Maia stepped inside the shower, still fully clothed, and placed a wholly undressed Matthew on the rim of the flat tub at her feet.

         She then took her tank-top off, throwing it outside and freeing her beautiful breasts from their confines, but left the leggings as they were while she proceeded to run the water by touching a panel on the glass curtain. Matthew backed up against the glass of the shower trying to protect himself from the spraying drops of water deflecting from her skin, then sat and hugged his knees tight to his chest. He wanted to be prepared for the carnage.

         And it was truly a carnage. As she slowly slid the leggings down, she revealed her blood-stained nethers like some aftermath of terrible hemorrhaging. Dozens still stuck on the sweat of her skin, most of their bodies twisted and turned horribly out of place, mashed against the soft surface so forcefully that some of them were rendered to mere silhouettes painted on a canvas made of their own blood and gore. Matthew dug his nails through on his skin, trying to keep away the pain reflecting on his mind, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away.

         For so many years he had led this double life of a profiler and serial killer, training himself to kill as efficiently as possible. He hunted down and eliminated the monsters disguised as humans, people who simply didn’t care. Thanks to his gift, he could easily spot those who were oblivious to the consequences of their actions, the suffering they caused. They were the ones that could not feel, could not grasp the meaning of human emotion. They would cause pain just to see their victims wither, to hear them scream, beg, plead and cry for mercy. And for Matthew, they were those that had a huge hole within them, a big chunk of their soul missing entirely. He could never fight off the urge he felt while in their presence, only control and delay it enough so he would never be caught.

         Yet here he was, in the presence of the greatest, most frightful killer of them all, and instead he hated himself. Every part of his being urged him to do something, say something, but the cold part of his mind, the logical part still held onto his composure. It is not the time, he thought. Survival is what it’s still all about, and the moment he tried to change her is the moment he would become simply one of them, his image of a person cast aside and transformed into a mere mortal at her feet, worth nothing more than to die for her so she could enjoy her superiority. And then there was that other curious feeling in the background, like a very quiet, high-pitched humming that comforted him, warmed him. Somehow, it made him relate with her. He didn’t understand it.

         So he sat on silently, watching as the towering, divine-like being adjusted her body so the jets of water would hit her nethers.

         There were still survivors, he noted. Mostly those that had the luck, fortunate or the opposite, of being positioned right where her thighs joined her crotch, and the one his saw still wriggling on the opening of her but crack. The water washed all the blood and gore away, down her her thighs to her knees where she still kept her leggings worn, staining them with even more blood. The survivors got unstuck too, falling into the soft material. She wanted them to live on apparently. And as she moved her hand to her sex, he remembered of course that there were still those stuck inside.

         She retrieved them easily, letting them fall between her thighs on her leggings. Five, Matthew managed to count. They were all still alive. She then removed her leggings completely and, to his astonishment, wrapped them up so that none would be able to escape, and left them on the tub, blood slowly soaking the water on the surface.

         “Why?” Matthew surprised himself saying. “Why keep them alive? Why not end their misery?”

         Maia ignored him, moving around to soak her hair with water, running her fingers through them. After a short while, he decided she wasn’t going to answer him, but in the end she did, “Because it is interesting to spread them around into other, different groups and watch, listening to them tell their stories.”

         “You do that?”

         “Why?” she chuckled. “Are you surprised?”

         Matthew thought about it for a moment. “I guess not.”

         “I often even disguise myself as one of them.” She said. “Mingle with them, get to know them. It’s always satisfying to see their faces afterwards, or when one of them recognizes me. Though that’s not difficult I guess, I stand out easily after all.”

         There were a few moments of silence. “How do you even manage?”

         “Huh?” She looked at him, frowning.

         “If you get to know them, how can you kill them so easily.”

         She stopped caring for her red hair, looking down at Matthew in silence, contemplating his question before she spoke, “Because it is very rewarding. It’s not just you who get to know them, but they get to know you too. They become more relaxed around you, feel safe around you, develop feelings for you. And when you do betray them, “ a slow, sinister smile formed on her lips, “ it is that much sweeter.”

         A cold shiver ran down Matthew’s spine. “So that is the fate that awaits me, isn't it?”

         “Maybe.” She said, continuing to wash her hair. “Maybe not.”

         Something caught her attention at her feet, and she shifted her gaze. Matthew followed it, finding a tiny woman beating against her right foot amidst the torrent of water crashing down around her. Maia touched the glass panel again, stopping the gush of water and the sound that it made.

         Immediately, both heard the woman’s screams. Tears streamed down her face as she placed fist and kick after fist and kick on Maia’s skin with vengeful fury, swearing a different word each time. She must have escaped from the confines of the leggings somehow, but instead trying to run away, she chose let her anger and it’s overwhelming need for revenge overcome her.

         It was futile, of course. She was a mere insect compared to Maia. Matthew looked up again, waiting for her to react, but instead he saw a dark, disturbing expression on her face that he couldn’t quite fathom for a moment. She was looking down at the woman and… as he looked down again, he understood.

         It was the helplessness, the sheer inability to do harm to Maia. She had taken everything from the woman, her life, her dreams, her pride, and her dignity. She had assaulted and raped her, made her to witness gruesome death and horror, forced her to be her sexual plaything, turned her into something to be merely thrown or washed away after use. And now, given the chance, the woman couldn’t even scratch her tormentor’s skin. The pain and frustration turned Maia on.

