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Red: An Extreme Horror Novelette

Page 1

by Doyle, D. J.




  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  More about the Author

  Red

  By

  D.J. Doyle

  Copyright © 2017 by D. J. Doyle.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  All rights reserved.

  D. J. Doyle, Leixlip, Kildare, Ireland.

  Dedications

  To my friends who have supported me throughout this journey so far

  Thank you

  To all the beta readers and editor who helped shape this story into the gruesome tale it is now.

  If you would like to know more about D.J. Doyle and other projects she is working on, please click the links below.

  D J Doyle Website

  You can also follow D J Doyle on the various social media platforms.

  Facebook Author Page

  Twitter

  If you send me an email, I’ll add you to my mailing list and sign you up for my newsletter that will be starting in the near future.

  Email

  Chapter 1

  I watched her leave the gym with sweat dripping from her forehead and expelling from her hot, athletic body. Loose strands of wet hair stuck to her neck. A pink sports bag hung on her back, and pink Lycra shorts clung to her thighs. I noticed the wetness darken the material around her crotch. My dick hardened and, as usual, I ejaculated but just a bit. I squeezed it hard to stop any further release. I wanted to keep my load for later. I relished in the pain and discomfort by holding off on letting go.

  “Hold on, just wait.”

  She drove away in her little Mini, also pink with black eyelashes on the front lights. The red and brown crisp leaves blew off her windshield as she sped off. I admired her love for the color. I’ve always loved red. That’s why I’ve been working at the meat factory for the past four years. I love when the splashes of blood make red swirls on my overcoat, and I hate when it needs a wash. For hygiene reasons, my boss insists. What a prick.

  I followed my princess every night for six weeks. Each time I heard those voices, her voice called to me. She wanted me. She said all those things to turn me on. She teased me. ‘I want you to take me. Tie me up. Fuck me hard, Todd.’ She said them to me. Not out loud, of course, but I heard them all the same. Just like all the other princesses. I brought them home and treated them like a goddess. Cooked for them. Cleaned them down, wiped the blood stains away, and made love to them. But they all lied to me. Fucking bitches pretended to be happy, but they wanted to leave me. I showed them. After all, they liked me to fuck them hard...so I fucked them with something hard. They screamed with pleasure, they wanted more, their voices told me. Their screams turned to little bitchy whimpers and then...nothing. I tossed them aside just like they would have done to me. They were all like her, and I won’t be tossed aside again.

  She didn’t see me when I followed her in my banged up Corolla with the lights on low. She pulled up outside her apartment block and casually walked inside her building. She lived on the first floor, easy access for me. All those nights, I peeked out from behind my steering wheel and saw her pull down the blind, but I could still see her silhouette when she took off her top and sports bra. She knew I sat outside and touched myself, her voices told me. That’s why she left the lamp on behind her. Her voices told me last night it was time for her prince charming, me, to whisk her away to my castle. I waited for so long, but excited now for her to come home.

  I first heard their voices when I turned sixteen, and a girl asked me to follow her down the lane and touch her wet pussy. She laughed in my face, so I shut her up by putting my hand over the wailing, gaping hole. I only wanted to touch it with my fingers, to feel the moistness on the tips, but she told me to touch it with my dick. I did, and she enjoyed it. I lasted just less than a minute, but what do you expect from a kid?…my only previous experience was with ‘palm and her five friends’. With one hand covering her mouth, my other closed the nostrils on her nose. The look of pleasure on her face made me hard again. Her eyes turned upwards as I fucked her one more time. Four slow, hard thrusts this time, and she stopped moving. I called her number one ‘cause I didn’t know her name, and a part of me knew she wouldn’t be the last. I said sorry that I didn’t last very long that I would need more practice, but she ignored me. I left her there in the dark alley.

