Love Bites

Sharon Caliri slapped her thigh high boot with the rigid switch. She dabbed the beaded sandm

sweat from her face and forehead with her elbow hugging silk gloves. Sharon grinned at the

striped welts that crisscrossed her husband’s bare ass.

“A few more and I’ll be crowned queen of the rump roasters. You agree with me,

don’t you, my little douche worm.”

Steve Caliri grunted through the orange and red ball gag that cinched his mouth.

“I didn’t hear you, wormy. Does a cat have your tongue, eh? One definitely will

later. And this time I want you to lick all the way to my ribs.”

Sharon returned the whip to its peg on the playroom wall. She snickered and unhooked

the leather paddle hanging beside it. Raised metal studs spelled out SLUT across its center.

Sharon wound her arm and smacked Steve’s right buttock. She giggled at his muted yelp as he

strained against the clasped headboard on the freestanding stocks. Sharon nodded with

satisfaction at the worded impression emblazoned on his crimson skin.

“Got to finish it up right and proper, wormy. Make like the match game, especially since

you’re such a double mint big time ass pain, pain in the ass slut.”

Sharon spanked Steve’s left cheek. She frowned at the dinky puddle of sperm slopped on

the drop cloth bunched around his feet. Sharon unlocked the stocks and unbound her husband’s

mouth.

“You’re not getting into it much, baby. The last time I used the bum writer, your wee wee

gushed about a gallon’s worth.”

Caliri stretched his freed arms and hugged her.

“I can never say no to you, pet, whenever you want to play. I wouldn’t want, or dare to. I

guess I’m distracted because I’m finally so fucking close! All the indications are there. The

vaccinated animals completely resisted transference of the pathogen from the infected ones, even

after multiple exposures. And they’re able to resist any inflicted injuries to an amazing degree.”

“Oh, they take the licking and keep on ticking,” Sharon said. “Sounds like you and your

sweet bum when we get into really rambunctious play time.”

Caliri laughed and winced at her remark.

“I guess I can make you do almost anything, but not make get into it when you’re not into

it. Or could I?”

Sharon tapped her thigh with the paddle.

“Well, Carly Simon got it right, anticipation is everything she sang about, and a whole

shit load more. Once you’re done and we’re taken care of, we’ll party hardy and hard on-y. So,

my sweet little worm…”

Sharon kissed her husband and swabbed the inside of his mouth with her wet tongue.

Steve cooed when she rubbed his shaven testicles with the jelled strap on she wore.

“Sounds a little scratchy down below,” Sharon said. “Mikey and Ikey need a trim. Maybe

I should get out my special tweezers and clean them like a whistle once and for all.”

“I love your dichotomy, pet. You can be so sweet and girly, and also be such a good,

well, a, ah…”

“A good big old fucking mega bitch. Yep, me bad. Now, go, finish. I can make it an

order.”

They embraced and Steve headed for his basement workshop. Sharon braced herself

against the stocks and yanked off her boots. Steve presented them to her when he first pledged

his total surrender and agreed to be her eternal slave. She wore the boots for her husband’s

continued titillation despite the pinch they developed after she administered Steve a literal and

totally satisfying ass kicking. Sharon grinned at the memory of the color kaleidoscope of red,

black and blue bruises that required several weeks to fade. She giggled as thought about lubing

up one boot and testing how far up Steve’s spread open anus she could ram its tapered toe.

Sharon shuffled to the spanking bench in the corner and grabbed the I-pad from its seat.

She thumbed through the views displayed by the panoramic cameras attached to the house. Steve

installed them when the marauding risen dead started to attack the nearby towns. Her clever little

wormy possessed the foresight to reinforce their personal defenses and not rely on the hastily

organized official sanctuaries. The reanimates overran all the government shelters in less than a

The cameras verified their usefulness when Steve’s lusty screams during a strenuous

CBT session alerted half a dozen scavenging ghouls to the couple’s presence in the otherwise

deserted neighborhood. They expended precious ammunition and gas dealing with the freaks.

