Mistress Aura
Verified
- Joined
- Aug 14, 2006
- Messages
- 1,593
- Points
- 0
Although I combined the sequel to the first post for any future explorers, I chose to post the second part alone as well, for those who already read the original segment and remain interested in the outcome.
Again, this was the hardest thing I've ever written in my life. Every fear, every fury, every hurt, every ounce of love, every everything came out in this. Those who know me will recognize that the hardcore portions go against all that is me...but when the beast wants a voice, sometimes you just have to give in.
So here it is, Dave. Flaws, warts and all. Thanks for the kickstart.
And Redscript--thank you again for the perfect illustration. Love you, you sweet Deeve. 😉
Mistress Aura
_________________________
End Of Times, Pt 2
(WARNING: Following section contains items that may not be suitable for sensitive readers)
After 6 months went past, I finally figured I could stand down just a little. Like I said, there was nothing big that came my way. I knew what to look out for; they only had me under minor watch for about a month after they took Kaj, and I didn’t give them shit. After all, as far as anybody knew, Kaj and me weren’t all that close anymore, so after 30 days, I guess they figured I had managed to “escape from his clutches before any of his poison effected” me. Model citizen, me. Go to work, come home, smile pretty, mow the yard, give to the RTP bitches that come to the door practically every other fucking day begging for money for one RTP outreach or another, take cookies to the old man across the street when his fucking kids forget him on his birthday for the third year in a row. For all the conspiracy theories Kaj rambled on about, a lot of it really did sink in and I did it all right. He would be proud of me…if he could have even remembered who I was.
I did go to see him, just once, a few years after everything. I wish to fuck I hadn’t, but for me to do what I do, it was necessary. I seriously don’t like talking about it, but if you want to know what happened to Angelique, you really gotta know the “why” behind the “what“. And I know you want to know what happened to her, or you wouldn’t be here. I don’t know how well it will set with you when all is said and done, but it’s way too fucking late to give a shit about that, or anything else. I don’t regret a damned thing I’ve done. And make no mistake--I’ll keep going, because it’s the only thing that makes me feel close to alive anymore.
It’s the only thing that feeds the beast.
I was a little bit sorry when she died. Oh, not because she died, fuck no. She just died too soon. I wasn’t done, but she went and fucked that up on me, too, the stupid mangy bitch. At least she got to die with her eyes still in, though. I usually don’t do that. I’m not stupid. I make sure there’s no way what’s leftover when I finally walk away can identify me, so I‘ll bet if you think hard, you can figure out by yourself the grisly little souvenirs I take with me when I‘m done. Okay, okay, I’m just kidding. They’re not really souvenirs, I’m just covering my tracks. I don’t really keep them. Guys do that, girls don’t.
I’d feed them to the old man’s dogs when I would walk them for him some nights, when it was rainy and his arthritis was really chewing on his knees. Little Sasha’s pretty partial to tongues, bless her furry heart. All that protein does wonders for their coats, too.
And I usually don’t kill the fuckers, either, so don‘t start thinking I‘m some serial. Angelique was the only one I really seriously considered killing, but in a way, she pretty much killed herself, so it wasn’t technically my fault. Only a couple others have died and for the most part, it was always their own goddamned fault. If I tell you not to move, then don’t fucking move. If I tell you to do something, then do it. 1 + 1. If you can come up with 2, you get to live. Or didn’t they teach you that in school, one of those earlier years before you got to watch the vid of my best friend’s brain being turned into a fucking scrambled egg inside his beautiful skull?
Besides, having one actually die on me just makes the whole thing harder. Then I’ve gotta find a place to dump what‘s left, clean up the whole fucking house, blahblahblah…I fucking hate CSI. Everybody’s a goddamned amateur forensic specialist these days. What could have been done in a couple hours winds up taking closer to six sometimes. Just too fucking complicated.
And there’s no real finesse in causing death. If that’s all I wanted to do, I could just go the Borgia route and be done with it. That’s not good enough. Kaj is the walking dead, but he doesn’t realize it. I want them to pay every day of the rest of their miserable lives for what they did to him, but I want them aware.
After a year, everything had gone back to safe for me. I got a better job, made more money, moved to a better house in a different part of the city. The old man was pretty sad that I was leaving, so to keep up appearances and to make sure I still had my little fuzzy mop-up kits available, I kept stopping by once in awhile. Usually when it was supposed to rain. And I make some kick-ass chocolate chips, too, so I always took him at least a couple dozen. Kaj used to love them.
