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"Did you think you could hide?" I growled at him.
The light of the single yellow candle sent shadows flickering around the room. That familiar power descended on my mind. I imagined myself as a demon who’d dragged a soul down to the pits of Hell to answer for their crimes. His struggles to free himself lasted a few seconds, but his weakness and my strength prevented him from doing more than twitch. I couldn’t tell if he’d even had any food or water since I’d last seen him, plus the pain and infection in his ruined ear had sapped his strength as well. He was a perfect victim. Ready for punishment.
"So," I said sweetly, "Mr. Cartwright. I seem to remember you saying that the boys you fucked wanted it. Is that right? Did I hear you correctly?"
"Please, Dahlia, you don’t understand. It isn’t like that. Please don’t—"
I jabbed a finger in his face, hitting the cut above his eyebrow, drawing a scream and cutting him off. "You see, that’s the thing with you people. When the tables turn all I hear is begging and pleading, and you expect mercy. Where the fuck was that mercy when you were in my position? When you had all the power? Let’s go ahead and get rid of that begging voice, shall we?"
Before he had time to think, I shoved my hand into his mouth, and grabbed his tongue, digging my nails into the slithering flesh to hold on. I pulled it as hard as possible, tugging as much of the appendage past his lips as I could and using the machete to cut off the first inch of his tongue. He bucked wildly beneath me, trying to pull his hands free to clutch his destroyed mouth, but I shoved a hand into his throat to choke him. The lack of oxygen immediately caused his struggles to stop.
He gagged,coughed and spit blood, and after releasing his throat, I dug my hand into my pocket and extracted the pepper spray canister. The weapon sat in my hand, still as stone. No shakes, no trembles. My heart thudded away calmly in my chest. It was like I was having a nice relaxing day at the fucking beach.
"I can tell you from experience," I said, "when men take what they want, it never ends well for the victim. There were men who thought that I liked what they did to me too." I curled my lip in disgust. "I can assure you, I did not like it, and neither did those boys."
I shoved the pepper spray canister into his bloody mouth and pressed the trigger, filling his ruined maw with fire. I could only imagine what kind of searing pain the liquid caused the fresh wound. Cartwright’s eyes bulged as the stream of fire blasted past his teeth down his throat, too shocked for the moment to even close his lips. After spraying him, I leaped up and moved away. The last thing I wanted was to get that shit in my eyes. He grabbed at his face and curled into the fetal position and dry heaved then began coughing uncontrollably. His face and scalp went red with his pain and exertion. Drool, blood, and remnants of the spray oozed out of his mouth as he hacked and tried to catch his breath, but each inhalation only brought more of the shit into his lungs.
The pew was hard under my ass as I sat and watched the show, letting the machete hang from my fingertips. For a few minutes, I actually thought he would die. He was having an incredibly hard time getting a breath that didn’t cause him to start coughing again. Eventually, he managed to bring himself under control. He rolled on to his massive hulking back and sucked in huge breaths, every few would be punctuated by a ragged cough. His lips and eyelids were swollen from the pepper spray.
Tossing the canister away, I double checked my hand, even sniffing it to make sure I hadn’t gotten any on me. Luckily, none of the liquid had splashed back on my fingers. With no obvious dangers nearby, I strolled over and sat on his chest again.
"Now how did that feel? Huh? Speak up." I put a hand to my ear like a smart ass.
Without part of his tongue and with the swelling, he sounded like he had a speech impediment when he answered. "Pease, Daya. Pease, no more. Et me go. Ust et me go."
Tears leaked from his eyes cutting pale rivers through the blood on his cheeks. I shook my head, gazing down sadly at him. "I don’t think that’s in the cards for you. Settle in. This is gonna get bad before it ends."
He closed his eyes and wept silently, his chest heaving up and down with each sob. I laid the edge of the blade along his forehead parallel to his eyebrows. "You know. I’ve read about this, but I always wondered what it would look like in real life."
I pushed down hard on the machete, cutting through the skin until I felt the blade grate on bone. Cartwright screamed again as fresh blood ran down into his eyes. Teeth bared, jaw clenched, the weapon moved slowly across his forehead. My eyes widened with interest as I dug my finger tips under the new flap of flesh. Cartwright was shaking badly beneath me. For a moment, I thought he was having a seizure. He pawed and batted at me ineffectively. Tugging hard, the scalp came free with a squelching pop. Sinew, strands of blood, and strings of muscle pulled up with it, for an instant giving the impression of a spiderweb beneath his pate before wrenching free. The skin tore all the way to the back of his neck. I had to get back up and stand behind him, pulling with all my might to finish tearing it off.
I stared at the thing in my hand for a few seconds. It looked like a dead animal more than it looked like the top of a man’s head. Cartwright lay almost unconscious, the pain overwhelming him to the point that his mind had almost completely shut down. I was getting bored with this. Bored and tired. He deserved no more of my time.
Walking over I slapped his face, my own hands were now caked in his blood. His eyes sprang open at the sharp impact. He looked less than human now. The bloody and oozing dome that was his destroyed head made him appear like some pathetic monster in a badly made horror movie.
"It’s all over now," I whispered.
As I raised the machete overhead, he had time to register what was about to happen, and he screamed, a bloodcurdling and piercing wail. God help me, I almost orgasmed from the sound. A pulse of pleasure clenched deep inside my pelvis as I brought the blade down. It shattered and sliced off his lower leg, taking him right below the kneecap. He tried to reach forward with his hand to grasp the stump, but I swung again, slicing off seven or eight of his fingers as I did. His screams somehow became even more manic and chaotic as I went. Up and down, again and again, the blade rose and fell. Sprays and arches of blood, my body was coated. Eventually the screams stopped. Still, I lifted the blade and crashed it down. I didn’t stop until the blade hit the floor wrong and cracked in half.
Standing above the ruination of his body, I took in what I’d done. A small smile tugged at my lips. Those boys would never know it, but the man who’d ruined their lives was gone. Staring at the pile of blood, muscle, and organs that had once been a human did something strange to my mind. Unbidden, my right hand slipped under the waistband of my sweatpants. My bloody fingers slipped down until they slid between my legs, gliding across my clit. Pleasure. I rubbed at myself while I stared at the thing that used to be a man. Breathing heavily, I slid a finger into myself, lubricated by the blood. I should have been disgusted, instead, I grew hornier than ever.
"Dahlia?"
I gasped, ripping my hand out of my pants and spun. My jaw fell open. In the doorway, illuminated by the flickering light of the candle stood Drake. Staring at me.
Chapter 11
DRAKE
She looked fucking amazing. Covered in blood, like a warrior princess after battle. The piece of shit abuser lay at her feet, now nothing more than a pile of meat. I took a few hesitant steps toward her.
"Dahlia?"
She spun. A look of surprise, horror, and shame on her face. She opened her mouth, unable to speak. She misunderstood. I wasn’t judging her. There was no way to judge anyone in this place. Everyone in the house did what they had to do. The people we did it to deserved it, and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Who cares if you enjoyed it a little bit.
"It’s okay," I said, raising my hands. "It’s all right."
She took a step back, her sneaker squelching in the blood. "Drake? Why are you here? How are you here?"