Sharon insisted they starting using the ball gag to prevent any repeat incursion.

Sharon paused at the feed generated by the front door camera. She zoomed in on a gaggle

of sunflowers that sprouted in the splintered scraps of her former window box. The reanimates

attracted by Steve’s scream struck soon after she planted the seeds; the window box suffered as

collateral damage in the ensuing firefight. Sharon decided the risen dead’s ashen and desiccated

remains provided a potent fertilizer that allowed the flowers to thrive. She giggled and patted her

“Looks like you got some competition for my worm’s bum hole.”

Sharon sauntered from the playroom and padded barefoot through the living room. She

set the I-pad and paddle on the glass topped coffee table and unbarred the steel fortified door.

She stepped out on the browned front lawn and knelt to pick the flowers. Sharon sorted the plants

by stem length and calculated their insertion order.

“He loves me, and he sure as shit wouldn’t dare not to.”

The ground shifted and rippled as a charred skull with scorched skin tatters adhered to it

burrowed through the dirt. The cranium dumped loose earth from its mouth and bit Sharon’s

knee. She shrieked at the peppery sting that burned her. Sharon clutched her leg and wrenched it

from the soot pile. The skull clamped onto her with its jagged blackened teeth. They yanked back

and forth and struggled in a sanguine spraying game of tug of war. Spurting gore striped the skull

with zigzagged blood streaks as Sharon jounced and shook her leg free. The bonehead tore off a

skin hunk when her frantic wriggling knocked it loose. Ground pulpy flesh plopped through its

clacking mouth and swished into the vacant chin cavity.

Sharon doubled in a half crouch and stumbled back into the house. The skull mashed its

jaws together and lugged itself across the lawn. The cranium twirled across the threshold and

continued its mouth drag through the carpet. Sharon halted her precipitous coughing jag and

glared at the skull as it entered the living room.

“You goddamn cock sucking ass wipe!”

She grabbed the SLUT paddle. Sharon chopped the bonehead’s singed scalp and cleaved

it with the swatter’s ridged edges. The exposed brain throbbed and emitted a combined stench of

pungent BO mixed with expelled gas. Sharon sliced at the encephalon with continuous savage

strokes. She implanted the paddle in the squashed organ with a final blow as her fading strength

eclipsed. The weight of the embedded smacker tipped the bonehead on its side. The cranium

leaked pink, gray and tarry mush on the carpet. Sharon hacked another round of dry heaves as

she collapsed on the coffee table. The glass cracked in a web pattern. Her strap on folded in half

under the weight of her expired body.

***

Steve Caliri sprinted two steps at a time as he ran up the basement stairs. He cradled a

disposable hypodermic and a rubber-corked vial of misted liquid.

“I did it, pet, I did it!” he whooped. “It works, I rock, it works!”

Caliri paused when he reached the kitchen and filled the hypodermic.

“Sharon? I got it all figured now. I let the test animals bite me and they couldn’t infect

me. No spread, no transmittal, total fucking immunity!”

Caliri laughed and cha-chaed through the kitchen.

“Don’t change if you haven’t, it’s mega sadie mashie time. Bump us my rumpus until my

sphincter sings show tunes. I’ll immunize you and…”

Steve halted mid caper when he saw the blood trail across the living room carpet. He

booted the split skull onto the lawn and bolted the door. Caliri flinched when he heard a purled

Sharon sat cross-legged atop the centered coffee table. She twitched and spasmed as she

stared at her husband with glazed, red rimmed eyes. Sharon rubbed her dildo and reached out to

“Sweet wormy,” she croaked.

Sharon slumped from the table. Steve backpedaled and retreated to the kitchen. She duck

walked after him and whacked her strap on.

“Hungry for you. I really want your ass now.”

