“Lower her slightly. Low enough that your mouth and tongue can be useful for more than talking.”

Ethan felt a rush at the order. His penis swelled in anticipation. Elira grinned.

“That will not be useful here,” she told him then cupped one of the woman’s breasts in her hand. “But she may return this favour, won’t you Meatgirl?”

“Yes,” she said again, “I’ll suck your dick little boy, you’ve been so kind.”

“See how she pants as her end nears,” Elira moved Ethan to stand in front of the woman. Immediately he felt warmth on his penis as Elira guided it to the woman’s open mouth. With a smack on his butt she told them to begin.

Ethan leaned in. Alice had asked him to do this last night but he was far from good at it. Lips met her folds and he began to press his tongue in between them, tasting swear and chlorine from the pool.

The woman began to tongue his shaft. Her motions were desperate, like she needed to make him feel good before he did the same for her. He reached around and grabbed her ass, pushing his face deeper into her cunt.

Her moan vibrated across his shaft. He thrust his hips instinctively only for Elira to steady him. “Do not take, only accept and give,” she warned him, her teeth nibbling at the shell of his ear, “Do not be a Meatboy right now, be a Butcher.”

He didn’t speak, only gasped in pleasure as Elira’s hands moved to his butt crack, slipping a finger between his cheeks and lightly pressing at his anus.

He dug in more, tasting the woman fully now. Her juices coating his lips, chin and nose as he eagerly lapped at her sopping wet cunt. The finger at his asshole penetrated deeper, causing him to groan as he clenched around it.

Then he exploded into the woman’s mouth. A thick stream of semen bursting out of her despite her efforts to swallow. Then she came in his mouth, dripping down his chest and onto the floor. Elira retreated, amusement on her face.

“I barely pushed in and yet you came into the Animal’s mouth like a bull,” she teased. Then she pulled him away and grabbed the knife. Without so much as a warning she cut the woman’s throat. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as blood sprayed Elira and Ethan.

When he tried to move out of it she grabbed him. “Embrace her lifeblood,” she told him sternly then pressed the knife into his hand, “I will give you the final cut. Start at pubic bone and cut to her neck. Do not do this lightly, make her feel every cut before she expires.”

“If you dare recoil I will kill you next.”

Ethan held the knife. A rush of emotions came to him but none of them were scary. He felt an urge to obey, a dark need. He stabbed her where instructed, feeling her thrash as the knife cut deep into her.

“She feels it,” Elira said, caressing Ethan’s naked body, “Now cut down to her neck. Slowly, she will expire before you finish, but we mustn’t let her swing idly before then.”

He began to cut down slowly. Even if he wanted to go fast, he couldn’t. Cutting her was taxing. Elira’s hands found his flaccid cock, working it to an erection. “See how she cries. How she begs without a voice.”

Ethan looked down, into her eyes. Her face was a mixture of pain and pleasure. “You wanted this,” he reminded her before cutting into her belly. Her innards began to seep from the cavity he was creating. When he reached her chest they piled over him.

Warm.

Bloody.

His cock was harder than ever. Elira pulled in into her chest, stroking his erection as he finally reached her collarbone. The woman was dead before he finished. But he didn’t notice. Didn’t care.

Covered in blood and gore, he was brought to orgasm.

“Well done, little rabbit,” Elira said warmly into his ear, “You did very well.”

Ethan let the knife fall from his hand.

It clattered against the tile, the sound sharper than it should have been, cutting through the thick, heavy air that had settled in the room. He pushed himself upright, his hands slick, dragging them against himself in a futile attempt to clear them before giving up and letting the mess fall where it would.

The smell hit him then.

Not all at once, but enough.

It turned his stomach instantly, rising fast and without warning. He staggered back a step, then another, before doubling over as it finally took him, his body rejecting it in a way his mind hadn’t been allowed to yet.

He retched.

Hard.

He half expected something for it. A comment. A correction. Something cold and cutting to remind him where he was and what he’d just done.

