Sex-Starved Thing

~ Joseph Pinto

Nails grate across stone; she comes for me.  Hellish echoes impaling the frailty of my senses through the back of my skull.  Scratch, ssssscratch.  Blistering pants herald her arrival from somewhere deep within my institution of darkness.  Blistering, born sodden with covet, sin.  I am unsure to whom those breaths belong.

She comes for me.  My sex-starved thing.

Beg

Limbs twist; these cords bite into wrists, offering little freedom, holding fast my famished body to this chilled limestone.  So chilled.  I strain to see her; this dark surrenders nothing.  I shudder with the callousness of a desperate want.  So desperate.  Nails grate across stone; ever closer she slinks.

Beg

“Choke me,” into obscurity, I gasp.

Nether’s inviting ledge…always upon which I teeter.  A void exists below, an oblivion so familiar; I will be lost should I fall.  Much the same as this thing…this thing the light of sun has never licked.  “Choke me,” mouth too careless, eager.  My dick throbs, pulsing with a life I wish I myself had known.

I will taste you first

Toes curl; shadows shift so subtly beyond blind eyes.  Fingers clench; shadows shift so subtly beyond screaming senses.  She is all around me, shifting so subtly beyond wildest imagination.

Open

My sex-starved thing I never disobey.  Mouth parts; beads of moisture tease my lips.  I arch against my bed of gypsum, slam inhibitions atop stone, aching for her to break me.  Delirious, this wait.  I swallow dank air, the fester of her home; finally, her tongue fills my mouth with the sweetest taste I could ever despise.  Swirling, swirling over teeth, probing, probing deep into ragged throat.

Fire, raging through my head.  I gag; her tongue clogs my passage.  I desire more.  Always more.  “Choke…me…” I bite down upon pulsing meat in my mouth.  Chew upon festering wretchedness.  Deeper her tongue thrusts, sealing pharynx, sealing remains of wasted breath within my gut.  Endearing, her plague, burying my last wail deep into chest…snuffing life as I asked…interring me with the usual disclosure: she will never belong to me.

I have found the perfect end.  She was born to make me hurt.

Nether’s inviting edge beckons; body numbs, stars bursting behind my lids the only light mine.  From the cusp of unconsciousness, she gently rouses me.  I cannot see.  I am blind.  Her leer fondles; the skin crackles over her jaws.  Somewhere from deep within, the dissonant scuttling of things bloated with far worse than abandon.  She nuzzles my cheek; her tender, moist lips nuzzle my own, grazing so softly the diseased affection left unspoken.  With razor teeth, my sex-starved thing rends flesh from my face.

Sweet agony.  Howling…so desperate for her tease.  Fingers rake my heaving chest—Heaven.  Hades burns beneath her nails.  Squirm squirm squirm I do—her little slug.  These cords do not yield; in turn, she yields no hope.  Into my abdomen, sink her nails.  I spit the contagion of my devotion from reverent mouth, screaming for more.

Within the deadened, inky blanket of her lair, the fervor of her gaze singes my engorged organ.

“Consume me,” I offer.

My sex-starved thing snorts cruelly over my body; the chill she illicits delicious.  Breath swirls across pelvis.

Beg

Those bloated things, they scurry away.  Reverberating between the stalagmites, feelers seeking some other form of rot.  Done with me before even they start.  My beautiful destroyer, she has only begun.  “Consume me!”  A challenge from bloody lips.

Beg

“Please…”  Terribly deft fingers wedge a spreader bar between my legs.  “Consume…”  Cuffs snap, bite into ankle, nearly to bone.  “Me!”

I am numb to her affliction.

A chortle, repulsive beyond limits of known sanity.  Brutal, pitiless—a stony palm seizes my shaft, squeezing as her sadist mouth engulfs, razor blade tongue sucking, lapping.  Shredding skin from my dick, shredding as she bobs.  Coarse hair pricking my stomach, shredding shredding until I erupt; an orgasm of blood.  My essence, it escapes in rhythmic pulses, filling her mouth—the seed of all my sin.  Slowly I bleed out, for me, for her.  Body stiffening; this sensation of depletion exquisite, my only regret that no longer do I die virgin deaths for my sex-starved thing.  She has murdered me more times than I can count.

“Now steal me…”  Mouth betraying me always.

My sex-starved thing lies atop me, my death rattle commencing beneath her jaded eyes.  She laughs, the sweet music of all gone wrong.  Lowers her head.  Tears my throat apart.  She eats, she snickers; spits blood, semen back into the wheezing hole in my neck.  Taunts some more.  The joke is always on me; I love my sex-starved thing.

