Chapter 8
Not only am I being taught how to flay the skin from human bones, but I relish in it, I’ve learned to crave it, to thrive off the kill. The control it feeds into my bloodstream like a permanent high. No amount of drugs could ever give me the same feeling as this.
Look, I know what you’re thinking.
“He’s being groomed.”
“It’s nurture over nature.” All that bullshit, but no, you’re wrong. You’re all fucking wrong. I want this. I.. need this. And in my opinion, it’s what I’m best at. Just ask my father.
The bitch hanging from the ceiling of our basement has done nothing but cry since we dragged her down here.
It’s becoming annoying now, the petulant noise scraping through my ears like a fork scratching over the surface of a plate, but I can’t rush this process to silence her.
I want to take my time with her. You should really get to know a girl before you commit to her, right?
So, that’s what I’m doing, I’m getting to know her.
Inside and out. My father stands at the doorway, the warm light from up stairs that filters down casts an almost angelic glow behind him.
But he’s far from innocent, he might even be Satan himself, and I am satan’s spawn.
His sinister voice echoes around the damp room, the musty smell of wetness seeping into my nose.
“I’ll leave this one up to you, son. I know you’ll make me proud.” I beam under his pride, wanting to make him proud of me, to bask in that gratification.
I circle the meat sack that’s slowly swaying on the chains, her toes barely grazing the filthy floor.
Her fingers are beginning to turn purple at the tips from her weight, like puffed up aubergines, the rusty metal cuffs cutting into her perfect flesh.
Her head hangs limp between her shoulders, the filthy, blonde strands of her hair covering her once perfect face.
She’s bruised now, like an overly ripe fruit, her insides mushy and rotten.
God, she stinks, it’s disgusting. I turn my nose up at her whilst taking slow strides around her.
Circling the prey that’s caught in my trap.
A wounded animal that needs to be put out of its misery.
And thanks to me, I’ll grant her that. But not until I’ve had my fun with her.
A metal table sits to the left of the room, containing everything I need to make this hurt.
The bitch whimpers as I disappear out of her view, a muffled sound comes from her gagged mouth, the shitty piece of material keeping her words locked in her mouth.
She’s probably begging, pleading for me to let her go.
That she won’t tell a soul who I am, or what she’s seen here.
But I won’t risk it, then again, I’m not worried.
I reach the metal table and run my fingers over the weapons.
Knives of all sizes lay flat against the table top, some with smooth blades, some serrated.
I pick one up, holding the black handle in my right hand, feeling the weight of it, then pointing the tip to my left index finger and spinning it, causing a small bead of blood to rise to the surface.
Not quite right. Placing it back down, I continue to browse like a kid in a candy shop.
Except I’m almost a grown man in a torture room, but you get what I mean.
I pick another knife up from the table, this one slightly smaller in size, but still deadly.
The silver blade gleaming in the overhead light.
Wrapping my fingers around the knife, I squeeze the handle in my hand, tightening my grip around the leather.
I think we’ll go with this one to start off.
Turning my back to the table of killer toys, I stride back over to the whore who’s still whimpering to herself before coming to stand in front of her, proceeding to run the blade around her waist as I circle her, her pale skin breaking slightly but not enough to cause major damage.
She lifts her head at the sharp contact of the knife, fresh tears begin to spill over her lower lids, the fat water droplets rolling down her face, leaving streaks in their wake through the filth and grime that’s caked onto her pale skin.
The whore has been down here for a couple of days, only living on bits of bread and water to keep her alive.
She must be exhausted, but that’s not my problem.
Her lifeless eyes bore into mine, like endless voids that silently plead for me to end this before it’s even begun.
Her rapid breaths fire out of her nose causing gloopy strings of snot to gather on her upper lip.
Gross. Her wordless pleas are music to my ears.
I continue to circle her, digging the knife deeper into her flesh everytime I go around.
The skin starts to splay open until her pink meat is on show.
How many times would it take me to go around her until she’s cut clean in half?
The question has me chuckling to myself as she throws her head back in pain, her greasy locks sticking to her face.
More tears start to rain down her face, her chest rising in rapid succession.
She begins to scream behind the gag but the tattered material catches the noise.
No one can hear her. No one is coming for her.
She’s mine to play with. She’s mine to break.
This bitch is a means to end for me, a source of entertainment. Like all women are.
Walking back over to the table behind her I scour the contents for something else to brand her with.
My eyes catch on a cloth and bottles of bleach, an idea instantly springing to life in my mind.
I grab the items I need and make my way back over to her then proceed to soak the cloth in bleach before yanking the bitch’s head back with her hair, her neck cracking under the force.
I place the soaked material over her already gagged mouth and nose, the weight of the cloth now that it’s wet closes in on her precious airways.
Her frail body starts to buck and shake in the chains, the cloth is being sucked in and out of her nostrils as she tries to breathe, the chains rattling above her head, clanging together loudly.
I keep her head pulled back as I pour the chemical substance over the cloth, drowning her slowly.
The greasy cunt sputters and coughs as she ingests the toxic liquid, her eyes squeezing shut tightly as she chokes on the bleach.
God, I could fucking come at the sight of her.
Under my mercy, I keep pouring until she has no choice but to swallow the thick liquid, it’s probably burning her from the inside out.
Ripping the cloth away from her face, I pull the gag out of her mouth and she instantly expels the bleach and the small amount of food that’s been resting in her stomach.
The yellow bile rises up out of her mouth until it pours over her chin and neck like an acid volcano.
Instantly I step back before the chunks of sour bread hit my shoes, the slimy liquid and sour aroma perforate my senses.
“Please.. Please, no more! I’m begging you!
” Her voice is croaky and dry. “Let me go, please, you don’t have to do this!
” Her desperate cries echo around the cold room.
Silently, I lift my head from the mass of acid sick on the floor to look her dead in the eyes before speaking to her, my tone deadly and sharp.
“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t just have to do this, but I want to do this. So you can beg and cry and sob, but it’s not going to change the situation you’re in, sweetheart.”
I almost see a flash of defeat in her eyes before it’s gone, then she raises her chin at me in defiance.
“You disgusting piece of shit!” Her tone burned with pure anger and disgust. She rears her head back before she fires a blob of spit from her mouth, the slimy substance landing on my face before it starts to slide down onto my chin.
How fucking dare this bitch! I let out a shallow breath, attempting to channel my anger before I raise my arm and swing, the back of my hand finding contact with her face.
The crack of the slap reverberates around the room causing her head snaps to the side, dark blood pools in her mouth before it trails out and onto her shoulder in a thin line.
Lifting my hand again, I grab her jaw in a bruising grip, squeezing her lips together until her teeth cut into the meaty flesh of her mouth.
“I should bleed you fucking dry for that you cunt.”
My face inches away from hers, spittle flies from between my teeth onto her bruised face.
I shove her face away from me, step around her then grab the meat hook that’s laying on the table.
The heavy steel filling my hand as I wrap my fingers around the horizontal bar with the hook in between my fingers, like a pirate’s hook.
The daunting weapon catches her eyesight and she instantly cowers away, tucking her face into the crook of her arms in fear.
“I think that little act of defiance you showed me just then needs to be punished, what do you say? Hm. Where should I put this hook? In your pussy or your ass?” I taunt, cruelly.
“Now.. before you give me your answer, just know, this will be going inside you, in any of the holes I see fit.” Her eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights and I thrive on her fear, her frightened scent bursts through her pores like a sweet nectar.
She begins to violently throw herself around, hoping to shake free from her confines but she’ll never escape me. This is the end of the road for her.
True fear is beginning to show on her features.