Instead—

A hand at his back.

Steady.

Measured.

Elira.

“This is normal,” she said, her voice softer than he’d heard it before, stripped of its edge without losing its control.

“I killed her,” Ethan said, his voice rough, dragged raw from his throat.

Elira didn’t correct him immediately.

“Did you?” she asked instead, her tone even, almost curious. “I remember being the one to cut her throat.”

Ethan turned his head, looking back over his shoulder as if he could still see it, as if the room behind him might confirm what he felt.

“But I’m the one who—”

“You followed instruction,” Elira said, cutting across him cleanly. “On a cadaver.”

“You never held her life,” Elira said. “Only what was left of it.”

The word landed heavier than anything else she had said.

“My cut was the killing blow,” she continued. “All you did was dress the Animal.”

Ethan frowned, the memory not lining up with what she was telling him.

“But she looked right at me.”

“No,” Elira said.

This time there was no softness in it, no room for interpretation.

“You looked at her,” she said, her gaze steady on him, “and saw life where there was none.”

“You are not a killer,” Elira said, her voice touched with a faint, deliberate warmth.

A pause.

“But you could be… if that moment meant enough to you.”

Ethan pushed himself upright, the room tilting slightly before settling again, his body still catching up to everything it had just been put through. He steadied himself, forcing the dizziness down as he tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“What do you mean?”

“I brought you here to frighten you,” Elira said. “Instead, you asked questions. You steadied her before the end.”

She stepped a fraction closer, not crowding him, just enough to hold his attention.

“You followed instruction without hesitation. You did not pity her. You did not give her false hope.”

Each point landed cleanly, like she was listing observations rather than making a case.

“I want you to work under me, Ethan,” she continued. “But that requires a decision.”

There was no pressure in her tone.

No urgency.

Just certainty.

“A difficult one.”

Ethan stared at her, the meaning already forming before she finished saying it.

“Will you become my Working Animal?”

“Not like the others,” she continued. “Not for slaughter. For training.”

The term wasn’t new to him. Alice had mentioned it before, in passing, the way people talked about things that were understood without needing explanation. Animals—usually younger ones—who showed the right temperament, the right instincts, the right… usefulness.

But they were still Animals.

And he—

He wasn’t.

“You want me to volunteer for conversion?” he asked, the words coming out slower now, more deliberate, like saying them might make them less real.

“You have two choices, little rabbit.”

Elira’s voice was calm, measured, as if she were outlining something simple rather than something that would define the rest of his life.

“You can scatter back to your burrow,” she continued, “return to the life you had before today, and live in safety.”

She let that sit for a moment, not long, just enough.

“Or,” she said, her gaze steady on him, “you can accept the risk.”

A pause.

Not rushed. Not dramatic.

Just… inevitable.

“The intoxicating risk that your life will be determined by how good you become at killing.”

Ethan felt his heart stutter in his chest.

The offer didn’t sit quietly. It moved through him, fast and undeniable, stirring something he hadn’t expected, something that didn’t feel like fear, or at least not entirely. It tangled with everything else—what he’d seen, what he’d done, what he’d felt in that moment—and twisted it into something sharper.

He was already erect again. His penis seemingly answering for him.

Elira noticed.

Of course she did.

“Decide, little rabbit,” she said, her voice steady, leaving no room for hesitation to stretch into indecision. Her finger ran along the vein under his shaft, teasing but also promising something for the correct answer. “Or I will send you home.”

Home.

The word should have anchored him.

He could picture it easily—his mother, the quiet normalcy of it, the way life had been before today. Alice, too, folded into that image, familiar and grounding in a way nothing here was supposed to be.

He knew what he should say.

He knew the right answer.

He thought of home. Of his mother. Of Alice at school, sitting beside him like nothing in the world was wrong.

Then he thought of the chamber.

Of how it felt to matter.

“Yes.”

[THE END]