Posted by H.n. on May 04, 2000 at 18:07:49:
In Reply to: The truth about Sonya! Part II posted by H.n. on May 04, 2000 at 18:05:31:
It took quite a while till you returned; I'll never get it, how chicks can spend so much time in the fucking bathroom! I had almost fallen asleep when I heard you on the stairs. In an instant I became wide awake again. José also lifted his head and looked nervously at the door. It swung open and you walked in, filling the room with the dark, hot aura that radiated from you. You had changed your outfit. Instead of the rough military outfit of earlier, you were now wearing a dark blouse of thin fabric, stretched over your braless breasts, a midlength, black leather skirt, and your long, bare legs ended in shining, dark stilettoes. It was marvelous the way the sparkle of viciousness in your eyes added to your beauty!
"Oh wow!" I said, "You're fucking dressed to kill!"
I don't know whether José found this silly pun amusing, but you smiled proudly. Your smile didn't even fade when you looked at the poor boy with all the blood smeared over his frame, the terrible wounds that covered him, or the mortal fear on his face. On the contrary. What you saw only seemed to make you feel better.
Much as I loved it, I was also surprised by your heartlessness--after all you were doing something like this for the first time. At least that was what I assumed. Obviously you were born for this; hey, I have fooled you into finding your true destiny! LOL
You walked over to the boy, who pressed himself tighter against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest when you stood in front of him, looking down on him thoughtfully.
"Now what do you think," you finally asked him in a casual tone, "shall I kill you quickly or do you want me to take my time with it?"
He looked up at you and his face expressed a mixture of fear, hate, and confusion. Apparently hate prevailed this time and he yelled spitefully, "Usted es la hija de una ramera de mangily! Yo lo mataré! Usted es una bruja mala!"
He just couldn't stomach this humiliating position. The macho side of him couldn't bear sitting naked and helpless in front of a woman who controlled the situation and mocked him. In a sudden attack of frenzied rage, he tried to jump up and attack you. I also jumped up to help you, but you didn't need any help. A quick step aside made his attack fail and he crashed to the floor, accompanied by your sinister laughter. His rage increased even more and with unarticulated grunts of pain and wrath he finally managed to stand up, the adrenaline pumping through him made possible what the ruptured muscles of his legs actually could no longer do.
He jumped at you, but once again you avoided him easily, sending him back to the ground with a kick to his kidneys. Yet the guy still wasn't defeated, and for the next few minutes I enjoyed the spectacle of him attacking you again and again, and you, just nimbly dancing through the room, avoiding him, kicking or bashing him, laughing all the time. Amazing, you were agile even while wearing high-heeled pumps!
In the end he couldn't go on any longer and, gasping, remained on the floor. Aftercatching your breath for a moment, you rammed the toe of your pump under his chest and turned him on his back, then pressed the tip of the heel to his throat. Pushing it in a bit.
"I guess, I've asked you a question a few minutes ago. Do you want to die now? It would be just a small step for me!" To emphasize your words you put a little more weight on your foot, making him gasp instantly. Then he mumbled something incomprehensible.
"Louder! And speak English!"
"No, I don't want to die now."
"Verrrry good! So you'll die a little later," you said, and added coldly, "And we'll have some more fun until then."
Releasing his neck and indifferently turning your back to him, you looked at me.
"What a pity I was never into this bdsm crap; would be nice to have some of those fetish playthings now. At least a whip would be nice..." you mused, then your gaze rambled over the room, to rest at the locker finally, "Well, we'll make use of what we have. We might find some nice tools and toys here."
Happily swinging you fabulous ass, you walked over to the locker and opened it. You took out a saw. Turning back to José, who still lay where you had left him and who stared at you in horrified disbelief now, you made some sawing motions, grinning fiendishly. Something insane, almost creepy was sparkling in your eyes now; even I felt slightly scared. Apparently I had not really known you before... the way you acted now, the total lack of compassion or hesitation--it was not exactly what I had expected. I mean, I had wanted to see you kill, but actually I had thought it would involve choking, or shooting, or maybe a knife; now it appeared, as if you would go much further than I ever dreamt. You wouldn't just kill him, you would slaughter him; slowly and playfully.
