by Simon King
“Now look what you did,” she said with this weird grin on her face.
I had no fucken idea what I did, the heat of her cunt making me itch. I wanted the ropes off and this cow to get off me. I wanted to smash her skull in and taste her flesh. Thinking about that made my dick start to throb again and I think she must have felt it because she suddenly looked at me with a wry-kind of smile.
“Ah, there you are.” She slid off me and, as repulsive as she stank, actually bent down and began to suck my dick again. The only good thing about it was that it made the itch stop. Her hand reached up and held one of my wrists as the other began to pump my dick. That was when she took my dick out, bent further and began to lick my balls, first one and then the other.
It wasn’t as enjoyable having my balls licked, not that any of it was appealing. But her touching my balls felt incredibly uncomfortable. She sucked one into her mouth, forcing it between her teeth and I gritted my own at the pain.
She must have felt me tense, repeated it with the other one and groaned when I tensed again.
“Now, Greta,” my father suddenly whispered from the corner, his voice sounding as if struggling for breath.
I looked down, saw her look up at me and began to feel her teeth tighten around one of my testicles. I tried to pull my hands free but they were held tight. She grinned more, her lips pulled back to reveal her rotten teeth, my ball between them. I could hear my father panting from the corner as the pain suddenly increased.
“Go,” my father hissed and as I looked down, saw the bitch smile as the ball slipped from her lips and was replaced with my dick. She peered at me one final time, then closed her eyes and clamped her teeth together.
The pain was instant, gripping me harder than I ever imagined possible. I struggled, bucking my hips from side to side, but she held firm, the teeth sinking in deeper and deeper. The scream that tore out of my throat in that instant, ripped through my vocal cords like shards of glass forced down my gullet. I heard Eddie scream inside my head, sounding terrified and in agony at the same time.
The gush of blood that now drenched my bottom half felt hot and sticky, filling the hollow of the bed. I screamed again, faintly aware of my father’s moans of ecstasy from his vantage point. The pain was excruciatingly fierce, like teeth made of barbed wire that were now tearing through the flesh of my dick with determined conviction. I was about to scream again, but then a voice interrupted my thoughts, sounding warm and soothing.
“Hush, Harry. Eddie, it’ll be OK.” It whispered to us with slow words and a loving tone. What struck me as odd though, even thinking about it now, is that unlike Eddie, this voice just appeared out of thin air. With Eddie, I always had a sense of him being there, although never hearing from him till the day he spoke aloud. But this voice came suddenly and without any warning, as if it had just materialized in my brain.
“Loui is here and that son of a bitch will pay for this. Loui will take care of you now.” I remember feeling a click in my head, almost like a click of fingers, and the pain simply vanished. I looked down and could see the remnants of my dick still vomiting blood onto the mattress. There were little stringy bits of meat or something, looking like a sausage that had burst its side. The whore was sitting up above me, her drunken eyes not really comprehending what she had done. My knob was mostly gone, the only evidence remaining of her evil act being a thin film of blood trickling down her chin. I don’t know whether she swallowed it or whether she spat it across the room, but I never saw that piece of gristle again.
Chapter 3
1.
The horror of that day didn’t end there for me. My father and his whore kept me tied to that bed for 2 fucken days, James. They doused what remained of my dick with whiskey and tried to bandage it up. And all the time, Loui was in my mind, telling me of all the wonderful ways he was going to fix things.
2.
My father didn’t come the third day, Greta eventually untying me after bringing some breakfast. It wasn’t much, but to her credit, actually apologised for her act. Can you believe that? The slut chewed my knob off, then apologised as if she simply bumped into me.
Her eyes were incredibly bloodshot and she sat and stared as I finished the plate of beans. There were no words between us, just a silence that both of us seemed to be thankful for. When I was done, she took the plate and left the room, locking the door.
It seemed as if they had done this thing to me, and now didn’t know how to proceed. I was a prisoner in a whore’s house, with no idea of where my father was. But there was something very different now. And I’m not talking about a part of my anatomy missing.
It was the new voice. There was something cold about it, colder than anything I had ever experienced. I knew anger. I knew exactly how intense some of my rage was. But this was different. Loui had a presence that chilled even me. I would hear him pacing around my mind, the situation we were caught in eating away at him.
I would hear him grunt in disgust whenever the whore came into the room. One time she came to replenish the jug of water. I saw her hands shaking as she set the fresh one down beside the bed. The worry in her face was real and I knew that she was scared.
The burning in my pants wouldn’t let up, the hole that she’d ripped into me feeling like a flame-pit. But it was the burning in my brain that concerned me. That cold voice growing louder with its growling. Loui was waiting; waiting to do what he did best.
3.
I saw the light begin to fade as another day slowly wound down towards nightfall. I wasn’t sure whether my father was going to return that day or whether he’d decided to ignore me completely.
I sat on the bed with my back against the wall, my feet dangling over the edge. There was nothing to do but wait for someone to let me go, hoping for it to happen sooner rather than later. But while patience wasn’t one of my virtues, it was even less to Loui.