She slides along my body.  Nipples graze skin.  The stone, it chews spine.  I remain mutilated beneath her—an emasculated piece of nothing, a chunk of meat detained by her lure.  Broken, so willing for her promise.  Ruined, left yearning for more.

Blistering, the tortured pants between us.  Still unsure to whom those breaths belong.

“Steal me,” pleading to the worst of all I am.

She obliges; it is what she does.  My curse the blessing she delivers.  Fist deep she plunges into my chest, twisting, tearing at my very corruption.  Her brutality unmatched, rending my heart free of its cage.  The lump of flesh now my dick twitches.

It belongs to me

She devours my heart.

The gagging nearly immediate.

The gurgling incessant from her mouth.

Resurrect…me…

Somewhere in the dark, she collapses.

“Never,” voice oily in her lair.  I wait until silence clots my ears, shred wrists free of her knots.  For all the Devil in me, I love my sex-starved thing.  I could never tell her of the poison within my heart.

~ Joseph A. Pinto

© Copyright 2013 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

Published by Joseph Pinto

Author of the poetry collections 'From My Front Steps' (2021), 'Scotch and Scars' (2020), 'A Distilled Spirit' (2018), the novella 'Dusk and Summer' (2014), the horror novel 'Flowers for Evelene' (2005) as well numerous published works of dark fiction. Rumored lycanthrope. New Orleans Saints fan. Pancreatic cancer advocate. Twitter: @JosephAPinto Instagram: joseph_a_pinto Share his unique spin at josephpinto.com

73 thoughts on “Sex-Starved Thing”

    1. That is very kind of you to say, as well greatly appreciated! This little piece came together so eloquently, if I may dare say so. “Sex-Starved Thing” is no less than pure brutality, but at its root, if carefully explored, it is all about true love. As its creator, it was my responsibility to turn “Sex-Starved Thing” into a work of art & not just senseless words of violence. It’s not that kind of tale…

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  4. When I read this, I instantly pictured an individual that is deep in the thralls of BDSM. The voice (that of the submissive) and the Sex-Starved Thing (the dominant) are in a sexually symbiotic relationship. While on the outside it looks violent, dark and disturbing, I realized that fetish-bound people probably have a much harder time finding love and meaningful relationships due to the extreme nature of their passion.

    But it is still passion, it’s still love, and when it meets the needs and desires of those involved, who am I to say it’s wrong or strange. Joseph, this was an artfully crafted tale of dark pleasure and “forbidden” impulses that shined an unashamed light on a misunderstood realm. (at least that is what I took from this)

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    3. Hey Zack! 🙂

      Hmm, as to my mindset when I wrote Sex-Starved Thing, that will be a post for another day (actually over on my personal blog in a week or two lol). I do find it interesting, however, that you’ve already associated the Sex-Starved Thing itself as the dominant one in the “relationship.” Something to chew on, perhaps?

      Thank you for the kind words. This was a joy to write & I’m thrilled you enjoyed it!

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  5. It’s a tale that arrests the senses Joseph. The romantic in me says this isn’t love this is obsession. Though if they were both zombies who knows what that form of love would be like (like what you have written).
    The end has an excellent twist – poison heart
    … the cycle continues

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    1. Hi Leslie 🙂

      Poetry comes in different mediums, & the structure of Sex–Starved Thing is “my” poetry. Certain stories I create call for a distinct style; I call it “chopped writing.” Who the hell knows what it is!! lmao But I do know it requires a certain feel and emotion; what’s amazing is that none of it is ever forced. It’s either there on paper or it isn’t.

      What is romance to you, Leslie? The desire to always fall in love, or the love to always desire falling? Aah, yet another twist of words. Without it, that cycle does not exist.

      Thank you for reading & sharing (pssst…keep sharing…) lol 🙂

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      1. As a poet who does love to play in the romantic arena, I would love to have a discussion on the love angle. Boy we could get some feathers flying couldn’t we? I appreciate that you have your own style of writing – who wants to fit into a constrained box?Your writing shines because it is from the depth of you. Chop Away!!! (heads may roll with a statement like that)

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        1. lmao Believe me, I have a few heads I’d like to chop!

          Discussion on the love angle: hmmm, I smell a guest poster/interview in the making for one another, perhaps?? 🙂

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  6. Ritualistic and disturbing! As an earlier reader said, it draws you in; you both know what is going to happen and yet you know there has to be more to it, and there is! Rich, vivid prose makes the story easy to envisage and marries (if I can use such a romantic notion here) the language to the themes of excess and lust.

    A powerful and absorbing tale, Weaver.

