There was something satisfying about their pain, a certain high that could only be obtained as they begged for mercy, then begged for death, for anything to make the pain stop, but it wouldn't, it never did, not until he was ready.
She lay strapped to the table, naked. Small trails showed where he had let the knife scrape the brunette's skin as he cut her clothes away. The room smelled of bleach and rotting flesh,for his last victim sat in the corner, waiting to be disposed of, not that he smelt the stench, he had grown used to it long ago.Besides, he was only doing as his Goddess told him to do.
"Please," the girl begged weakly, "Please, just kill me."
He towered over her, running his hands over her smooth body, feeling the places where joints had been dislocated, the circular burn marks.
"I can't do that, not yet. You see, I have no one else to play with. He," he said,motioning to the body in the corner, "isn't any fun. But don't worry, I will kill you eventually, just not yet. Besides, we can have fun."
Crazed, sadistic eyes met terrified blue ones. The girl would have screamed, but those few words along were torture on her dry, sore throat. She had been screaming for days now, and no one heard but him. The crazy fool encouraged it, he got off on it. She wanted so badly to die, but he wouldn't let her.
The room was filled with his instruments of torture, items he used to make his victim feel pain, but not the kind to kill them, at least not quickly. And all around was paintings of the one he called Goddess, a beautiful blonde with peircing blue eyes that seemed to watch the room from every angle. He kissed each of them daily, as part of his ritual, speaking to them in his more crazy moments.
He would do anything for his Goddess, anything. Who was this man, more crazed than most? What drove him to the point of sexual satisfaction from the screams of his victims? Was he born sick, or just a victim to society? Sit a while, and I will tell you his story.450Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe1IeEzLuE6