There was no patience when it came to him. Each time the whore had entered the room, I felt Loui try and take over by pushing me aside. They weren’t strong attempts, though. I think what Loui was doing, was testing the waters. He wanted to see how much I’d resist.
But then he surprised me, in a way that I eventually was grateful for. It happened when Greta brought me another plate of beans, as if those fucken things were going to make things better.
I heard the door lock snap, saw the handle turn and then her ugly face slowly peer through the open crack.
“Wasn’t sure you were still awake,” she said, forcing a half grin. “Hungry?” she asked, holding another plate up. On that account she was right, I was hungry. Starving, actually.
I just nodded at her, watching as she considered me, then slowly stepped through the doorway. I could hear distant voices, but they sounded somewhere outside this home, maybe in one of the adjoining ones.
She held the plate out to me with a trembling hand, its edges fluttering up and down as she stared at me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just beans again. I don’t have –“ but she never finished her sentence.
“Fuck your beans,” a voice suddenly said from behind me and before I realised where it came from, my hand which had been reaching for the plate, suddenly shot past it and grabbed the whore by the wrist.
“Fuck your beans,” the voice repeated and that was when I knew where it came from. It was me that was speaking them, only, it was my mouth speaking the words, not my will. It wasn’t me, now pushed aside with relative ease as Loui took control. There was an impossibly strong force that took control, a hand firmly gripped around my consciousness and holding me at the edges of my mind. I heard Eddie yelp briefly, but that was the only sign he was still there.
Loui pulled the fat bitch towards him with such speed and strength that at first, she simply fell towards us with little resistance. There was a look of shock on her face but I doubt she really understood what was happening. I’m sure she’d been pulled onto that mattress many times before, probably so whoever was doing the pulling, could
use this bitch’s cunt for something.
But Loui had no intention of using her cunt. She fell onto the bed with a mighty crash, the bedframe slamming into the wall. The springs bounced up and down once and Loui used the upward motion to fling us on top of her.
As we fell back down, I had time to see her eyes change from surprise to shock as Loui held our face a couple of inches from hers and stared into her eyes.
“Like teeth, bitch?” he asked in a low growl. Greta Buttigieg, who’d been servicing the men of Cider Hill for the better part of 20 years, had just enough time to register the question before the horror was unleashed on her.
While I thought I did alright using my teeth on Royce, Loui made that look like a child learning to eat for the first time. Greta had barely enough time to register the threat for what it was, before Loui bent down, clamped our teeth onto her neck and tore a huge chunk of flesh from her throat, the blood instantly spurting up like a freshly-dug water bore.
Her scream was cut off before it had a chance to take flight, the thick gurgling replacing her terror. She began to fight, her arms swinging wildly about, desperate to break free from Loui’s grip. But the second bite seemed to slow her some, her fighting beginning to fall away. Each bite resulted in more flesh being torn away, which Loui spat back into her face.
“Like to bite, you fucken cunt?” he growled, her eyes now filed with horror, realization and drops of her own blood. And then, as if to end her as quickly as he began, Loui slid one hand under her neck, pushed her head back with the other and clamped down on the exposed throat that looked back, blood gushing from the huge hole already there.
He lunged down, biting and tearing with a feverish hunger, her thrusting arms relaxing with every bite. He continued to bite, tear, bite, tear, each time spitting the flesh out and continuing to attack her. He sat up briefly at one point, ripped at her dress and exposed her saggy tits. Loui grabbed one, lifted it high in a tight grip and bit into the top. I felt the nipple in my mouth for a brief second before he spat it back at her now dead face, her eyes blank with the death gaze I would eventually see on so many faces to come.
Loui finally stopped, sitting upright and checking his handiwork. Before I had a chance to say or do anything, he simply released his hold over us and began to return to the darkness of my mind.
“I think she got the message,” he whispered as he finally disappeared. I sat there for a few minutes, unable to move as I tried to take in what just happened. Eddie came forward a little when he was sure Loui was gone and began to cheer quietly.
“Holy shit, Harry, who the hell was that? Look at what he did. He made that bitch pay. Can you believe it?” I tried to answer, but was too dumbfounded. What scared me was the ease with which Loui was able to push me aside and take over. It was barely a nudge, and I never felt him coming. Just BAM and I was cast aside.
“Yeah, I saw, Ed,” I said, already wishing for Loui’s return. “I saw.”
4.
Do I need to point out that getting out of there was now a priority for me, James? There was a body that had been torn to pieces, the killer safely hiding in the furthest shadows of my mind. If I was caught anywhere near that building when she was found, it would be me that would be locked up for it, despite being innocent of the crime.
For Royce, I would have happily put my hand up, that fucker deserving everything that came for him. He, I gladly ended, no denying it. But while I did hold animosity to the bitch that tore off my dick with her teeth, I’d been too shocked to totally commit to an action plan. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened to even think about revenge, despite sitting in that room for a day or two. I was scared. Terrified in fact.
