by Rockow, B.
“Bring them up,” Boul said. “We’re ready.”
The twins were prepared for the evening’s festivities. They each wore silk robes, with nothing beneath. They tucked their thick red hair into tight top knots, for an elegant, fashionable look.
Radoula stood eight foot tall. Her frame was thin. But her breasts were massive, and so was her derriere. She was known to be particularly cruel and vicious. It had been said that she inspired Elizabeth Bathory and her reign of terror. Radoula carried herself with a noble air, and her face showed it. She possessed an insatiable erotic appetite, and indulged it whenever possible.
Boul was the same height as his sister. His body was thin for its size. In some ways, he was effeminate in the way he carried himself. But his imagination for debauch and horror was unparalleled. His heart was black as coal. He looked upon humanity with utter disdain, and this was reflected in his features. His eyes were yellowish, and so were his teeth. His tongue was a disgusting flap of grayish pink meat. It rolled out when he was excited with lust or anger.
The twin giants procured a dozen different street drugs. Cocaine, opium, ketamine, marijuana, LSD, Molly, and a hodgepodge of designer drugs. The bar was stocked with copious amounts of fine spirits, wines, and meads.
There was a knock at the door. Radoula whisked over to answer it. She opened the door, and admired the beauty she saw before her. The models were exactly what she was expecting. Of course she was more interested in the men than the women, but she noted that Boul had a fine taste as well.
“Welcome to our abode,” Radoula said. She bowed graciously. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Tonight will sparkle. Tonight we will drink deep.”
The captives looked terrified. None of them knew what this was all about. They had been blindfolded since being captured. They hadn’t even seen the giants who kidnapped them. But they had a feeling that something wasn’t right. The way that the Orobu smelled, like rotten flesh; the way they spoke, stilted and slow. Everything about their captors hinted at something abnormal.
The blindfolds finally came off. Their suspicions were spot on. These were monsters.
Of course, the captives were under the impression that they’d be murdered. Little did they know murder would be preferable to what they were about to experience.
Boul turned on a record player. He had a penchant for old lounge singers from the fifties. Dean Martin’s singing “Ain’t that a Kick in the Head” echoed through the apartment. The irony of the song didn’t escape the captives. This whole scene was like taking a sledgehammer to the dome.
“Don’t be shy,” Boul hollered. “We’re not squares. Party favors inside. Come in and partake. Tonight, my abode is yours.”
The twins had seen it all, done it all before. Being part of the Orobu race meant sticking with ancient tradition. Human culture was looked at with disdain, generally. But no matter what era they were in, no matter the nation, the twins emulated the most fashionable, creative, despicable humans around them. They took pride knowing that they could keep the Orobu race alive, fulfilling their ancient duty, while still enjoying everything, for better or worse, that human civilization had to offer.
The Orobu guards prodded the models into the apartment. They were shaking, and some sobbed. One young man tried to run, but he had nowhere to go. The elevator was locked. The stairwell was, too. A guard slammed his fist into the young model’s skull. It cracked open, and he was left there to die.
This brutality spooked the captives even more. But the Orobu were prepared for that. The guards forced each captive to ingest a little white pill, which they called M-Candy. Radoula worked with a pharmaceuticals company to produce these pills, which put humans in an acute, impressionable fugue state. Upon ingestion, a human’s natural instincts would be dulled. Fear wasn’t completely eradicated, but it was effectively tempered. The chemical compound was related to scopolamine. Not more than five minutes after taking the M-Candy pills, which were forced under penalty of death, the captives were docile.
Radoula had her eyes on the lad she wanted. Boul’s mind was divided. There were three candidates who could suit his fancy this evening. He’d discover who was the prime choice after interacting with them all.
“Will we die?” a female Italian model asked. Her accent was thick. This was Boul’s choice. She looked delicious. She had olive oil skin, walnut brown hair, and a smile that Boul couldn’t resist. Her breasts were firm, and her butt was toned. He had chosen her after seeing her performance at a Milan fashion show.
