She was cute. But scarred. So am I. I'm not a slayer though, I've just been... through a lot. Not as much as a Top Class Assassin, though. She was, and hunted many of my fellows. Just my luck, here I was, with a beautiful big-breasted blue-eyed bitch that was tied to a chair, securely thanks to my former ship-mates. She had an hourglass figure, but I knew she wasn't a mere model. She was deadly, and the reason my crew was now dead, aside from the 2 who helped me stop her, but they had enough. They wanted no part of what I was going to do.
"Have you ever known love?" I ran my fingers over her sharp sweaty hair. It was soft and dry. My question was met with tired contempt.
"I'm saving myself for marriage." Typical of her sort. She was disciplined. I knew her training involved staying in frigid, fetid swamp water, getting frostbite and bug bites for hours. And everything she fought, that they fought for... was to fight against my personal freedom.
"And you think I should too? That I'm evil for being with the girl you murdered? You sick bitch." I saw her eyes go wide.
"Please, I thought she was someone else..." Oh, don't they always.
"You knew she probably wasn't. Just saw a fine girl, dark hair, rebel outfit, wore a symbol you disagreed with. You think 'eh, fuck it. Should kill her.'"
"I'm sorry. Just kill me and be done with it, please. If you let me go, I'll make it worth your while. I'll retire, and you can have anything." Killing her was her first suggestion. This meant that she knew where she was and who she was dealing with. At least the likelihood was enough to scare her into preferring death.
"Why should I just kill you? You did worse to me, you killed someone I love." I saw her eyes slowly drop as I spoke. "You killed her without a 2nd thought. I have to live without her now. And you think she's the sinner."
"No! We're all sinners! She's in a better- OOOOWWWW!!"
How dare she? I punched her face in... with a hammer.
"Yeah, a better place than you, that's for damn sure."
She only looked at me, wide eyed in fear, and clearly hoped it would be over soon. Her hopes were to be dashed.
I grabbed a rope of strong intertwined wires and noosed it around her, then threw the other end over a steel bar overhead and anchored it. I pulled, slowly, again and again, until she was hanging from the floor, still tied to a chair. The legs of it dangled just milimeters in the air, and her tiptoes jumped around on the ground, never quite gaining support. Her ribs and hips pushed into the conventional rope keeping her sitting in an Execution Throne.
I left her hanging there for a while, then came back with a chainsaw.
I laughed as she squealed coarsely and shimmied in the chair, giving it a lap dance with her firm bottom.
I walked over as I rev'd it up. She screamed and begged coarsely through her closed neck, her hair stuck to her face with sweat. "NO! NO! OH PLEASSE! OH NOOOoogGHHHoh!! no-OHHHH" She cried and whined.
"AHHH HA! AHHHHH HAA! AAAGGHAAAAAAAA!!" As soon as the spinning blades touched her skin, she could no longer speak like a human, instead only screaming like a pig being slaughtered.
I cut off only her ankles, and then her arms just past her elbows. Finally, I cut off all the skin and ropes at her sides, from her armpits to her shins.
The only rope on her now is at her neck, and she's now swinging back and forth, shaking wildly from the pain and terror and not held down by the ropes of the chair, which falls and slams the ground, taking skin with it.
I lower the wire rope she hangs on, to relieve her breath a little, and fuck her asshole a lot. My arms under her shoulders, covered in her blood, and it runs down all over my body and splatters on the ground. She's crying in pain that burns the areas of missing skin.
After I'm done raping the crying bitch, I let her hang again, except I come back in just a moment with a hang-up bar she can bite to not die.
"Clench that as I stitch skin grafts on you... unless you really would rather be dead." I knew she'd try to live if she was going to be in pain either way, but her body would be able to endure only so much...