  It kinda freaked me out ‘cause she wore a dress just like my mother wore when I was a kid. The one me and my sister, Sarah, loved her wearing. I was known as Dwayne back then, I changed my name when I went to my first foster home. The only problem was, the men who came to visit our house loved it too, and she wore lipstick to match. Deep red lipstick. They said she looked like a princess. Sometimes, it wasn’t lipstick spread across her face but, blood from when they smacked her or shoved her face against the headboard. She liked being fucked hard, too. She screamed and then cackled, I didn’t know then what the men were doing to her, I just saw them through the slats of the closet (she put us in the closet and told us to stay quiet), naked on the bed. They pushed up against her over and over again, with the movement of a rider saddled on a horse. Sometimes she cried, yet smiled anyway.

  “Fucking take it, bitch!” they said.

  When the men left, she jumped around with joy, counting her money, and let us out of the closet. She would treat us to a McDonald's happy meal on those days.

  “You can come out now! We’re going out for dinner” she’d always say.

  She loved that red dress, how the straps slightly pinched her shoulders, how the bodice accentuated her boobies (that’s what she called them) and how it flowed out like a flower when she spun around. My little sister giggled as the fabric brushed off her face.

  Not ideal, but we were happy…before she let them take us away. I was five, and my sister was three, when someone called child services on our mother. They said we had scurvy, I should be in kindergarten by now, and our tiny house was not fit to live in. My little sister reached out for our mother as the woman carried Sarah away, tears streamed down her tiny face. The police held my Mom as she kicked and screamed to retrieve her children.

  “Don’t take my babies, please. I’ll do better. I promise.”

  I never saw my sister again. I only remember her red Elmo jumpsuit she wore that day they took us away and her brown pigtails on the side of her head. I never saw my mother again either. When I asked my foster parents if they could find out how she was, they told me she’d become a ‘junkie’, and she didn’t want us to see her like that. I didn’t know what ‘junkie’ meant. I thought she was just ill and would come and get us when she was better. Looks like she spent all that McDonald’s money on drugs instead.

  Chapter 2

  Foster life wasn’t much better. I was passed from Billy to Jack until I was fourteen, then no one took any interest because I grew too big. At nearly six feet, no family would take me on, the same height as an adult? Nope. I’d learned a lot, though, with all the families I stayed with, mostly that they were fucked up, too. One family owned an egg farm, I stood for hours every evening after school and every weekend picking up eggs to check if there were any cracks.

  Eggs already cracked ended up on our plates every night. They’d make us scrambled egg, plain omelette or, if we were lucky, some French toast. That was my favorite. I shared a room with four other boys and, every night, the room filled with the toxins of deadly farts.

  They didn’t take on any gi
rls. I heard the master used to screw them behind the barn, until one day his wife went looking for him, and caught them in the act. She took a frying pan to his head, and they didn’t foster any more girls.

  If we dropped an egg, the punishment was severe. After we had received a beating on the back and ass with a belt buckle until we bled. We were put in an outhouse for the remainder of the day. The smell would burn my nose and eyes. And ‘cause I was bleeding so much from the beating, I couldn’t sit down for fear of infection. Flies swarmed the lid, if one of those landed on you, you would be picking larva out for hours, nu-uh, it wasn’t worth it to sit on the crapper. They didn’t need to lock the door ‘cause no one would ever leave. A big-ass Rottweiler sat at the door, guarding it. If you made it sound like you were coming out, he would growl and snarl until there was silence. I killed that mutha’ fuckin’ dumb dog. Poisoned the son of a bitch, then hacked it up into little pieces. When they found out, they got rid of me, but I laughed as the state took me back into care. That dog was my first kill. The dark red liquid oozed out onto the bright hay in the barn. As it flowed like a river in curves towards the door, I bent down and lapped it up like an animal.

  The metallic taste drove all my senses wild, I hardened within a second and took my dick out. My first masturbation on a body. My load splashed all over the gaping wounds with exposed bone. One of the most thrilling orgasms I’d had so far (luckily, there were plenty more to come). They didn’t rat me out, ‘cause they didn’t want child services investigating them. I ended up back on the market looking for another family to take me on.

