The Tormentor

The Tormentor

I looked down at her, my eyes speaking volumes with a single glance into hers. Such pain was wrought in her gaze, such torment hidden beneath the lonely shelter of her skin that I could almost feel pity for her, for the suffering that she had endured. However, I, and I alone, knew that her suffering must not last much longer, that soon, oh so soon, her pain would end. Just a little longer, she had to endure only a bit more....

Her eyes blinked and the feeling was gone. I was not held in her seductive trance any longer. I was freed, allowed to continue in my tidings! And so, as I brought the curved, shapely knife to the flesh of her stomach, its point resting within her naval, gently pulling upwards on the soft flesh. I looked at her with the most condescending of inquisitions, my lower lip pouting out slightly, as if I were to believe in false remorse for this whore of man, for this woman.

Slowly her lips spread as she threatened to scream, or rather, threatened not to. However, I knew that she would be unable to resist the simple pleasure of allowing her voice to echo in the depths of my ears, as I would not allow her to take this from me. So as she began to plead, the last breaths that I allowed her being wasted in a dying effort, I simply smiled, my lips pulling back so gently that they would reveal my insidious smile with a crucial effectivity.

You see, it is not so much in the pain of the blade that makes my torture worth while, as in, it is in the waiting...the build up of the final determining factor...Anticipation. When the subject finally does feel the blade slip beneath their tender flesh, and sever the connection of blood to vein, it is almost as much a relief as anything, for no longer must they wait in wonder. But when I can force a person to beg for my mercy, to plea for their salvation at my whimsy...oh, now that is power.

I looked deep into those chestnut orbs, which were surrounded by the cascades of hazelnut hair, and I saw her fear, and I drank deep from it. I leaned my face ever so close to her own, allowing my lips to swiftly brush past the pale skin of her cheek, and my tongue to leave a small trail of saliva upon her, jus tto hear the small groan that I was sure was to emanate from her lips quite soon.

Oh, and I tell you, I was not misled by my assumptions! Surely, I reveled in the depths of her voice, the deep range of her guttural cries for my mercy, the cries of her anguish. Tears were flowing so freely now from her eyes, drifting now from the corners of her wells down her cheek, and gently pooling in the nook of her arm and face. They would then run down the crack of her arms, for they had been placed and tied above her head, while she lay on a slight decline, as my reasons will soon show. Her fingers attempted to prize themselves from the knots that I had bound her with, but to no avail. I knew what I was doing...I was good.

All this, all this fear, this torment...and I had not yet even begun the pain! The blade still rested on her skin, but only for a moment. I had to relish this for as long as I could, for the next phase, when she understood what I was doing, did not last nearly as long. It was not something I could sit and bask in. It was more, more of a release...literally.

So I chuckled as I withdrew myself and looked again at her, then pressed lightly upon the skin of her stomach, allowing the blade to nip at her tender flesh. A small cry shot forth from her pursed lips, ringing delicately in my ears, seeping into the depths of my crazed being.

It was an ecstatic feeling, that of her first cry, her first vocal gasp. I can't even begin to describe it to you, for to truly understand the depths of my love for this sound, this vibration of my very essence, I would have to show you, and I can assume that you would not think of me in the same manner...ever again.

However, I quickly seemed to lose myself in this, for I immediately pressed upward more than I had meant to, and thus, sank almost a full inch of the silver lover into her belly. A scream tore itself from her lips as her red fluids reached out to embrace their passionate affair, and then begin to work their way back up her nude body, and towards the source of her desperation. I released my grip on the handle of the Killer as I took a step back, admiring the way that her life-blood betrayed her. For, once it had been the source of all things good and powerful in her life...for it had given her the life to allow, and now...now it was my source of joy, and hers of pain. As the red veil slowly drew itself over her body, I bit my lower lip, quivering with excitement when it first touched the swell of her breast, my eyes eagerly awaiting it to not only surpass this barrier, but to proceed even further.

You should know, though, that I am no sexual pervert. None of this is so that I may become sexually aroused, or in any way, of that being, gratified. No no, this is merely a purgance, and a delightful way of doing so!

