrill surges through me as I contemplate my newest experiment. In celebration, I watched my copy of
Human Centipede
again and drank far too much red wine. I decided to make it a double-feature, science-fiction movie night and put on
Rocky Horror Picture Show
and jumped around to the “Time Warp”. So now I will go rest. There are very busy days ahead.

Specimen 1

I lured him for a visit by promising to take him to the sex club, which I did. He had a marvelous time in the orgies, as did I, watching his beautiful body fuck women crying out at the size of his cock, as well as taking him deep inside of me myself.

We had a wonderful long weekend and he greatly enjoyed the MP3 I gave him.

Specimen 2

Though he sends little poke emails as if to see if I’m still alive, I’m not sure if he’s interested or not. I figured he must have a girlfriend and screws around on the side. Otherwise, why be so weirdly evasive? I waited to see him race in one of the local triathlons. He was surprised to see me at the finish line, especially when he was surrounded by what seemed like quite the tight, firm little cheerleading squad. But I just smiled and gave him a special type of MP3 that he could wear in one ear like a Bluetooth and change music tracks with the click of a tiny button on the side of it. He seemed pleased with his new toy as I watched him walk away with his blonde, athletically young harem.

Specimen 1

Specimen 1 had been packing his suitcase when I entered his bedroom. He looked almost dwarfed by the looming four-poster, mahogany canopy king bed where his suitcase lay on top of the mattress, clothes neatly folded all around it. Wooden gargoyles leered from the top of the burgundy velvet canopy, watching his every move. I wore one of my long white lab coats, stuffed full of necessary equipment. Other than little black panties and my heels, I wore nothing else under it.

The way he looked at me, that brief hesitation, I knew he saw something in my face, my eyes that he didn’t quite like. He expected me to be upset and was bracing himself for it as he planted the folded squares of clothes into the rectangular suitcase.

“Leaving so soon?” I asked. “This is most unexpected.”

“I have a book deadline. I have to get going. These books don’t write themselves,” he half grinned.

He patted his clothes one last time and then clicked shut his suitcase.

“When do you think you’ll make it back this way?” I asked him. “The door is always open.”

“I’m not sure… These books. Three-book deal. It’s a lot, you know? I’ve never had this big of a contract before.”

“I see.” As I realized that my lips had tightened, my nerves stretched to shining, shimmering threads quivering as delicately as spiderwebs, I forced a smile. I forced a relaxed drop to my face, a full-lip pout as I kissed his shoulder. Composure was key as I donned my mask of seduction.

“Miriam,” he said, tilting my face up towards his. I stared into his sad blue eyes. “I have to go write my book. I’ll be back. I just don’t know when.”

He touched his lips to mine, a brush as strangers.

“You can work here. I have everything you need. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything but writing. I have my own experiments to conduct.”

“I need to get back.”

“But you’re not scheduled to leave today. Your ticket…”

“I’m sorry. I changed the ticket without telling you. I have the muse. It’s urging my return. I need to get this done. I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, that soft, lilting accent turning average words into something more decorative. I understood his urge to get to his project. I most certainly did. But what I had to offer was better. A beautiful office, no worry about paying rent, and no responsibilities but writing and pleasing me.

He likely didn’t understand how alone he was really going to be once I started the family-building process.

“Please, stay, Scott,” I said. I ran my hands down his arms and then up to his face. I cupped his face so that he had to look into my eyes. I wore my violet contacts and knew they were disarming him with their vibrancy.

“You wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Endless food and booze. Endless time to write. No worry about anything but enjoying me once in a while.”

“It’s not the same, Miriam. I need to be home with my muse.”

His words cut me to the core as if he’d used a knife. There was someone else. Someone he’d kept hidden from me.

“Who’s your muse?”

Scott sighed and flung his arms up. “You know. The muse. Creativity. Demon. Goddess. Pandora. Lilith. Medusa. She’s whoever you want her to be.”

Is this what it’s like to be an artist? I’ve heard about these muses before but I still don’t understand them.

“So you’re not living with a woman?”

Scott laughed. “Hell no, Miriam. I’m not a bloody asshole, you know. Give me some credit…coming here with you.” He hugged me into his arms from behind and pecked at my neck. I laughed although it didn’t tickle. Over the years, I’ve observed other women laughing when their necks are tickled. I’ve never really understood the tickling thing and wonder if maybe I was born with something missing. However, it’s easier to feign the sensation in order to please him than to encourage his disdain and thus provide a reason to leave too soon.

I kissed him back and for a moment it seemed that I had won. His warmth traveled through my mouth and into my bones. For a little while I was under his spell, believing that he would stay. But when our lips parted, he turned away. Before I knew it, he was back to his prissy packing-and-running-away plan. My solar plexus twinged and a knot grew in my belly. There was someone else, eagerly waiting to feel his embrace. She may not live with him but her tug on his attention was real.

