The silent tears of my attacker made me smile. He hadn’t known that my capture was planned. Calculated from the very first time I knew who and what he was. Did I have to make it so easy for him? Does it really matter? I know playing innocent is really not one of my best features. I like to think of myself as anything but helpless. But tonight was different. He had it coming. Seeing the triumph in his eyes die as he realized his error was priceless. But when I took his tongue it made everything that much sweeter. Oh he begged and pleaded with his screams and apologies. He even promised to never harm another again. It wasn’t in me to tell him that I already knew he was lying. So I did what any other self-respecting woman would do. I cut out his tongue.
Cutting out someone’s tongue is nasty business and I should warn you now, don’t try this at home. But hearing the incessant lies brought out a rage in me. What choice did I really have? Seeing the blood overflow in his mouth and then seep from the sides as he tried to keep his mouth closed did un-nerve me just a bit. But once I overcame that small hurdle I was filled with complete satisfaction. It even made this day a whole hell of a lot better.
Remorse was not an option.
I know you must think it cold hearted of me, but I tell you this now, this lowlife that sits bound to the chair deserves every bit of what I plan on doing to him and then some. It doesn’t matter that I admire his tenacity, or that he can easily adapt and overcome most situations, well, except this one. I noticed the false tears had stopped. We’d officially graduated to pleading. Bravo! I straddle his lap and push the stray strands of hair from his sweaty face. Such deceitful eyes, a deep dark pool of blue crashing against the pupils in rampant fear, I would have been equally scared as well if I were him. I look innocent enough, until you touch me. My long dark hair strokes my back as I lean forward kissing him. I start at his temple and move my way towards his jaw. I really should have just left him alone but comfort mixed with fear keeps all people on their toes.
Killing is such a nasty business, but tonight was perfect. Tonight all bets were off. The veil between right and wrong, dead or living, is so thin you can get away with anything. Precisely why I chose tonight’s excursion. I slowly stood from my position in his lap and headed to the table in the corner.
I would like to take the time to mention, that he hadn’t even soiled himself. Well not until he saw the hammer and nails positioned over his most prized possession. I have no intention of harming his most prized possession, at least not yet.
He’s looking at the items in my hand. A hammer and three nails, he looks to my face then back to my hands his eyebrows are raising in question. I know he is concerned about his manhood, I would be if I were him, but I have to tell you that although the idea of nailing his dick to the chair sounds promising it doesn’t have the effect that I am going for. His eyes go from me again to my hands and then back again. It’s like a dance, only I’m leading. I have yet to touch him, but suddenly I can smell the distinct metallic tang of his blood, its lacking strength. What becomes clear as I walk closer is the strong warm smell of urine hugged tightly with excrement. Fear, this is what fear smells like. It’s acrid and tangy but surprisingly not unpleasant to my senses.
He begins to squirm in the chair, frantically trying to break free. His mouth opens and closes in a serious of harsh breaths but the blood still pouring from his mouth makes the sound wet and awkward. I’m sure the others felt the same things he is feeling now. Did he care? No. Should I? I’m circling him now, but as I dance the dance of death I realize that there is something missing from this seduction of head games. Laughing I take a small step to the right and press play on the iPod resting at its docking station. The lyrics sooth me and yeah, it is unfortunate. I begin to sing the lyrics to him, allowing the music to stay my hand for just a bit longer.
Oh well the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we’re spinning, in his grin.
Very true we do so love to blame the devil for our sins. I’m standing in front of him now. Hammer and nails resting gently against my thigh. One last time I look into his eyes, for they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. What happens if I stab that eye? Do I sever the soul, only one way to find out?
You’re wondering if I stabbed him, you know I did. I just said there was only one way to find out. I think that because he’s still moving perhaps the soul is not in the window of the eyes but deeper. Hidden in that place that only one person can go, I want to be closer to his soul, because that is after all the thing that I am after. I have to tell you now before I go any further with this extraction; he isn’t dead not by a long shot. I’m keeping him alive, slowly allowing him to linger in the in between of here and now. In this very moment I reach deep down into the belly of his gut and come back bathed in warmth, red is such a pretty color, and the fact that his intestines don’t seem to mind that I have allowed them to breathe makes me joyous.
The smell of his insides tickles my nose and stings my eyes. I bypassed his stomach and allowed it to remain in one piece. There is a method to my madness. I plan to feed him very slowly, with parts of his flesh and insides. The parts that make us who we are, I’m still searching for his soul but have yet to discover its lair.
Despite all that has been done to him, he’s still breathing. Slimy oozing insides begin to fall out from the hole I’ve made. His eyes pierced by three inch nails, almost make him look innocent. But now is the moment of truth.
“Murderer. Rapist. Cannibal”
Vile creature of the earth preying on those weaker than him, As I speak aloud all his crimes, the torture, the agonizing pains all have suffered at his hand. I see the pulse at his neck is faltering. We can’t have that, so I wrap up his stomach as best I can. Remove the nails from his eyes, and continue.
He would have survived the night had he not come my way. I don’t want to alarm you, but the warmth of his blood smells sweet. I had wondered how many times a person could lose their bodily functions during a session like this. I am happy to tell report back, more than once. Blood from his eyes makes him look very repentant almost worthy to be called a saint. But his afflictions are not in the same place as someone suffering from such things. Fear has now turned to terror because the electricity in the air around us starts to crackle. Laughing I set my instruments of justice on the table. Hammer and nails can do the trick, trust me when I say; the moment of truth will always reveal itself.
This isn’t a violent crime or a crime of passion. This is the moment when the soul of the victim realizes one of two things. It either retreats further into the darkness of its skin, or it comes to the light seeking salvation. Seeking forgiveness, of which there is none. Not for him.
The phone rings and I gently reach into my pants pocket retrieving my cell. The blood on my hand is sticky like sap as I open the phone to answer.
“Yes.” I understand.”
Placing the phone on the table I stare into deep red pools of what use to be his eyes. I must have pulled that last nail out a bit harder than I thought as it teeters dangerously on its nerve resting on his cheek. Sighing I adjust his feet, and head for the door.
I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t finish the job, I did. I promise he will not be let loose on society again. I haven’t found his soul, but give a girl a break it’s my first time trying to collect. My father awaits me on the other side of that door. The door opens and in steps my dad’s right hand man.
“It’s nice to see you Araziel.”
He nods as he enters the house.
“As it is good to see you Amitel.”
Walking out I greet my father. He is proud of his daughter. It takes a lot to make daddy happy. Not much pleases him anymore. He’s trained me well, and the soul that Araziel has come to collect will make a great addition to the souls we have already collected. I set them up and he knocks them out.
People always assume that being a Justice Angel is a good thing, and it is as long as you are not the one being judged.
The Order of Smut Vixens
KLB Virtual Events & Designs
Tigris Eden's Garden of Books
The Order of Smut Vixens
KLB Virtual Events & Designs
Tigris Eden's Garden of Books