Page 5

The first crack of the cane against his bare ass rings out loudly as his hands ball into fists and his body shakes. He screams, his voice reverberating through the room like we’re in a canyon, bouncing around, making me hungrier for more. Gasps and curses filter in through the glass from the audience in the hall. People point and touch the window with their fingers, in awe that “H” is at work.

Samantha stands stoic as I peer out at her and the members surrounding her. They look at her in silent questioning, asking her with their glances if she’s going to stop me. She won’t. She knows better than to disturb me when I do my thing.

A long, thin, angry, red welt raises on the guy’s skin almost immediately, puckering it, then breaking open. Bright red blood seeps from the wound, and I reach down and smear my hand across it, spreading the crimson fluid on his pale ass. It’s a taste of things to come.

The air whistles as I bring the cane down three more times. First across his backside, then up higher on his waist, and finally up on his lower back. He tenses, his head flying back, his mouth open, screaming out in pain. It’s beautiful, the agony on his face, the drool running freely from his lips, and the blood pouring from the lines I make, but it’s not enough.

Nothing besides death will be enough to show this piece of shit that he can’t just do what he wants. He can’t argue with me, and he sure as fuck can’t let the members here know that I will allow anyone to speak back to me, even though they didn’t hear his words or see his actions that brought all this about. That would be showing weakness on my part, and I don’t do weakness, only raw power.

Not out of anger, H.

As I bring my hand down again, searing the cane across his back, slicing him open again, I remind myself that violence should never come from anger. Delivering pain and taking lives should come from methodical work that is meant to be enjoyed, and I’m going to enjoy spilling the rest of his blood.

Before he bleeds out on the hardwood floor though, he needs to realize how horrid his actions against the delicate flower Lily were. He needs to feel her pain, her agony. He needs his will removed from him, to suffer at the hand of a man more powerful than him, in the most degrading way. The audience gathered watching will see it, just as I watched him with her, and it makes me grin a sadistic little smirk as I grab the sawhorse, and turn it, so that he faces the window. The group of members will be able to see the terror in his eyes as he suffers, then dies.

More bloody lines break open on his skin as I methodically cane him over and over again, in the same pattern he left on Lily. His scars will match hers, only she’ll have to live with them for years to come, and he won’t.

“You scream so nicely.” I whisper into his ear, bending down so my lips graze the shell of it.

I can smell the fear in him, and it’s almost as pretty as the scent of the little flower on the couch that stirs at the sounds of his wailing cries.

“Please H…don’t do this.” He weeps, nuzzling his head against my cheek, seeking for a connection to stop me from what he knows is coming.

“Shhh.” I shush him, petting his hair almost lovingly. “Don’t fight it, it’ll only make it harder for you.”

“Please…”

His wailing cries that died to weeps, now come as wracking sobs. His body struggles again, and his feet kick out behind him, trying in haste to find a target on my shins. It’s useless, the fight, and he knows it, but who would he be to go down without a fight? Poor sack of shit though, doesn’t realize that the more he tries to stop it, the rougher and viler I will be. I mean, he’s putting on a good show already for the people gathered watching, I may as well enhance it a little bit more for their viewing pleasure, and mine too.

I like the sight of blood and love the sound of pained screams. It turns me on to watch death reach its dark grip out for the ones under my hands, and I’m happy, almost gleeful, that he didn’t take my advice.

Harder for you it is then, my friend.

Straightening myself back out, I adjust my sport coat and open the single button below the lapels. I’m going to need the extra movement for what my deranged brain is coming up with as I peer down at his bare naked, bloody ass, and the cane in my hand.

The whistling sound the cane makes on another swing downwards startles him, and he freezes, his cries stopping in his throat just a hair’s breadth before the wooden rod connects with his already angry flesh. With the wet smacking of my weapon, his voice returns, loudly screaming out unintelligible noises, cracking with the force in which it escapes his agape mouth.

He's so loud that I miss the sound of the cane breaking and the feel of half of it landing on the floor at my feet. Raising my hand to swing it again, I’m humored to see it as a short piece in my grasp. Useless is what others would think of it, but as I tilt my head and examine the jagged end, useless is not what I call it.

A perfect little accident.

The blood on his rear end rubs off on my pants as I straddle him, leaning over his body, grabbing his hair, tilting his head upwards so his face is on full view of the audience just beyond the glass. Looking out amongst the crowd, I give a sly little wink and adjust the splintered tool in my grip.

“This…” I say loudly enough that everyone watching can hear. “This is what happens when you break the rules. Let his transgressions be a warning to you all.”

I can feel his Adam’s apple bob under the tip of the cane as he swallows thickly in his blubbering sobs. Tears flow freely from the corners of his eyes, dripping on my hand as I draw the jagged edge across his throat, pressing down hard, cutting the stretched skin open like an old rusty can opener tearing into an aluminum can.

It's not a smooth cut, and I have to really push hard to get the wood to separate the skin, but when it breaks through and the blood flows like a waterfall from his severed arteries, I shudder in a lustful appreciation of the messy kill.

His body lurches under me, his torso bucking between my thighs as I squeeze him tightly, keeping him still. His mouth gurgles with raspy bubbles that pop like crimson bathwater and his life escapes him through the cavernous gash across his neck. It’s beautiful watching him finally succumb to me and to death, his head growing heavy in my hand, pulling his hair more taut. He falls silent to the gasps and whispered comments from the members watching, and the slow shaking of Samantha’s head.