Well, I was ready to follow you into any Hell you would raise. I wouldn't wimp out.
"We'll use this one," you said, "But for starters let's see what else we have... "
A carpet knife appeared next.
"Yeah, I guess that's a nice start."
With the knife in your hand you strolled over to him. Apparently, a thought crossed your mind suddenly, it changed your mood to bitterness. The insane grin disappeared, to be replaced by an expression of hatred.
"Do you remember when you sliced off the ears of my mare? Did it feel good to you?" you asked him, sternly staring down on him.
"No! I never did..."
"WHAT?! DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!" you shouted furiously, viciously kicking at him. He yelled and curled himself into an embryonic pose.
"But I've NEVER..."
Another kick ended his protest. Very good, I thought.
"Would you help me, please?" you asked me, "Turn him on his belly and hold him."
I was glad to get somewhat more involved and did as you've asked, pressing my knees into the small of his back and pinning his arms in a painful hold. The only thing he could move was his head. You knelt down in front of his face, the hem of your skirt stretched between your spread knees. If José hadn't been so occupied with struggling he would have been able to catch a pleasant look up your legs...
You grabbed his right ear, but he was so soaked with sweat and blood that your fingers slipped off when he jerked his head.
"Hold still, asshole!" you barked, you grabbed his hair and smashed his face down on the tiles. You did it again. And once more. Then you twisted his head, so it came to rest on the left cheek. You placed your knee on the back of his neck and fixed him in this position by relocating all your body weight on the knee. He lay almost immobile now, groaning quietly, while a thin stream of blood was leaked out of his nose.
You grabbed his ear again, easily holding it this time, and put the cruel, three-cornered blade at the upper corner of it. He couldn't see much, besides maybe a blurred shadow of your hand, but his eyes turned panicky. Now he felt the cold sting of the blade. He yelped, before you had even drawn first blood. You didn't care; casually licking your lips in cool concentration, you ran the blade through the gristle, barely distracted by his weak struggles. At my back I heard the dull, drumming noise of his floundering feet on the floor. You held the severed auricle in your hand. You studied the bloodsmeared thing for a moment, then dropped it indifferently. It made a low, wet noise when it hit the tiles.
"And now the other one. Turn your head," you said matter of factly.
When he didn't obey immediately you grabbed his hair with both hands, ripped his head around by 180 degrees, and fixed him in this position by pressing down on his neck with your body weight again. This time you didn't cut the organ off in once piece, but sliced it off in little bits, starting with the earlobe. His cries didn't drown out the ugly noise the blade made as you ripped it through the gristle... and they also didn't drown out the short, deep grunts of satisfaction you produced with each cut.
When you had cut everything away, leaving another bloody hole at the side of his head, a small heap of fleshy pieces lay piled on the floor.
You rose to you feet and looked down at him apparently deciding what to do next. Then a mean smile formed on your face.
"Eat it, José," you said, pointing at the remains of his ear.
He shook his head in disbelief.
"Oh, you will eat it, trust me," you said with a smile. Walking around the boy, you came to stand behind me. When I looked, I saw that you had your foot between his thighs. Prodding a bit, you managed to catch his balls under the tip of your pump.
"You will eat it," you said, "Do it... now!"
The muscles of your leg moved slightly - and I heard him yell instantly. So little effort, so much effect! He moved his head to the side and took a slice in his mouth. He tried to swallow, but it made him choke.
"You better eat every last bit--we don't have any other dishes on the menu today."
A little more pressure on his balls seemed to give him the necessary incentive--he gulped the piece down, whining in desperation.
"Good boy! And now gobble up the rest."
He wanted to get through with it fast, picked up all the remaining slices at one time, and painfully, choked and swallowed it.
