It was cold, dark and damp within the lair of the Flesh-Eater. There was the  stench of death in the air, strong repugnant yet undeniable.

The room was very dimly lit, the walls made of blood stained brick, and the room furnished only by a single chair and a cold metal slab with chains  upon which a man lay, completely stripped down, his finely toned muscled  body exposed where he lay upon the cold metal slab.

The woman, who had middle eastern features, which dark hair and eyes and olive colored skin looked beautiful inspite of the blood that stained her  rose red lips. Her expression was cold, distant, and merciless.

"Hunger, a primal urge, will drive us to unspeakable acts. It demands satiation, it demands satisfaction, like a lover you cannot deny."

The Flesheater drove the metal stakes into the body of her prey, speaking to him as she did. "I will kill you eventually, then I will consume what I need to continue this life. You call it evil, I call it surviving."

There was soft whimpering from the prey, then one last scream off utter terror as she sent her claws down on him.