         If Matthew knew Maia well enough, he predicted her to end the woman’s life very soon. And the way she would do that is by feeding upon the helplessness of the woman and having her suffering multiplied many times over. Quite how, he was unsure. Maybe stuffing her back into her sex? She was one of those that survived the ordeal there inside, so it didn’t feel quite right to Matthew.

         His thoughts were cut off as Maia crouched down however, and he was about to test his prediction. The woman’s strength gave out and she collapsed on her knees, looking up towards the looming body just in time to see a massive finger ramming her down on the slippery surface of the tub. The finger then turned her over and shoved her forcefully along the surface, burying her face below the shallow water, causing her to struggle and flail in panic with renewed strength.

         That was the first act for Matthew, assertion of dominance. There’s nothing you can do against me.

         After enough panic seeped into her victim and before she could drown, Maia pinched the woman on her foot and lifted her up until she had her level with her face, commencing the next act, number two, the predatory stare. Making it clear who the hunter and who the hunted was.

         But what followed shocked Matthew on a deep level. He expected the final act to follow, devourment, but he didn’t expect it to abide quite so literal to its name as Maia first gave her a thorough lick before she sucked the woman from her fingers into her mouth.

         Cannibalism?

         No, it didn’t fit. She is not a cannibal. But what was she doing? He didn’t understand. She got up again pressing the panel to continue her shower. He watched as she apparently slouched her tiny victim around in her mouth. Was she really going to eat her? He didn’t believe it, but then he remembered something… she didn’t see herself as a mere human, she was more than that. She saw herself being ascended, separate from simple mortals. For her, it wasn’t cannibalism, she was much further up the food chain. And just as he realized that she would do it, she did it then and there while Matthew watched, a small lump becoming briefly visible on her throat as it passed through towards her stomach.

         He understood then, it was logical. There were few things more frightening and humiliating than being eaten alive, to be confined into a dark, humid coffin that would slowly burn you alive before your body would be dragged down the depths of your captor’s intestines where most of it would be broken down to serve the master body however it pleased while the rest of it would be left to be converted into feces and be simply shat out when the time came.

         The ultimate enslavement.

         Matthew shivered again, hugging his knees tighter, reminding himself how god damn lucky he was while Maia continued her shower.

         “You know, “ he said after a while, “any ordinary man would have gone mad by now if he were in my stead.”

         She looked down at him. “But you are no ordinary man.” And as he craned his head to meet her eyes, she added, “And I’m no ordinary woman.” And smiled a warm smile at him before she closed her eyes and met the cascading water of the shower on her face.

         He sighed. Hope. why was she so damn good at playing with around with his?

         As he stood there, thinking, he failed to spot her sudden shifting form and from one moment to the next, he found himself being lifted through the air, everything becoming a gigantic field of blurry shapes all around him before they coalesced into her gigantic face as the motions stopped, the twin emeralds peering through him with blazing intensity while his heart raced with furious pace.

         Then he found himself lurched forward and smashed against the soft skin of her right breast before being dragged around the surface of its wet skin. He fought, tried to crawl his way out of her grip without the slightest success. But then he took control of his instincts and let his muscles become slack. He didn’t need to fight, she wouldn’t hurt him, he made himself believe that forcefully.

         She really didn’t. Pushing, shoving and dragging his body around like that would have been very painful on dry skin, but it was surprisingly pleasant on the wetness. He accepted the fact that she made him an unwilling explorer of the vastness of her body as he was voyaged around. He found himself passing through her cleavage, feel every dent of her collarbones, ride around the curves of her arms before turning towards its pits and then around her back, through her other arm towards the hills of her buttocks, round her thighs and back on the plain of her abdomen. Strangely, he found himself sporting an erection, and he flushed. She noticed too when he was dragged around the sensitive areolas, evident by her giggle.

         She upturned her palm again, looking down at him with a bright smile as she moved a finger to brush a single stroke against his erection while he tried to protect himself futilely. Her smile slowly softened as she looked at him, and then hugged him against her cleavage again, turned him upside down, and shoved him downwards.

         Matthew panicked when he realized where he was headed. Suddenly, he was clawing with all fours against her skin, his heart racing even faster, his erection faltering immediately.

         “Please Maia! Don’t do this to me!” He screamed with all his miniscule might.

         She stopped, right in front of her crotch. He was rolled backwards on her palm, momentarily losing orientation before he regained his bearings, and looked up at her.

         He froze.

         Through the haze of falling water drops, he saw the face of regret, painful regret that emanated chokingly powerful down on him. And he immediately grew so too. He had disappointed her, unwilling as it was. He had made her feel bad even though it was her doing, and he could not help but hate himself even more. Why would he feel so awful for someone like her? Why would he feel so bad for having prevented his own rape? Had he become so out of touch with reality that he would have gladly let himself go through the ordeal just so he wouldn’t have disappointed her?

         “I’m sorry.” He said, barely believing he let those words out.

         She said nothing. Instead, her face turned into something he could read like a writing on the wall.

         I’m so very sorry too.

         But he did indeed become disappointed at that moment. Disappointed that she didn’t say it out loud.

         She lowered him down, and continued with her shower, back turned against him. After she finished with the shower, she stepped out, dried her hair but didn’t dress in anything. She simply took Matthew, dried him too before she gave him back his ragged clothes, then took him outside the bathroom, walking along the narrow corridor until she stood in front of what looked like an elevator.

         “Time to show you that something.”