"Oh, I think there's still some sauce left... lick it clean!"
Apparently there was no resistance left in him for the moment--he obeyed without hesitating.
"Good... erm... I don't think we need your balls any longer?" you said casually. And simply stepped over them. The low, popping noise when his balls burst gave me the goose bumps! His outcry only lasted a few seconds--then he passed out.
"God, you're an evil bitch!" I said, rising to my feet, "Absolutely divine!"
"Yeah, I see that you liked it ..." you replied grinningly, seizing my rock hard dick.
"C'mon, let's fuck while he's sleeping!" I said.
"Yeah... but I have to think of what to do next..." you said, thoughtfully looking down at the boy's motionless frame, while you stroked my cock absent mindedly.
"Well, you have all the time in the world to think about that, but now... " I muttered, grabbing a handful of your ass.
"Hmmm... " you were still considering...then I saw the flash of an idea on your face.
"You know what?" you said, "You're right! Shackle him up, then let's go upstairs and have some fun... and a little nap. We can start in on him again later."
"What are you planning in your fiendish mind?" I jested.
"Oh, you'll see later. Just shackle him now, okay?"
I had needs, which were more urgent than the desire to explore your mind, yet I asked, "Why shackle him? He won't go anywhere."
"Heavens! Just do it for me, will you?" you replied impatiently.
I did, slightly annoyed. How come that most of the time I end up following your orders--when I'm the man and you're the chick? Must be that old pussy-magic. Lol. That's the only kind of magic I really believe in!
You had already left the room when I was done shackling him. I found you in the kitchen, mixing drinks.
"I'll be with you in a second!" you chirped, with a big, promising smile.
Upstairs in the bedroom I dropped on the bed and waited. After a little while you came in carrying two glasses. You handed me mine and said, "Cheers!"
We drank and then I idly got you out of your cloths. I never could get enough of you, but then suddenly I was pretty tired. Very tired. Well, it had been a long night.
You seemed to perceive my sudden weakness and kindly did all the work--while I lazily laid on my back, you impaled your pussy on my cock and began riding slowly. Felt good, and I indulged in the nice, slow rhythm, watching your tits swinging above me, and wondering a bit about the tenderness you were showing. Instead of scratching your nails over my chest you just stroked it gently. I felt warm and horny and increasingly tired--and then I felt nothing much at all. I had fallen asleep! Fallen asleep during sex! Fuck! That had never happened to me before!
7.50 a.m.
Have I been typing that fast? And that after more than three bottles of wine... well, the old trick worked once again. After getting drunk--just keep drinking till you're sober again! Hahaha.
It must have been hours before I woke up. Well, kind of... I was almost comatose, but I had to piss so urgently that I somehow managed to stand up. I reeled to the bathroom and had took a piss, then I tried to clear my head. After pouring cold water in my face, my mind and view became a bit clearer. Walking back to the bedroom, I wondered where you were. The house was perfectly quiet; where had you gone?
I went down and couldn't find you anywhere, I couldn't even find Bundy--then I heard vague noises from the basement. They became louder when I walked down, then I recognized your voice. Apparently, you had decided to have some fun without me. I stopped in front of the door to the room and listened without going in.
You were talking, but I couldn't understand a single word, you were speaking in a strange, foreign language. Actually, you weren't speaking, but chanting. Your voice sounded somehow impatient and angry. Very strange. And no noise from José. After a while the chanting stopped and I heard you burst out in obscene curses.
My curiosity grew too strong and I opened the door.
The room looked like a voodoo slaughterhouse. You had illuminated it with black candles, and you had placed José on the floor in the middle, he was surrounded by all sorts of symbols painted on the tiles. However most of them were dabbed with all the blood the poor guy had lost at your hands. You were crouched on his belly, stark naked, cursing at him, your hands deep inside his open chest. Still not noticing my presence, you withdrew your hands and stood up.