“Of course not,” Boul said. The giant readied lines of cocaine. He brought a mirror out to the center table and commanded everybody to gather around. A circle formed around the coffee table, and Boul sniffed first. He passed it to the fine Italian model. “Your pretty ass will have a great time. Take a sniff.”
Boul smiled, and she nervously smiled in return.
“What’s your name?” Boul asked. He already knew, but he knew that humans had to be humored.
“Luciana,” she said.
Boul handed her the mirror. Luciana had never done cocaine, even as a model. Boul had to instruct her. The first hit was all she needed. The room started to buzz, and a cocaine grin spread across Luciana’s face.
Radoula loved cocaine. It was her drug of choice. She kept a vial of it on her person at all times. She was a copious user, as her large body could absorb magnificent doses. She was the last to sniff a line.
A couple joints were being passed around the room, as well. After every captive anxiously took their first bump and puff, they started to loosen up. The pills and the other drugs dropped their defenses. Even if they were fated to die tonight, they could go out having fun. A few of the female models started an impromptu dance party in the center of the apartment. The space was perfect for dancing, with smooth marble floors.
Boul wasn’t really interested in the dancers. He enjoyed the quiet types. The meek, beautiful, frail female specimens that were so contrary to the Orobu. It’s exactly why he chose Luciana.
Radoula had already snagged her choice, a model from Brazil. His skin was golden brown, his hair short and black, his lips puffy and kissable. She stole him away to a back room. The Brazilian was quiet. He was terrified in his silence. He didn’t know what to expect with this giant. But Radoula sat him down and explained what she wanted to do.
“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Radoula said. She was zipped up on the cocaine, and she couldn’t wait to get started. “I want you to go first. But before you do, tell me your name.”
“Jorge,” he said with a flick of his tongue. “But people call me Rocky.”
“That’s a gorgeous name,” Radoula said. She reclined on the king size bed. She waived Rocky over to join her. He slid up next to her massive, well sculpted body. Radoula directed him to rub her shoulders. She puffed on a joint that she had brought in with her. Radoula batted her eyes. Rocky found the giant to be attractive, if not Amazonian. She possessed a monster’s unique beauty. Strange, macabre, unique. Her skin was perfect, her eyes enchanting. Radoula partially slipped off her robe. Her large breasts were nearly exposed. “Rocky, care for a hit?”
Rocky was entranced by Radoula’s figure. He wanted to know more, and was slightly aroused. He reached for the joint and took a puff. His nerves began to settle. “Truth or Dare?” he said in a rolling Brazilian accent. “That sounds like a great game. I’ll ask first, truth or dare?”
Radoula’s face lit up. “Truth,” she said. “Definitely truth.”
Rocky became pensive. He hadn’t played this game in years. Finally, he stumbled upon a good question. “If you had twenty four hours to live, what would you do?”
Radoula let out a peal of laughter. “Twenty four hours?” she asked. “Oh, geeze. Twenty four hours. I’ve been around so long, that twenty four hours seems like nothing. Honestly? I’d fly to Rome, and watch the sunset over Campidoglio hill. Absolutely stunning.”
Rocky was intrigued. “I have never been,” he said. “But
I’d love to.”
Radoula moved closer to the model. “Maybe some day I will take you.”
Rocky’s lips brushed up against Radoula’s. They both retreated from each other, with blushing faces.
“Okay, your turn,” Rocky said.
“Truth or dare?” Radoula asked.
“Truth.”
Radoula scratched her chin. She pretended to think hard, but really she already had her questions. She asked the same questions of every human captive. “Okay, got it,” she said. “Tell me what you would do if I said that I was going to either kill you, or another captive out in the living room?”
Rocky tensed up. The sincerity in the way the giant asked him that question took his breath away. It felt like he just got punched in the gut.
Radoula loved to see captives squirm with that question. “Well, your answer?”
