Hunting Horror: 2.1

She prowled.

The scent of their prey thickening as they tracked them down, the sliver of pheromone trails continuing on even after the point where other scents mixed in, scouring away much of the original traces which you’d been tracking. But that was the power of having an entire separate brain dedicated to the art of tracking, the teasing apart of cues and rendering them into a high definition ‘picture’ which you and your whore could reason your way though.

The chemical bath had been enough to wipe out much of the pheromone scent, almost enough to mask it completely... but in so doing had left an even stronger impression which you realized quite quickly was simply another trail to follow.

A beast alone would have lost the trail but you were a not a mere beast.

You were a Monster.

And they were going to be your harvest.

You could feel it though your power, the scent of fear as your Whore stalked ever closer to your goal; the complex particles which floated through the air defining various things about your prey, too subjective for you to actually understand without proper contextual keys.

But you knew fear.

It was primal and sweet, the taste of loathing and panic which seemed to flood the place, their hideaway well hidden, nestled between other buildings as it was. Forced to go after them in any of the normal ways you were absolutely certain that they’d have ways and means of getting away, of confusing your efforts enough that maybe they could scatter and disperse. Three hours, as it was you were lucky that they hadn’t already gotten to leaving. You suspected it was in part because of the expansively zigzagging route which they’d taken to getting here, taking their time to ensure no mundane forces could follow them.

A good idea, but it had given you the time which you needed yourself.

You sent a spike of your pleasure though your whore’s mind, intense and brief for her excellent tracking of the prey, short cutting and cutting away from the otherwise Zigzagging path enough to cut down the amount of time it would have taken to get here. You would make her next outing a treat, let her actually enjoy being used for your entertainment.

You feel her alerting you to the otherwise hidden entrance to the warren of your prey.

Good girl, you send without words, just spikes of emotional adjustment, contentment and satisfied desire. The shivery feeling of sexual gratification and the comfort of a job well done flooding though her in a mad cascade; goading her on into further diligence, and greater desire to reach your goals and surpass them.

You focused your attention back upon the hunt, the feeling of hot flesh pressed against your body as you rode towards your destination.