Year's Best Hardcore Horror Volume 2

by Wrath James White

  “My name is Miyu.”

  “Japanese?”

  “Yes.”

  “But no accent?”

  “Born right here in Las Vegas. My parents moved here from LA. But I can do a Japanese accent if that’s what gets you off.”

  Lord reached out and traced one of the Kanji symbols above her left breast with his fingertip. Then did the same with the sun burned onto her thigh.

  “This. This is what gets me off. Tell me where you got them.”

  “Are you going to buy a lap dance?”

  “No. No, I’m not. But I might just take you with me to Painfreak tonight if you can convince me you’re ready for that level of—intensity.”

  Miyu smiled. Then leaned in to whisper into Lord’s ear.

  “Do you think you can break me, big man?”

  “Oh, I know I can. The question is, will you enjoy it? Or is cell-popping and light blood-play the furthest your limits stretch?”

  Miyu laughed again.

  “You do say all the right words, don’t you big man? If I was into guys, I’d be all over you.”

  “Oh, men may not be your preference, but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve played with a man. I’m sure I won’t be the first man to bring you to orgasm either—or subspace. But, I will be the best. I will be the one you remember when you are old and feeble, breathing through a respirator, counting down the seconds to oblivion. This night, will stand out from all the rest. You may forget the sound of your mother’s voice, what dress you wore to the prom, your grandmother’s face, the name of the first girl you finger-fucked, but I promise you, you will remember every detail of this evening as if it were yesterday. You will masturbate to these memories for the next fifty years—if you live that long.”

  “You think much of yourself.”

  “I know my strengths and weaknesses.”

  “And what are your weaknesses?”

  “My greatest strength, is in hiding my weaknesses.”

  “Touché,” Miyu said. “Painfreak, huh?”

  “Heard of it?” He asked.

  “Rumors.”

  “Ready to see the reality?”

  Miyu smiled coyly and nodded.

  “I think I am, big man. Give me a few minutes to get changed.”

  The two of them stood and Miyu scurried off to a hidden room behind the DJ booth. Lord stood, watching the carnival of flesh parading through the flickering lights. A curvaceous, pockmarked woman with stretch marks on her flopping breasts, and dimpled blue-veined thighs gyrated on stage to a hammering techno beat. Lord closed his eyes and inhaled the powerful fragrance of sweat, sex, perfume, alcohol, amphetamines, and infection. They all smelled like prey. From the bouncer glaring at him from the front door, to the waifish, raven-haired, barely-legal bartender, to the woman with the pendulous breasts cavorting on stage. He wanted to consume them all, to fuck them to death, make them scream, cry, orgasm, and perish in agony.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Miyu said, curling her hard body around Lord’s tree-trunk arm and hugging it tight.

  “We’ll see.”

  They walked out the door together into the harsh glare of the sun.

  “It doesn’t open for a few hours. How about we go to your place and get acquainted in the meantime?”

  “How do I know you’re not some kind of serial sex killer who picks up girls at strip clubs and rapes and murders them?”

  “Well, you don’t really. Do you?”

  Miyu laughed.

  “You really suck at instilling confidence in a woman, you know that, big man?”

  Lord smiled, but did not reply.

  “Okay, I’ll trust you. Just promise me you’ll at least make me cum a few times before you torture and kill me?”

  “How about I make you cum a few times while I torture and kill you?” Lord said, while letting the smile slip from his face. Miyu laughed.

  “It’s a deal. Let’s go. My place is just about two miles from here. I hope you can fit in my little KIA Soul, big man.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  In just a few short minutes they arrived at Miyu’s apartment building. Lord was feeling anxious. It would still be several hours before the club opened. He needed something to relax him and take the edge off.

  “Show me your toys,” he said moments after walking into her apartment.

  “Damn. You really aren’t much for small talk are you?”

  “We talked enough at the club, don’t you think? Let’s see what you’re into.”

  Miyu’s smile broadened. She bounded into her bedroom and began rummaging through her closet, returning with a large rolling suitcase.