Rocky inched away from Radoula, and just as he got to the edge of the bed, he shot up and grabbed the first thing he could to defend himself. His fear overrode the M-Candy. He held a desk lamp in his trembling hands. “I dunno what you are,” he said. “But I am not meant to be here.”
Radoula shook her head. She stood up and slowly walked towards him. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just answer the question.”
Rocky started swinging the desk lamp back and forth through the empty air in front of him. “Move back,” he commanded. “Move back!”
Radoula moved in and quickly disarmed his pathetic attempt at defense. She lifted Rocky up and plopped him back on the bed. This time she wasn’t going to let him get away. She fastened handcuffs and chains around his wrists and ankles, and secured him to the bed posts. There was nothing Rocky could do but scream. Radoula took care of that annoyance by stuffing his mouth with a sock.
“We were just starting,” Radoula said. “Pity we couldn’t have played longer. But let’s try a different game.”
Radoula dug around in a dresser drawer. Within a few moments she found a hypodermic needle. It was filled with a solution that imitated a neurochemical that caused male erections. She injected Rocky with the chemical, and a minute later, he was rock hard.
Radoula lifted her robe, and mounted him. She rode him hard and uncontrollably. It didn’t take very long for Rocky to climax, while his member stayed hard from the injection. Radoula continued with her debauch. She was like a banshee riding through the night. It wasn’t much longer before Rocky’s eyes rolled back and his breathing stopped. He sustained critical injuries from her weight, and died of internal bleeding.
She dismounted Rocky, and admired that he was still rock hard. She smiled at herself in the mirror, disrobed, and went off to the shower to clean herself off.
“The games have just begun,” Radoula said as she washed out her insides. After showering and drying off, she slipped back into her robe, sat at her vanity, and combed her fire red hair. It was long and shiny. Radoula took great pride in her hair. After brushing it for ten minutes, she tucked it back up in a tight bun.
Radoula stepped back out into the living room. The party was in full swing now. She joined a couple of tall Nordic models on the dance floor. The three danced for a few songs. Radoula pulled the two Nordic models close to her, and whispered in their ears.
“I want you,” she said. “Take me. In my room. Now.”
The models turned to each other with impressed looks.
Radoula sauntered back to her room. Before disappearing, she turned back to the two models and winked. The three of them were now in her room. Under the effects of the M-Candy, the two models weren’t shocked by the mutilated body on Radoula’s bed. She was impressed with their ambivalence.
“You two are absolutely stunning,” Radoula said. She admired their chiseled body. Their blue eyes were crisp, and their hair perfectly blonde. “What are your names?”
“Jon,” the taller one said. He was wearing a pair of designer underwear, nothing else. His abs were especially delicious.
“Aimo,” the other said. He was short and beautiful. He wore a clean white shirt and a pair of gray underwear.
“Jon and Aimo, wonderful,” Radoula said. “I have tasks for you two. Clean up this body. Toss him into that chute. It empties out into an incinerator. Then do the same with the bedding. I want clean sheets when I come back.”
“As you say,” Jon and Aimo said in unison.
The two got busy with their tasks, while Radoula went out to chat with Boul. She found him necking with Luciana. Once Boul saw Radoula, he shooed her away. He didn’t want to be bothered.
Radoula returned to her room and found Jon and Aimo standing around aimlessly. They had cleaned up the mess of Rocky’s body, and replaced the sheets. Radoula played Truth or Dare with Jon and Aimo. After a couple rounds, they ended up bound to the bed with rope. They suffered the same erotic death as the Brazilian.
Radoula repeated the pattern throughout the night. After Jon and Aimo, she didn’t care to throw out the bodies. She just dumped them onto the hardwood floor next to her bed. After exhausting the population of male captives, Radoula drew a hot bath. She spruced it up with epsom salts and essential oils. Baths melted the stress right out of her bones. Her sex was satisfied, and after all that carnage, she wanted to decompress. Radoula soaked until sunrise.