Kaj. Fuck you, Kaj. I fucking hate you. I hate you for leaving me, I hate you for what I’ve turned into. You’re the one who wakes the beast, damn you. Every memory you left behind--every song you liked, every drawing on my bedroom wall that you explained to me line by line, every time I look down at my own feet and remember what it felt like to have you take me past every limit I have--all that shit starts poking at it with sharp sticks until it wakes up. Every door and window in my own soul that got slammed and chained shut when they put you in that transport in front of the whole fucking world…I died right along with you.
I love you so fucking much.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Well, by now, you probably figured out that Angelique wasn’t the first one. She was the first one who died on me, yeah, but she wasn’t the first one I chose to start hacking away at the debt the RTP owed Kaj. Excuse that pun, it was really unintentional. Believe me, I’m not big on humor anymore.
I never went after anyone high up, that’s stupid. The only smart way into a tyrant’s fortress is to start tearing apart the foundation. Weaken the foundation, it’ll hit the fucking ground. You don’t want to aim your weapons at the king, they‘re used to that shit, that‘s what they‘re trained for. Aim at the princes and princesses and make it look like maybe the courtiers are responsible. Take out some of the guards and leave confusing evidence. Wobble their faith. Get them talking; first to, then about, each other. That much of what’s left in that Book is solid no-bullshit: A house divided among itself cannot stand. Your checkmate move? If you can get the king to start suspecting the queen and vice versa. If you can inject the poison right into the heart of the kingdom, you‘ve fucking won.
Whatever, that’s way out there for now and I’m running out of time, so I’ll cut to the chase. You want to hear about Angelique. Hope you’re ready for this. Most people can’t deal.
First, Kaj.
I did go to the institutional dorm where Kaj was living the day before they were finally remanding him back into his parents’ custody. I’d heard about his release from some underground news source, and the beast rolled over inside. Once I got it into my head that I needed to see him, nothing would make the thought stop, so I rented a car and drove there.
In the time he’d been in there, I’d changed a lot. Lost a lot of weight, changed my hair color, even wore colored contacts. Half the time, my own mother didn’t recognize me anymore. But, I pretended to be there to check out the facility for an imaginary relative who was going over the edge, and managed to get there just before lunchtime. And as luck would have it, I got a gossipy little bitch who was not only new to her RTP state-assigned position, but apparently already bored as fuck with her job and wanting to show off her vast knowledge of the “dorm dirt“. It didn’t take much to make her think she and I would just be B-fucking-FFEs. I’d say she was another RTP brainwash casualty, but I don’t think she had a fucking brain to wash in there in the first place.
We went outside to their ever-so-classy “al fresco” area just as most of the people were sitting down to eat. Jesus, that was eerie. Not a sound out of them. None of them. They either stared at the food in front of them and ate real quiet, or let their assigned attendants feed them, depending on the level of conversion they’d been through.
I saw him sitting by himself at a picnic table. He was way too thin, his hair was shorter than I think it had ever been in his life, and he was just staring off in the distance at some place in the sky. He never moved, just sat there. Every so often, it seemed like maybe his lips were moving, but he never moved his eyes. I tell myself sometimes that he was probably singing to angels, finally teaching them the right fucking way to do it, but that’s just so the beast doesn’t get too hungry too early. I told you I don’t like talking about this.
Bimbette noticed where I was looking, so she whispers, “You know who that is?” I shook my head, playing stupid. “Oh, my god, that’s Kaj!” she said, all excited. “The Kaj, remember him? The Deeve that got busted for sleazing on Major Grayson’s niece?” She shook her empty fucking head and kind of laughed. “You’d think he would have figured out that wasn’t the best idea ahead of time. What an idiot, huh? Well…even more now than he was then, I guess.” She laughed a little harder at her own joke, but I seriously didn’t see the humor.
I pretty much tuned her out then when an attendant came over and I watched as she took Kaj by the hand. Those hands. God, those hands, it all crashed onto me all over again, all the things he used to do with those beautiful hands. It took every single ounce of strength I had to keep my shit together, to keep from falling apart right there. But he stood up right away when she touched him, just like he was some fucking trained circus animal. When he turned to follow her, that’s when I saw the healed-over burn scars across his forehead. The RTP’s “forever” calling card. Then I watched him walk away from me for the very last time, until they both disappeared into the building…and I’m totally serious when I tell you that that attendant is still walking and talking today only because she treated him as gentle as if he was a little kid.