"Shit, shit, shit!" you hissed, "Why doesn't it work?!"
Now Bundy, who sat outside the main circle of symbols, surrounded by his own little ring and pentagram, growled deeply, baring his teeth in my direction. You looked up and realized I was there.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, drawing nearer.
"What the fuck does it look like?!" was your answer.
Man, you looked sexy in a grisly way! Your hands and half of your underarms all soaked with blood, and red stains and splashes all over your body. A big drop of blood was formed on your right nipple and dripped to the floor.
My anger about your decision to exclude me from the scene quickly ceased.
"Well, looks like you've played out some kind of a ritual," I replied.
"I didn't play! This is not a game!" you shouted, then, calming down somewhat you added, "I'd told you that I was thinking of making some use of him... and that's what I did. I've tried something out ... but it didn't worked."
You gave the boy an angry little kick in his side. Then I noticed he was still alive.
I restrained myself and didn't mock your superstition. Whatever you had tried to do; it couldn't work from the outset. Simply because magic doesn't work. But it was pointless to argue with you about that.
"Okay, what do we do now?" I asked.
"I'll take a shower and get some sleep," you replied.
"What about him?"
The boy was breathing heavily, producing loud, rattling noises, and dark foam was pouring out of his mouth. His head was shaking violently, his eyes rolling in utter panic.
"About him? What do you mean? He's dying, can't you see that?" you said, looking at the boy at your feet with a shrug.
"Don't you wanna end his suffering?" I asked, noticing the bloody knife laying on the floor beside your victim.
"Why?" you asked, sincerely surprised at my question.
Yeah, why? Damn, once again I had to realize that you were a bit tougher than I am...
You just stepped over the dying boy and walked out of the room, followed by your dog. No look back.
I hesitated for a moment, pondering whether I should give José a quick death. But I didn't want you to think I was too sentimental. So I just followed you, leaving him to die alone.
08.20 a.m.
Next morning after breakfast you reminded me that we still had to get rid of José's corpse.
"You do your rituals and I remove the waste. That's what I'm good for, huh?" I joked.
"Will you help me or not?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Of course I did. We agreed to cut the corpse in pieces, store the parts in bags, and to sink them in a lake.
You put on an apron and a pair of marigold rubber gloves [lol]; well, not even that could really deface you.
When we entered, the room was dark - the candles had burned down. The air was filled with an unpleasant odor, as if something sweet had been incinerated. After turning on the light both of us froze.
"What the fuck... !" I said after a few moments of silent amazement.
"My god... " you muttered in awe, "Somehow it must have worked after all... I've really... SHE must really have been..."
We stared at José's corpse. It was still laying in the middle of the room; but it didn't look the the same--it was perfectly clean and white as a sheet. Not a single drop of blood, not even on the floor around it. The symbols you had painted were still there; but they were no longer daubed by blood. They looked as if they were printed on the tiles.
"What does this mean?" I asked you.
"Don't you see it? I must have made some kind of a mistake, but somehow... something did happen!"
I refused to believe it. This was strange, but there was a natural explanation for everything. I had no clue where all the blood had gone, but I knew that by no means it had been taken care of by some kind of supernatural being. Simply because there ARE no supernatural beings. I hit on the suspicion that you had washed all the blood off while I was sleeping; just to convince me of your ridiculous beliefs.
But I was not in the mood to argue, and you seemed so amazed that you didn't want to discuss it either.
You knelt down to examine the carcass. I looked at it from a distance; seeing the dead boy's open, empty eyes, and the cold mask of horror on his face. Not so nice.
A high pitched cry burst from you.
"Look! Look at this!"
You had both your gloved hands inside his terrible chest wound, spreading it further open so we could look inside. A surprising view, indeed. The chest looked somewhat empty; the lunges were still there, but not the heart. And all the tissue inside the chest looked as pale as chicken meat.
You poked and pressed inside the wound and said, "See, not a single drop of blood left!"
