Kink: An Extreme Horror Story Read online

  No, this guy today had, basically, been fine. He’d called me his little cumslut, his bitch, his whore, his slut and more. He’d tied me up tight and not asked for my permission; instead trusting that I would use the safe word as I’d insisted.

  Fine, that is, until we got to one thing.

  He’d just finished in my ass, his cum leaking out of me as I quivered underneath him, those particular lustful pleasures sated for now. It had been time to begin fulfilling the next of my needs.

  The most beautiful moment; one of my favorite moments with any of my annual lovers. The moment in which I told him that I had no idea about any safe word, when I told him that he had just raped me against my will — it was beautiful.

  I can sense it, you know.

  The fear. The panic.

  It isn’t just some kind of desire being filled, it’s a physical draining of energy from their body into my own. Their fear feeds me.

  This is where things really start to get interesting. When this transfer of energy begins (and it really is only a small amount at this time, mostly tapped from the brain) it begins to make them, basically, dumber. Like alcohol can make you more stupid, so can having the energy sucked out of your mind by someone like me, as I sink a fear-hook into your consciousness and wriggle it around. It’s not the only thing I can, and will do of course.

  But it’s one of them.

  Anyway, I tricked him into thinking that he had been deceived into coming here, into assaulting me. But then I found out one thing. One thing to piss me off.

  He’d broken the rules.

  Part of the agreement was that he tell no one about our little tryst. I’d explained, very carefully I might add, that this was just an afternoon of kink for me, that we were not going to become a couple, we weren’t going to date, it wasn’t going to become a regular thing. And as such it was to remain strictly confidential.

  But had he managed that?

  Had he kept it to his fucking self, like I’d told him, like I’d insisted?

  No.

  He was going to have to pay.

  10 Rich

  This woman was crazy. Batshit crazy. Clearly, she was absolutely out of her chicken-fried mind. I didn’t know whether to be more scared of her telling the police I’d raped her, or of her killing me right here and now in the bed.

  She crawled up onto the bed. I pulled my legs in toward me protectively and cursed myself again for not having ran out when I could. I cursed myself doubly for having let her tie me up. What the fuck had I been thinking?

  I hadn’t.

  Christ.

  She crawled up the bed toward me, placed a hand on each of my knees, and then inexorably pulled them apart. I fought at first but then decided what was the point. What the fuck was the point.

  She rested her arms on my inner thighs, and lowered her head down. When she spoke her voice was low and throaty and her hot breath drifted slowly over my flaccid cock.

  “You were very bad, you know.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I wanted to say Let’s get this over with. Let me go you crazy bitch. I sensed it wouldn’t have been wise though.

  Her tongue slipped out from between her lips. I stared down at her. What was she doing?

  She began to run it over the head of my cock, and the shaft. I let out a low moan. Blood began to return and slowly it began to come back to life. She hovered over my dick as it grew, her mouth just a hair’s breadth away. I couldn’t resist, I pushed up, pressing it against her lips. She let me, and her soft, hot mouth opened again.

  This was part of the game. That was it. This crazy bitch may indeed be fucking crazy, but holy shit if this wouldn’t turn out to be the most unforgettable afternoon of my life. She swirled her tongue over me, took me all the way into the back of her throat, and then pulled her mouth back off me again.

  “I could bite it right off, you know.”

  Fuck. Definitely absolutely fucking crazy.

  “But I won’t.”

  Thank fuck.

  “At least, not today.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Like there’d be any other days. I’d let her finish out this sick fantasy then I’d be gone, gone, gone. A good story, no doubt, but not one I’d be coming back for a re-run of.

  She took me back into her mouth again and more moans escaped from me. Just lie back and enjoy it, I figured. Make the most of this gongshow of an afternoon. She released me again. I was just as hard as I’d ever been.

  She crawled up on the bed, then slipped her feet under my thighs, kneeling above me, her pussy now just above my dick again. I wanted to thrust up, thrust into her again. If my hands had been free I probably would have grabbed her right then and yanked her down onto me. But they weren’t.

  “Now I’m going to fuck you.”

  I grinned at her.

  “Sweet.”

  She cocked her head at me.

  “Not really.”

  She lowered herself down on top of me, impaling herself completely on me. She leaned over me, and pushed one of her breasts into my mouth. She didn’t move her hips at all, just held me completely within her, then she squeezed, contracting her pussy muscles around my dick. Christ it felt good.

  “One day, I’m going to kill you,” she whispered.

  My only response was to squeeze her hard nipple between my lips. Crazy bitch still thought I was going to be back. Kill me you say? Right, I’ll be back tomorrow around four, how’s that suit you? Good? Great. See you then.

  She began to rock herself back on forth on my cock, still squeezing me as she did so. I took as much of her small breast into my mouth as I could, the hard nipple pressing against my tongue as I moaned with pleasure.

  “You think I’m joking, don’t you,” she whispered in my ear.

  I let out another moan that was something between an uh huh and I don’t care I just want to come in your tight pussy one last time before I get the fuck away from you forever you crazy bitch ohhhh God that feels good…

  Her voice went from a whisper to a growl. A nasty, vicious growl.