In the meantime, Boul had already chosen his preferred captive for the evening. It ended up being Luciana. She was incredibly shy at first, but followed Boul’s suggestions. He invited her to his wing of the apartment for a game of chess. Through conversation he learned that she knew how to play, but wasn’t that good. Her father had taught her when she was a little girl. Boul said that he’d love a game. She obliged.
They rolled a couple joints from the marijuana, and grabbed a bottle of fine Lambrusco, a wine that Luciana preferred.
The two sat across each other at the chess board, which was laid out on a granite podium inlaid with gold and jade. It was the finest piece of furniture Luciana had ever seen, outside of museums.
“It’s beautiful,” she remarked, tapping on the podium. “Who designed it?”
Boul gave her a wry smile. He started setting up the mahogany pieces on the board. “It was a gift from a Chinese emperor,” he said. “An emperor that lived long, long ago.”
Luciana was intrigued. “And who did he give it to?”
“He gave it to me,” Boul said. “I assisted him with several conquests and campaigns. They were mostly successful.”
She was puzzled. “But, the last Chinese emperor lived over a hundred years ago.”
Boul laughed at her naivete. “That’s right, honey,” he said. “And this emperor lived about eight hundred years ago.”
Luciana laughed with the giant. “You are so funny!” She reached over and slapped the giant on his arm. “I love a good joke.”
Boul didn’t want to press his luck, but he wanted to see her reaction when he revealed the emperor’s name. “What would you say if I told you the emperor was Kublai Khan?”
Luciana’s eyes bulged for a moment. She held her stomach as she couldn’t contain her laughter. “Oh, you are funny,” she said. “I love hearing great stories. I’m sure you’ve got a good one here.”
“Let’s play a little bit of chess,” Boul said. “And I’ll tell you a story.”
The two started their game. Boul gave Luciana the option of playing as white, so she went first. He was impressed by her opening move: pawn to e4. Boul responded with pawn to d4. The next few moves were the standard opening of the Ruy Lopez, the quintessential opening variation.
“And you said you don’t know how to play,” Boul said. “I find that hard to believe.”
Luciana smiled, thinking on her next move. Boul loved how demure this one was. “I guess I’ve played a little here and there.” She grew pensive over her move. “You promised me the story.”
“Ah, yes, my story,” Boul said. “It all started in that great age where the Mongols, united under Genghis Khan, swept across the kno
wn world, conquering every land they could. My people, who are called the Orobu, helped the Mongols in this process. We were rewarded for our efforts handsomely, and I was eventually given special access to the court of Kublai Khan.”
Luciana made her move, which saved a bishop. She was intrigued by this story, even if it was fictional. “What did you do in the court?”
Boul ignored the chess board for now. “I was an advisor on domestic and military affairs,” he said. “I led expeditions of Orobu throughout mainland China to find out where the Mongols could expand their pastures for their livestock. We would capture Chinese held farmland, and the Mongols would bring their yaks and oxen in for grazing.”
“It must’ve been destructive,” Luciana said.
“It was devastating,” Boul agreed. “Millions of Chinese died. Of course, we promoted this policy so that the Orobu would have enough to eat.”
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” he said with a wink. He looked up into Luciana’s hazelnut eyes, and admired their shine. “My race subsists off human flesh. The soft tissues of the human body contain specific enzymes that can only be found in your meat. With millions of Chinese deaths, the Orobu were able to dry and preserve tons and tons of food that we could live on for quite some time. It helped us gain a relative degree of independence from human society. But we had some opponents, of course.”
Luciana stood up from the chess game, and looked nervously from side to side. Self preservation kicked in. The story just went off the deep end. The suggestion of cannibalism was unnerving, even under the influence of M-Candy. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything that could serve as a weapon. She decided that fighting one on one would be futile. Fleeing was the better choice. Luciana turned around and darted to the door. She twisted the handle, and discovered that it was locked from the other side.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Boul said. “You wanted me to tell you a story. And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Luciana started to scream at the top of her lungs. She banged and kicked on the door as hard as she could.