Yeah, I saw it. Surprising. But I just didn't want to think about it. I don't believe in miracles. Not even if I see one.
Instead of pondering the spooky stuff, I studied you. You were treating the corpse of this boy you had killed as if he was nothing but a turkey for thanksgiving. I can't say whether I found your indifference and heartlessness creepy or arousing. My brain said, 'This chick is not at all what you had believed her to be. She's a monster--run as fast as you can!' My cock said, "This is the hottest being on earth. A girl to die for.' Well, my cock has always been the president of my inner government-- you can't argue with the bastard...
Finally we started to work. It was ugly, but clean work. The corpse proved to be completely bloodless and dry when we dissected it.
I furtively watched you as you began removing his head, slicing through the flesh of the neck with a carving knife, then working a saw through the spine--I saw nothing but cold concentration on your face.
In the end, we had good ol' José stored in eight large plastic bags. Filled up with sand and corded up airless, the bags disappeared into the lake at night.
8.50 a.m.
Getting really tired now...
For the next few days I spent hours and hours in my apartment, watching the video I had taken with the hidden camera. Unfortunately the cassette had been full and the cam had switched off before you had started in on José alone--so it didn't help me figure out anything... but I lost interest in finding out things anyway, I just indulged in the site on that tape again and again... it was the first real snuff porn flick I had ever seen, I KNEW that this one was for real, and I knew the actors--all that definitely added to my viewing pleasure! It totally kicked ass... I spanked my monkey for hours, looking at the action, the remote control in my hand, repeating my favorite scenes dozens of times.
I had always regarded myself as a dedicated sadist, but now I had to realize that there was another kink in me, and maybe it was even stronger. A cute girl at the tip of my knife had always been the hottest thing I could imagine; now the hottest thing on earth was you... sticking your knife into someone. You had been a hot lay for me before, now you became an obsession.
I NEEDED more of that. More of the real thing. I had to get you to do something like this again... and I didn't care a wit whether we'd go for a girl or for a guy again. All I really wanted was you killing again.
You didn't seem any different after the José affair... well, maybe you appeared even a bit more vivid than you had been before, and you mood was flying high. But you showed no interest in talking about the whole thing--you behaved just as if it had never happened. Only difference was now you spent even more time reading these ancient bullshit books.
I had to bring the topic up again... I couldn't believe you weren't craving blood. To my disappointment, you reacted just like the first time when I had suggested doing something like this again. You reacted as if I was insane to even suggest killing someone for fun. As if nothing had ever happened! Yet, I had the vague feeling that you were not really honest this time. Did you have your own plans that didn't include me?
Instead, you made another attempt at getting me into that spiritual mumbo-jumbo. This time I feigned interest, but you immediately looked through it and dropped the topic once and for all.
I almost went mad. I still watched the video every day, I fantasized about it, and the obsession took complete control of me. When we had sex I enjoyed it more than ever before--knowing that I was fucking a merciless killer turned it into the ultimate thrill. When I was eating your delicious pussy, it was as if as if I was tasting the flavor of a unique blend of sex and death. Even such a mundane thing as feeling your hands on my skin made me tremble with excitement when I imagined what those hands had done.
But it wasn't enough. I knew I couldn't live without getting you to kill again. But how in the hell could I trick you into it?
Then, when I watched the video, my focus began to change. Instead of simply watching you and admiring the way you tortured the boy, I began identifying with him. I saw myself in his place and imagined feeling what he had felt. I began to imagine being the victim instead of being the perpetrator... laying helplessly on my back, the weight of your body pressing down on my chest, your sneering grin above me as you carved a line in my face--was that just pain? Or was is also pleasure? My cock said. Pleasure! Or looking up your killer legs as you stood above me, your heel poking into my neck--was that only terror? Or was it pure thrill? My dick said. Thrill! Looking into your face and realizing that you are about to kill me, realizing I have no way to avoid it, realizing it's pointless to even try to escape... how would that be?