  “I’ve got a lot of stuff,” she said.

  “So, I see.”

  Lord walked over to the suitcase and crouched down before it. He unzipped it and began pulling out various instruments of torture and pleasure. He held up a spiked truncheon, shaking it in the air to test its heft. It appeared to have been weighted at the end for added impact.

  “So, what are your hard limits?”

  “I’m not into water-sports or skat, and no anal.”

  “I’m afraid I must insist on fucking you in your ass. You have worked quite hard with all those squats you must do in the gym to make your ass a muscular marvel. It would greatly disappoint me if you were to deny me that pleasure.”

  Lord held up a stainless steel butt plug with a base shaped like a wolf’s head.

  “Do you always carry butt plugs around with you?” Miyu quipped.

  “Yes. I do. Disrobe and bend over.”

  “We aren’t done negotiating,” Miyu protested.

  “Oh, we’ll pick right up where we left off. After you do what I say. This is non-negotiable.”

  Miyu folded her arms across her chest and stood there tapping her foot. Lord stood and stared down at her, towering more than a foot above her. He slowly reached out and wrapped a hand around her throat. Miyu did not resist, raising her head slightly to allow him a better grip. Lord tightened his grip, squeezing her windpipe shut and applying pressure to her carotid artery. Miyu made a soft choking sound then wheezed, gasping for air. The sound of her choking put steel in Lord’s erection. As Lord squeezed tighter, Miyu’s hands went to her throat, her eyes widened and she began to visibly panic. He pulled her closer to him, staring deep into her eyes. He kissed her softly on her lips then let go of her throat and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around so her back was pressed tight against his hard abdominal muscles, the back of her head buried between his pecs. He reached around and seized her by the throat again, this time with slightly less force, not choking her, just squeezing firmly. With his other hand, he rubbed her breasts. His hardened manhood throbbed against her.

  “Need I repeat myself?” Lord asked.

  “No, Sir,” Miyu said.

  Lord took a single step back from her, and Miyu obediently dropped her pants and bent over, grumbling under her breath. Her ass was one big, round, muscle, the powerful, oversized gluteus maximus of a sprinter. First Lord lubed his thumb with saliva and slid it into her rectum, fucking her tight little asshole with it while she grunted and hissed, gritting her teeth against the uncomfortable invasion. When her sphincter finally relaxed and opened up for him, Lord withdrew his thumb and replaced it with the wolf’s head butt-plug.

  “That’s much better,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “Now, remove the rest of your clothes and lie down.”

  Miyu stood and pulled off her shirt and bra. She glared at him angrily, even as she complied.

  “You’re an asshole. You know that, big man?”

  “You like it. You’re not even into guys, but you like pain and humiliation. Every bit of that turned you on. You are dripping all down your thighs. That’s what makes me sexy to you. Not my body or my cock. Just knowing that I will hurt you, and humble you, that I will dominate you like you have never been dominated before.”

  Lord drew back a hand and slapped her to the floor. Miyu dropped onto h
er belly, and Lord placed a boot on her neck.

  “Are you more comfortable down there on the floor? Look at me, Miyu.”

  Miyu’s lip was split and bleeding, but when she looked up at Lord, her eyes were cloudy with lust.

  “Tell me everything you want me to do to you. And I want you to masturbate while you tell me. What are you into?”

  “I want you to flog me with the heavy flogger, as hard as you can. Really put your back into. All your strength, like you were driving railroad spikes. That’s what gets me into subspace. Then, once the endorphins are flowing, I want to be whipped and caned up and down my back, ass, and thighs, until I’m bruised and bloody. Then I want you to cut me. After that, if you want to fuck me, you can. I won’t care anymore at that point. You can rape my asshole all you like if that’s what does it for you, big man.”

  Lord nodded. Then reached down and picked up Miyu, placing her on her feet and bending her over the bed.

  “I think I’ll start with the bullwhip,” Lord said, reaching back down into Miyu’s toy bag and removing a five-foot, red and black, paracord bullwhip.

  “Ooooh! Yes, Daddy! Make me bleed!”