"You know, seeing you kicking like that, helplessly, your legs just dancing in the air. It gave me a very good view of your pussy. Did it feel good, getting your pussy rubbed while I fucked your butt? ahahahaha" I taunted her as a I inserted the needle through the synthetic skin into her sides. She just looked at me wide eyed and scared, so I slapped her belly.
"OW!" She cried, "auhauh"
"I know how I'll end you. I'm so glad I didn't cut off all your legs. hehhh" I smiled as she sensed an even more demented end than she had almost died from. I could tell she was pondering what I was thinking, frantically trying to figure out what it was and how to prevent it.
I grabbed her right leg just above the bloody stump and dragged her face-up to chair and ropes she previously endured. She screamed and screamed. It must have been painful, I could see her skin writhing as the floor ignited all the pain in her sides and stumps. I grabbed both ends of the spiraled wire-rope draped over the steel bar, and tied each end to her knees.
She was on her back, her feetless legs held high in the air. She shook her head frantically and glanced in very direction, looking for something, anything, to help her. Then she stared and my walking off and grabbing something, I saw her trying to figure out what it was.
"NO! PLEASE NO! GOD OH NO! NOO NO NO NO NO! NOOOOHHHHOO!!!" She just kept screaming and crying over and over. She realized it was a canister of fuel.
I also had needles. "NO! WHAT? NOOO! PLEASE DON- OW! NO D- OWWW!!" She kept bitching about it and screaming with every insertion. I made sure to put them in very slowly. I held another one over her skin, giving it a minute or so before I pushed it in, then taking a few seconds to steadily push it all the way through so the whole thing was covered by her flesh. "OW! OWWW! AHH! no! pleaahhsssee stttoppp!" Her tongue sputtered and her once shiny beautiful eyes were now red and dry.
I grabbed the fuel and drenched her face. I was sure to get it in her eyes, before putting needles in them. There was a puddle of fuel and some blood circling her torso on the ground, and her belly and legs were rivers of blood.
"You deserve this. It's so fun for me. Giving you what you deserve." I said, needling her soft shoulders. Then I picked at her stumps, the fuel by her elbows seeping in. I pinched the skin and circled the stump with needles, then repeated for the 3 other open wounds.
That's when I got 2 candles and posted them in her ass and pussy. I tied them separately to her tongue so she had to keep her head raised. Her neck and back were bent and she dangled, just her tailbone on the floor. I stepped against the wall and turned off all the lights. The only illumination was the torches of her ass, showing her gloriously contorted body, shamefully getting what she deserves. I could hear her grunts only barely over the sounds of my excitement. I was giddily waiting for the show, but she was strong. She was steady and unmoving.
For what may have been only minutes but felt like eternity, I waited, watching her ass unwittingly push one torch out further and further, then futilely trying to swallow it back in. The wax burned her legs, privates, and pubes, causing her to shake and thus pulling them out even more.
Then her head jutted back, slamming the ground, and taking both torches with it.
The fire was brilliant, some fuel flew threw the air and landed on my thick leather jackets. I ducked and ran. From the other side of the open doorway, I could hear her screams and see her shaking wildly. It was like an atom or something even more amazing. The sheer energy and feeling was awesome. Fuel splashed the walls and I covered my face just in case but eventually she stopped moving and liquid was no longer flying anywhere. But she still screamed. And then she only groaned. And then she was silent.
Someone critique please.
Now here's a story that's packed with the kind action that makes this site so exciting. It's easy to follow, too, and there's no urge to skip around. I read it cover to cover, so to speak.
I gather that you like to use something vaguely political as the source of conflict in your writing. I appreciate that there's a justification for what transpires.
"I ... fuck her asshole a lot." There are six words' worth of vanilla sex there is in this story, which is just the right amount. Maybe a little much, even.
Does the narrator burn down his ship?
Thank you! The narrator does not burn his ship down. I'm thinking I might've intended it all to be in a bunker on land and not out at sea. If I've left it ambiguous, perhaps that would be best, and I might even have a sequel (but I'm a very slow writer).