Black Honey. Chapter One


Chapter One


“This is what I brought you this you can keep,
This is what I brought you may forget me.
I promise you my heart just promise to sing,
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.”

                                        – AFI Prelude12-21

“Kenny run! Goddamn it! Run!”

My best friend shouted behind me. He didn’t have to, I knew I had to run, like God himself had it in for me, but before I tell you what we are running from, I will have to take you back. Before all this, before the world went to hell, before they changed. Before he was gone.

The day started like any other. I woke up on the floor when his hand rubbed my head. Okay, maybe not the same as every other day. I did disobey him the previous night and sleeping on the floor, away from him, away from where it was warm, from where I knew I belonged was my punishment. What I did isn’t relevant, but now, thinking back— if I’d known, if I’d had the slightest hint of what awaited the world that morning at 11:08— I wouldn’t have nipped at his cock the previous night. No, I would have been a good sub. He would have petted me, kissed me, fucked me and said “Good boy, now come here.” Here being in his bed, in his arms, next to him, curled up with my nose in the hollow of his neck … Oh God his scent, what it did to me. How it drove me senseless and made my cock so hard I could drill holes.

No, I had to be a teasing little bitch and get a slap on my back with punishment.

I stood and started what was expected of me. I went to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. While it brewed, I packed his lunch and prepared a bowl of oatmeal for him. I could hear him in the shower. Quiet and that meant he was upset with me. I never liked it when he was upset with me. I laid out his clothes and packed his gym bag, re-checking that I’d packed everything for him.

He was done and stepped out of the shower when I heard the coffee machine beep. I slowly made my way out of the bedroom, avoiding his gaze at all times (it was part of the punishment). I poured him his coffee; black, no sugar, no milk, strong that’s how he liked it. He had a big meeting that morning with another law firm joining to his. He stepped out in his suit and God, I swear I wanted to look so bad it hurt.

But I didn’t.

He went to sit by the large dark-wood dining room table and began reviewing the papers for his meeting. He had been going on about it for months, and like a small child excited for his birthday, like was just around the corner, he spoke of it often and each time I would listen ecstatically. Half the time I didn’t listen to what he said. I was too lost, drawn into him; the way his lips moved when he spoke, the way the vein pulled when he got excited and his jaw would stretch and relaxed when he moved them. The way his eyes lit up. The plans he spoke of  how they would strengthen the firm, the new client’s it would bring, not that he was doing badly on his own it’s just like he said “I want more for us, for me, for you.”

His plans always included me, always. He was in love with me and I didn’t even know the full extent of it, not untill he would say good-bye to me that morning.

I placed his cup of joy down next to him along with the bowl of oatmeal and took my stance behind him, my hands behind my back, with my head down and chin touching my chest, the collar around my neck hugging me tighter from the action.

“Down, Boy. I want you on your knees, head on my lap,” he snapped in his morning voice, deep enough to thrill the desire in me. I could have come right there just from his voice, and I could, trust me I could, but I would not dare disobey him again, not after last night.

One thing you need to understand he was not only my boyfriend, lover, Daddy, Master, Dom.

Thomas was my world. I worshiped him. When I was with him, there was nothing and none one else except HIM.

During the day when he’d be at work, I would work myself up so much— fantasizing about him, obsessing over him— that during the evenings when he did take me and fucked me like his bitch, used me like his little whore-cunt-boy-pussy, he would simply have to say “cum” and I would.

I was on my knees, head pressed against his lap when his hand came down and touched my cheek.

He was different from the others, the men I had prior to him. To them it was a game. A quick way to get off, but to him it was a lifestyle. Though it was not that which made me stick with him. It was the way he touched me, most intimately burning my skin with a simple brush of his finger, softly, gently as if my skin was fragile and delicate. So gently that it stole my breath.

He was the cruelest lover and in the same breath the most passionate I’d ever had.

He stroked my cheek, slowly trailing his callous fingers over my soft stubble and I knew, he would tell me to shave or he would do it himself. He liked me smooth. He stated one night, that way he could touch every millimeter of my skin— and he did.