  And so he did.

  It took a moment to orient himself. The smell of sex, incense, blood, and candles was the first thing Lord was aware of. He had made it. He was inside Painfreak. The floors were all tiled in a red and black volcanic rock. The walls covered in black satin. Black, red, and white candles were everywhere. And so were the bodies. Some were still grunting, sucking, licking, and thrusting, fucking unselfconsciously in every corner of every room. Most were chafed and bleeding, sloughing off skin from the relentless friction of flesh abrading flesh, unable to stop themselves, lost in prisons of ecstasy. Others were still “playing” branding, cutting, beating, and burning each other with various devices, some Lord recognized, many more he didn’t. The inferno was continuously reinventing itself. It would take an eternity to catalog all the devices of pleasure and torture that could be found in the club. For every two or three people that were still either fucking or playing, Lord counted half a dozen more lying still, dead or exhausted. It had been a good night at Painfreak. Soon the staff would come to drag the dead ones down to the lower chambers. None of the others would even notice it when it happened. The removal of bodies was done as casually and unceremoniously as a waiter clearing tables for the next guest.

  The few people not entwined in the flesh of others, stared suspiciously at Lord as he passed from room to room. These were the regulars. Some were staff. Some had once been patrons of the club who’d themselves been carted down below after a night of overindulgence. Lord was ready to kill them all again if he had to. He had to find Sophia. She was his property, and this club could not have her.

  It took what Lord estimated to be a full hour to reach the main ballroom. The cavernous room was decorated like a medieval torture chamber. The walls were covered in black crushed velvet instead of satin. The floors were black granite streaked with silver and white veins. Wrought iron chairs, cocktail tables, and fixtures, along with the black candles flickering from several dozen wrought iron candelabras gave the place a carefully cultivated medieval, almost satanic, appearance. This room, no matter how often they changed it, always seemed familiar to Lord.

  Here, the staff had already done their work and cleared out the deceased. All that remained were a few lonely souls, waking from a night of debauchery as if from a dream. X-shaped Saint Andrew’s crosses lined the walls. A huge inverted crucifix took center stage. Lord immediately recognized the woman chained to it. Sophia. Though her back was to him, he could see the tattoo on her neck, his brand on her thigh. It was her.

  Sophia was being flogged mercilessly by a large, naked, full-figured woman in thigh-high leather boots. Her body was full and succulent, all smooth thick curves without a single stretch mark, wrinkle, or roll, like the body of a voluptuous teenager. Her skin was completely white, as if she’d been drained bloodless, and totally unblemished. Not a scar or a freckle. Her breasts were large and did not droop even slightly. He could tell they were real by the way they flopped and jiggled as she swung the heavy flogger, but each time they bounced they would return to their perch high on her chest. She had thick opulent hips and thighs, and a perfectly round ass that was easily twice the size of Miyu’s. Her arms and shoulders, however, were knotted with hard muscle that bulged with power and effort as she beat Sophia bloody.

  With each “Thwack!” of the flogger, blood splattered and flesh tore. Lord stepped closer and could see that the flogger had twenty or thirty, three-foot-long falls made of thick alligator skin, and a dozen or so made of barbed wire. The woman wielding the flogger turned her head slightly as Lord approached the crucifix, providing him a view of her profile. A coy smile played across her lips and Lord stumbled. He knew this woman.

  “Hello, Lord. It looks like you lost something. Does this belong to you?”

  She held the Book of A Thousand Sins, pointing with it at Sophia whose back, ass, and thighs looked like bleeding hamburger. Sophia’s head was rolled to the side, and as Lord stepped closer, he could see that her face had been removed, the skin peeled completely off so that he was looking at raw pink muscle and white cartilage and bone. Her pupils were dilated, eyes fixed heavenward as if in a religious rapture. Without lips, she appeared to be smiling insanely. She was convulsing, in shock from the pain and blood loss. Lord was impressed.

  “Mistress Anja.”

  “I am flattered that you remember me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You mean why aren’t I burning in hell? The same reason you aren’t.”

