14. Jaxson
14
Jaxson
Y ou don’t grow up in a cult that teaches you from the moment you’re born that a mostly ambivalent, passive supreme force is going to get bored one day, destroy the earth, and throw most human beings into a lake of fire except the ones it decides are worthy before making the world anew and mostly ignoring humanity again until the next time they get bored or notice how fucked up the world is and not have a sick relationship with violence. You don’t get told your entire life, whether you believe it or not, that you have to be like the Supreme Force and be long-suffering, patient, and even ignorant to the ills and slights from others until you have no choice but to exact violence on them and not jump at the chance to resort to violence at the slightest provocation that would justify it.
Few things justify me acting with violence, and they only happen few and far in between.
Someone making Lauressa’s shoulders slump, that fire in her eyes dim, and that sweet but powerful voice go quiet? It’s now one of those few things.
When I found out about Zach, I was willing to let him go about his merry, miserable life after I had finally made Lauressa see that she’s mine. I may have wanted to destroy him still, but my desire not to bring unwarranted and unwanted attention to the Sovereignty checked the impulse.
Now, not even the fact that this could possibly come back to the Sovereignty in some way, no matter how obscure and improbable, is enough to stop me from what I’m going to do next.
When I leave Lauressa’s apartment, Zach is already gone. But I’ve had my men following Zach since I first saw him walk into Lauressa’s apartment on camera. No doubt, they’re trailing him on his way home.
I send my men a message to make sure Zach gets home, and then bring him back to me. Then I watch as the message disappears from my phone, a verification that my men received it and that the program I have running has erased it and made it unable to be found or traced.
To think I was beginning to grow frustrated when my men and I couldn’t dig up evidence of unsavory character or behavior. Couldn’t find anything that Zach was doing to hurt my Snow White behind her back. That I was beginning to think my Lauressa just had the misfortune of picking a boring guy who couldn’t hold a conversation and didn’t know how to fuck. All I had to do was be patient, and he gave definitive proof why he didn’t deserve her. Even without proof, I knew that. But if I was going to do something about it besides steal Lauressa from him, I’m glad to have gotten justification for it.
It’s still going to be a couple of hours of patience yet before my men return with Zach. So I go home, play with Nala, feed her, and check the feeds of Lauressa’s apartment. The kitchen has been left a mess from the abandoned attempt at dinner, and Lauressa is sitting on the couch with food from her favorite cheap Chinese takeout and watching television with red, puffy eyes. I liked seeing her cry in frustration, desperation, terror, and hate when I had her pinned to that truck’s metal wall and finger fucked her. But I never want to see her cry like this. Though it was mostly the fault of the man she called a boyfriend, I’m man enough to admit that I didn’t make the situation better.
I take out my phone and text, I apologize for ruining your evening, Snow White. I’ll make it up to you.
Almost as soon as I send it off, Lauressa leaves me on read.
When I get the message from my men that they’ve arrived and are waiting for me, I go down to the doomsday bunker I had built into the property over the last few weeks. Well, ostensibly, it’s a doomsday bunker—filled with water, non-perishable food, three extra fully furnished bedrooms, and an entertainment room.
Bunkers like this are common in parts like these for those who have the extra money, resources, and paranoia to do it. I have all three, but also, it’s the perfect cover for my altar. A literal altar. Not like the Sovereignty ones that Sovereigns go to worship at three to four times a week.
I go through soundproof metal doors at the end of the hall with the bedrooms. I close the doors behind me and walk down to a large cellar of stone, concrete, and metal. It’s dark save for a few dim lights on the walls and ceilings that illuminate the room like the moonlight .
My own personal blood altar.
In the middle of the room is an erected and disposable metal cross. Not a very large one. A small one to suit my needs. Six feet at the tallest. Next to it, my men are standing with Zach down on his knees and a bag over his head.
“Remove that,” I order.
“You sick fuck!” Zach says as soon as he sees me.
“Is that the best you can do? Why Lauressa ever wasted her intelligence and ingenuity on an inferior animal like you, I will never comprehend,” I state.
I walk over to a bench near the stairs where a set of long black Catholic priest robes are. Or, they look like Catholic priest robes to me. The Oracle and his predecessors will insist that the attire is completely original without any outside inspiration or influence. But this wouldn’t be the first time the Sovereignty appropriated something and called it an original thought.
They’re unnecessary for what I’m about to do. Another part of the many bullshit spiritual rituals the Sovereignty has made up over the years. But I enjoy being dramatic sometimes. Not to mention, it adds to the suspense.