I watched him go through his last round of packing and fidgeting, checking buckles and double patting down shirts. I grinned a little, which made him nervous, my hands thrust deep into my lab coat pockets, tapping the bottles.

I didn’t get mad.

Well, at least on the outside.

Inside I was screaming in a rage akin to Eminem’s early rants. My Superman is not leaving, he’s not dead, he’s not off to save the world. He’s going to stay right here and do what he’s meant to do.

Specimen 1’s eyes were leery, sad as always and filled with that distant look guys get when they are done with you. But I wasn’t done with him. I slid my hands from my pockets and ran them down my thighs. The dance had only just begun.

Tearing my panties out from under my lab coat, I held them up like a trophy before his face. Before he could make a sound, I pushed him back onto the bed.

“Miriam, the plane…” he stammered as I snapped open his jeans.

“We’ll be done before you’re finished complaining.” I grinned as I saw he wasn’t wearing underwear and wasn’t nearly as unenthusiastic as he pretended to be. I straddled him, unbuttoning my lab coat and holding the material away from his face. When I leaned over to kiss him, my body clenching against his as he thrust into me, I stabbed him in the neck with a hypodermic needle I had slipped from my pocket.

He didn’t have much reaction time, but the sudden rush of something different through his system released him into some kind of orgasm. He cried out and then collapsed, his eyes shut. I finished pleasing myself, smelling his delicious scent and holding his limp torso against mine. I trembled with the eagerness of a puppy smelling the dinner bowl being lowered to her face.

My body had a will of its own, craving his familiarity, my nose filled with the smell of his brilliance, my senses tingling and quivering like an overtight E string on a violin. The release I finally experienced was the best we’d had together yet.

It took a few minutes to undress him fully. First I pulled him from the bed and onto the floor. Buttons and limbs and his lifeless weight made all those gym sessions pay off. I rolled him back and forth, careful not to knock his precious head into the clawed feet of the bed. Once he was naked, I left him curled up on the floor in rescue position.
 

The bed needed to be fitted with plastic sheets. I was sweaty and they kept sticking to my fingers, but at last I wrestled them onto the mattress. Then I layered two more giant loose strips of plastic across the bed, taping them with everyone’s favorite choice of adhesive.

I rolled over several shiny metal trays from behind the curtains. Earlier I had stocked them with various instruments and serums. I opened a panel hidden in the wallpaper and flicked a switch. Large, bright overhead lights in the room flashed on. I walked around the room and inspected the hidden cameras I’d strategically placed in random spots, to make sure they were running.

After carefully inspecting the trays and recording all my scientific findings into the other journal, I was ready to begin. My temples throbbed with the anticipation of a new beginning. Experiment 698 would be my victory. Sweat poured down my forehead as I counted and recounted the serum dosages ready to be administered through the hypodermic needles laying on the tray, recording the EMFs in the tiny implants, inspecting connections and computer codes one last time.

There could be no failure this time. Everything has been prepared and double-checked an infinite number of times. There are curves to be adjusted for each individual, but 698 overall will be the one that will succeed.

It was tough work, but I heaved Specimen 1 back onto the bed. I had to get him on there with the minimum amount of stress, so I rolled in one of my stretchers from the lab. I slid him onto the stretcher then raised it to the height of the bed and rolled him over onto the plastic-clad bed.

That was one good reason I continued to go to the gym. I had to be able to lift heavy bodies quickly and safely. He wasn’t going to be asleep forever.

I shackled him to the bedposts by the ankles and wrists. Once he was tightly secured, I put a ball gag into his mouth.

He was a lovely vision, all bound up like that, his tattoos wound around his arms, across his chest, splashes of color painting his beautiful young body. I ran my pen down his flesh, marking the spots where the implants would go.

Although his skin twitched as if he was tickled, I knew his mind was asleep, regardless of what sensations his body could and could not feel.

Before I began my surgery, I rolled over the electrocardiogram machine and applied all the electrodes to him. The tape rolled out so I could consult it quickly and easily, instead of scrolling through yet another monitor.

I put the headphones on his ears and began to play the important recordings.

Once I had him hooked up to an IV and heart machine and oxygen, I began my surgery.

By all observations, the sedative had been the appropriate dosage. He barely flinched when I opened his flesh with tiny cuts with my scalpel.

Into each cut was placed a small electromagnetic device the size of a grain of rice. The diagram of the placements is in the experiment journal. They were inserted head to toe. These devices were the newest component to my experiment. I had observed resistance to just audio exposure and drug exposure, but the newest phase was this particular model of implants.

My vinyl gloves were slick with his blood by the time I finished. I’m more of a brainiac than a surgeon. Vinyl is hard to control but latex induces hives and rashes on my skin.