  “I’m not dead.”

  “And when has that ever mattered? The inferno is all around us, all the time, every second of everyday. Life is hell. You know that as well as I do. No, you aren’t getting sodomized by a horde of demons right now because of this book. This book that you stole from me.”

  Lord shrugged. “You didn’t need it anymore. You were dead, remember?”

  “No. I was very much alive. I descended into the inferno bodily. Alive and screaming. As will you.”

  Lord laughed.

  “Nope. Ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart. I’m not afraid of your demons. They can’t touch me.”

  “You mean they couldn’t. But you don’t have the book anymore now do you?”

  Lord shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh as malformed, vaguely human shadows slipped into the room and began to coalesce into nightmarish parodies of humanity. Demons. They wore flesh draped over their infernal souls like costumes. Meat suits adorned with animal horns, antlers, scales, claws, fangs grafted into their flesh to make themselves more lethal and hideous. Some had a multitude of limbs. Some had more than one head, often one human and one animal. Most had sex organs from different species hanging between their thighs, often of both sexes. They had designed themselves to be mockeries of creation. Their very appearance was blasphemous. Lord had seen them many times before. Yet this was the first time he had no fear of them. He turned his back to them, and smiled malevolently at Anja. Her own smug, triumphant expression faltered.

  “Anja, you never understood who and what I was. I don’t need the book anymore. I’m so much more than that now. You always wanted to be an arch demon, to sit at the right hand of Satan and rule over hell. Am I right? Better to rule in hell than be a slave in heaven, right? You knew you were destined for inferno, so you thought the book would give you a leg up on the competition and grant you an honored place in hell. How’d that work out for you?”

  “Splendidly!” Anja said, turning to face him. She was gorgeous. Hell had definitely changed her for the better. She looked fifteen years younger than she had when Lord tossed her into the pit.

  “Me? My aspirations were much grander. I wanted to be a god.”

  The demons began to shrink away. Howling and shrieking in mortal anguish. Some exploded like hard-boiled eggs in a microwave. Others burst into flames. The rest
fled, still screaming in agony.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” It was the bouncer, the big guy. He started heading toward Lord, then abruptly stopped and shuffled backwards with his hands held up in surrender. The Asian guy who worked the door with him was nowhere around. Obviously, he was wiser than he appeared. Anja was still looking around confused.

  “What the fuck did you do?” She said.

  Lord held out his arms, expanding, growing, filling the room with his essence until every shadow, in every darkened corner, was him.

  “I have transcended, my dear Anja. Human faith, it is a powerful thing. When focused, it can make Gods of men. Such is how deities are born. Six hundred souls all sacrificed to me, on my command. It only took one text. Even your Satan has not accomplished such a feat in more than a millennium. You wanted what was mine? You wanted to own me? Now, I own this entire place. Painfreak, and everything in it, is mine!”

  Anja trembled, she moaned, stricken with fear. Black tears wept from her eyes, as her very soul cowered and submitted. Lord stepped forward and reached out for her, seized her by the throat, and lifted her off the floor. “Including you,” he said.

  “I am your god now, Anja. I always have been. You have always been my property, even when you thought you were free, when you thought you were the dominant one. You have always belonged to me. Worship me.”

  He dropped her to the floor. She fell limply like a discarded Raggedy Ann. Sobbing and trembling she crawled forward on her hands and knees, then reached out and kissed Lord’s feet as he towered above her, grown to the size of a titan. His smallest toe was now as large as her entire head. Keeping her head bowed, she held up the blood-drenched flogger to him.

  “Yes, Lord. I am yours. Do with me what you will. Punish me.”

  Lord lifted the flogger from her hands. It was like a child’s toy in his hands. He tossed it aside. Instead, he freed his cock from his pants. His massive organ bobbed in the air above her head.

  “Rise and worship!” Lord commanded, and Anja sat up and took her deity’s cock in her hands, and eased it slowly down her throat as it continued to thicken and lengthen. Soon, it filled her throat, clogging her windpipe as it continued to expand and grow.