Case in point.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?”
I wait a few minutes to allow Zach to stop his inane rambling before speaking.
“Do you know who is considered the first Oracle of the Sovereignty?” I ask. Of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know what the Sovereignty is, let alone the Oracle. But like I said. Dramatics .
“The first Oracle was Jesus, the Christ himself. Most Christians will say he died for everyone’s sins and interpret that to mean that he sacrificed himself so that humanity would not have to be punished for our collective sins. Past, present, and future,” I say, speaking almost verbatim the daily morning lessons I learned in the Sovereignty backed and owned private school I went to. “However, he didn’t die for them. He realized that he failed to save humanity from their depravity and failed to turn them away from sin. So he died for the sins of the Oracles who would come after him so that they would not be punished for their sins, chief among them, the sin of failing in their mission. Everyone else though… They would still have to pay for those, one way or another.”
I finish dressing by putting on a supreme sovereign black, jeweled crown. Then I kneel in front of Zach and say, “I’ll be making you pay for your sins tonight.”
“What the fuck, man? What the fuck?!” Zach screams while I nod to my men.
They strip him naked, despite his futile resistance, and tie him to the cross.
I calmly walk to him as I watch him struggle, enjoying the look of anxiety and fear in his eyes.
“Come on, man,” he says shakily. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize. I promise.”
“Oh, you will be sorry,” I assure.
I stop right in front of Zach and begin to recite. “And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee,” I repeat, the verse practically stamped in my head from years of daily morning Bible lessons. Of course, these were specialty Sovereign Bibles filled with supposed books and stories that were kept safe when King James went on his rampage to destroy any version of the book that wasn’t his official version.
“For it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” I finish the verse. “We were taught as kids that this was metaphorical. A justification against any criticism of the practice of shunning and excommunicating anyone who decided to break the Sovereignty’s rules. But as I grew older, I learned there was a special group of Sovereigns who didn’t take this so metaphorically.”
One of my men approach holding a dark wooden chest. I open it and take out a pair of pliers.
“No. Please, man,” Zach whimpers pitifully.
I grab hold of his mouth. “Care to guess which school of thought I abide by?”
The next second I feel warmth seeping through the front of my robes from where Zach has pissed himself in fear. But that’s not all he’s done. Looking down makes me notice the shit dropping out his ass and onto the ground.
Well, not like I didn’t expect things to get messy. I’ll deal with that later. For now, I put the pliers in his mouth.
Zach tries to resist, and I could make this easier on myself by putting a device in his mouth to keep it open and his head still. But I get to make people pay for their sins against me and the Sovereignty like this so infrequently, I like the challenge. I like that it makes thing go longer, inefficient as it is.
I start with his upper canine tooth, grabbing it with the plier and yanking it with all my might until it’s wrenched out. Blood pours from Zach’s mouth as he screams in pain. But that’s what he gets for making Snow White cry with his hurtful words. He’s lucky I didn’t nail his hands to the fucking cross, but that would make investigators looking into this think it was religiously motivated and could possibly lead them to the Sovereignty.
I take my time yanking all thirty-two of his fucking teeth out, accidently cracking a few of the ones in the back because of the angle.
He screams and cries every pitiful step of the way, literally looking like a baby by the time I’m done. Well… done with his teeth. I still have to chop out his tongue. But first…
I reach down to grip his cock and balls in my hand. Zach begins screaming loudly anew from his whimpering cries.
“If only this had been your only crime. If only it had been as simple as you not bringing my Lauressa to pleasure when she allowed you the privilege of access between her legs. But it wasn’t. It was more than simple not knowing. It was carelessness. You didn’t and don’t care for Lauressa, and that’s not something I can allow to be forgiven.”
His screams grow louder, and he begins to jerk his hips, desperately trying to get out of my grasp as one of my men brings me a large red-hot machete.
I take the machete and carefully position it in place, leaning forward to look directly in Zach’s toothless face.
“And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. Or in this case, your dick,” I say and bring the machete down in one swift movement, relieving him of his penis and balls while cauterizing the wound at once.
He screams and screams and doesn’t stop.
I smile at my handiwork as I examine his dismembered dick and balls in my hands. One would think with a dick this large, he would have been able to get the job done for my Snow White without leaving her wanting.
“Your screams are starting to sound like a cat clawing at a chalkboard,” I lie. Because his screams are music to my ears. But again, dramatics. “Let’s relieve you of that wicked tongue too, while we’re at it. For the mouth of the wicked and deceitful are opened against my Lauressa; they have spoken against her with a lying tongue.”