tessa's second assignment - The Waiting
My thanks to Ruby for the initial edit and commentary (huggles) and to H Dean for unblocking my block (now that's just asking for it, ain't it?) :D
Oh, yes. A caution. This story contains gore, horror and death. Just so you know before turning the corner.
My assignment from the luscious Ms. Ruby:
I'd like to see a bit of fantasy work from you. A nice short story from the female's point of view. She can either be the domme or the sub. In this story, you will include these elements:
a gothic castle,
a dungeon,
a supernatural beast,
a whip, a chain and some sensual dialog.
Sex of any kind is not required, though always appreciated.
You'll be using "first person voice", past and active tenses whenever possible.
So, here's my attempt at all that.
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The Waiting
Even on the dark, deserted street, I sensed eyes on me, watching my every move. I stopped occasionally to look around, thinking I would make out a figure in the black mist. There was nothing. I saw nothing. Yet the cold, lonely feeling settled over me again and I shivered, despite the warmth in the air. I pulled my hooded jacket around me, deluding myself that somehow this would stave off the icy grip. But I knew the truth. I would never feel that inner warmth again. Not since that night. No matter what, I always felt so bitterly cold.
All I wanted to do was to stop and rest. But there was no stopping, not for me, not until I had finished what I had come here to start. Seven long years had passed. Had it really been that many days and nights? I shook my head in knowing disbelief as I passed the well-kept shops and homes. Everything seemed so sane, so normal. The phrase that haunted me now and again came to mind - “nothing is as it seems.” Oh how true those few words could be.
Slowing my pace, I looked up and realized I was where I needed to be. Even after so many years away, it felt right being here, as if I was coming home. Odd feeling, that. I was as far away from home as a soul could be. The building hadn’t changed. It’s arches and spires, the ornate stained glass, all came together in a visual feast for the eyes. Even in the dark, the beauty of the gothic architecture stunned passers-by and the more interested alike. However, it masked the awful ugliness I knew to be inside. Resolving myself, I walked up to the door and went in, surprised somewhat at how easy it was to enter.
Did I want it to be more difficult? Did I want the bars and locks to be so secure I had no way in? After all this waiting, why was I hesitant? Those questions wandered around my mind as I stood inside the open door. That coldness intensified and seeped in even more. I stopped trying to fight the feeling and just let it settle through me. There was no use fighting it. I was here. I was in. The inevitability of it all slapped into me.
I just want to rest. That was the last weak thought I allowed myself before I took a deep breath and took my first step towards the hellish homecoming.
I proceeded down the hall, to the stairway I knew was waiting there for me. At the end of the darkened hall, I turned left, looked down the steps into what was pitch black. I started my descent and felt my way down each step. At the bottom of the stairs, another door waited for me. This one wasn’t as easy to get through. It took some strenuous effort to get in. Part of the struggle was in the not wanting to enter and not wanting to see what waited for me behind that door. Yet my purpose guided me, so I made my way in. I didn’t want to, but I needed to.
The smell hit me first. So dank and putrid, I wanted to wretch. How could this stay hidden? That thought screamed through my mind. Then I heard an actual scream. It was a scream of anguish and terror. I recognized it for what it was as I’d screamed that same one all those years ago.
The past came hurtling back, crashing into me. The feel of the chain cutting into my ankles and wrists, the smell of burning flesh, all the agony of the endless misery- each twisted, vile act permeated my senses. Oh, I didn’t want to be here! Everything in me wanted to flee this place, wanted to find somewhere to hide and stay forever. No. I’d been hiding too long now. I had to face what was there for me to encounter.
I slid along the far wall, headed towards the scream. Through the faint light, the dungeon-like room came into view. It had changed over the years. The space was bigger and decorated in some whorehouse-themed design. On the opposite wall, I saw a person entering from outside and watched as money exchanged hands before the person was allowed full access to the place. The realization slammed into me. This was a business now, a macabre show at some unholy underground theatre. The thought sickened me. I turned to view the room again, this time taking it all in. The horror of what I could now see threatened to drown me.
