However, if you like to delve into the most disturbing, disgusting, and depraved of humanity, well, you've come to the right place. Please enjoy the story, which I said is one of my personal favorites.
SOULMATE
I remember the first time I felt the sensation of
arousal. Sure, I'd had sex before that night, but it was just something to
do—something to pass the time. Although, it did very little for me, and I'd
never actually desired to perform the act.
The minute hands were ticking closer and closer toward
midnight. The sidewalks were filled with people meandering about—some stumbling
from intoxication—but the roads weren't as crowded. So, it came as a surprise
when I heard it: the screech of tires, the impact of metal, and the thud of
something a bit softer being hit by something much harder. It sounded less than
a block away. Screams passed through the alleyways, and cries echoed off of the
buildings around me. My curiosity piqued and led me to the scene of the accident.
A pile of metal—what I assumed used to be a
motorcycle—lay on the ground in front of a car, of which the front-end was
obliterated. A good fifty feet away, behind the car, a person lay on the ground
in a heap. I walked closer toward the pile that resembled a human being. A bald
man, I thought, though the skin from his head stretched over the road in such a
way that it was really hard to tell. So, I was going on the lack of visible
hair. His skull had hit the asphalt with such force that it split open much
like a dropped watermelon. Only the spilled fruit on the ground wasn’t a dark
pinkish-red like that of a melon, but instead, a dull pink splashed with the
crimson of blood, smeared the asphalt. The brain had lost its natural shape
with the impact.
The body twitched, though there was no saving it. It
was probably dead the second the head came in contact with the road, and only
the dying nerves left the body jerking a leg here and an arm there. I wet my
lips with my tongue as my breaths and pulse quickened. Someone gagged nearby,
followed by a splattering noise of liquid hitting the pavement, and the smell
of vomit hit my nostrils, but I was so fucking turned on.
***
It took me two years to get here today. Two long years of searching for someone who would do what I wanted—needed—them to do for me. Feeding my addiction for death and gore along the way with a police scanner that notified me of accidents and deliberate acts of violence, or occasionally, I found myself sneaking around emergency departments. I didn't want or need to kill, but I needed the blood. I needed the death. It was my foreplay and my release rolled into one. So, I found someone who did have the need that I lacked.
This night has been a long time coming. I have nothing
to compare the feelings to that are running through me as Dwayne leads me to
his private room. I walk in and look around. A tall brunette, her hair a
clumped mess hanging over her face, is bound and chained in the middle of the
room, wearing only her bra and panties. Her arms are stretched out from her
sides. Her legs spread wide, and she appears to be in pain.
Images flash through my mind at the possibilities. Are
the chains connected to a mechanism? Will they tighten, causing her to split up
the middle? I lick my suddenly dry lips, and something deep in my lower
belly clenches in desire.
“Your best view will be there,” Dwayne says while
pointing to a red and black checkered love-seat.
I smile and make my way over to the two-person chair.
“Aren't you going to change?” I ask, noticing he's wearing a white shirt and a
pair of light-colored jeans.
“No. I'm giving you these clothes when I'm done. You
can keep them, and if you're lucky, you can use them to trigger memories of
tonight in between our meetings. You know, instead of sneaking around to get
your fix. You sneak too much, you're bound to get noticed or worse, caught.”
I hadn't thought of that—using objects for memory
recall—and I wonder if it will work. I'll have to try it out the next time I
get a craving, I think to myself.
I sit back and relax as Dwayne walks over to the far
wall and presses on something. A panel slides out of the way to reveal a large
selection of knives. I lick my lips again, and he begins to inspect each blade.
He chooses one, its blade is black rather than the silver of the steel ones. It
has a white handle decorated with chrome. It's a truly beautiful thing to see.
Dwayne walks over to the brunette who begins thrashing
about, trying her hardest to break free. I couldn't care less for this part. It
isn't what does it for me, but we are sharing the experience, and he needs this
to be satisfied.
He brings the blade to her cheek and draws it down.
I'm not sure if it has even cut through the skin, but strands of hair fall to
the floor. Then a small line of red shows, beginning to trickle down her face.
It reaches her jawline and drips onto her bra-covered breast. The peach colored
fabric pulling the thick liquid into its threads. A tingling sensation starts
in the pit of my stomach as Dwayne moves to put several more slices over the
woman's body. Blood weeps from the cuts, and my underwear grow damper in
arousal with each fresh crimson stream.
He begins to make each new cut deeper than the
previous, and this causes them to bleed more quickly as he continues his work.
I stretch out along the love-seat and raise my skirt, slipping my hand into the
black, lace thong I'm wearing. He looks back at me and grins when he sees what
I'm doing. I stay focused on the blood.
The brunette passes out, and Dwayne pulls something
from his pocket, waving it under her nose. Her head jerks back, and she cries. Has
she been doing that all along? I hadn't noticed.
He continues slicing and cutting as I rub gently at
myself. The girl passes out several more times, and he wakes her from her dark
reprieve time and again. She's beginning to pale from loss of blood. My wrist aches,
and I wonder how long we've been at this.
Dwayne turns his head, looking over his shoulder at
me. Sweat drips from his brow, and he has a look in his eyes. Maybe he wants
me, or maybe he wants the same thing I do. I want to see the light fade from
this girl's eyes, but if that's what he wants, I don't think I'll ever know for
sure.
He steps to the side of the brunette, giving me a better
view of his work. I nearly explode on the spot. He takes a second to watch me
admire his work, then drives his knife into her abdomen, tearing it open by
pulling the knife in several different directions. Viscera hits the floor, hanging
from what used to be her stomach but is now just a crater in her flesh.
I'm undone. But, he's not finished. In a quick motion,
he brings the black blade across her throat. A short burst of blood sprays and
splashes the white shirt he's wearing. Another shock runs through my body, and
I try to still myself through its quivers and twitches.
My arm aches, my clit's raw and sensitive, but I'm
satisfied. Then the smell that has permeated the air in the room registers, but
I don't care because I think I've found my soulmate. I smile as Dwayne walks
toward me, removing his clothing and dropping it to the floor along his way.
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