DOMINION Bentley Little (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📖

the festivities, but he realized that the celebration was in honor of himself. A huge goblet of wine was thrust into his hand, and he swallowed its entirety. The goblet was immediately replaced with another, and that with another, until he had drunk ten such draughts and his thirst was quenched.

He felt good, he felt primed, ready to satisfy his other hunger.

The smell of arousal was all about him, entwined with the fragrance of the wine, the heavy musk of the women, the lighter scent of the men.

He scanned the faces before him. He wanted two today.

His eyes alighted on the robed figures of a woman and her young daughter. He nodded, and both removed their clothes. The woman’s breasts were full, milky, her thatch thick. The daughter was hairless and only just ripe. With one easy movement he stepped out of his own garb. The eyes of the two females widened with awe and lust at the sight of his enormous organ.

He took the woman first, bending her over a log and taking her from behind as the other celebrants cheered. She screamed with agony and joy and hot ecstasy, and he became wilder, more feverish in his movements as the wine was poured over them and the woman began to buck. His time was about to come, and he grabbed her head, smashing it against the log with each thrust as his seed shot deep into her body.

She had stopped breathing long before he was through, though the blood continued to pump from her gashed head.

Afterward, the daughter sat on his lap and rode him as he impaled her, tore her apart. His satisfaction came at the precise moment of her death, and he leaped to his feet as he gave a cry and around him the carnage began. Screams of pleasure and screams of pain blended, harmonized, created a music beautiful to his ears. He breathed in the blood and sex and death, looking proudly down at the broken, used, and twisted bodies of the mother and her daughter, bathed in liquid red and white.

They were dead, but the life force had not yet fled entirely, and their legs were still twitching in remembrance of ecstasy.

Dion awoke suddenly, his head jerking up from the pillow. The final image was still in his mind, the young girl and her mother covered in blood and semen, twitching. He was disgusted by the image, nauseated, frightened by it. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, opened his eyes.

His room seemed far too dark, its night shadows much more threatening than usual, and he was sweating, drenched with the aftermath of fear.

He also had an erection.

“So did you feed her some sausage?”

Dion slammed shut his locker, ignoring the question.

Kevin grinned. “Come on, man. You can tell me. I’d tell you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about Penelope like that.”

“Whoa, it’s love and not just lust!” Kevin reached out to grab a passerby and make some crude remark about the situation, but Dion stopped his hand.

“Hey, I’m serious.”

Kevin’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. I was just joking.”

“No,” Dion apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so defensive.”

“You must be pretty serious about her, huh?”

Dion shrugged. “I don’t know.” He shifted the books uncomfortably in his hand.

“You are. I can tell.”

“Bell’s going to ring,” Dion said, changing the subject.

The two of them started walking. “You coming with us Friday?” Kevin asked. “We’re going to cruise up to Lake Berryessa, see if we can’t scare us some campers.”

“Sorry. I hope to have a date that night.”

“Hope to? You mean you don’t know? You haven’t asked yet?”

“No,” Dion admitted.

“Don’t be such a wimp. Use your balls. You do have balls, right?”

Dion laughed. “Your sister says I do.”

“Ask her out, then. I mean, shit, how much more encouragement do you need? You expect her to come out and say she’s madly in love with you before you ask her out on a simple date? Be serious. No offense, but if Pussy-Eating Penelope invites you over to her damn winery and introduces you to her mom, that would seem to be a pretty good indication that she likes you. As far as I know, you’re the only guy who’s ever made it past those gates.”

Dion raised his eyebrows. “ ‘Pussy-Eating Penelope?’”

Kevin held up his hands in an expression of innocence. “I didn’t make it up.”

The two of them turned toward the east wing.

“So are you going to make your move?” Kevin asked.

“We’ll see.”

“So that means you’ll be coming out with us Friday?”

“Hopefully not.”

“ ‘Hopefully’?”

“Probably.”

“Have some guts, dude.”

“Okay, I’m not coming with you. I’m going out on a date.”

“That’s the way it always is,” Kevin complained. “A guy finds himself a girl, forgets about his buddies—”

Dion laughed. “I could set you up with her friend Vella.”

“I could get a rubber woman with more life.”

Around them, the crowd suddenly thinned as students hurried into classes. “I guess that means it’s time.” Kevin hurried down the hall.

“See you in Mythology.”

“I’ll be there.”

Kevin laughed. “I know you will.”

Dion and Penelope walked slowly through the vineyard, the late summer sun streaming down on their heads. Penelope talked about grapes as they walked, about hybrids and planting techniques. Dion listened to what she had to say, looked at the examples she showed him. Close up, the vines looked different than he’d thought they would. The plants were not as leafy as he’d expected, and the stalks seemed dry and twisted, strangely grizzled. Even the grapes did not match the image in his mind. The bunches were full and plentiful, outnumbering the leaves on some of the vines, but the grapes themselves were much smaller than ordinary table grapes.

They continued to walk. The picking had stopped for a few days, until some of the remaining grapes had ripened, and they had the field entirely to themselves. They strode side by side as they moved farther away from the drive. The ground here was rough, furrowed, and it was impossible to step in a