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There is practicality in murder and it makes me laugh.
I lay the tray down next to the cross and I wonder how fast I want to finish this. I feel like I did the first time I had sex. I just wanted to get it over with and move on to the next time, when I would actually get to enjoy myself without the stinging pain, yet I had that romantic notion that I needed to make it last and enjoy it. I did not enjoy it and it did not last either. Maybe this can. I lift my eyes to Adrien, my head cocked to the side, and I feel a surge of pleasure wreaking havoc through my body, reaching my lips through a smile. Must be a devious one, because Adrien’s eyes go wide, a tremor in his lids.
I pick up one of the knives from the tray and turn it around in my hand. I have seen this before, a flaying knife. As I step towards him splayed open for me on the cross, I see his body twitch and somewhere in the distance I hear muffled sounds, screams, I do not know what they are, too far away for me to understand and my demons sing the closer the shiny blade gets to his flesh. I touch it to the front of his thigh, close to his hip, pressing slowly until I see drops of blood flowing. I drag the blade down his thigh and the resistance the skin opposes silently cheers me on. I reach right above his knee and he must acknowledge that if he moves too much I will cut too deep because I can see the strain of his muscles as he forces himself to keep still. As I remove the blade, I watch the strands of blood dripping slowly down his leg, painting the plastic sheet beneath us in drops of crimson.
Beautiful.
I bring the knife to the middle of the thigh, towards the inside and press it in, dragging it horizontally, painting a pretty cross on his olive skin. When I take the blade out I look up at him and he’s drooling around his restrained lips, his eyes slightly wet and a murderous look in them.
“I know, I know, I could move quicker. I promise, I will begin in a minute.” Goosebumps fill his flesh as he weighs in my words. “I’m just reminding myself how it feels when the flesh splits open under the blade, testing to see how deep I can go without killing you too fast.”
His head moves in a frenzy, spouting muffled bullshit at me, but I am gone already, focused on my exploration. The thin blade travels to the inside of the bicep, on the pale, thin flesh that starts on the armpit and goes up towards the elbow. Different type of skin, different sensation, right?
His whole arm tenses up instantly, the muscles contracting one by one, his flesh twitching. I sink the blade into the thin skin, dragging it towards his elbow as I watch in fascination how the skin splits like a tight seam, revealing yellow fat and deep pink muscles.
Delightful…
NIKLAS
She's notonfire, sheisfire.
The look in her eyes, the hunger, the rapture, it's as disturbing as it is beautiful. Yet somehow, beautiful doesn't cover it. There's a surge of animalistic, ravenous power emanating from her. This is how I imagine the great renaissance painters looked when inspiration struck and they picked up the paintbrush. Only Suki's paintbrush is a flaying knife, her canvas is flesh, and her paint is crimson.
Beautiful vivid crimson.
I can't wait to see her masterpiece. Observe that beautiful mind of hers as it breaks open and reveals itself to me.
I take a seat on the chair she occupied minutes before, and I can't help but wonder how easy her transition has been. When she left me, she quite literally ran from this, from herself, from me. Something must have happened while she was away, something inside of her must have cracked because she looks so incredibly eager to sink that little knife into that motherfucker’s flesh.
I'm not complaining, it's a beautiful surprise. A pleasant one.
She's taking her time and the more I watch her small hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, the more I want to bury it into her pussy. I definitely did not get to play with her enough. There are so many more things that I can do to her. So many ways I can break her body. I can just see it, strapped on that St. Andrews cross, naked, spread eagle for me, her pussy dripping on her inner thighs, her skin flushed, her nipples hard with anticipation. So many games left to play.
I catch her seductive gaze focused on me, and I have to shift my legs to make more room for the semi growing between them, as all those thoughts pass through my head.
She's mine. Forever.