His hand came to my neck, his grip strong but always gentle, I could trust that he would never hurt me. He trailed his forefinger over my main artery, his touch causing my cock to press against the restraint of the chastity belt. I wanted him, to just take me there on the table to satisfy his need because I knew it was there. I could see his erection pressing against the black material of his pants.

He finished his cup of coffee and bowl of oatmeal, never letting his hand go from my neck, from my hair or my face.

I needed him then. I always did. Like the air I breathed, I craved him.

When he tugged at my collar, I knew it was over and I had to get up. So I did. He still didn’t look at me nor was I allowed to look at him.

I cleared the table of its contents, packing up the documents in the order they were color coded with their sticky notes. He was off in the bedroom brushing his teeth when I heard the water stop, the slapping of the tooth-brush on the bathroom basin, the clinging of it as it went into the cup that held it. I clipped his briefcase closed after making sure I packed everything in that he needed for the day and went to go stand at the front door. I stood with my face hanging low in submission, ashamed of my actions last night, showing him my remorse, my regret. His briefcase at my feet, the gym bag over my shoulder and the lunch bag in my hands. He walked up to me and took those three things like he did every morning and opened the door to load them in the car. I expected as much, I was still being punished. He wouldn’t say good-bye to me that morning. I closed the front door, turned and started walking to the kitchen to clean the dishes from last night. I froze when I heard the front door unlock and open, I held my breath expecting a cruel lecture from him when he spoke.

“Come here.”

His voice had that kind of authority that you knew if you didn’t obey there would be hell to pay.

I turned and for some reason, I don’t know why— maybe my subconscious or my sixth sense knew what was going to happen that day— but I ran to him, arms stretched out towards him and he caught me and pulled me to him. His essence filled my nose and I could taste him on my tongue and in my mouth. He was there holding me and I felt complete. He withdrew from me and it hurt, my heart screamed and begged, my mind buzzed and my body trembled being away from him.

He griped my chin between his fingers and forced me to look at him but I turned my eyes in their sockets and stared at the wall.

“Look at me will you!” My gaze snapped to his.

God, if I’d known. If I had known those eyes looked like that all morning I would have screwed this Dom and sub stuff and comforted him. He looked at me, lost, scared and worried and honestly I didn’t understand why. He stared at me to the point I got uncomfortable and anxious. Was he going to tell me this is it? It’s over! That when he gets back I need to be gone?

We stayed like this for a long time and he swallowed hard, like there was something he needed to say but couldn’t. He sighed and spoke with tears running down his face.


And I knew it was over, he was dumping me. Dumping my little ass for the next damn best pretty little sub. He never called me Kenneth unless it was life threatening, terminal trouble or if it was over between us.

“Kenneth, I love you. I don’t think you know just how much, and today… today, it’s supposed to be the day our life’s change… but I can’t help feeling something’s going to happen and that this is good-bye but if nothing happens great for us. I just wanted you to know that I love you, Kenneth. No fucking bull shit Master and boy slave-shit now, this is me, Thor speaking to Kenneth, telling him I love you and I will always love you.”

He kissed me then dark, savage and lovingly. Like it was the last kiss he would ever give me, like it’s the last kiss he would ever give, period.

If only… if only we knew how true his words would be.

He left and I stood a long moment in the door naked, collar bound and chastity belt on. I didn’t give a fuck if the neighbors saw. I was standing there torn, broken, crying. So deeply touched that I felt at any moment my heart would burst from my chest. No man has spoken such words to me and touched my heart the way he did that morning. I finally closed the door just when Mrs. Parker walked past. I would meet her again during the course of the morning. I just didn’t know it yet.

By 10:38 there were sirens and commotion in the street, I didn’t hear it, I was doing my chores; cleaning, head phones in and vacuum on.

My father always said technology would be the end of us and in a way he was right.

I was still naked only wearing the chastity belt and collar. My trusty old collar, he gave to me and I swore to him I would never take off. AFI Prelude12-21 playing in my ears. I heard the thud sound on the front door after switching of the vacuum, in between songs but ignored it. It happened three times before, popped the head phones out my ears and went into the bedroom. I slipped on some sweat pants covering the chastity belt and pulled a hoodie over me to somehow hide my collar. It’s not that I was ashamed of our lifestyle, some people didn’t get the whole BDSM, master and slave, boy and daddy-ownership thing like we did. It came then, when I reached for socks and running shoes that I heard the thud against the front door again. First softly as I pulled on my first sock then again when I pulled on the second, then repeatedly. It wasn’t knocking so much, but like someone slamming their palm against it and then sliding down it along the wood.