Three bodies were piled in one far corner, so freshly dead that the blood still oozed from their wounds. I looked at each face, even in death each still wearing a mask of pain. There were people standing in front of the bodies, looking down, making comments about what they saw. One woman actually laughed!
My gaze took in what else was there. More people, more victims, more tragedy awaited my eyes. Those, the ones still unlucky enough to be alive, were chained to the steel posts that rose from floor to ceiling throughout the room. I counted seven as I let my eyes take in the scene. The people who gathered around each pole, if they could even be counted as people, were lost in their own frenzied lust for the torture and death of which they desired to be a part.
The same type scream I heard earlier again wailed piteously in the air. I turned to the source and saw a young man. He looked to be in his early twenties perhaps and was secured to the pole by lengths of barbed wire. His body was a bloody mass a welts, cuts and gouges. I watched as those that stood around him gorged themselves on the agony of his torture. This banquet of pain filled these disgusting creatures as nothing else could.
My gaze returned to the boy. While his body bore the evidence of sadistic evil, his face remained clear of any marks or blood. His was quite a beautiful face. Most of the ones brought here possessed beauty in one form or another. It was this beauty that those who ruled here wished to mutilate and destroy. Why the executioners left this one’s face undamaged was due in part to the wishes of the one I sought out now.
From where I stood in the back of the darkened hall, I saw him. He moved forward from the shadows. I watched him half limp, half drag himself towards the small crowd of onlookers. The scars on his face mocked the physical attractiveness I knew had once been his. His body bore similar scars. The fire he had survived lived on in the disaster that was his flesh. It still burned in his soul, though. The insanity blazed from his eyes, even more pronounced than I remembered. The depths of it staggered even me.
He had a show to put on. The most vile of the species paid exorbitant sums to witness such atrocities and he never disappointed his clients. Those that stood in his way moved aside, making a way for him to pass. They grinned so hideously, so excitedly, awaiting the finale of what they’d come to see. He positioned himself in front of the young man, making sure the boy looked directly at him.
“So beautiful, so smooth” he whispered as he stroked the unmarked face.
The gentle caress of his gnarled hand brought the faintest hint of hope to the young man’s eyes. I felt a stab of pity for him as I knew that this is what the evil waited for. It hunted that sense of hope that could be detected in the eyes of the damned.
That hope was the first thing the flame from the small propane torch would extinguish. The hunter cornered its prey, delighted in tormenting his victim before destroying that hope. I turned away from the sight. It was too ghastly for viewing and it brought back memories I very much wished would stay dead.
Now that my gaze was averted, I heard other sounds, moans and groans of pain from the other victims. The atmosphere of death was so completely overwhelming for me here. The evil the permeated every inch of this dungeon stabbed at my soul. I desperately wanted to be away from this nightmare, but the reason for my being in this place tonight haunted me more deeply than my need to get away. With a deep sense of inescapable dread, slowly I turned back to the madness.
They had cut that poor young man out of the barbed wire, left him on the floor to wait while what was left of him was auctioned off. The person who was willing to pay the most money bought the opportunity to fuck the victim while he or she bled out from the life-ending gash to the throat. It would be tonight’s outcome for each poor soul chained to the posts.
I watched him torture each one with the flame, relived each scream and plea for help as if were my own and I was at his abominable mercy once again. I watched him and I felt my hatred grow even more. As I remained in the darkness, I choked on the worsening smell of death. It was time to be done here. Past time.
When he had finished with the last tormented soul and had supervised the last auctioning off of a life, my eyes were locked on that scarred, limping form as it made it’s way to the smaller room off to the side of the larger one. I watched him stop and talk to one of the security men, heard him say that he would be in his office, and when he was done with his work, he would be back to supervise the clean-up.
The door shut before I made my way to it, but again, getting in proved no hardship. It was as if the door opened for me itself, as if that door had also seen enough.
