I cranked the rope connected to her head until it was facing straight ahead, until I felt the tension in her tendons from all the way up here, then I climbed down.
“Adrian,” she said my name, bleary eyes and drooling. Her skin was red and pinched, her cheeks flushed, veins in her temples strained. I grinned and stroked hercheek, cataloging everywhere her skin stretched, her muscles pulled. She coughed, even her lungs, her chest, stretched out too tight.
“Little killer,” I cooed. “This is what you should look like. Forever.”
There was beauty in it.
“And ever?” she whined. Fuck, she looked high, gone on some drug that I didn’t have access to.
I needed her present.
Disappearing from the stage for a moment, I returned, a plank of wood in one hand, the marionette of her sister in the other. It was crude, and as I dropped it to the floor, I wasn’t unsure it wouldn’t break.
Penny’s eyes flashed at the sight of the marionette, but she said nothing, bit her bottom lip hard. She wanted to ask. If her sister was still alive, what I’d done with her.
I hated to have to tell her it was innocent, that we spoke for a few hours and I saw her off, walked her home, even, to make sure she was safe and delivered behind a locked door. So I would say nothing, letting the thoughts fester in her mind. Let her use her disgusting brain to guess what I might have done.
“How many times did you stab my brother?” I asked Penny, dragging the wooden plank along her body as I walked to her backside and stepped between her spread legs.
This plank had some old nails in it, rusty and sharp, protruding from where it had once been something else, a chest, a table, whatever. I pressed my thumb to the tip of one of the nails, grinning when it pinched.
“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. It wasn’t a surprise to me that she didn’t know. She didn’t care enough to.
“Seventeen times, little killer,” I informed her, my eyes flashing to him lying on that table in the morgue, how brutalized he’d been. “You stabbed him seventeen times before you stopped. What made you stop?”
She whined, her body squirming as much as it could in the confides. She’d stepped into this one willingly.
“What made you stop, Penelope?” I scraped the plank of wood down her spine, letting the nails snag her skin.
“I don’t know!” she cried, flinching. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.” She breathed out, hard and heavy, almost wheezy. “I never know. It was just… done. The job was done.”
I nodded. “It was done when you slit his throat.” Images of slamming this nail covered board into her neck flashed through my mind, made my cock thicken. I could press it to her neck and fuck her throat until she died. That would be a helluva way to go.
“You’re going to count,” I told her instead.
“Count what?” she asked, voice all whiny and high. She tried to turn her head to look at me, but it wasn’t possible.
“This.” I slammed the plank between her legs, and she yelped. This first one hard, but not as much as it could be. Not enough to break skin. “Count,” I demanded, and when she didn’t, I screamed it. “Count!”
“One!”
Again. I smashed the plank between her legs, crashing right against her pussy, her spread out ass cheeks, making sure the sharp nails pointed out, drove into her exposed flesh.
“Two!” she shouted, almost angry.
I knew when the nails landed for the first time, when I ripped them back out of her soft body, because two things happened. She screamed, deep and visceral, and blood splattered onto my shoes.
Satisfaction heated my chest, and I did it again as she cried out and I beat her pussy to a meaty, disgusting pulp.
When she yelledfifteen, I paused, looked at the mess between her legs. I wanted to fuck it, to shove my cock between the blood and gore, to fuck her while she wailed and begged.
I pushed a finger inside her, rotating it while she cried and screamed, tried to swing away from me.
“So perfect like this, little killer,” I told her, scooping up the blood and leaning over to shove it into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around my fingers, and her teeth grazed, threatening to bite. “You bite and I don’t stop at two more.”
Her jaw loosened, and I slipped my hands free, going in for the final two blows.
“Say it,” I demanded, stroking the bloodstained plank along her pussy.