“Fuck, who could this be? Another salesman trying to sell me God knows what?” I raised my voice, hoping they would catch on that I was not happy.

They were abundant in the neighborhood since this was one of the wealthy parts of Wisconsin. With the running shoes on I tapped the phone and saw the time 11:03. Usually they came in the afternoon, when they knew the housewives would be back from whatever they did to pass the time.

Thud! It came again.

Now pissed and annoyed, I walked to the door. Never knowing my life— my entire world— would change. That that door kept them out and when I’d opened it hell itself would spill into our home. Because it was our home.

I came to the door and asked who it was but no one answered. I did hear the screeching of tires and a car crash but if only I’d taken it for a warning. The thud noise came again and I unlocked the door and chucked it open.

The sun shone bright in my eyes. At first, in front of me, everything seemed normal like it should be but if only it would have stayed that way. That’s when I felt the grip of a hand on my ankle, strong, hard, inhuman strength, as if the nails were being pressed into my flesh. I pulled violently and the grip slipped. In the same instant I looked down and fell back at what I saw.

It was Mrs. Parker, but only half of her. The top half, her lower half missing and she was still alive, only she wasn’t. Yes, welcome to my new life. The thing that was Mrs. Parker gurgled makinga a noise out of her throat. Her face was a bleeding mess and there was a pool of blood underneath her. Her right eye was gone; a piece of her cheek was missing like some animal had bitten it off. Black thick blood spilled from her mouth and then she moved; dragging, crawling and gurgling she moved her half body towards me. First reactions run? No, not me. I’ve seen too many movies and I am Kenneth Steel, I was bad ass, or I thought was anyway. My foot met her face first as I rammed it straight into her jaw and more blood oozed out of her missing eye socket, cheek and mouth. She only gagged and gripped my ankle again.

“The fuck woman!”

I brought my right foot up and into the soft part of her head so hard that I was scared when I heard her neck pop and it hung to the side. Then I was up. She gurgled again and not thinking just going on instinct, instinct induced from watch too many horror movies, I kicked her head like a football and my shoe got stuck in her mouth and the bitch bit down.

The leather of the running shoe was strong enough to withstand the bite but as I pulled my leg back some of her teeth came out, actually getting stuck in the shoe. I stumbled, falling on my back against the carpet. The force knocking my breath from me and rattling my head. I felt her hands on my calf pulling me towards her. Bringing my right leg back as far and fast as I could, I brought it back against her face, again and again and again. Pushing her off me with the repeated motion of her face meeting my running shoe, she finally let go of my calf and I scudded away from her.

Looking for something, anything I could use when I heard a voice.



Brain matter splattered when her skull exploded. I could hear her gurgle once and then nothing.

Moments later I could hear everything; running, screams, and sirens – car crashes, explosions, gunshots, crying and I knew that the world was gone, long forgotten. Replaced by chaos in a short couple of moments.

“Get up, Sir.”

Second reaction, what’s going on? No not me.

I got up, not trembling and horrified, but in pain and panting for breath. The blow to my head from hitting the carpet stung and I reached back looking for blood or brains oozing out or a crack even. I only found a bump.

I heard the click of a gun and swung around and found the barrel looking me in the middle of my face.

“Are you bitten, scratched? Are you infected?”

My eyes did go wide in horror just then.

Trust me I would have helped her if I could but he came too quickly.

He was on her before she saw his reflection in my eyes. He jumped her from behind and she screamed but it was different when his jaws latched onto her throat and bit into her. The blood spurt forth like a fire hydrant erupting, little droplets sprayed over the right side of my face and hoodie.

She still tried to throw him off, but why, was all my mind could ask.

He got you cop girl now you’re as good as dead, why try fighting?

Yeah, I know your probably thinking I’m a cruel and twisted human being … I’m not.