So as the blood seeped past her neck and she did all that she could to lift her chin, I could do nothing but stare and smile, entranced by her hopeless efforts. It seemed that this woman, despite the knowledge that there was no way for her to escape, seemed to believe that she could make herself better by fighting everything I put against her! Did she not know that if only she were to accept her fate, accept her punishment, it would go so much quicker!

Sadly I looked on as the blood sank around her chin and down the sides of her neck, and once again I was forced to revel in the beauty that I had produced, simply by reversing the placing of a few, essential, elements. She had once been peach, and was now crimson. I liked the change.

My fingers found their way back to the handle of my blade, and grasped it tightly, as to stop my arm from moving as I shook with excitement. I stared deep into her eyes as I began my emittance of strength on the tool, pulling it further toward her chest. My heart leapt as the life fluid gushed from her wound, and the organs that sustained her ever so precariously became in view. She left out a momentous wail, her lips peeling back from her teeth as the cry struck a high note, shattering the glass on my wall. No matter, it was replaceable. No, I had more important things at hand.

Then, my blade reached a wall of bone, and was forced to stop as it touched upon her sternum, the uppermost place that my knife could travel. She wept so openly now, and no longer could she keep her beautiful face from the depths of her awful pool, the red death which had already washed across her face and lips, stinging her eyes as tears were forced from dry sockets. I laughed out loud, for I could no longer contain my joy entirely within myself. I was compelled to wait and rejoice in her suffering, but I knew that if I did not act quickly, I would never finish in time.

As that my blade had reached its final resting point, I no longer need its silver embrace upon her skin, and so I lay it on the table beside her body, allowing it to rest. It had done its work well, but now, only my hands could serve where a simple tool could not.

With a powerful thrust, I forced room within her body for my hand, my fingers clawing at the organs as I was covered in her blood, my arm seeming to bathe in its heat. She screamed even louder, for the body is not made to contain other beings than itself, and certainly not to be ripped open and toyed with! However, this did nothing to pause my frenzy, nothing to stop my assault of her flesh.

My fingers tore into her nonessentials, ripping them from her body with ease, and severing all the ties that had held them in place in her for so long. I did this with an urgent speed, for I knew that she would soon pass out from the pain, and then it would be only moments before she bled to death. So as I tore her body apart, I took the spare time to drage each of her organs down her chest and over her face, passing against the smooth surface of her lips, a final kiss of death. The organs were then placed on a table by her head, their rancid, putrid smell permeating through the entirety of my workshop. Finally, there was little left within her body, so little in fact, that I could see the heart beginning to slow, beginning to die in its efforts at life.

I knew that this was the time, this was when it would all end, and this was where my point was to be made. I reached to the ground beside her table and lifted a small basket, covered by a simple white cloth. As my bloodied fingers removed the veil, her eyes widened as she saw what was in my hold, in my grasp.

I pulled form within the confines of my carrier a small baby, a newborn infant. In fact, the child was hers, brought into this world but a few days ago. Already it wailed in my grip, seemingly able to sense what was to come of it. She tried to call out to it, but alas, a woman without a tongue can say nothing. And so, as I raised the baby to look at her, she could do nothing but weep and cry, nothing but die in my eyes.

I placed the child back in her belly, for it was an abomination. A child out of wedlock, something that should have never been. It had never been meant for creation, it should have stayed a small semen in a man's penis, locked away for someone else to find. However, it had been placed in this woman's body, and, from hence it came, it shall return.

There was more than enough room for the small, crying child, and as I withdrew the needle and thread from the basket, I almost felt bad that something who had done no harm, should be put through so much. However, his mother had sinned, so, as I drew her skin back over itself and began sewing it together, a wriggle mass stirring beneath the cover, I felt no remorse.

And then, finally, and just as I finished, she died. Her last breath expelled from her lips and her heart gave up. I knew that the child would not last long, there was no oxygen for it to breathe on. On this I was again proved right, for the babe died within minutes, its small heart failing its wishes.

And then, I was left alone. A jubilant father over his adulterous wife and ill-fated child. She had wrought a son, but not to me. The woman had deserved it all; I stand by my point and my actions. It was what needed to happen. It was the only answer...