I throw her a wink just before she turns and pushes her way through the crowd, leaving me to handle the mess I’ve made by myself, obvious to me that she’s not amused with my antics.

Fuck it. She’s not ruining my fun.

As the crowd departs from their view, and the corpse between my legs slumps like a sack of bricks against the sawhorse, small whimpering sounds break through the new silence. They’re cries of pain and agony that tear at the charred organ in my chest and pull me from my post murder euphoria.

“Shhh Princess.” I say quietly as I leave the bastard where he is, dropping his head with a squishing sound as it falls forward. “I’m here.” I add as I step slowly towards her.

Her back is still facing out, and her face is huddled under her arms, blocking her view of the dead man hanging lifelessly over the river of blood that’s spreading across the floor. I want to take her and turn her so she can see that her abuse has been rectified, but at the same time I want to protect her from the sight of what I’ve done. Fear of me will get us nowhere, and with her, I want to go somewhere, I just don’t know where yet.

The couch dips under my weight as I sit down behind her, softly placing my hand on her shoulder. She jerks at my touch, and her body stiffens, but she doesn’t fight. I don’t think she has it in her.

“It’s okay my little flower. It’s all over.” I say to her as I trace small circles on her bare skin. “I’m going to get you cleaned up and dressed. Don’t struggle, you’ll only hurt yourself. Okay?”

There’s no words from her mouth, but her body relaxes, and her head nods slowly. I can hear her breaths all choppy and pained, but she allows me to gingerly roll her over onto her stomach, taking any weight off her still seeping wounds.

I make quick work of washing her up and dressing her wounds with the supplies from the cabinet in the rear of the fully stocked playroom. She’s a good girl, staying still and letting me move her where I need her to be for each swipe of the washrag and placement of the bandages.

Not once does she look up at me, or make any attempt to identify me, but I can tell she knows I’m not the man who did this to her. I can feel a trust in her towards me that makes me laugh quietly to myself as I cover her nakedness with her skimpy little silver dress and slip her satiny thong into my front pants pocket.

I’m the last person anyone should trust, princess.

“I’m going to take you home, sweet Lily.” I whisper to her as I scoop her up in my arms.

She’s so light, and curls into my chest as I lift her, burying her face in my shirt with her little hands grabbing the cotton and balling it up in her grasp. Little whimpers escape her as I walk us out of the room, down the hall, and into the foyer where other members scurry to get out of my way. After what they just witnessed, no one is going to stop me from taking her from here.

The valet has my car running and waiting at the front door as I take us out into the chilly evening. The engine purrs and the door swings shut with a quiet click after I settle her into the seat and put her seatbelt on. She tried to hold onto me as I pulled away, but I gently peeled her hands from my shirt and smoothed down her crazy red hair to calm her.

“It’s okay. I’m right here, but you can’t hold onto me as I drive baby.” I soothe her through the car window before jogging into the pouring rain to my side.

Her purse falls to the floor of the car at her feet, making her jump as I take off into the night, and a gentle hand placed on her thigh calms her right away.

“Who are you?” She asks, her face turned away from me, her forehead leaning against the sill of the door.

“Just someone who cares, even though he shouldn’t.” I sigh, patting her leg and pulling my hand away before I give in to the urges to touch her more.

Again, something you never do.

The rest of the drive to her place is quiet, the stillness of inside the car only filled with sound when I bump a pothole in the road, and she groans a low noise at the discomfort.

“Sorry princess.”

“I’m not a princess, I’m the farthest thing from it.” She moans, snuggling herself closer to the door, her back to me and my still masked face. “I mean look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“And you see a whore, right?”

“I see a young girl who got in over her head with someone who took advantage of her. Not a whore.”

If you were a whore, my dear flower, you would already be dead and in the bed of my truck, taking that final ride to my dump.

“Huh.” She huffs, but her body relaxes, making the door creak slightly under her weight. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I took the liberty to look at your driver’s license while you were out.” I confess, not caring whether or not she minds the intrusion to the personal space inside her purse.

“Stalkerish much?” She giggles, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard, shooting bolts of desire straight through me and into my already hard dick.

Her little laugh sounds like an angel singing, like how my mother used to sound when I did something silly, and she would pull me onto her lap and chuckle while stroking my hair. I can almost feel her fingers on my scalp, making me shake my head to clear the memories as I pull into the driveway of a small single-family house with a large two-story garage.

The light above the garage is on, and when I open her door and help her out of the i8 she looks up at it and sighs.

“I’m up there.” She says, pointing to the illuminated window.

“A garage apartment?” I ask, adjusting my mask on my face to make sure I’m still covered.

“Yeah. It’s cheap and clean.”

“Okay then. Whatever works right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need a hand up the steps?”

“No thank you. You’ve already done enough, and I’ve yet to thank you.” She answers me, turning so that we are bare face to masked face.

Her grey eyes scan me and the phantom disguise, and she reaches up with her hand tentatively as she licks her lips. I know that look, she wants to kiss me.

As much as I desire that right now, if she touches me with those pouty lips I’m done for. My control that is barely hanging on will be shredded, and so will she, more so than she already is.

“I’ve got to go.” I bark out a little too abruptly.

As I save her from my wantings, she stands in her driveway, her hands at her sides, her head bowed. Peeling out, I leave strips of rubber on the blacktop, taking myself away from the biggest temptation I’ve ever seen, and letting her have her normal life for just one more day.

I’ll be back princess. I promise.