It’s just that death is just that, death. End. The end of the life cycle. The journey into the other life cycle, rebirth and life. Death cannot exist without life and the other cannot exist without its opposite. Without it there would be no point to it. Well that was my view-point anyway. Now though, I guess it wasn’t so as the dead kept on living.

Cop girl fell to the floor and all I could think about was how long till she turns into what they turn in to – zombie? Living dead? Reanimated corpse? The guy on top of her kept feasting, tearing the skin and flesh, gargling as it did. It’s like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. I could almost imagine him smiling taking the piece of flesh in his mouth while he gorged on it. Cop girl twitched a couple of times and my eyes caught hers as they got murky and the life seeped out of her.

Did she have a family, a boyfriend, a grandmother, kid’s maybe?

One thing I learned when the world changed that day— though the realization came a lot later but I’m telling you now so you will understand why I will act as I do and why I will say the things I will say— it’s not how good a runner you are, how fit you will be, or how smart; how much you know or even that you’re good with a gun… and, it’s definitely not hope that will keep you alive. No… those things might play a small part in keeping one alive, but think about it for just a minute and really think about it. If all hell went down who would be the ones that survived? Simple, those that switch of their humanity, their feelings. Do you honestly think hope will keep you sane when everything around you falls to shit?

Please! Do you think you will still be whole when your own lover comes at you and tries to gorge themselves on your flesh? Your children or your parents? Even if you cling to hope it will fade. All the death around you it will be enough to plummet you into insanity.

It will be better to numb yourself to the pain, to the loss, to the chaos and accept it for what it is and move on. Those people, the cold-hearted ones, they are the ones that will survive. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about murderers and psychopaths. I’m talking about people like me, that see death as death and move on. It comes down to this; in a cruel world you need to be cruel in order to survive. Your lover is your lover. Your brother is your brother. Your parents are your parents and your children are your children until they get bitten. It is then when you must sever the bond and kill them, for they are not yours anymore. I will regret my own words later on.

So plumber guy— he had a plumber’s uniform on stating he worked for Folsh and Dan’s Plumbing Service— was still gorging on cop girl. I reached for the gun in cop girls hand when he growled-gurgled at me. They were, as I soon would discover, very protective of their kill. Snatching the gun, I moved away slowly, plumber guy ignored me and went straight back to eating his cop girl meal.

I moved away with my back towards the bedroom, my eyes still fixed on plumber guy. Once inside I slowly closed the door and locked it. I sunk to the floor with a big sigh and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My hands were shaking and the bile rise in my throat. Yeah, we’re all though guys till the reality stares us in the face. Disoriented, confused didn’t even begin to describe what was going through my mind. Then it came, like I knew it should. I was crying, sobbing, mourning— I was hysterical. Most likely I was just like the people outside, the people coming face to face with their own admittedly deepest darkest nightmare, and be honest with yourself now, you’re not scared of heights or spiders or whatever phobias you have. Deep down the most terrifying thing to you is when the ones you love, the people you care most for turn on you ready to eat you and see you only as a meal. Hollywood and movies have sugar-coated this reality to us making it look simple. Honestly, do you think you could shoot your own child if you’re forced to? When their eyes look to you and you see the memories of them flash before you? I don’t have children and I myself can’t imagine doing such an inhuman thing. The human mind is such a fragile object.

In my frenzy of heartache and realization, I went for my cell phone. It took me a whole damn three minutes to just unlock it. I went to contacts, scanned through the names till I came to Master Thor. Something that should have been so simple felt like it took a lifetime to complete. I didn’t press dial right away because fear trembled in my brain and gripped me as hundreds upon thousands of scenarios flashed in my head. The only one that stuck out was, what if he didn’t answer? I was so terrified to make that call, so dumbstruck that I almost didn’t. It rang first and I counted one ring, two, three … six.


“Hello,” I said in a frantic, scared voice.

“Thor, oh God, Thor, are you okay? Please say you’re—”

But I stopped as the voice mail message played out. So deceiving was the thread of hope that when I heard his voice I did not even take into consideration it was his voice mail.

I let the phone drop.

“I have to get to him.” I whispered.