The other one, little Miss Tour-fucking-Guide..? Well, you know. Shit does happen. Did I mention her eyes were blue? In fact, they were almost exactly the same color blue as Maxie‘s collar, not even half a shade difference. I held one right next to it and checked not quite a week later.
So then I had two mental vids of watching Kaj get led away that stayed on a fucking loop in my head. Sleazing on Grayson’s fucking niece. Yeah. Right. Fucking traitor bitch. It didn’t take me long after that to figure out it was time to do what I’d always known I needed to.
I found her. Skip-tracing is easy if you know the right programs…and the right people. She and her family had moved after her father took a job working with his brother-in-law in the RTP security offices about a year after she sold Kaj. Because of Daddy‘s new job, her position in the kingdom had elevated and it made me have to slow way the fuck down. It was frustrating, but I’d toss the beast a little appetizer now and again while I waited, to hold it over until dinner. It’s not like there’s a shortage, the fucking RTP Anti-Deeves are everywhere, and I don’t do shit half-assed. Nothing ever got tied to me, it always looked like it was pointing at somebody else.
But bottom line, Angelique was the entrée, and we were gonna have us a little fun before I finally let the beast finish its meal.
I tailed her for about a month, on and off, learning her routine. What a lazy-ass bitch. She never worked a day in her life that I saw, but she spent plenty of time shopping and “doing lunch” with her lazy-ass bitch friends. Sometimes I’d sit in the booth next to them and listen to all the shit they were blowing up each others’ asses, and more than once, I saw strangers still picking up her lunch tab for being the “brave little girl who turned in that monster Deeve”. Still playing the Madonna after five fucking years, then smack-talking the fuck out of whoever had been at the table the minute they walked away.
I made my move the day I heard her start talking shit about some young guy who worked at the shoe store she spent so much time and money in. I right away got this hinky feeling that she didn’t think riding the “Kaj train” was paying off as much anymore and she was looking for a new conquest. You know, another float in the “look at me!” Angelique-parade, and maybe another incentive hit. No, fuck that. The bitch wasn’t going to do that to anybody else again. Not ever a-fucking-gain.
When she got up to go to the john, she actually broke all the rules and went by herself because the rest of them were bullshitting on their phones. So I followed her. While she took her happy little piss, I pretended to be touching up my make-up, but what I was really doing was waiting to see if she recognized me. If she didn’t, it was time to kick it up to high gear.
She came out of the stall and just glanced at me, then started glopping on more of her lipstick. Gross bitch didn’t even wash her hands. And she didn’t recognize me, not even enough for a second glance. Unbelievable. Like I said, I know I didn’t look the same as I did when Kaj was around, but I’d been within 10 feet of her at least a dozen times in the last month. She was so goddamned oblivious to anything that didn’t directly effect her, I still think she did the gene pool a sequoia-sized favor by checking out. So I waited another couple seconds, then put on the “OMG!” voice and asked if she was the Angelique.
That got a smile out of her. I know my shit, and by then I had her pretty much fucking pegged. She hadn’t changed much, I knew every button to push, and within 10 minutes she was adding her number into my cell phone contact list herself.
For the next month, I pretended to suck up to her, feeding her every single fucking line she wanted to hear. She got addicted to me fast, like my constant praise and worship was fucking crack to her. I managed to turn her off that poor kid’s scent, and just kept scattering her attention whenever she started to try and fixate on another poor bastard, which really wasn‘t hard to do, either. As long as the conversation stayed focused on her, she was as easy to lead as one of the inmates at Kaj’s dorm.
God, she was exhausting to deal with. She wound up with me damn near every day for one reason or another, and for 30 days of pure fucking hell, I put up with her bullshit, her tantrums, her arrogance and even her occasional jabs at Kaj. I sat there, gritting my teeth until I was sure I’d only have little fucking stumps of them left while she told the most outrageous fucking lies about how she’d had to fight Kaj off the last couple times he’d been with her, and it was only because she was scared for the safety of her family that she’d finally sicced Intervention on him. My heart was pounding behind my eyes halfway through her shit, and if I still smoked, I would have probably had a stroke by the time she finished her evil fucking fairy tale.
