Primrose and Brimstone

Home > Other > Primrose and Brimstone > Page 8
Primrose and Brimstone Page 8

by Jason Mueller


  His clammy, naked skin was covered in goose bumps. The temperature was cold in the grimy old warehouse building where he woke to find himself, and his ragged breath made foggy puffs like one of those old steam engines from long ago. He tried to force his thoughts to go anywhere besides his current situation, which proved to be a losing battle.

  ~~~

  Earlier that night, Ben had spotted her at the bar. She was a lusty, blonde-haired tease. He hated a tease just as much as he hated blondes. He spent hours sitting at a table in a dark corner watching her on the dance floor as she moved from man to man, dancing seductively while they groped at her as she ground her slinky body against them. It drove Ben crazy to watch her; his misplaced jealousy enraged him further. He vowed that before the night was over she would pay. Pay for everything that women had ever done to him, real or imagined. You’re going to pay mother, he mocked to himself.

  Ben, in his crazed mind, did not realize that punishing innocent women had no effect whatsoever on his aging mother. She had made his entire life a living hell. Always with her damn cigarettes, persistent coughing, and the incessant nagging about how worthless he was. Even now, almost thirty years later, Mother still blamed him for his father’s desertion of them.

  He had even bought the blonde whore a drink and managed to hold her attention for a minute before she moved on to the next man. In those few minutes, she had driven him wild. He was rock hard at the thought of taking her right there; he wanted to show the slut that he was in control, not her. The stupid bitch probably thought she controlled things due to her looks.

  Later, he followed her out the door. She looked back and noticed him, teasing him with a smile that seemed to beckon him to follow her. She was taking the fun out of it, but he would show her his power later. For now, being easy was ok, and apparently, she was easier than he expected.

  “Hey, handsome,” she purred to him. Just the sound of her voice made him twitch.

  “Hey, you need a ride home?” he asked, upset with himself at the desperation in his voice. He had been planning this for hours. Couldn't he have thought of something better to say in all that time?

  “That would be perfect!” she purred again “I feel a little tipsy and shouldn't drive.”

  “I’m ...” he began to introduce himself, but she cut him off.

  “Names don’t matter now, do they?” she said with a twisted glint in her eye that made Ben both nervous and excited at the same time.

  “I guess not," he said with a smile that was anything but pleasant. "Do you have somewhere we could go?” He left it up to her to grasp his meaning.

  “Of course, I can host a friend," she replied seductively as she rubbed herself against him and cupped him through his pants.

  “Alright then, let’s go party!" he responded, feeling awkward standing on the street with the beautiful blonde while she massaged his package.

  They proceeded to his van and she climbed in without any hesitation. Not believing his luck, Ben jumped into the driver’s seat and they took off. She guided him into a seedier part of town where hulking buildings stood like sentinels in the dark.

  She gave simple directions that led him to a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of town.

  “This has been in the family for generations,” she purred again as she pointed up the stairs. “I have a place upstairs that I think you’ll like.”

  She took his hand and led him through the dark and up the stairs. Passing through a door at the top of the stairs, she led him into a beautifully furnished apartment.

  “Nice place,” he said, surprised.

  “Shall we get down to business?” she asked as she kissed him gently on the cheek, her breath warming his skin.

  Pent up lust overtook him as he grabbed her and kissed her roughly. To his delight, she responded back passionately and without hesitation. She pulled his shirt off, playfully biting his chest and neck. He pulled her tight sweater off, revealing her perfection to him in the near darkness.

  “Maybe we could go to the dungeon?" she offered huskily, as she grabbed his hand pulling him along.

  She quickly led him through the dimly lit apartment. He thought of nothing but having her, owning her. He wanted to grab her by her blonde hair and throw her to the bed and dominate her completely.

  As Ben’s mind played out his fantasy in his head, she was playing out her own. He didn’t see her grab the hammer she had hidden. He had no idea he was in danger. She pivoted toward him with desire in her eyes. And then everything went black.

  ~~~

  Ben woke up down in the lower-level, handcuffed to a chair with his head strapped tightly in place. He tried to move the chair but it wouldn't budge. He felt confused, helpless and nauseated as blood trickled out from the wound in his head. He was certain that he had a concussion. But, otherwise, he was ok.

  He looked around for his blonde date, assuming she was also a victim of the attack that took him down, but he couldn't see past the circle of light that haloed around him.

  “Hello?" he softly called out and waited for an answer while his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness.

  When he heard nothing, he spoke louder.

  “Help me!” he called out, suddenly not sure if he should be afraid of being alone or the exact opposite. He was, after all, strapped to a chair, bleeding in the darkness.

  The slow clicking of heels on the cement floor was the only answer to his cries.

  The sound steadily grew louder in the dark and was coming closer to him. Finally, she emerged from the darkness.

  She was still dressed in her skin-tight mini skirt, heels, and the sweater he had removed earlier was back on. She looked at him with a look of pure hatred. A glint of evil or insanity sparkled in her eyes. He was not interested in finding out which one it was.

  “Well, I’m so glad you’re finally awake,” she stated flatly, no longer purring like before. Now her voice was tight and clipped. Angry.