Too late. All chaos broke through the front of the house. I could hear them gurgling-groaning it might have sounded like roaring but it wasn’t. They are dead, they don’t need to take breaths, no breath meant they can’t blow oxygen or air over their larynx to make sound. So it sounded more like choking on their bodily fluids, bubbling from blood and flesh they had gorged themselves on.

I did the only thing I could think of, I called my friend. The only friend I had after coming to America.

“The fuck, Kenny.”

Pete wasn’t gay, not even close.

“Pete, shit dude, you saw what’s going on outside? I need your help.”

“Hang on, you’re crying, what’s going on? You disappeared, dude, like overnight you vanished, and now seven months later you call me and ask me for help! Are you in a drug nest or something?”

“Shit, you don’t know? The world went to hell and you think drugs are my problem? There are people out on the street eating other people and you think drugs are the problem?”

“Dude, for real? Zombies? Now you really are on drugs! Where are you, I’m coming to get you and by God I will beat you to a bloody pulp and drag you to a rehab clinic.”

If only it was so.

“204 Carters’ street …”

“OK, I’m on my way.”

“Pete, Pete!”


“Be careful.”

“Yeah, Kenny. Whatever see-in half an hour.”

“Pete, Pete…”

The buzzing of a dead line blurred in my ear.

Why didn’t I just call back? Because, one of those thing’s rammed itself into the bedroom door.

Half an hour? For those of you that have come face to face with life threatening moments you would know; a second feels like a life time, half an hour feels like a freaking eternity.

I got up knowing the door won’t hold long when the others caught on.

I went to his drawer on the pedestal on Thor’s side of the bed and retrieved the key he left for me. Knowing he trusted me so I could take of the chastity belt when I needed to go to the bathroom, though now it was a whole different story. I’ve seen the movies. I know how they go running and hiding, running some more and more running and I was surely not going to run with the thing on. I needed to move efficiently and quickly. I slipped the sweat pants down and took off the chastity belt. I reached for my collar but forced my hands away. I could still keep this on.

Right, you’re going to say, why not just take the damn thing off as well?

I couldn’t. It was his, his mark of ownership to me and it was my mark of ownership stating who I belonged to. It was my hope, my reminder of him, my safety blanket if you want.

I fasten the sweat pants tighter round my waist. I heard a loud crash. The TV must have plummeted to the floor. One of them rammed itself against the door again. I paid no attention seeing a duffel bag fall over the wall and a slender girl followed by another. Slender-girl one picked up the duffel bag and looked around the garden. Slender-girl two joined her, they honestly looked like terrified little children, and could I blame them? I was lucky to still be clinging to the little sanity I had. I saw slender-girl two point to the front of the house. His (our) house had no gate, the garage sat on the right side of the house and that lead into the back part of it. So they didn’t have any other means of escape, other than to go through the house. Recalling the curtains was still drawn closed in the living room, they had no idea they where only going to meet a room full of those things.

I stepped off to the window and knocked on it. Slender-girl one looked up at me. I pointed for them to come towards me. Hesitantly and huddled together— funny, just like you would imagine two girls in a scary movie huddled together, that’s how they moved— they came over to the window.

“Hey.” I whispered when I opened the window. “You don’t want to go in there, the rooms buzzing with those things.”

“Shit!” said slender-girl one. “Is there any other way out?”

“Yes, through the garage, but who knows what’s waiting out on the street?”

“God, he’s right, Claire,” said slender-girl two. “Well it’s better to stay trapped in here, at least they move slowly or it seems like it.”

“You obviously haven’t met plumber guy yet!” Both looked at me.

“Listen, my friend’s on his way. He said he will be here in half an hour, give or take his shock of what’s happening and the chaos he needs to avoid. I give him one hour, if by then he’s not, we move, but I can’t let you guys just go out there on your own. My names Kenneth, yours?”

“I’m Bailey; this is Claire,” said Bailey pointing to slender-girl one.

Oh whatever! I know what you’re thinking. Poor cop girl, well like I stated, I couldn’t save her even if I tried.

“So what now?” Claire asked.

She looked like the smarter one of the two at least.

“I don’t know, I don’t think coming in here is such a good idea.”