The dim lights and dark colors in the office suited the beast within who would soon become my very own prey. I wondered if he could sense his own impending doom. Something of my thoughts must have penetrated his mind for he looked up and scanned the room. Only thinking he saw nothing, he looked back down. My thoughts bore down on him and my gaze kept him centered in my sights.
"No mercy for the merciless." It was only my thought, but it was a powerful one.
Perceiving the invisible threat, he said, “It’s just the two of us. Make yourself known.”
His voice still cut through me after all these years.
I stepped away from the bookcase. He had to squint in the dim light to make out my form. Pushing the hood back off my head and shedding the unnecessary garb, I took one more step towards him. The shock that registered in his eyes, his gasp of sudden terror, was almost payback enough. Almost.
“How? Why…how can you…this is impossible!”
It was calming to see him so afraid.
My voice was quiet when I spoke. “Exactly seven years ago,” the tears fell as I touched my own burn-scarred face, “you did this to me. Because of your own scars and pain, you couldn’t believe my love to be real. You couldn’t accept what I willingly offered you."
Even after all these years, the pain of what I once felt crashed over me like devastating storm waves.
"What I gave you was pure and true! I was yours, yet you threw me away because I had no scars to match yours. But you fixed that, didn’t you? You took everything from me. Everything!”
My voice broke off on a sob. He moved to try and stand, but the look I threw his way kept him seated. I savored the panic that now invaded his gaze. He tried to move. He struggled against the mystical chains that held him tight to his chair. I smiled at his futile attempts.
My gaze left his face and lighted on what he feared most. I found it ironic that he felt safe by keeping his nightmare contained in such a dangerous way. I guaranteed his attention by locking my gaze on the propane torch he had carried in here with him. The moment my insight into the upcoming happenings became his own, I moved to take the torch in hand.
I was going to send this bastard to the pits of Hades. First though, I was going to prepare him for his trip in the way I knew would scar him the most, inside and out. I believe I laughed at this idea.
The flame licked across his skin, randomly attacking sensitive places, allowing him to relive and experience anew his own worst nightmare in a most visceral way. His screams fueled my hatred and my lust for revenge.
I wanted him to suffer and I was going to make sure he suffered a long time. The soundproofing would guarantee that no one would hear anything and interrupt. It was going to take so much time for him to die this way. I was fine with that. Time was all I had to give anymore. I was giving everything to him once again. In that ways that mattered, it was as it should be.
Hours later, he was still alive. Barely.
It seemed so quiet now, without the hiss of the flame filling the air. Stepping away, I took in the mess that was left of him. It was the most beautiful sight my eyes had enjoyed in far too long.
Moving closer to him again, I placed the torch on his charred lap, giving it the place of honor once reserved for me, a place I no longer had any desire to be. His groan of pain as I adjusted the setting of it there was a soothing stroke on my soul.
Leaning in, I pressed my mouth to his in a deathly kiss and whispered against his mouth, “Everything for you.”
I felt his soul leave his body. I wished it a speedy trip straight to Hell.
I stayed put, feeling at peace for the very first time in many years, just remaining there for quite some time as the phone rang, as the intercom sounded, as the banging on the door increased. I stayed put as his minions entered and took in what was there to be seen.
“Christ all mighty!” exclaimed one of them.
“What the fuck!” yelled one of the others.
The incredulous expressions on their faces made me want to laugh. As I had predicted to myself, they couldn’t stay back. As horrified as they were, they were also fascinated. They inched forward to see the devastation one soul could inflict on another. They saw such horror every night, but I guess when it’s one of your own, the knowing creates a difference in the horror.
It was now my time to go. As I floated up and through the ceiling, making my way towards the end of that passage I had avoided too long, I heard one of them comment, “I’ve never seen an expression on a dead body’s face like that. Nothing ever in all the years I’ve been working here. Look at his eyes!”
“It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”
At times, something is exactly as it seems.
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(C) 2007 Tessa All rights reserved.
