Fiendish: A Twisted Fairytale (61 page)

“Would you like to know what I plan on doing to you?” I asked as I studied her face intently.

She shook her head no frantically.

“A woman that enjoys surprises.
I like that.” 

I sat on the crate beside her, and I contemplated
my options. Neither of us spoke. She stared at me, the only sounds filling the room were that of her sniffling.

“No, please, please not again,” she begged when I hopped down off the crate with the knife.

“Sshh, my Pet,” I crooned, smoothing back her hair.

Slowly, I let the tip of the knife run down the side of her face. The pressure wasn
’t enough to break skin unless she moved.

“What first?
Your eyes that gazed upon her naked body?” I asked, running the blade gently across her eye lid. “Or your hands that touched her? But your mouth...your filthy mouth that tasted her!” I hissed, grabbing her face in my hand, holding it so tightly she cried out from the pressure. “Will be last because I want to hear you scream!” 

She looked directly at me with the tears
streaming down her face, she spat on me. Without even thinking twice, I pulled back and backhanded her.

“Get comfortable,” I said, wiping the spit from my face and flinging it on the floor. “We have a few days together.”

She again began struggling with her restraints, screaming for me to release her as I exited the room.

That night I tossed and turned for several hours. Finally realizing I wasn
’t going to be able to sleep, I got up and drove to Calida’s house. A soft light shone through her bedroom window, but I detected no movement. Was she sleeping and forgot to turn the light off? 

Macy
’s car wasn’t in the driveway; maybe they were out. Images of her at some club laughing and flirting with strange men flashed through my head. My hands tightened around the steering wheel as that scenario played out. I had an intense need to know, was she there? Just as I started to get out of my car, the light in her room went off. Almost as if she knew I was here and needed a sign. That simple action eased the anxiety. I don’t know how long I sat there watching, but the sun was just starting to rise when I finally decided to head home. I got a few hours of sleep after that visit which was enough to refresh me for the day ahead.

I heard soft grunts and squeaks of the bed springs as I
walked down the stairs.

“Good morning,
my Pet. Sleep well?”

She stopped moving instantly when I approached. The wounds on her legs were still bleeding, no doubt because of her constant struggling.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“You need to eat. You will need your strength.”

“You
’ve drugged me once. I’m not consuming anything you offer me! Not to mention my jaw hurts, you fuckin’ bastard.” 

“Well, spitting was a very rude thing to do. As for the food, I
’m often surprised how so many of you say the same thing. I already have you. Why would I drug you again?” I asked, shaking my head. “But, if you would rather starve, be my guest,” I said.

Taking a seat on the crate beside the bed, I scooped out a spoonful of the oatmeal and took a bite.

“Starvation. Not a pretty way to go. First your stomach growls, painfully and nonstop, until your mind finally tricks your brain into ignoring the sounds. The hunger continues to grow, and the pain increases to the point it feels as if your insides are eating themselves. What’s really happening though is the hardening of your organs as they grow weaker from malnutrition and incapable of maintaining life. Your belly becomes distended, your heart rate lowers, and you literally begin to look like walking death. The severe pain in your lower extremities becomes so excruciating it feels unbearable, and you collapse with fatigue.”

Her eyes grew wide as she listened to me.
 Slowly, I ate another spoonful before continuing.

“At that point
, you beg for death, but it’s slow and can take a few weeks before your body finally gives up. And then, upon death, without the ability to control your bowels, you shit yourself as one last disgrace.”

I put another spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth, watching her as she processed what I said. She licked her lips as she watched me finish off the rest of the oatmeal.
 

I laughed when her stomach let out a loud grumble. “Oh, I guess you might have been a little hungry after all. Maybe next time you won
’t refuse my generosity,” I commented, letting the spoon clink loudly in the empty bowl.

I got down off the crate and looked around the room
, deciding on what I wanted to do.

“I went to her house last night.”

“Good! If she took your crazy ass back, you can let me go!”

“I didn
’t see her, it was late. I just watched her house.”

“So crazy and a
stalker. A real catch ain’t ya?”

I walked over to the bed and backhanded her hard across her already bruised cheek.
 “Haven’t you ever heard the expression don’t poke the bear?”

Cracking my knuckles, I smiled down at her
, knowing exactly what would be on the menu for today. I strolled over to the cabinet, removing the bleach and grabbed a syringe. I heard her heavy panting and the rattle of the chains as she watched me. Once it was filled, I walked back over to her. She eyed me warily as I approached, attempting to scoot away from me.

“The eyes first,” I said, pushing the plunger on the syringe so that some of the bleach spilled out. “You should have never gazed upon her.”
 

Instantly
, she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head from side to side, trying to fight with me. Climbing up onto the bed, I sat on her chest, wrapping my hand around her neck, causing her eyes to fly open briefly when she gasped for air.

“No!” she screamed, moving trying to buck me off. “No!
Let me go! You can’t do this!”

The blood pumped through me as the adrenaline coursed through my body. This feeling, watching their feeble attempts to st
op me, I had missed it, but something was lacking.

This is who you are, not who you are trying to be for her.
I was still the same man, but something was different and different wasn’t always bad.

With new determination, I leaned forward
, placing my hand on her forehead. I pried open one eye. She continued to scream in protest, but I managed to place a few drops of bleach in her eye. Her screams filled the room. Her thrashing grew more violent, but it didn’t stop me. I moved over to the other eye, placing drops in that one as well. 