I ran the situation through my over thinking brain.

The things were in the living room, going on the fact that they haven’t discover the two girls yet, they would still think I’m the only one in the room. I glanced back and saw the dresser, I could use that to bolt the door somewhat and if they did come into the room I could close the curtains. Yeah, assesses everything around you and think quickly, you might think stupid of me but trust me when I say if you can make the necessary precautions do it, it might just save your life.

Climbing out the window I heard another one of them ram itself harder against the bedroom door. I signaled for the two girls to keep quite when my phone rang.

“Dude! Dude! The fuck or I’m on some high dream shit, or you were dead serious.”

“Pete, thank God. Are you okay?”

“The worlds gone to shit and you ask if I’m OK, dude this is cosmic! I’m fucking ecstatic.”

Yes that Pete with his screwed up sense of how things are.

“How far are you? The front of the house is swarming with the stuff and we are trapped in the back garden.”

“When you say we does it involved a guy? Like another gay dude?”

Pete never got the howl gay thing, despite the way he views the world. Something about shit getting stuck in your dick, I never even tried to bother with explaining it to him. Something’s were better left unsaid with Pete.

“Pete, fuck, just … where are you?”

“I’m almost at the High way…” he went quite after that and I heard him speak out loud to himself.

“Oh holy mother of Buddha and my Go…”

I said the only thing making logically sense to draw his attention back to the phone.

“Pete, I got chicks here”

“Hot chicks?”

Honest can’t believe the world ended and he still thinks with his dick.

“Yeah… I guess.” I lied. OK not saying they were ugly but hell what did I know?

“Ten minutes, Dude. Ten Minutes, I will be there.”

And yes chicks were all he needed to hear and he would be there (here) in ten minutes.

Five minutes of waiting and it got dead quite in the house. No ramming into the door, no gargling and nothing being bumped over. It was both terrifying and reliving, at least when you heard them you knew where they were.

“I’m gone go check, stay here,” I whispered to the two girls. We were huddled behind the trash cans. Lame, stupid, but what else would you have us do? Hot wire a car? Trust me it crossed my mind but I could not drive in the states yet. Being somewhat dyslexic it was hard to get used to driving on the opposite side of the road and not like He took me out for driving lessons, though we spoke of it —and I knew jack shit about cars let alone how to hot wire one.

Standing on my tiptoes, I peeked into the kitchen through the window, it seemed empty. I held my breath to hear better, any slight sound or noise to just give me an indication. I jumped and yelped like a girl when someone pressed down on a car horn.

Pete, I’m going to cut off your dick and put it in a blender when I get the chance.

That’s what went through my mind when he shouted outside.

“Kenny, you better come now!”

Not a hesitation, the girls came up behind me,

“OK, we go in and we run, you ready?” They didn’t look ready.

I flung open the kitchen back door. There were blood stains everywhere, but there were no signs of them. We quickly made our way from the kitchen to the front door; Mrs. Parker corps still laid there but no cop-girl. The girls stepped first, paying too close attention to the dead corpse at their feet and no attention to mailman running straight towards us.

I snatched the duffel bag from Bailey, Claire screamed so loud I swear my ears start bleeding. Duffel bag met the mailman straight in the face. He tumbled over onto his back, head hitting the pavement with a hard swak and crack sound but mailman was a tough guy. He was up shaking his head from side to side, the piece of flesh and dress in his mouth swung and splattered blood droplets in front of him.

Apparently Mrs. Parker’s retriever thought this was play time and latched onto the material in mailman’s mouth. I always knew that something was wrong with that dog – this just proved it. Bailey gripped Claire dragging her to a waiting Pete, he gave a weak smile at me and opened the car door for the girls.

Mailman however had just found his next meal and was distracted. This was scary for two reasons, one if they saw every living thing as a meal, sooner or later what would we be left with to eat and two, if humans could be infected what else could also be infected. I slammed the car door behind me when I heard the dog squeal and yelp. I knew mailman had sunk his face into him.

“Drive!” I snapped at Pete and stared at the road in front of me.

And he did without question.

About wulfginn

Indie writer nothing more crazy tn my imagination though trust me you don't want to go there its not safe...
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