  Headlights from another car stirred me from my thoughts, and I ducked until it passed. Sitting up again, I watched her move around her apartment. She switched off the lamp that allowed me to still see her, and the television screen flashed on. A dim, blue light flickered as she watched it. I imagined her lying there naked in bed, viewing porn. She used two fingers and tickled her nipples to excite herself just a little. Then she’d suck the same two fingers before moving them down her body, between her perky breasts, onto her stomach and then touch her clean, shaven pussy. She spread her legs and gently ran her fingertips over her flaps and gasped, just a little. She took some of the wetness already there to spread around and rubbed from side to side and gyrated in the bed until she orgasmed.

  After imagining all that, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I took my dick out and held it in my hand. I closed my eyes and pictured her on a bed in front of me. I turned her over and lifted her to be on all fours. I put my hard cock inside her and thrust over and over again. My heart beat faster and faster with the motion of my hand. Breathless, I let out a loud groan and saw dots in front of my eyes as I climaxed and ejaculated what I kept in so well from earlier. When I came back to reality and realized I was in my car (damn, I got some on the steering wheel), the voices called to me. Her voices. She wanted to come with me tonight. ‘Take me now, I am yours’ the voice said.

  My bag of goodies lay on the passenger seat. First, I cleaned up my mess with tissue and anti-bacterial wipes. I rooted in my bag, “For fuck’s sake, where are you?”, for my special tin box and opened it carefully.

  The glass bottle and needle, unmoved in the black styrofoam, awaited my action. I poked the tip of the needle through the top of the bottle and sucked up 280mg of Thiopental. This clear liquid nearly cost me my freedom. I pretended to be a hospital visitor until I had a doctor’s gown, which I swiped off a chair at a busy lunch table in the canteen and used it to sneak into the storeroom for bottles of this stuff. I was now on my last bottle… seven beautiful women had used the rest.

  When the TV was turned off, I waited about 20 minutes for her to fall asleep. I crept up to the kitchen window, my hands were shaking.

  “Breathe, it’ll be fine,” I whispered.

  I took the other girls in the car park by forcefully holding them and injecting the needle into their necks. This one, Amanda, was an MMA fighter and wouldn’t be so easy to take down. She would probably kick my ass in a flash. I was strong, but not fast. The window took some time to open with my crowbar which left damage to the rim, but there’s not much I could do about it now. It slid open smoothly after I sprayed WD-40 along the ridge to make sure there were no creaks or scraping sounds. Another obstacle, the mesh screen guard. Too easy to move, they usually fall off and make a racket.

  With care, I pushed out the frame at the top while I held the bottom. Just a slight tap needed to remove the whole frame. I placed it on the counter and leapt onto the ledge and in through the window. I removed my shoes and slid on the wooden floors until I reached the carpet. Silence. I moved stealthily down the hallway, past the bathroom and living area. I’d done my research on the layout of the apartments by visiting one upstairs for sale. The larger bedroom, with the ensuite, was at the end of the hall, the last door on the left. I put the syringe in my mouth for easy access. The door was slightly ajar, and I saw Amanda sleeping on her back. Perfect! Her arms stretched out across the grey and white covers, and the muscular shape of her biceps turned me on.

  A chill went down my spine as I stood watching her from the side of the bed. An endearing face melted my heart, and I stayed for a while to see her chest move up and down. I couldn’t help but not move. It reminded me of one other family that I stayed with when I had just turned nine years’ old. My foster father, the Gestapo I called him, made me wait on him hand and foot; his slave from morning until I went to school, and from when he returned from work until bed time. My foster Mom, Elle, told me not to anger him or she would also receive a beating.

  “Just do what he says,” she instructed.