Eventually, there came this night when we were at my house and we got to talking while we drank some shitty-tasting “only-the-best-for-Angelique” expensive wine she brought with her. The subject had turned again to the wonder that was her and I chose that moment to ask her the one question that might have saved her life if she’d answered it right. I asked her if she ever felt a little bad for what had happened to Kaj after she turned him in.
But she puffed right up and said, “Of course not! He deserved exactly what he got! God, he wasn’t just a Deeve, he was one of the worst kinds!”
I asked her what she meant and she proceeded to proudly list off the “disgusting things” Kaj liked, the things he and I would spend hours, sometimes even days, doing to each other. She was killing me. I listened until I couldn’t stand it anymore, the beast was screaming and clawing holes through my gut to get at her.
I put on my most sympathetic face and told her that had to have been the most harrowing experience of her life. She pasted on her own pathetic little woeful face and nodded, so I told her to come sit on the floor in front of me and I’d give her a massage. Of course she leaped at the fucking chance to be pampered so I started massaging her shoulders. She gave out this big, happy sigh…and she sure as hell wasn’t expecting the sudden sleeper hold I put her in once she was totally relaxed. What with the wine filling her head, she was out in less than a minute. Shit, she barely even struggled.
I already had what I needed and where I needed it, so I hauled her down the steps into the old coal bin room. It took me all of five minutes to get her secured to my table. I’d had this padded leather table, hospital grade, extra wide and complete with the full leather restraints, since back when Kaj and I played. I never could bear the idea of parting with it, so when I moved into the new house and saw the awesome little concrete room in my basement, I set it up there. It felt totally fucking right to use that table for Angelique. Total justice and win.
Once I got her belted in as tight as the straps would go, I sliced off her clothes, flipped on the digicorder and waited. Finally, she made some weird-ass snuffling noise and opened her eyes. I let her go through the panic when she figured out she couldn’t move, let her get through all her stupid, pointless screaming--I mean, shit, I hadn’t even touched her yet!--and waited for her to calm the fuck down so we could…talk.
Dinnertime.
When I finally came into her line of vision, would you believe the stupid little bitch thought I was there to fucking save her? The minute she saw me, she started telling me to hurry up and undo the straps before “they” came back.
I couldn’t help it. I lost my shit and started laughing. The dopey cow look she got on her face then made it worse, and I literally laughed until tears were pouring. I finally managed to ask her who the hell she thought “they” were. She said she had no idea, and asked me where we were. The cow look was back on her face when I told her we were in my basement, and it took everything I fucking had not to lose it again.
“Come on, Angie,” I remember I said to her. “Let’s play, huh?”
She went from looking like a cow to a flat-out ox at that and said, “What do you mean? Just let me up! And don’t call me Angie, you know I hate that!”
I ignored her and said, “I’m gonna show you something, Angie. I’m gonna show you exactly what it is that you decided was worth stealing the rest of Kaj’s life for.” I smiled at her but I don’t think it was a particularly nice one because of the way the fear started in her eyes. “But I’m not gonna make it fun, like he always did. Oh, hell, no. I’m going to make it as fucking unpleasant as I can.”
“Stop calling me that! What are you talking about? How would you know what he did?”
I leaned in until my face was about 6 inches from hers and said real softly, “Because we learned about all of it together, Ang. Kaj taught me a lot. I’ll show you.”
I know she would have turned her head away if she could have, but there was even a thick strap across her forehead that kept her from moving. So she just wrinkled up her brows and said, “You? Kaj and you? How would you even know him? You mean you’re a Deeve, too?”
That stopped me dead in my fucking tracks. Nobody had ever called me a Deeve in my life except Kaj…and when he did it, it was usually right in the middle of another orgasm he was forcing out of me. It always made it hotter for some reason when he called me that, kind of like being called a “little slut” can do to you sometimes, you know? He knew that, knew me, and he’d use it to crank up the intensity when he was seeing how many sweet spots he could hit on me all at the same time while I was screaming through a monster climax. But nobody, nobody had ever said that to me since. I just stared at her for a few seconds, already trying to decide where to start. The beast was gonna have to wait just a little while longer before I gave my hands to it to use. She needed a couple lessons in my world first. We’d see who was a Deeve.