She turns her attention back to that sack of shit hanging on that cold metal cross and she meticulously runs the knife on his untouched thigh, drawing what could be a rectangle if it wasn't missing the bottom line. I'm confused at first, but when she slides the blade under the cut at the top I understand. It's a little doorway, a painful one revealing Adrien's thigh muscle as she flays the skin and fat away from it. He's screaming against the piece of fabric covering his gaping mouth, bellowing and crying and it's fucking music to my ears. When she finishes, that rectangle of skin just hangs there, like a thick piece of fabric that hasn't been cut completely, and Suki looks so fucking proud of herself. Giddy as she claps her hands and jumps a few times in excitement. I can't help but smile and wait patiently for her masterpiece to take shape. At this point, I realize that I don't actually know what to expect from her. She's already surprised me. I thought she would stab him a few times... maybe torture him a little bit, yet as she flays a third piece of skin, much bigger this time, in the center of his chest almost from nipple to nipple, I realize that this is most definitely not what I expected.
She's ruthless, in a trance, completely oblivious to the excruciating screams coming from Adrien, and I wonder if she can even hear them. From time to time, I swear I can see her sway, like she hears music in her ears. She understands... fear sings to her as well and her demons dance to the notes painted in blood. She's more like me than even I expected and the monster inside of me roars his triumph. Adrien's body looks like something pulled out of a cannibalistic ritual, covered in blood that now pools in the metal tub beneath him. Suki didn't stop her torture even when he was pissing himself from pain. She is absolutely relentless.
He's starting to lose consciousness from the pain and Suki looks a tad annoyed with that, so I give her a hand. Even though I was not expecting anything quite like this, I still prepared. She slaps him a few times to bring him back, and his eyes grow wide as he sees me walking towards him with a syringe in my hand. Half is enough to pump enough adrenaline in order for him to stay awake through the next round.
Yet when I am done and sit down again, watching where Suki is aiming her knife, I realize I might have been wrong. I've seen this done to animals before. She splits the skin of his ball sack and quite literally castrates him, cutting his testicles out. I can't lie, that was hard to watch, and no matter how many inventive methods of torture I have applied to my victims in the past, this one makes even me cross my legs. She shoves them in his mouth, before she covers it back up with the fabric, gagging him with his own balls. This is retribution, payback for the violation of her own body.
The drugs pumping through his system are keeping him fully aware and awake, gagging on every slice of torture splitting his body open. My fingers are twitching to hold a knife and sink it into his foul flesh, but this is not my show. It's Suki's. And what a show it is indeed.
What happens next has me on my feet in an instant, the syringes heavy in my pocket. She makes a cut on his chest, through flesh, through muscle, pushes through his cries, through his pleading wails and exposes part of his ribcage. She takes a second to admire the beautiful anatomy of the human body, and with the saw in hand she proceeds to cut the cartilage that connects the ribs to the sternum. It takes her a while, but she takes her time, slow delicate movements cutting deeper and deeper into his bone, eventually revealing that beautiful muscle that pumps blood at a dangerous speed through his body.
She turns her beautiful face to me and smiles.
“Thank you,” her sweet voice sneaks through the wails of the man strapped before her. I return her smile, and with a calm look in her eyes she grabs the lighter fluid, soaking his beating heart with it before she grabs the lighter.
Adrien watches in horror, his eyes bulging, painted red with burst veins from the strain and before any of us have time to take it all in, she slides her small hand inside his chest cavity, wraps it carefully around his heart and pulls it out gently, close enough to his body that it's still attached to the major blood vessels, but far enough that Adrien stops yelling at the sight of it. Shock and disbelief paint his features. Even my breathing is heavier at the sight with anticipation.
I'm close to them now, standing only three feet away on Suki's side and the view of Adrien's heart pumping in her small hand is mesmerizing. They look into each other’s eyes, and I can almost see the strands of life leaving him and a strange peace entering her as her thumb flicks the lighter. It all happens in a split second. The flame touches the beating heart and before they touch Suki's hand, she drops it, the burning heart ripping itself from the veins that tie it to his body, blood gushing everywhere, painting all of us in crimson.
It's beautiful, fucking beautiful and morbidly poetic how life still inhabits him, even as his heart burns in the tub filled with his blood and piss, which slowly extinguishes it. His eyes lose their light and after a few seconds, pure silence fills the room.