Steve twisted aside when his wife lunged at him. She bounced against the Formica table

and sprawled backwards on the linoleum floor. Steve snatched a chair and pinned her underneath

it. He plopped in the chair and trapped Sharon’s flailing arm. Caliri jabbed her with the

hypodermic and emptied its contents into her azure vein. Steve observed his wife and frowned

after a minute as she continued to snarl and claw at him. Caliri refilled the hypodermic and

nabbed Sharon’s arm again.

“Work, work, you piece of shit. Cure her!”

Sharon raked Steve’s hand with her nails. He yelped with a combination of agony and

elation. Caliri bolted upright and tipped over the chair. Sharon knelt in front of him and leered at

her husband. His eyes bugged and he gawked as she shredded the chunk of severed hand. Caliri

moaned and grinned as an intense burn kindled in his crotch. He kneaded his testicles in an

automatic gesture while his wife chewed up his skin and sinew. Steve’s stiffened penis popped

from under the sash of his half kimono. Sharon grinned at his hard on and flaunted her bloody

fingertips and teeth at him. A sliver of tendon dangled between her front teeth. Steve watched it

wiggle and spurted a gush of semen. His glistening sperm stained his robe and splattered

Sharon’s face. She scooped it with her fingers and slurped up the milky combination of blood

and cum. Her sanguine smeared lips curved into the familiar oval that punctuated her orgasms.

Sharon moaned and flashed Steve the smile she granted him when he performed to her

satisfaction during play.

“Good, both. More, more.”

“It’s only good as a preventive, not a curative,” Caliri said. “But it really prevents. You

just gave me a better cumquat than even I ever thought I could have. You felt, too. I can’t do a

cure, I don’t have those smarts or the supplies even if I knew how to. I guess I just got lucky with

the vaccine. Shit, is this the consolation prize? I don’t know, pet, I don’t know much at this

point.”

Sharon plucked the tendon from her teeth. She looped it around the purple tip of Steve’s

rock hard cock. Caliri gasped when his wife wrung dribbled sperm on the tendon. She

unwrapped the sinew and snaked it around and between her breasts. Steve laughed when she

rubbed it across her labia.

“I guess that’s your way of saying yes. And if my mistress says yes, that’s it, then.”

Sharon scarfed the stringy sinew.

***

Steve completed his final security sweep with a relieved confidence. He pronounced the

house defenses impenetrable to both reanimates and any possible stray humans. Caliri listed on

his single crutch and grabbed its handle with his skeletal fingers. He needed the extra reassurance

as they embarked on what he termed ultimo play time. Steve smiled when the graphic

recollections of their previous punishment romps stimulated phantom twinges in the multiple

wounds Sharon inflicted on him with ferocious lust.

“Right words, Dr. Smith, wrong intent. Oh, the pain, the pain.”

Caliri’s reveries tingled the customary and always welcome prickle in his groin. He felt

gratified and amazed his mangled man sack retained a virile zing even after Sharon hacked it

open and chowed down on his right testicle. Caliri quivered as his memory of the potent orgasm

his wife’s gonad nibble induced.

“The Hu-mongo-cum.”

Sharon giggled as she chugged his virtual geyser of sperm. She patted his mauled genitals

once the torrent of cum ceased and clamped her blood and seminal fluid smeared mouth on his

quadriceps. Steve interpreted the sparing of his second testicle an indication that a latent

humanity persisted in his reanimated wife.

“You still thought of me and my future pleasure, my sweet mistress pet.”

Sharon’s recent decline frightened and saddened him. Steve attributed her lingering

consciousness to their continued and complete isolation. Reanimates embodied the stereotype of

like beings behaving in a similar fashion when gathered in a group. Steve harbored no desire to

carry on their unique play without his wife’s at least somewhat sentient participation.