All of a sudden her eyes got fucking huge and she said, “Oh, my God. It’s you.“
I started hearing this weird roaring in my ears but she was suddenly really pissed off. For the last time in her life, little Angelique was totally fucking furious to realize who I was, that she ‘d been too fucking stupid and self-absorbed to recognize me, but top of the list was that Kaj and I had gone places she’d never known about while he was with her.
She started calling me every name she could think of while she went crazy pulling at the restraints. Never will understand why people do that. There you are, totally helpless and at the fucking mercy of somebody, so now’s the time to start running your mouth. Is this a fucking logical move to you? It wasn’t too smart on her end, either. But dumbshit is as dumbshit does.
I let her go until I could see she was running out of gas, then I reached out and gave her a good, solid backhand. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll cut your tongue out of your head now instead of later,” I warned her. “I’ve got work to do and distractions piss me off, so if you don’t want to go out choking on your own blood, shut your filthy ass mouth.”
I moved down to the other end of the table, then ran my fingernail up the sole of her foot, from heel to toe. She sucked in her breath, tried to jerk it away, but no go, the straps had her damned near completely immobile. I did it again, to the other foot, and she hissed, trying even harder to pull it away from me. I know she wanted to tell me to stop, but I guess she had a single dim moment of intelligence and knew I’d make good on my threat if she said a word.
She was completely restrained and I took full advantage of that. I moved around the table pretty systematically, testing every spot on her body. She was pretty fucking ticklish, especially around her navel, her knees, her ribs just under her arms, and of course, her feet. I spent the better part of an hour driving her right to the brink of total fucking hysteria by zeroing in on any part of her body that produced the most response. She screamed, she laughed, she begged, but I was as methodic as a robot. She was there to suffer, and I was going to see to it she fucking did.
Her feet were total ground zero, though. I could drive her through the roof within seconds playing there, so I kept going back to them, no matter how much she howled at me. I even considered tormenting her by sucking on her toes, but only for barely a second. Just the thought of it made me fucking sick. That was worship, the last thing this greasy slut deserved. That was special. That was Kaj. That was love.
And I hated this bitch with every fucking cell of my body.
By now, she was raw nerves, so I dragged my nails along the soles of both her feet, heel to toes, then the other way, slow, like I was painting a fence. It was different this time and she caught onto that quick. She grunted once, but when I started a soft, steady spider-tickling, that’s when she started to laugh some. I played her feet kind of like Kaj used to do to mine, searching out all the little places that make your toes crunch down then splay out again, begging for fingerstrokes under your toes--not manic attacks but slow, steady tickling that would eventually turn both feet into little powerhouses of sex. You keep dragging a single nail around, looking for giggles but making sure you’re hearing little sighs and moans in there, too. Every so often, you blitzkrieg around just to shake things up and get some screaming going, but you always fall back on the slow, steady stroking. After awhile it almost feels like your whole body is going to cum if the tickling keeps up.
I stopped for a minute and looked up at the other end of the table, watched the way her tits were heaving while she panted.. “What’s wrong, Angie?” I asked her, “Is this making you feel something special?” I moved up the side of the table, tickled the hot spots above her knees, then tickled and tweaked the inside of her thighs. Her hips were trying to rock up and down, and I could see she was all steamed up. “Does it make you feel dirty?” I poked a finger at her crotch, digging in a little. “You’re wet as shit, you fucking little *****, what would your uncle think? What would your Daddy think?” I pinched at her clit, which was trying to stand more and more at attention, and she shuddered, really straining to push herself at my hand. “Is tickling your feet on the List, Angie? Is tickling on it at all? I don’t think it is. You know what I think?” I flicked at her nipple, then tweaked it, rolling it until she moaned again. “I think you’re a Deeve yourself, and you’re a fucking greedy one on top of it. I think that’s why you hate Deeves so much, because you are one.”
“Maybe we should show your daddy and your uncle how much you really like all this. Maybe we should show the whole fucking world that this is getting you off. I would never have done this without digicording it. Hey, we could show it alongside Kaj’s vid! Double-fucking-feature! Whaddaya think, you two-faced fucking bitch?”
At that last mention of Kaj’s name, the beast broke free. I probably would have kept on playing with her, just to humiliate the shit out of her, but it was too strong. Too hungry. And I’d made it wait way too long.
“Oh, yeah, that’ll fuck with your senses, huh? Agony? Ecstasy? Which one is gonna win?” I paused for a second, then laughed what I guess was pretty much a scary laugh, judging by the look she got on her face. “Well, you know, I’m betting on agony, but let’s hear from your fucking county.”