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    1. Thanks Tom!!

      I think my piece reads like a car wreck lol Not crafted like one (I should hope), but one that becomes a guilty pleasure – you know you shouldn’t look, but God help you, you just can’t stop!! (And the dirty truth of the matter: you love it! lol).

      Thank you for all your kind words, Tom. There’s a lot of brutality going on in Sex-Starved Thing, but it didn’t need to be written cruelly, if that makes sense. I hope my tale brings horror into another new light! 🙂

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    1. Hey, thank you very much for reading & the kind words! The trick to Sex-Starved Thing was infusing it with rhythm & employing a more ‘elegant’ style of writing; if I hadn’t, the story simply would have read as filth.

      I appreciate the support!! 🙂

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  9. Pingback: Sex-Starved Thing by @JosephAPinto (Adults only!) | The Endless Chase

  10. Unbelievably delicious yarn!

    Joe, I absolutely love this piece! From word one, right through to the last, it is so eloquently destructive that it steals the mind and soul of the reader; yet so precisely constructed that there isn’t room for another word that could/would have made it more stunning than it is. I’d love to spin an elegant commentary on your use of prose, the twist of words, the depths of pity and the height of jealousy you take the reader to in this tale, but all I’ll say is that I was completely consumed by it from start to finish. I think my emotional response is overriding my writerly response and I would just babble incoherently (if I haven’t already).

    Devotion, greed, lust, fate, pain, horror, need, want – every word points to the undying love in this uniquely twisted (and genuinely breathtaking) work of art! Kudos, friend. Color me jealous, this is beyond magnificent – on so many levels. Tale Weaver, can I interest you in an erotic anthology submission? LOL

    Beautiful, Joe! In all honesty, beautifully expressive writing that you should be extremely proud of! ;}

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    1. Hi Nina! 🙂

      Wow Nina, you sure do know how to humble a bald guy, don’t ya? lol

      First & foremost, thank you very much. I create fiction & prose on a whim, & to have this kind of response over something that just came together in my head is incredible. I’m thrilled you enjoyed it as you did, and I’m appreciative of your kind thoughts.

      I wish I could say that this was meticulously crafted, but it wasn’t. The story was there in my head, & I wrote it. Actually, it wasn’t a story per se, but a thought. The fun for me is melding these thoughts & images until it actually takes shape. This was brutal imagery that spoke to me with a very sad tenderness. Really, for all the violence contained within “Sex-Starved Thing,” it truly is a heartbreaking tale (pardon the pun).

      I never quite know what I’m going to write about from one piece to the next, and I never quite know how they will turn out. But I am very proud of this; it’s the kind of story that speaks for itself.

      Hmmm…an erotic anthology submission? Now there’s a thought! 😉 lol

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    1. Hi Julie 🙂 Thank you very much, I appreciate that! I think I mentioned earlier that the style in which I wrote “Sex-Starved Thing” allowed it to “sing.” Again, I’m very appreciative that you took the time to read and enjoy! 🙂

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  12. Joe,
    This may be the most beautiful tale of graphic violence I’ve read in a long time! Such exquisite pain and pleasure! I’m blown (no pun intended) away and in awe. Great work, Tale weaver!

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    1. Tyr, thanks so much buddy! There’s graphic violence and then there’s…well, graphic violence lmao I think anyone who doesn’t believe that horror is not beautiful or art should get their head examined…with a screwdriver…in the ear 😉 It’s all how the artist wields his brush, my friend! Thank you again for the kind words!

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  13. It’s pleasure and pain, and pain and pleasure, mixed together in endless measure…

    Ahhhhh…to see the rot and putrid essence of your decayed heart splayed across the page in that manner makes me shiver with…er…an-ti-ci-PATION! (Let’s see how many movie memes I can ‘weave’ into one single comment. *highly-inspired smile*)

    My, my Mr. P., this post of your’s does give an all-new meaning to “sexy time.” *Borat-y grin*

    I simply adored this little bit of damnation that, throughout, was laced with the sadistic stench of semen and sweat and with a fair amount of masochism to boot! This read was darkly satisfying in the most graphically gruesome of ways. I still see the beautiful suffering and, like the late Hugo Chavez, can still smell the scent of sexual sulfur in the air long after your duo have left their lascivious lectern.