Caliri shambled on his bony legs to the bedroom at the rear of the house. Sharon thrashed

against the leather straps binding her to the headboard of their waterbed. Steve trussed his wife in

the same bands she used to tether him. Her increased ferocity required he keep one arm always

remain cinched. Steve noted the thick glaze over her eyes as Sharon fixated on him with

bloodshot orbs. His wife’s prized floor length raven length had clumped and frizzed. Caliri

remembered with wistful lust when Sharon braided her wet tresses into a cat o nine tails and

whipped him with them for over an hour. Her formerly petite and bouncy breasts shriveled to

mismatched lumps and their succulent nipples browned into dried raisins. Sharon’s once lustrous

pubic thatch bristled like a mass of coarse wire. Steve counted half a dozen new splits in her

sallow skin. He smiled and crooned a variation on the old Joe Cocker song he used to serenade

her following intercourse.

“You are still beautiful to me.”

Sharon stuck out her blood-soiled tongue. Steve shrugged off the wooly Garfield robe he

wore. Sharon bought it after she overheard his enthusiastic approval of the obese feline’s disdain

for Mondays. Her grin of recognition perked Steve’s spirits. He whistled The Stripper and

swayed in a mock bump and grind dance. Sharon’s amused smile changed to a ravenous snarl

before the robe hit the floor.

Caliri sat naked beside his wife and rocked her on the droopy bed. He conducted foraging

raids into the still virulent outside world to scrounge for any liquid that helped keep the bed

intact. Sharon loved the waves and ripples they created on it during post play sex. Caliri teared

when his wife chewed his pinky.

“Always for you, pet.”

Sharon crunched the flesh from his tendered appendage. Caliri dabbed his watery eyes

with the skinned hand. He blinked loose blood and stray cuticle flakes. Steve unfastened the

straps and stretched out on the bed. He smiled at Sharon’s perplexed moan.

“You sense it’s different now. Right as always, pet. Soup is really on this time.”

Sharon grinned and straddled Steve’s hips. She clutched his near flaccid penis and

alternated up and down strokes with constricting squeezes. Steve whimpered as his lithe schlong

tensed to full, robust rigidity. Sharon barked with glee and jammed Steve’s cock into her vagina.

Caliri whinnied when she jounced and rode his erection. Her spikey pubes scoured him as her

pussy slapped against his maimed genitalia. Steve squirted pre-cum juice into his wife. Sharon’s

labia seized his penis in a vise grip.

“Your ta-ta is still ha-ha,” Steve said.

Sharon ripped apart Caliri’s throat and slurped up his jugular. She yanked his Adam’s

apple free and pondered its shape.

“You’re right, pet, it really doesn’t look like a fruit of any definition. Whoever named it

must have been toking on some high grade Ganga, man.”

Sharon gnawed the ossified cartilage and cracked her two front teeth. She growled and

flung it against the bedroom wall. Her forceful hurl rocked the waterbed and loosened her pussy

grip on Steve’s dong. Sharon glared at her husband’s tee-heed response to her near tumble.

“Don’t get mad, pet. Take it out on me. Please, take it out on me, sweet mistress.”

Sharon rent Steve’s chest with both hands. She ground his pectorals into skin and sinew

hash and wolfed the down gory potpourri. Caliri laughed again as gobs of the bloody goulash

dribbled down his wife’s chin.

Sharon groped Steve’s shredded chest and pawed his heart. Caliri shrieked and speared

his wife in frenzied tandem with the mauling rhythm of her thumps. Sharon patted her breast and

felt for an answering beat in her own chest. Caliri watched her stymied look change to an

agitated scowl of confusion. He murmured to her in between aroused moans.

“They only beat together metaphorically now, pet.”

Sharon squashed Steve’s heart and wrenched it from his mashed chest. Caliri’s voice

cracked when he screamed in response and launched a gargantuan wad into his wife. Sharon

munched on Steve’s pulsing heart while she jolted up and on his spurting penis. She slathered

blood on her clitoris and blended it with the sperm trickles that seeped from her pussy. Caliri

giggled as his wife’s face twitched and contorted.