  Confused by her anger, he asked with a pained gasp, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because you are a pig!” she replied, walking over to a cart, and pulling it closer to the chair.

  “Because rapist like you who prey on women to use, abuse, and cast us aside when you’re done with your power trip, piss me off!" she spat with venom. “And then it’s just simply on to the next!"

  "But I didn’t do anything to you yet!” he cried, hoping to reason with her.

  "Yet? You don’t think so? Well I can’t tell you how much it hurts me to hear that you don’t remember me.”

  “Why would I remember you?” he asked, still feeling confused.

  “Because you raped me, you disgusting piece of shit! AND you don’t even remember? The girl on the campus you raped five years ago?” she queried with daggers shooting from her eyes.

  “I never raped anyone, I swear!” he pleaded. You have the wrong guy!”

  But the look on his face betrayed him. He knew who she was now; he had been upset with his mother at the time and had been pretty violent with her.

  “You ruined my life!” she shouted, lifting a heavy pipe from the cart. She calmly walked over to him with an evil grin. With only the slightest grunt from her, the pipe fell. The bones in his left forearm snapped from the impact. He screamed and then passed out from the pain.

  A bucket of cold water woke him. Something held his mouth open and his jaw ached. His armed throbbed so bad that tears ran down his cheeks, making him even colder.

  The blonde stood there smiling at him mercilessly. The smile was predatory. She reminded him of himself, he thought. He had created this beautiful monster before him. He wanted to try to apologize and beg but he could not speak the words with his mouth forced open the way it was. He grunted and groaned to let her know he was trying to tell her something.

  “I don’t want to hear any of your excuses or bullshit!” she hissed, stalking toward him with a pair of pliers and what looked to be an old rusty kitchen knife.

  He squirmed in
the chair, trying desperately to get away, but it was useless. He was at her complete mercy, and mercy was fully absent in her eyes. She slammed the pliers home, breaking off his front teeth. She pulled his tongue roughly, the pliers cutting into flesh and muscle. The pain was incredible, like biting your tongue, only the pain wasn’t subsiding. She kept pulling as hard as she could, the maniacal look on her face sending dread into his soul. It felt like his throat was being pulled out, and before he realized what was going on, he could feel the cold edge of the blade.

  Then, with savage glee, she began sawing away at his tongue with the rusty knife.

  He screamed until he started to choke on his blood as it gushed from the wound. Finally, with one last hack she was through. She looked like a sadistic princess as she stood there with his blood splattered across her face and sexy outfit, his tongue still held between the pliers she held slightly above her head in victory.

  His gurgling moans echoed through the quietness of the warehouse. Blood flowed freely from his mouth down his naked chest. The woman lit a small propane torch and held a long-handled tea spoon in the flame with a gloved hand. The light illuminated her face; the scowl of hatred never leaving her beautiful features.

  “We’ll take care of that bleeding for you in just a minute, hon," her singsong voice cooed as the spoon began to glow red and then a bright orange.

  Without another word, she stepped toward him, grabbed him by the hair and jammed the spoon into his mouth, cauterizing the bleeding wound.

  Smoke, steam, and the smell of burned meat wafted through the air as she pulled the spoon out. He screamed hoarse, animalistic screams, but they had no effect on the beautiful blonde as she placed the spoon back down on the cart.

  She picked up the hammer again. This time, she also grabbed two large nails.

  “You were so proud of your manhood,” she said with a blank stare. Ben could tell she was reliving the attack in her mind. “Do you remember the disgusting things you said to me while you hurt me? You're so big and so good for me. Remember me? You enjoyed yourself while I cried.”

  Her eyes began to tear up; she angrily brushed away this sign of weakness and a spark lit in her eyes.

  “Let’s see that manhood of yours again, shall we?” she lashed out as she grabbed his member, stretching it out. She set the pointed end of the nail on his flesh, raised the hammer to swing it down and hammered the nail home into the chair.

  Ben tried to scream again as what felt like a thousand needle pricks of pain coursed through his entire body. The blonde stood back and waited patiently for the pain to subside somewhat before the second nail found its way home into the wooden chair.

  More animal like sobs echoed through the huge building.

  “You want to know how I found you, you disgusting pig?” she mocked him. “I saw you and some old lady at the pharmacy. I recognized you, but you didn’t see me. Not that you would remember who you hurt. A victim is just a victim, right? I don’t know how you could have paid attention with that old bat nagging and bitching constantly, anyway. It’s funny; I almost felt sorry for you having to deal with her and then I remembered what you did to me, and to God knows how many other women! I followed you home to that filthy house you two scum bags call home and watched. I’ve been following you for months. I’ve seen what you do, how you prey on women, how you hurt them! It's about time someone turn the tables on you!”

  She was getting wound up again and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. She grabbed the steel bar like a baseball bat and with the practiced swing of a pro, she swung the bat, shattering his left knee. She then swung out against his right knee and right arm. Broken bones shoved through the skin and blood poured out of his wounds.