    Stunning in its imagery. Horrendous in its crafting. Terrorizing in its delivery. If this is an indication of what we should now expect to see from the Weaver of Tales, the Stealer of Souls, and the Eater of Sins, I for one cannot wait the many weeks for the next entry that slips from your tortured mind onto these Black Pages…

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    1. Umm, you have now heaped about a ton of pressure on me, Wulf 😉

      Ok, first, I appreciate your kindness & the fact you took the time to read my little yarn. And I am thrilled that you enjoyed it as you did. You know, Wulf, I never game plan what I’m writing. But you should know by now that I’m always varying styles, mood & prose. I am quite satisfied that “Sex-Starved Thing” has sufficiently expressed & exposed, hmm, how shall I say, my much darker, devious side. I can’t promise that my next offering will be of similar vein…but I can promise that it shan’t be the last of my evil within.

      Weaver of Tales, the Stealer of Souls, and the Eater of Sins…may I use that on my business card? 😉

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      1. I know. I know. I was just trying to make your job even more difficult. *devious snicker* Sure, use the job title wherever you see fit. Just make sure it’s prominent on the card. *grinny grin grin*

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  14. My, my, Joe, this is quite a tale of extreme love, two-sided, doomed to fail from the beginning, and yet . . . and yet, perhaps not. Who knows what lovely forces are hiding in the Dark to resurrect this twisted passion, the disturbing debauchery. Nice twist with the beating heart, which supplies life sustaining fluid, being the destroyer of the object of our hero’s affections. Great tale!

    Blaze

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    1. Hi Blaze!

      Thank you, my friend! Yes, I’m thrilled you caught on (doomed to fail, and yet…perhaps not). Beauty, as we know, is in the eye of the beholder. Can love be held captive then, and if so, by what measures is it chained? I think my story can be interpreted any which way the reader chooses, but what thrills me most are the questions asked not of it, but of ourselves…

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      1. Interpretation by a reader is a true joy, and if a writer is so explicit as to not allow a reader to participate in her/his rendering of the truth within, the reader has been short-changed. No short-changing with this tale.

        Blaze

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  17. Wicked story, Joe. “Her razor tongue…” I know that one … “So good, but I hate you.” I experienced a metaphor for a dysfunctional relationship. A Man and Woman in constant love/hate turmoil, but when entwined together in the carnal darkness were meant for each other. Then can’t wait to get away. Devouring and rending each other, but poisoned by shared hearts.
    Great piece. Your prose, so brief and beautiful, as always drives the story with its lyrical rhythm. Thanks for the heads-up on this post. It was a joy to read.

    ~Chris

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    1. Hi Chris! Thank you very much, my friend! I was hoping you’d enjoy this one. You seem to be getting a handle on my style…until next time I lob a curve ball, that is lol

      I never set out to make a “statement” with a story, but after writing Sex-Starved Thing, I myself found it interesting that it could well be interpreted in many different ways.

      As always, thank you for your support, Chris!

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      1. I don’t attempt to write in metaphors either, but I almost always do; seeing it in the end after I’ve stepped away from the piece for a while.

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  19. Pingback: ‘Sex-Starved Thing’ on Pen of the Damned | Author Joseph Pinto's Horror (and things not so horrible) Blog

  20. Sexy, sick, and sadistic. Your imagery was beautiful and tender, yet heartless and evil simultaneously. I found myself lost in descriptive lines, only to be yanked away from the story as I cringed in disgust. Very unique piece. Thanks for sharing.

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    1. Hi Madison! 🙂 Thank you very much…I am thrilled Sex-Starved Thing disturbed you to the point you could not stop reading!! lol This little story of mine packs a punch…I’m appreciative that you took the time to read it 🙂

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    1. Hey And Then She Spoke Evermore! lol :)Thank you so very much for taking the time to read “sex-Starved Thing.” I appreciate it…and I’m humbled knowing you enjoyed it the way you did. More fuel in my fire to keep cranking out monster material!! 🙂 Thank you again!!

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  28. IMHO:
    I found it interesting that some found this to be violent, graphic, brutal, etc… “He” knew what he wanted from her…craved it, begged for it, and needed it on a base level. “She” obliged, willingly and expertly, to fulfill his desires. It’s a give and take kind of thing, so to speak. Even though, to the outsider, it may appear to be violent, graphic, brutal — it is a most exquisite demonstration of love…the kind of love where both are safe to seek out and enjoy WHATEVER they want to with their true love, without fear and/or judgement. They BOTH devoured the tastes, smells, actions, and emotions found in such an intense relationship. there were NO victims!

    Achingly poignant writing Mr. Pinto. It is a privilege to wander through your brain on occasion!! 😉

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    2. Hello Poe’s Raven Lady! 🙂

      There are so many ways to examine ‘Sex-Starved Thing;’ but I always do my best to camouflage my true thoughts in the guise of horror prose 😉

      Thank you for taking the time to read!!

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