Fiendish: A Twisted Fairytale (6 page)

As much as causing pain to my pet excited me, the thought of seeing how tightly I could wind up Calida before she snapped was oddly just as exciting. She was unlike the normal women
I would take an interest in. I preferred ones like her friend, as half the joy came from breaking them. But there was something about Calida that stuck with me.

After having breakfast, I headed down to the cellar. Pet sat on the bed with her legs slightly apart in an attempt to keep the blistered skin on her thighs from touching. 

“Please!” she begged the moment she saw me. “Please, I need something for the pain.”

She broke down crying again, her body trembling from the force of her sobs. A caring man would have felt sorry for her.
 A man that cared would have opened the door and put his arms around her to give comfort. A caring man wouldn’t have her locked up to begin with. I was not a man that cared, and frankly, I was tired of her crying. She was beginning to look very sad and that was causing me to lose some interest in her. The cuts had healed and started to scab over. The burns on her thighs were blistered and red. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were now red rimmed from the incessant crying. Pet’s time was coming to an end. 

“You want the pain to stop?”

“Yes, please make it stop.” I gave her a smile as her eyes pleaded with me through the door.

“I
’ll make it stop.”

I walked to the back of the cellar to retrieve a pair of gloves and a couple of zip ties from one of the drawers. I was really disappointed in her. I thought she would have put up more of a fight, but sadly from the moment she woke up here, she
’d been all tears.

“Lay down on the bed,” I ordered when I entered the cell. She hesitantly complied with my request. “Grab onto the headboard.” She eyed me warily but also complied.

I walked over and straddled her, instantly she started begging and thrashing about. Sliding down a bit, I grabbed ahold of her thighs and squeezed. Pet let out a high pitched yelp that sounded like a wounded dog.

“Hands on the headboard now!”
I ordered.

She continued to cry and writhe beneath me, causing me to press down harder. A strangled cry ripped from her lips. Breathing heavily, she lifted her shaky arms above her head to grab onto the headboard. I quickly zip-tied her hands so that she was secured in place before settling back into my original position.

My gloved fingers ran over the various scars that now covered her body, lingering on the one that ran across her nipple. Pet’s body shook from fear and pain while she continued to whimper.

“You…you said you would make the pain stop.”

“And I will, my Pet. I will,” I replied, as I continued to explore her body. When my hand reached between her legs, the crying got more intense. “Shh, tell me the rules of the house,” I crooned, roughly inserting two fingers into her opening.

“B…be
ni..nice to you, yo…you’ll be nice to me,” she stuttered.

I pressed in harder and watched as she closed her eyes tightly. Her lips were pressed together as she struggled to endure the invasion into her body. Her mouth formed a silent
‘ow’ when I added another finger. I kept moving my hand harshly within her while watching the agony contort on her face. I felt my erection growing, but she was no longer who I wanted to satisfy that desire.

Removing my fingers, I watched as her face changed to momentary relief.

“I’ll make the pain stop now,” I said with a smile, and she offered me a weary smile in return.

Placing my hands around her neck, I started to squeeze. Pet
’s eyes got large when it became apparent to her that our ideas on how the pain should stop were different
.
 
I looked into her eyes and saw first the fear, then the pleading, then finally the realization that she would not be getting out of this alive. I squeezed tighter and watched as the light faded from her eyes. I climbed off her, taking a seat on the floor beside the bed. I cast a disinterested look back at her lifeless body.

Clean up and disposal, my least favorite part.

Chapter 5

The thin, wet fabric of my gown clung to my legs like a weight.
 Drenched in mud and sweat, I kept running until my legs couldn’t carry me anymore. They tingled from exhaustion, my throat burned from the heavy panting, and my heart was pounding fast and loud. I paused behind an old rotted-out tree, straining to listen for the sound of him behind me. Dry leaves rustled in the soft breeze. Dogs were barking in the distance. Maybe there was a house nearby, and I could reach safety. Struggling to control my breathing, I let out a gasp when I heard the crack of a twig snap. Covering my mouth to contain my whimpering, I shut my eyes tight as the footsteps got closer.

“Come out come out wherever you are.” His voice was raspy, but he didn
’t sound out of breath at all.

 
He was getting closer. If I ran, he would certainly catch me. Instead, I pressed my body tightly against the tree. The bark dug into my skin, and I grimaced in pain.

“You can
’t hide forever.” He was taunting me. 

I had no idea where I was or where I was going.
 I held my breath as he walked past the tree in the other direction. I waited until there was more distance between us then forced myself to run.

Silver strings reached from the sky as moonlight fought its way through the tangle of branches overhead. The wind whispered its sweet caress along the avenue of trees, and in the distance I saw a person ever so slowly moving away from me.
 I ran towards the figure, but it never seemed to get closer. I tried to scream for help, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Gotcha!” his voice rang in my ear.

I woke up panting heavily. It was still dark out; my clock shone brightly in the darkness of my room. Five-thirty a.m. 

“What the hell?” I muttered.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. That dream had seemed so real I had goose bumps on my arms. That was the last time I would let Macy talk me into watching a horror movie that close to bedtime. A run would clear my head and steady my nerves. Taking a deep breath when I stepped out the door, I flooded my senses with the scents of the new day. After finding the right selection on my playlist, I headed out on my normal route. I loved running early like this. It was always so quiet, allowing me time to think, and the crisp morning air was invigorating, making me feel alive. Each stride I took released some of my tension. 