  The pain was too much for him. Everything faded to black again.

  ~~~

  Ben awoke groggily. His body shook in pain and he cried as well as his tongue-less mouth, which was still held open, would allow. He no longer felt cold, which he understood meant shock or hypothermia.

  He slowly opened his eyes as she loomed in front of him. Fear immediately swept over him, not knowing what more she was capable of or might do to him next.

  Nothing happened. Not a sound.

  As his eyes cleared, she was there before him, hanging. She was dead; her pretty face a pale blue.

  She could no longer stand the dreams, fear and paranoia he had brought upon her and she would not trade a prison of fear for a prison of bars and razor wire after her revenge.

  In this last savage act, she took back the control that her attacker had wrested from her. In the end, she was the one who was in control and she would choose how she lived and ultimately how she died.

  ~~~

  Ben’s invalid mother, Edna, eventually starved to death wondering when he would come home….

  ESOTERIC BLISS

  Southern Kentucky

  The white paint was peeling off the little white church tucked back in the woods on an old logging trail that outsiders would never find. It looked as if it might collapse from lack of care and upkeep. The montage of old cars and pickup trucks parked in the dirt lot in front of the church matched the gloomy scene and as night started to fall, casting eerie shadows in the trees that seemed to threaten to overtake the church.

  Inside, the thumping beat of the music had everyone moving in rhythm. The men and women had worked themselves into a sweat in the muggy air. They all stood, forsaking the hard-wooden pews that seemed as if they were made to make the sitter suffer in remembrance to the Lord.

  The slick-haired pastor strutted around the platform in his best suit; he could feel the spirit moving tonight, he thought to himself while taking a peak at Shelly Ray. He took in her large chest and other curves; the only thing of his that was moving was much lower than any spirit. She was his favorite piece of ass out of the young girls in the congregation. The fact that she was pregnant was worrisome, but he had convinced the mostly-illiterate congregation that it was a fulfillment of end times prophecy and that the second coming would be heralded in by a secondary immaculate conception. Since none of them could read or write on their own, no one was the wiser when it came to the Bible and his translation of it; they had no choice but to trust their pastor's esoteric knowledge.

  I’m going to have to give her a ride… home, he thought to himself as his mind wandered to what he would like to do with her in the back of his Buick.

  Everyone one was just about in the spirit as the preacher made his way to the cages. He started flipping up locks in preparation and could feel the anointing come over him. The time was right. He reached in and pulled out two large Timber Rattle snakes, each larger than usual because of the great care taken with them.

  They were the preacher's pets.

  The serpents sniffed the air. The oppressive heat made them come alive along with all the warm bodies; they both raised their heads up searching for prey. The preacher began to dance in the spirit, eyes closed in complete submission to the Lord; besides, who’d want to see the strikes coming anyhow? He caste a glance to make sure Shelly Ray was watching, she was with a look of lust that somehow didn’t come off as spiritual as maybe it should have.

  The others in the congregation started to make for the other cages where they pulled out more snakes. Soon there were nearly twenty saints dancing with their serpents, speaking in tongues as the spirit gave utterance; the music still thumping the Kentucky night.

  Outside, a winged figure floated down to the ground. As he landed, his wings disappeared. He was dressed in black leather and pale-skinned, with piercing, blue eyes hidden behind sunglasses. At nearly seven feet tall, he was massive, and his muscles were somehow visible through his leather jacket. His booted feet made no sound as he stalked his way to the church. He came to the door, paused, and listened to the pounding music, the stomps of dancing feet, and the excited utterances of people who are lost in the moment.

  With a sigh of disgust and without a touch, he slammed the doors open with his mind. The crash caused
a door to come off its hinge and hit the scuffed wood floor with a thunderous crash. As the door hit the floor, the music screeched to a halt and all eyes were on the interloper.

  “You have been found wanting before the Lord and your destruction has come to pass!” he projected; yet, his mouth never moved. The thundering of the voice caused the congregants to cover their ears as blood began to leak from within. With a wave of his hand, the snakes grew in size and strength, attacking their handlers and then turning on everyone else. They delivered lethal doses of venom from supernatural glands that never ran dry as the figure stood watching, blocking the door.

  As they all lay there dying, he walked among them, looking at the carnage. He felt nothing except disgust at the lifeless bodies. Humans are so pathetic. Why does he love them so? Why not just kill them all and be done with it?

  Their bodies were already turning black as they reached out for him. Their eyes begged for mercy, but none would be found from the angelic stranger who seemed more of a devil to their dying minds.

  He turned, walking back out the door. As he exited, the building burst into flames and became a raging inferno within seconds.

  His wings unfolded from his back and he rose into the air without any visible effort. He circled once, looking at his handy work and rose higher and out of sight.

  The souls of those misguided mountain people, and the pastor they allowed to lead them astray, rose from the flames. They hovered a hundred feet in the air for a full minute. Judgment was swift and they started to drift back toward the ground. Without stopping there, they sunk out of sight; the flames of hell licking at their souls much like the flames from the church licked at their flesh.

  CONFESSION

  Father Matthew hurriedly genuflected toward the cross and dashed for the confessional. The whispers of his vestments were audible in the quiet church as the faithful waited patiently for their priest to absolve them of their sins. Only then could they receive Holy Communion.

 

‹ Prev