  “I am going to fucking kill you. But not today.”

  She lifted her breast from my mouth and stared down at me, eyes cold and penetrating as ice shards shoved through warm butter.

  “Oh no, not today. It’s going to take a long fucking time for you to die.”

  11 Cassie

  It’s funny what shock and fear can do to a body. By lowering the tone of your voice, by making it raspy you can make what you say instill fear. And when I told him it was going to take a long time for him to die, well, it was enough to set him off — he came inside me again, releasing some of his energy into me while I sapped his mental energy as the fear returned. Actually, fear is too mild a word for what he experienced right then. Terror. That’s the one.

  You know, fear and sex and lust are deeply intertwined. When the body thinks it’s about to die it will be filled with a final desire to procreate, to pass on its genes to another generation in a last gasp effort.

  That’s why when I told him my true intentions, and he saw that reality in my ageless eyes, that his body released itself for what might have been the final time as far as it — he — was concerned. Of course it wouldn’t be the final time; I had great plans for him yet.

  When he had finished, sense returned to him. He raised his legs, pulled them in toward his body and tried to kick at me.

  “Get off me you crazy bitch. Get the fuck off me!”

  I grabbed him by the ankles and squeezed, not allowing him to kick forward. The strength of his calves and thighs no match for the strength of my seemingly slim but toned arms.

  I tilted my head at him, and a smile played across my lips as I tightened my grip.

  “Fuck!”

  A choking gasp.

  A strangled cry.

  I squeezed harder.

  SNAP. CRUNCH.

  SNAP. CRUNCH.

  The bones of both his ankles shattered between my hand
s. He wouldn’t be walking out of here.

  He wouldn’t be walking again full stop.

  The little pussy opened his mouth to scream. Of course. I didn’t want to hear that right now, I’d had enough of his shit. So I dropped his ruined ankles and slammed my two hands around his dumb fucking throat.

  “Fucking ‘Jake’, huh? You dumb fuck. You dumb fuck.”

  I squeezed the little pipsqueak’s neck hard. With an uncomprehending moan his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back in a faint.

  My eyes rolled too, but in frustration rather than due to losing consciousness. This tough guy wasn’t so tough after all.

  I climbed off him and ran a hand over my thighs where some of his energy had leaked out. I licked it off my fingers, not wanting to waste any of it. With a sigh I turned away from the passed out idiot on the bed.

  I’d play with him some more later, I decided.

  I returned to the bathroom and showered again, removing the sweat and grime from my body. This time I let the warm water run over me for much longer, relaxing after the afternoon’s pleasant diversions. It was only once a year after all, so why not spoil myself with a seven minute shower? This one was purely for relaxation. I’d probably need another one before the day was done! I really was spoiling myself.

  When I was dry, I coated my body in another slick layer of moisturizer. The sun would be set before I brought my washing in today, so I didn’t bother with the sunscreen.

  Finally, when I was clean and smooth with lotion, I peered happily into the mirror, pleased at my reflection. Already my skin had a touch more of a glow to it. My previous source of energy was almost used up, but now I had a fresh replacement that would keep me going for months more.

  The only problem was that he had thrown a spanner into the works by telling his friend about us. There was one saving grace though, and that was that he had shown him our complete string of messages, including those with my pictures and address.

  That meant my hooks were already in this ‘Jake’ as well.

  Satisfied with how I looked, I checked the time on the bathroom clock. It was now 6:15pm. This day, this one afternoon per year, was when I let myself fly free. Sure, I still made myself a schedule for the day, but I wasn’t strict about it. I wasn’t anal about it. If things went a little off-schedule that was okay — I’d planned for it.

  I didn’t bother to dress, or put on a robe. I didn’t need any extra laundry, not after what was coming.

  I was lighthearted, feeling stronger and fitter than ever when I opened the bathroom door back up again.

  Then I frowned.

  “Motherfucker.”

  There’s allowing yourself to go slightly off-schedule, and then there’s absolute fucking bullshit.

  This was absolute fucking bullshit.

  The bed was empty.

  My new toy was gone.

  12 Rich

  The pain was excruciating, a level that my mind simply could not comprehend. The strength in her hands was unnatural, no one should have been able to do what she did, especially not someone of her slight frame.

  And the sound. Oh fuck, the sound. She squeezed, and I felt pressure, and then crunch. The pain had taken a beat to register, but that sound didn’t. I didn’t just hear it with my ears, I heard it inside as it vibrated through my entire body.

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  Two ankles shattered like crackers.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks, and sweat, this time time cold, beaded all over my naked body. What I thought was bad before — being an accidental rapist — now seemed like a mild inconvenience compared to the shit I seemed to be in now. This girl was going to kill me. I knew it. She was going to kill me right then and there.

  I opened my mouth to scream. Just as the first breath of my wail began to escape she wrapped her two hands violently around my throat and squeezed.

  “Fucking ‘Jake’, huh? You dumb fuck. You dumb fuck.”

  She squeezed.

  And squeezed.