Sadly, I hadn
’t seen Seth again, but I did call him to thank him for the roses. Talking to him was nice, and he dropped hints at possibly seeing me again. I wanted to think it was a good sign, but since he hadn’t asked me out, I wasn’t so sure. Macy told me I should take the first step; that waiting around for a guy to make the first move wasn’t really needed. My fear of rejection kept me from seeing things that way.

I laughed to myself as I thought of my conversations with Macy.
 She thought I was always wound up because I needed to get laid. It had been a little over three years since I last had sex, and that was with my cheating piece of shit ex-boyfriend.  

The image of seeing him and that tramp he worked with having sex on my couch was forever burned in my mind.
 I’d been so in love with him. I’d put my dreams on hold to help him achieve his. He even managed to talk me into doing the unthinkable because it would be better for us. That was the biggest and most hurtful of all his lies since the real reason had nothing to with us and everything to do with him, or more accurately, them. The shock of seeing him in the act left me speechless. That wasn’t the first time he had cheated, but it was the last straw for me. I packed my stuff and moved out that day, not wanting to know what other surfaces they could have been on while I wasn’t home.

I stopped running to check the time.
 “Shit!” I hadn’t realized I’d been out that long. 

I turned and sprinted back to the house. If I was lucky, I wouldn
’t be late my first day of work. After a quick shower, I picked out a simple, knee length tan skirt that had a matching half jacket and paired it with a soft blue button-down shirt. My hair was pulled back into a simple bun, but I left two curly tendrils hanging down on either side to frame my face. My sensible low-heeled pumps and a little light lip gloss rounded out my look. Grabbing my coat I rushed out the door.

Walking into the office with five minutes to spare, I felt pretty proud of myself considering I
’d had to take public transportation.

“You
’re late.” I was greeted by a thin, strict looking woman. I assumed she was the assistant I’d spoken with over the phone.

“I…I
’m not. It’s not eight yet,” I stammered.

“You start at eight, not arrive at eight.
 You need to have his coffee ready and waiting when he gets here. You can’t do that if you haven’t even put down your stuff.  So, you’re late.” 

She looked me up and down over the rim of her glasses, her thin lips turned downward in a disapproving scowl, before turning on her heels and briskly walking away. I dropped my stuff at what I hoped was my desk and hurried to follow her.

“Do you know how to use the espresso machine?” She didn’t give me time to answer before she continued, “Oh never mind, just watch.” 

She began pushing buttons and turning dials.
 I tried to watch, but I was distracted by the mumbling she was doing. “More work for me. Always more work for me because he wants to hire the pretty ones.” She shot me an annoyed look.

When she finished, she handed me the cup.
 “Take that and wait for him in his office.”  

I took the cup and quickly ran my hand down my skirt to smooth any wrinkles before heading to his office.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw him. Patrick was on his computer. From the way she’d spoken, I thought he wasn’t in yet. I stood just inside the doorway, nervous flutters taking over my stomach. This was not how I wanted to start my first day.

I quietly waited on some sort of direction from him, but he seemed to be in no hurry to acknowledge my presence. I took this time to study him because I was too nervous the day of my interview. He wasn
’t a bad looking man, but older. I would have to guess probably early to mid-forties. There were wrinkles on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. His chestnut brown hair was sprinkled with gray. One would expect a man that took so much care in his appearance to dye it, but instead, he wore it well. He wore a lavender button down shirt with a gray striped tie that matched the jacket hanging on the back of his chair. The sleeves were buttoned together with shiny silver cufflinks.

My eyes then wandered around his office. Like the lobby of the building, it had an ultra-modern feel; it was done in tones of black, white, and gray with accents of red.
 The day of my interview, he’d told me he had a reputation for being a hard ass and most people couldn’t cut it in his office. That was the reason he kept his firm small, consisting of only himself and his assistant Kerrin, and a receptionist. That position got a lot of turnover, I suspected.

“Well, are you going to stand there letting my coffee get cold, or are you going to hand it to me?” Patrick barely glanced up at me when he spoke.

“Yes, sorry.” I walked over and put the cup on his desk then turned to walk out.

“I didn
’t dismiss you yet,” he commented, getting up from his desk.

The soft ticking of the clock hanging on the wall behind his desk could have been as loud as a drum beating. Patrick stood in front of me, looking me over without saying a word.
 He reached out for my chin, turning my head from side to side, inspecting me.

“Not as bad as I remember. Turn around.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, confused by his order.

“Turn-around,” he repeated slowly.

Hesitantly, I did as he asked, doing a small turn for him.

“You are the first thing clients will see when they walk in here.
This outfit is professional but try not to look so much like a fifty-year old librarian every day. Understood?”

I nodded my understanding.

“Also, part of your job description is to accompany me to networking events. I like meeting new people; everyone is a potential client. However, I’m not very good at remembering names, and Kerrin prefers not to go to such social gatherings. Your job at those events is to gather the names of people I meet and make sure proper follow-up is done, but you can’t stand next to me looking so…plain.” Patrick strolled back to his desk and wrote down something on a post-it before handing it to me. “Go see him. He’ll fix you.”   

I didn
’t even glance down at the paper; instead I folded it and waited for him to continue. Patrick walked back over to his desk. “Are you turning into a statue? Why are you still here?”

I turned to exit the office feeling annoyed that one minute he implied I had to be dismissed then the next I was supposed to just know he was done talking to me.
 Thankfully, that was the only encounter I had with Patrick for the day. The rest of my time was with Kerrin as she showed me what my job expectations were at the office. I was basically an assistant to Kerrin, taking the load off her by doing the secretarial work. At least I was working in my field of choice, getting a much better paycheck, and if I made it thirty days, insurance.