But Loui hadn’t been affected the way I had. He’d taken the threat to us and tore it a new arsehole. Without so much as a single hint to what he was about to do, Loui had straight-armed Eddie and I out of the way, taken control of our body and fixed things the only way he knew how.
As I stood looking at the dead body, lying on the bed with a couple of flies already sampling her tasty blood, Loui called out from the shadows.
“I’m not done yet, lads. That fat prick is next and don’t think it ain’t happening. He’s going to pay for everything he ever did to us. You hear me?” He didn’t bother waiting for a response, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.
5.
And that was how I came to have a third brother, appearing in the blink of an eye, at a moment where I needed him most. Like Eddie, I think Loui had always been there, but hiding amongst the violent thoughts, the horrific experiences and the suffering that had been my earlier life.
That was his home, his place to hibernate while the normality of life passed us by. While Eddie was always considered the softest of us 3, the one we needed to take care of, Loui was the exact opposite. He was the one who’d spit in the face of danger, welcoming it with open arms and then tearing its throat out.
6.
I listened for anyone outside and when I was sure the coast was clear, left the building. It was already dark, the sun maybe gone 15 to 20 minutes. There was no moon out and the sky was mostly overcast. That made for a very dark night and the lack of people out and about made my escape a lot easier.
There was only one destination for us, a single place we needed to go and end the nightmare once and for all. I don’t know whether either of the other 2 felt the same way, but I needed my father dead. I’m sure you can imagine the anticipation that was building inside me as we stole our way back home.
With Loui back in the shadows of my rage and Eddie offering few words, I headed cross country, mostly to avoid any nosy fuckers driving the roads. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but the last thing I needed was some cop out and about spotting me. Remember, my clothes weren’t exactly Sunday-best clean. I could smell the bitch’s blood on me and knew I looked as if I’d just finished a dayshift down on the Cider Hill abattoir’s kill floor.
Cross country was OK anyway. I knew which way to head, having walked that way many times before. I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen once we arrived back home but knew I didn’t need to worry about that part. I knew Loui would take over when the time came. All I needed to do was step back and let him assume control. It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice, and thus decided early on that it would be much better for all of us if I simply stepped back and enjoyed the show.
When it came to my father, I knew it was a show I would have paid anything to watch. Whatever Loui had planned was going to be marvellous, a spectacle waiting years to reveal itself. I would have given my ball to watch this unfold.
7.
While I was walking, there was one thing that kept coming back into my mind, and it was something I hadn’t really thought about too much since it happened. It was the day Royce Packard had first raped me. It was the day of the fight with Reedy Thompson, the whole ear-chewing thing and the others.
The others. All of the faces that lined up behind Reedy, staring at me with that same hatred and disgust. They detested me like rat poop in their breakfast. I didn’t know why they all hated me so much, but they did.
School hadn’t been easy for me, particularly after my father had killed my mum. Life became a lot harder after that day, my life nothing more than a horrifying chore, one there was no escape from. The beatings were the easy part, my father dishing them out with regular consistency. It was remembering what he had done to my mother, that was the hard part for me. The pain he put her through, not just the day he killed her, but all the times before then as well.
He had turned her life into a living hell, nothing more than a miserable existence. And by hurting her, he had hurt me, in the worst way possible. There wasn’t much I could do back then, a lonely passenger, forced to watch the horrific show a day at a time.
But now, now that Loui was here, things would be different. Very different. He would make them pay. All of them. Everyone who had ever hurt us, made us feel less than worthy. They would all pay,
because Loui was here and he didn’t take shit from anyone.
8.
It felt strange to sneak up to my own house. I was scared, but not because of the dark, or even my father. The fear I felt was strangely pleasant, as if anticipating something wonderful about to happen.
The house was dark and looked abandoned as I walked through the trees towards it. Thick clouds still hung heavy in the sky and because I’d cut across the countryside, approached home from the rear, making my way slowly through the trees.
I could see the back door standing wide open and at first panicked that my father may have already shot through. As I slowly climbed the stairs and stood on the back stoop, the silence sounded sweet. Because that was when I remembered what day it was.
Regardless of what else was happening in his life, my father always went to his friend, Dwight Roberts, on a Tuesday night. It was his poker night and nothing would get in the way.
If I knew my father, he would stay there as long as possible, then stumble home around midnight. If I was right, there was a good chance he wouldn’t even make it up the stairs, collapsing somewhere downstairs and sleeping till at least 12 the next day. It was perfect, giving me plenty of time to calm myself for the event of the decade.
9.
Although I lay on my bed for what felt like hours, I never slept, not feeling the tiniest bit tired. My stomach had that familiar feeling of excited anticipation, feeling Loui shuffle around in the dark. I think he was just as nervous as me, but doubt it affected him the same way. This was revenge on another scale and something he would relish. I would learn in later years that while Eddie was the softer-spoken of us, the one who preferred the happy times, Loui was the opposite.
As I lay on my bed, waiting for the drunk piece of shit to come home, I silently listened to Loui pacing around in the dark, unable to sit still as the anticipation continued to build. It felt a little maddening, but also soothing in a way, knowing there was a purpose to it.