  I awoke, ankles screaming, throat burning. Everything that had happened flooded back right away. There was no blessed moment of thinking I was somewhere else, thinking that this was all just a bad dream or that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. No moment of relief for me.

  I woke up immediately knowing I was fucked.

  I had passed out for just a few moments, but when I woke I heard her taking a shower in the ensuite bathroom. This was the only chance I was going to get. If I didn’t escape now I’d never get away. It was now or never. Get out or be killed when she crushed my neck just like she did to my ankles.

  I was bound tight by the silk pillowcases tied tight to my wrists. But I had to escape. I had to.

  My wrists were tied just behind my head, just to the side of it. I pulled myself up my bed by contracting my arms, my ankles screaming in burning agony at the slight movement across the mattress. I twisted my head.

  There.

  I could reach the silk with my mouth.

  From the bathroom I could still hear the sound of running water, but it wouldn’t be long until she returned. It was now or never. This was it.

  Biting and yanking at the pillowcases I attacked them with the fury of an attack dog and the desperation of a man possessed.

  At first there was no effect, the silk cloth was twisted around itself, giving it strength. Hating the waste of time, but knowing it was the only way, I portioned off just a little part of the binding around my right wrist and clamped it between my teeth, yanking with all my might.

  Success.

  A tiny little piece ripped, though of course the bulk of the cloth still remained. But I was in a fight for my life, and having tasted some small success I began to attack the rest of the binding with even greater vigor.

  My mouth was dry and parched as I worked on the soft material, but slowly, too slowly, I began to tear it apart.

  Each bite and yank on the material sent a screaming wave of pain down my legs but this only drove me on, the adrenaline pouring through me having taken the edge off the torment.

  Frantically, I bit and pulled and then let out a laugh, startling myself, as the image of me explaining what I’d done to my mouth to my dentist popped unbidden into my mind. Another wave of pain from my ruined ankles got shot of that thought as fast as it had appeared.

  Piece by piece, snapping and biting and yanking and then spitting out each hard-won torn-off scrap of silk I worked my way through it. I’d chipped my teeth in several places when I’d clamped down a little too desperately, and the sides of my mouth were torn from the relentless rubbing of the fabric, but finally, finally I did it.

  With a contraction of my biceps (Thanks gym. Thanks Jake.) The silk pillowcase binding my wrist finally gave out, the final strands of it snapping under my determined yanking as I sawed at it desperately with the sharpest part of a chipped tooth.

  I’d done it.

  I was going to make it.

  Fast as I could, with a solid fuck you to my screaming ankles to try and get them to stop distracting me with their relentless agony, I used my free hand to untie my other one, this time thankful for the smooth silk which didn’t grip itself too tightly as I prised it apart with my fingers.

  Panting, covered in cold sweat, I grabbed the side of the bed with two hands and pulled myself toward the edge. Two hands on the floor, I walked myself forward on my hands and knees, trying to keep my useless ankles from dragging. It seemed leaving them to sway in the air was marginally less painful than dragging them across the ground.

  Naked, grievously wounded, but still alive I made my way across the floor as fast as the agony in my legs would let me.

  That’s when I realized that the shower had stopped. How long ago was it? I whipped my head behind me but there was no one there. Yet.

  Time was almost up.

  She’d be out any moment.

  Another burst of desperate, survival energy flooded through me and I rushed toward the front d
oor. If I went out the way I’d come in, I’d be in her yard — her garden — , and she might catch me before I could get away. By going out the front door I’d be out in the street in no time. There’d be people around. She wouldn’t be able to get me out there.

  I was infused with a sense of dread as I covered the last few yards. Would it be padlocked from the inside? Would it turn out to be boarded shut to keep me in here? Maybe she only ever used the backdoor.

  Nope.

  It was just a normal, regular door. I almost cried with relief, but my eyes were already too busy watering my face with tears of pain.

  The handle on the inside of the door was a simple pull-down handle, with no padlocks or other last minute stumbling blocks. There was a chain lock, but it wasn’t fixed. All I had to do was reach up and pull down the handle.

  The mechanism was smooth as butter (almost as smooth as her spectacularly clean floor was until I dragged my sorry, sweaty body all over it), and I gasped in relief as the last vestiges of the day’s sunlight flooded into the hallway.

  With renewed vigor I pulled myself outside, onto her doorstep, and then down one painful step onto the rough concrete driveway. The rough surface prevented me from sliding myself along as I had inside, and my journey down the pathway was slower than my smooth slide across the floor of the inside of the house.

  “Motherfucker!”

  The voice had come from inside the house and was filled with a dark, deep rage that caused me to let out an involuntary whimper, and my formerly adrenaline infused muscles to grow limp.

  But I wasn’t going to give up. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to be killed by some psycho nympho English bitch.

  Faster, tearing the skin on my knees open, I hurried down the short driveway. I got to the wooden gate that divided the privet hedge in front of the house and undid the latch.

  “What the bleedin’ ‘ell?”

  Across the road there was a guy staring at me as I appeared before him. A beer-gutted, middle-aged man in a stained t-shirt and a desperately welcome concerned expression on his face. What must I look like, I thought to myself, as I stared at him wide eyed.