“You’re still loving it. That’s the orgasm past cloud nine cum face. The vaccine kept me

going so I could please you one more big ass time!”

Sharon dismounted Steve’s cock. Blood and semen leaked from her vagina and trickled

in crimson and white strips down her legs. Sharon bobbed her head as she licked and sucked

Caliri’s gore and cum varnished pecker. Steve squealed when she scraped his remaining testicle

with her prickly tongue.

“Yeah, that’s it, eat me, pet. Eat me, really eat me!”

Sharon chomped her husband’s penis and mutilated scrotum. Caliri screeched and rocked

the bed with his violent, twisting back arches. His crotch popped its final spasm and he sprayed

cum in his wife’s face. Steve cackled as Sharon slicked down her frizzled hair with his blood and

semen.

“That’s using a real cum-ditioner, pet.”

Sharon chewed Caliri’s residual skin and tissue and pared him to a convulsing skeleton.

She rubbed her body with the dripping swathes before feasting on the flesh and fibers. Sharon

slithered up Steve’s quivering bones and rapped on Caliri’s pivoted skull. She grabbed the lamp

from the nightstand and split Steve’s skull with its wrought iron base. Sharon lapped up her

husband’s oozing brain.

***

Sharon’s dominant consciousness smothered Caliri as it dragged him in. Steve thrilled at

the savage, berserk pull of her ego. He recoiled from a solid fluidness that imprisoned the far

edges of his wife’s awareness. Caliri retreated from the dark barrier and surrendered to Sharon’s

powerful and enthralling thought processes.

Steve flinched as hot wax splattered his again intact testicles. He pictured his wife

squatting over him with a lighted candle. Caliri crammed his face between her taut butt cheeks

and licked her puckered anus. Sharon smirked and ripped a barrage of odiferous farts.

“Taco supreme means more el gas for the wormy.”

Steve’s arms tensed and ached as they strained to support his full body weight. His wrists

chafed in the wall mounted shackles that suspended him half a foot above the playroom floor.

His swollen ass stung from the numerous binder clips his wife pinched to it.

“The rumpus is officially mucho bump us,” Sharon declared. “The wiener and the waggie

baggie get it next. A little good and plenty pain and agony for you, wormy poo.”

Sharon plucked a handful of varied size clips from the pouch strapped to her leather tool

belt. A ribbed foot long dildo anchored it to her waist. Sharon grasped Steve at the waist and

swiveled him around to face her.

“I’m part of you now. You consumed me, but I can’t seem to actually die, all the way.

The vaccine. Fucking A. All your awesome and wicked thoughts and ideas, it’s for always.”

Sharon scowled at her husband.

“You don’t have my permission to talk, wormy. Things ain’t different here. Nip that right

in the bud, just like I’m going to nip your gonad buds. Next thing, you’ll be trying to cum on

your own.”

Sharon clamped Steve’s mouth with three binder clips.

“I got to mix things up; you’re getting too used to these. I can’t have you getting

comfortable on me.”

Sharon slapped Steve’s face and pulled a stapler from her pouch. Steve’s erect penis

throbbed as she tacked his pee hole.

“No squirting for you, wormy douche.”

Sharon smacked Steve’s cock and laughed when it bounced. The clamps binding his

mouth prevented Steve from smiling a full, contented grin.

By Tim J. Finn

Tim J. Finn’s first literary effort was an origin story for Aurora’s The Forgotten Prisoner model. He then proceeded to awe his Catholic school classmates, and no doubt alarm the good nuns, with his subsequent tales of monsters and mayhem. Finn has worked as a short order cook, a radio disc jockey, office temp, copywriter and front desk receptionist. He earned a BA in English from Grinnell College and is a member of the New England Horror Writers and the Horror Society. His stories appear in numerous anthologies as well as print and e-magazines. Details on his writings and musings can be found at http://www.authortimjfinn.net

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