How could I get another guy into that lucky position? I saw no way... Then again... there was one... yet it was crazy ... but I've never been willing or even able to forgo something I was obsessed with ... even if it was the last thing I did in my life. Yeah, I wanted this. And it wouldn't be hard to get, I thought.
09.05 a.m.
Next evening, when we were sitting in your living room, I told you that I had brought along something that would interest you. I put the cassette into your VCR and started it. Your eyes flew open in shock as soon as you realized what the video depicted.
"Are you totally nuts, you fucking, stupid asshole?!" you yelled.
"Well, babe, you know that I am totally, fucking nuts!" I replied, grinning, "I thought you loved me for that!"
You were speechless for a moment. A rare event! LOL
"Do you want the tape?"
"We've got to destroy it immediately!" you said.
"I won't destroy it. And you need to get it before you can destroy it..."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean if you want it then you'll have to pay a price ."
You looked at me, slightly confused and definitely furious.
"What price?"
"I want you to kill another man."
"You want me to kill a man just for your pleasure?" you asked, shaking your head in disbelief, "And who do you want me to kill?"
"I want you to do it for my pleasure... and for yours. Don't try to kid me--you DID enjoy it last time! And the next victim will be someone you hate right now."
"The only one that I hate right now is you, you fucking nut!"
I didn't answer, I just grinned at you.
It took a while before it dawned on you.
"No! You can't be that... you're kidding, right? You don't want me to kill you? Do you?"
"That is exactly what you'll have to do, if you want to get this tape." I said, with dead cold voice.
The discussion proceeded for about half an hour, till you really believed I was serious, until you realized I was obsessed with this idea and that you couldn't talk me out of it. You interrupted the discussion for a moment and said you were going to the bathroom. When you returned you had your .38, and pointed it right at me.
"Okay, asshole, you will simply leave the video in the VCR, then you'll fuck off, leave my house, and never come back!" you hissed.
I laughed.
"Babe, I don't want to die today. And of course this is only a copy... the original cassette is somewhere else."
You sat down again, dropping the gun.
"Okay, gimme details; what exactly do you want?" you asked.
"You will shackle me in the basement next Friday, and you will kill me on Saturday. I will put the original cassette in a package and have it sent here, so that it arrives on Saturday morning. Once you have it, you know that you can snuff me-- you can't do it before, cause you won't be sure that I've really sent it."
You pondered my idea for a moment and then asked, "Why do you want it that way? Why do you want to be shackled for one night?"
"Two reasons. Reason one. For thrill. Reason two. I need to outsmart myself. I must be helpless when you start to snuff me--else the temptation to try and save my ass will be too strong. Especially if it starts to really hurt. Do you get it? My moment of submission is twelve hours before the pain starts--that will be easier for me. When the action starts I won't be able to do anything to stop it."
"You are one absolutely, totally, fucking crazy psycho!"
"Yup. And a clever one, even you've got to admit that." I said, standing up and closing the door of the living room to keep Bundy outside, "And now let's seal our agreement with a fuck!"
I stripped off my jeans.
"You will never again fuck me... HEY!" you shouted as I pressed you down on the sofa, "Don't you dare... "
"Shhhhh," I said, laying my hand over your mouth, "Relax, babe."
But you didn't relax--you fought like a wild cat, just as I had expected. I got myself several deep scratches and a bop on the nose that took my breath away for a moment, but of course you didn't really stand a chance against me. Holding you down with one hand, I opened your blouse and stripped you bra away so I could stroke you soft, full tits. You were still fighting, hissing, and cursing at me, but your nipples got hard quickly. I sucked at them, my tongue circling them. It seemed to drive you even crazier when you realized you couldn't suppress your rising arousal.
"Don't do that!" you hissed, when I moved my hand downward and began to get you out of your trousers and panties, "Oh, I will make you regret this! You will be sorry!"