“
Nooo! It burns! Make it stop! It burns!” she screamed. “My eyes! Oh god, my eyes!”

I got off the bed and stood over her
, watching with great fascination as she alternated between blinking rapidly and keeping her eyes closed tightly. She continued to scream, cry, and thrash about. I sat down next to the bed and listened, allowing her screams to fill that emptiness I felt.

I fell into a routine over the next few days. I w
ould watch Calida going to work or out running again. She looked different. Even from a distance, I could see something was off with her. Some days, that friend of hers would take her out places and I would follow to see where. Mostly it was lunch to or to the mall. When I wasn’t watching her, I was playing with my new pet. I found, depending on my mood, I was more creative with ways to hurt her.

Some days it would be mild, a few superficial cuts or burns just to hear her beg. Other days would be more intense, like when I pulled out her fingernails then doused her hands in scalding hot water. She pissed herself before passing out that day. Her hands blistered badly
, and they smelled rotten, like an infection had set in. Her eyes were swollen shut. I had to force her to eat and drink.

Today was not a good day. Calida had called me twice now, last night being the last time. Each call was a hang up, but since her number wasn
’t blocked, I knew it was her. I was restless; it had been nearly two weeks since she’d walked out. Punishing the woman downstairs was no longer enough. I wanted Calida back now; it was time to end this and get back what was mine.

“Rise and shine
, my Pet,” I said as I entered the room.

“No!” she screamed, shaking her head frantically.
“No more, please. I beg you no more.”

“Now, now, my P
et. I’m starting to feel like you don’t like my hospitality. Don’t worry, your suffering is almost over.” 

Picking up the
needle-nose pliers, I approached the bed. I pressed the cold metal to her face, and she jerked her head away from the foreign object. Letting the tip run up the side of her face, I tapped it lightly against the ring in her brow. 

“No, no, no. Please no,” she begged instantly.

I closed the pliers around the ring, pulling on it gently.

“
Ow, ow, ow...no, stop, please,” she cried, lifting her head in an attempt to alleviate the stress on her skin. 

She whimpered as I pulled more
. Her head was at a point where it could no longer follow. She yelled out when the skin ripped, freeing the ring from her brow. Her head crashed down onto the bed. She cried, breathing heavily, trying to work through the pain. Blood trickled down the side of her face. I let the pliers graze across her flesh once again, heading towards her lips. She clamped them shut, trying to hide the rings, but I was easily able to pull her lips apart, wasting no time in ripping the first one free. Tears leaked from her swollen eyes.

Giving her no time to adjust, I pulled out the second lip ring. Her head turned to the side
, and she spit out the blood that started filling her mouth. Her body started shaking, but I wasn’t done with her yet, there were two more piercings to remove. Her pleading fell on deaf ears. I pulled at the one in her naval. Her cries were no more than guttural, incoherent babblings, but try as she might, she could not prevent what she knew was coming next. Yanking hard, I ripped it free, her back arched when she screamed out. The barbell that ran through her clitoral hood had decorative red balls on either end.

“Have I told yo
u how much I love the color red?” I asked, smiling. I tapped the tip of the pliers against the ball. “How much did it hurt to have this done?” 

Her only response was to thrash her body from side to side. Mumbled pleas for mercy fumbled from her quickly swelling lips.

“I would imagine there was quite a bit of pain involved,” I said, letting the pliers circle around the ball.

Her sobbing grew louder when I closed the tip of the pliers around the little red ball. The sound she let out was an ear piercing, bloodcurdling scream that emitted deep from the bowels of her stomach. Convulsions
wracked her body, and I knew she would pass out at any moment. I tossed the pliers onto the crate before picking up the knife. The piercings were just for added pleasure, although the thrill of seeing her bleed and hearing her cry were not as enjoyable as I’d expected.
Because it should be her on this bed. She’s the one you are really angry at. 

“No! No! No!” I yelled out.

It was her; she was the reason Calida had left me. It was all this woman’s fault, and for that, she must pay. With knife in hand, I forced my hand into her mouth, pulling out her tongue.

“First, your eyes for gazing upon her naked body.
Then, your hands for touching her. Now, your tongue for tasting her.”

With a swift swipe across, I cut off half of her tongue. She began coughing and spewing blood. I held her head back so that she was unable to spit it out, watching while she made gurgling noises. She choked to death on her own blood.
 

Chapter 42

Running again felt good. I hadn’t done much of it since I started dating Seth. However, in the days that passed, it had become my escape. I could run from the pain I was feeling. I could run from the looks Macy gave me. I could run and temporarily forget everything. I pushed myself harder, the crisp September wind whipped against my face putting color in my cheeks. The increase of my heartbeat served as a reminder that it worked and wasn’t just a hollow cavity within my chest. I stopped just outside of the Krog Street Tunnel, placing my hands on my knees, waiting to catch my breath. I wasn’t in the same shape after neglecting myself all these months. 

Giving my body a good twist and stretch, I glanced up at the darkening cloud
s. Another day coming to an end; another day I’d survived without him. Nights were the worst. During the day, I could focus on work, getting things set up at the office, and taking my online classes. But at night, alone in my room, I felt it the most. Remembering the feel of her hands and mouth on me and the look in his eyes right before he fucked her caused an agonizing ache in my chest. Worse would be recalling the look on his face in the shower afterwards and the feeling in the pit of my stomach right before I let him fuck me. I hated nights. I would spend them with my face buried in my pillow to muffle the sound of my crying.