  I would have to be waiting there with his breakfast on a tray every morning beside his bed...7:29 am sharp. His alarm went off at 7:30 am, he sat up and ate his jam and toast. After school, and when I finished my homework and dinner, I stood at the table at 5:59 pm sharp. The Gestapo came in at 6:00 pm and sat and ate his dinner. I awaited my orders whether it be a bottle of beer or the remote. I stood there fetching until he went to bed, then he’d slap Elle around. I stood and watched Elle as she slept in her bed. Her curly blonde hair covered half her face. She was my first crush...until she crept into my bed. Elle cried as she made me do those things to her and apologized ‘I’m sorry, Todd’, but I didn’t understand why she got excited when I stuck that ‘dildo’ (she called it) up inside her. I didn’t know if she was in pain or not, the sounds were weird. Kinda like my Mom’s sounds when the men came. The Gestapo didn’t like how she looked at me, and he sent me back to the home.

  Amanda stirred and brought me back from my thoughts of long ago.

  I needed to do this fast. I grabbed a pillow she wasn’t using and held it under my arm, ready. I inserted the needle into her neck. She tried to smack it like a mosquito bite, but that didn’t work. Her eyes opened and stared directly at me. I caught a glimpse of recognition in her eyes, of course, I’d lurked around her for weeks now. She’d have to recognize my slicked back brown hair and dark brown eyes (women loved them) with a strong jawline and cute baby bottom chin.

  I had about five seconds to keep her in one place, to keep her from lashing out, before the drug took effect. I put the pillow between her and me and pressed my body weight down. She struggled, legs kicked out, arms swung, but it was too late. Amanda stopped moving. I got off her and pulled the covers back.

  Wow, what a body! I wanted to fuck her then and there, but I didn’t do that anymore.

  Not after bitch number three, Stacey. I brought her straight back to mine after I took her from the car park. Lay her on the bed and fucked her twice before she woke up. Came inside her once and on her tummy the next. Oh, they were so good. I love it when they’re out and don’t fight me. Fucking whore gave me an STD and crabs! I scratched for weeks, and was on meds for months. Cunt! I fucking strangled that dirty skank when I came home from the doctors. What if she had HIV or AIDS? Fuck me, man! So, now I do my research.

  Amanda would be unconscious for a while now, it gave
me time to rummage through her medicine cabinet. I glanced at all the labels to see if there were any I didn’t recognize or that she may need. I’d seen her pop into the drug store once or twice over the last few weeks, as any normal healthy person does. Aspirin, Paracetamol, the usual crap. Oh, and contraceptive pills. I didn’t think she had a boyfriend, I never saw anyone sniffing around. The date on the label was last year….ah, okay, it’s been a while then. My dick hardened again, the thought of fucking her now wouldn’t leave my mind. No one had touched her in a while, and this drove me crazy. I wanted her now, but knew I had to wait.

  Number seven, Jenny, was a virgin. I made sure it was a special occasion for us. Candles, expensive dinner…. the works. Her voices told me after only four weeks that she wanted to be mine. I knew she was extra special. She begged me to take her virginity, I was the only one strong enough to fuck it out of her.

  As always, I took a bag of belongings for each princess to help with their adjustment. A sense of familiarity for them. Her closet, packed with dresses, followed a system. Dresses, then tops, and then trousers, all neatly hung from velvet covered hangers. Not one was made from metal or plastic…. all velvet. Impressive. I found a suitcase in a box on the ground of the closet and mostly filled it with her comfortable clothes. She only needed a few dresses for dinner time and one pair of shoes. Unlike the others, Amanda owned only six pairs. Again, this impressed me. The other bitches owned twenty to thirty pairs of shoes. I picked trainers, flats, and high-heels. In the bathroom, I packed everything I could...toothbrush, paste, perfume, tampons, and anything that seemed personal to her.

  I also threw her handbag into the suitcase. Unknown to men, but women seem lost without their handbags. All zipped up and ready to go. Oh, I nearly forgot one important action. I took her cell-phone from the locker beside her bed and removed the SIM card. She could take it with her for pictures and stuff, but with no reception or wi-fi, it was just for comfort. Women love their cells, too.

 

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