"Yeah babe, make me regret it... next Saturday," I muttered, looking into your eyes which were glowing with hatred, "What about giving me a little head now?"
Your mouth twisted into a gruesome smile - it was as sweet as hydrochloric acid. You opened your mouth a bit, letting me see your sharp, gleaming white teeth.
"Ooooooh yeah, sweetheart, gimme your dick!" you moaned with mocking exaggeration, sensuously licking your upperlip.
"Oh no babe," I laughed, "As I said, I don't wanna die today."
Instead of sacrificing my dick, I used my leg to get your knees apart and forced myself between them. You were hot and sweaty and excited all over, and I noticed, to my delight, your pussy was ready for action, too. When the head of my cock touched your orifice, there was no dryness--just hot, pulsating readiness. It slid in slowly and easily, meeting only the pleasurable resistance of tense and resistant muscles. You gave up fighting... you've always been a practical girl, I guess you thought since you couldn't stop it, why not enjoy it?
I kissed your neck and licked away the tiny drops of sweat, while I thrust into you with long, slow strokes, your legs pressing against my hips.
"You... will... pay... for... this... horribly..." you moaned between my strokes, your eyes closed and your face turned into a grimace of lust.
"I know, honey, " I whispered into your ear.
When it was over, and after we had rested for a little while, we got dressed. Not a word was said.
I was about to leave when you stopped me.
"Wait," you said, your voice cold, without a hint of arousal or even anger.
I turned around and we stood face to face.
"You know that you will die for this, regardless of whether you want to or not."
"Sure, honey. I can't wait."
"You will not enjoy it... you will cry for your mamma before I'm done with you...You will regret this bitterly."
"Yes, I know--and you know what? I don't fucking care!"
09.30 a.m.
Almost done...
I only came by your house one more time before that Friday, and only to get my own private dungeon ready. You opened the door and let me in, and when I was done you closed the door behind me without saying one single word to me.
When I prepared the package, wrapping up the videocassette, I started imagining what you would do to me once you had it. Actually, I had given you more than enough incentive. I had blackmailed you, I had become a risk to your legal safety, I had raped you, and I had betrayed you terribly by making you kill an innocent man. Then again. You still didn't know the last part. Should I tell you? No, I had a better idea. I put something extra into the package. The ears of your mare, which I had sliced off after killing her. That should do it! I imagined your reaction when you opened the package and found them, when you grasped the whole truth in an instant, while I was helplessly chained in the basement; it gave me the goose bumps and my balls contracted with fear... yeah, this would become a VERY extreme scene... the ultimate thrill. Worth dying for.
Then, yesterday, the time had come. When I drove to your house in the early evening, I was as excited as never before in my life. Well, you don't drive to your own execution all too often...
When you opened the door I was slightly disappointed by your outfit. Sneakers, old jeans, a wide sweatshirt, and no makeup at all. Somehow I had expected you to dress a little sexier for this event...
"Can't believe you're really here..." you said, and refused any welcoming kiss.
"And are you ready to play?" I asked, hiding my angst behind a grin.
"There will be no playing," you replied coolly, "If you go down to the basement and let me chain you, then you will simply die. And if you run away now, then I will find you and you will also simply die."
"Well, we'll see what happens after you open the package tomorrow morning..."
I couldn't imagine you would simply shoot me down after realizing what I really had done to you... you MUST feel the need to make it a real... erm... interesting experience for me.
Without any further discussion you led me down into this room. As I saw, you had laid out a few things, like the paper, a typewriter, wine, and cigarettes.
"Hey, you're the perfect host!" I tried to joke about it, but my heartbeat accelerated impetuously when I looked at the steel chain that was waiting for me.
You didn't answer. You simply took the end of the steel chain and looked at me coldly. Waiting.
I undressed. Your face writhed with loathing.
"You're such a sick bastard!"
"Yup," I said, taking off my pants, exposing my already throbbing cock. Never knew before how horny I could get from fear. Then I stood in front of you, saying nothing, just looking down on you.
"You're really ready for this ... " you said, with a touch of unwilling awe in your voice.
"Yes, do it." I said, a slight croak in my voice revealed my anxiety.
You knelt down with the chain in your hand. The cold steel enclosed my left ankle and I heard the metallic click of the lock. No way out now. It was final.
You stepped back a couple of meters, leaving the radius of motion the chain allowed me. You were out of my reach now. Forever.
"What will you do to me tomorrow?" I asked, "Will I die like José?"
"You stupid turd... you still think that this is kindov S&M game, don't you? I'll say again, there will be no fun for you. And now have a pleasant night, asshole."
Turning around abruptly, you left. You didn't stop when I asked you to wait. I actually had no idea what I would say, but somehow I didn't want you to leave me now. But you did.
The door shut behind you.
And that was our story up till now.
09.45 a.m.
I'm a fucking genius when it comes to timing... got this story done and now I can rest the last few minutes. I feel as if my head will explode... I'm both exhausted and excited as Hell at the same time.
10.10 a.m.
Where is this fucking postman???
10.25 a.m.
Then I heard the doorbell...
Silence...
This very moment you must be opening... I hear you yelling! Oh shit, now it will happen! You'll be down here in seconds...
Hmmm... where are you??
11.15 a.m.
WHERE ARE YOU??? YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!!
5. 30 p.m.
Fell asleep and just woke up. Shit, I need something to drink, but there is nothing left. Why don't you come? What are you doing???
9.45 pm
I can't stand this much longer! I need to know what's happened... is this pure, malicious cruelty? Or did something happen to you? Will I die of thirst in this dungeon? That's not what I had in mind... My God, was that what you meant when you said I'd have no fun with this???
I've shouted for you several times, but no reaction. You must have left the house. SHIT SHIT SHIT!
8.20 a.m.
At least I think it's a.m. I've slept for a long time, and there is no window in this room so I don't know if it's daylight.
I'm totally dry, my tongue feels like leather...I've just smoked my last cigarette, and trust me, it didn't help much with the thirst!
Not knowing what will happen is driving me nuts! I'll go crazy if you don't show up soon.
10.30
Now I hear you on the stairs! Salvation of some kind...
01.10--am or pm--who fucking cares?
That was not what I had expected.
You finally came down to my dungeon. Your face a mask of indifference.
You carried a tray with a glass of water and some bread on it. Damn, the water attracted my attention even more than you did!
"Remain sitting," you said, "If you want something to drink."
You placed the tray on the desk in front of me and sat down yourself. I reached for the water, just to be hissed at, "You won't drink before I tell you. You won't do anything before I tell you; not if you want another drink tomorrow."
I withdrew my hand. It took a lot of self restraint to do that!
Then you told me everything you thought I should know. I just listened close-mouthed, and I was surprised how much you had changed. No rage or fury; you were dead cold. You didn't seem driven by hate now, but you seemed very determined. You had made up your mind, made a decision, and you would actualize it.
What you told me was this. After opening the package and finding the sliced ears of your mare, you had fetched your gun in a burning rage, itching to shoot me down instantly. Then you had stopped. Refusing to carry out the first impulse. Instead, you had left the house to cool down and decide what to do. You didn't want to allow me to manipulate you. Then again, you had no doubt that you had to kill me. But how? You pondered how to make use of my death. Then you realized that you had the same dilemnia concerning José. Why not come to the same solution? You had used him to try out a ritual, something had gone wrong, but not completely wrong. Something had worked too. You were sure you had figured out the mistake you had made with José; and this time you would do it right. This time it would work. You didn't tell me what the mistake had been, or what the purpose of it all was. But you told me the date of your next attempt.
"I will sacrifice you next Saturday night," you informed me coolly.
Then you had taken my story, and, before leaving, ordered me to write down this last scene.
Which is done, herewith.
This will become a shitty week... but an interesting weekend, thereafter.