I picked up a brush from the shelf and said, “You know something, you piece of shit? Those feet aren’t fit to walk on the same fucking ground Kaj did. There’s only one way to fix it.” I began to scrub at the bottoms of her feet. She started squealing like the little pig she was, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop, not when she started to gag from needing to take a breath, not when she pissed herself, not even when the steel bristles of the brush ripped through her skin and started tearing it off in ragged strips. I kept going, back and forth, one foot then the other, until her screaming was nothing was hoarse croaky sounds while the blood dripped down onto the table.
When I finally did put the brush aside, I did experiment with just a couple more things--a little bit of wax play, some good tight clothespins of her nipples and her clit, I even used a nice brine water rinse to get all the blood off her feet. Or what was left of them.
I finally went back down to the end of the table and said, “Admit it, you lying bitch. Tell me you’re a Deeve.”
She refused as best she could, her voice being almost totally fucking gone. I shook my head and picked up my bolt cutters. “Say it, *****. Look at that digicorder and say you’re a fucking Deeve!” I gave her one last chance, but she decided to be stubborn. I guess she didn’t believe I’d do it.
I sighed. “Pride goeth before the fall, Angie,” I reminded her. The bolt cutter snapped through the bone and gristle of her big toe and it fell to the table. Her throat literally bulged with how hard she tried to scream, but I think maybe her vocal cords may have already been wasted by then. But when you look at the vid, you can read her lips. She admitted it, over and over again.
The blood was gushing from the stump on her foot and I slapped at it. “Ah, damn it, you’re making a total fucking mess here. But you’ve always been good at that, haven’t you? I should’ve fucking expected it.” I grabbed a little blowtorch and cauterized it a bit to make sure she didn’t bleed out on me. Then I picked up the toe and held it up so she could see it. Her eyes showed she was right on the edge of totally blacking out or totally snapping, so I knew I had to move fast.
I held it over her face and said, “Okay, Ang, here’s a new game. I just made it up, so it’s going to be brand-new for both of us.” I lowered it closer to her. “You’re going to hold this between your teeth and not let it drop, no matter what I do. If you can do that, maybe you’ll be able to walk again someday. But if you can’t--” I grinned at her-- “then I’ll take the rest of your toes. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
She let out this whispery, mewling sound and I could see she was trying to say something to me. I lowered my head closer so I could make it out.
“No more,” she breathed. “I’ll give you anything. Anything. I swear it.”
At those words, I jumped up onto the table and straddled her on my hands and knees. “Anything? Anything at all?”
She strained to nod against the head strap and I grinned down at her. “Fine.” I lowered my face over hers until our noses almost bumped together and screamed in her face, “I want Kaj back, you fucking bitch!” Then I reared back, slammed that toe into her mouth and forced her to bite down on it, climbed off the table and went to see if there were any more toys Angelique would like to play with with me. But she was dead by the time I got back.
So, it’s time for the grand finale, the answer you’ve been waiting for all this time. You want to know how the bitch died?
She choked to death. She inhaled her fucking toe and choked on it.
So you see? I told you it was her own damned fault. I wasn’t even in the room at the time. If she’d done what I told her and held the damn thing right, she might still be alive. I can’t say she’d still be lunching with her friends or spending Kaj’s blood money on fucking shoes and sports cars, but at least she’d wouldn’t be dead.
So there you go. That’s what I did to her, and pretty much what I‘ll do to anyone who‘s stupid enough to think that the RTP has saved us all from Deeves like me and my best friend. And as long as they keep doing what they‘re doing…so will I.
So anyway.
It's time to move again. I love my house, but I’m only renting it, and I need more room. More freedom.
And the old man died last week. No, I didn't kill him, you shitheads. After all this, do you really think I'm that fucking stupid? He was a nice old guy, he was just...old, and I guess it finally caught up with him. I was actually sorry, which caught me offguard. I haven't let myself feel anything for anybody in years. I guess...I guess you could say he was a friend of mine. But he really did serve his purpose well, even better than I anticipated; he included me in his will, left me a decent chunk of money I never knew he had. And his dogs.
So once that cash is safe in the account, it won't look suspicious at all for me to relocate. It's been long enough and it makes sense for me to want to have more room for my new pets, right? I heard about an old farmhouse that's been up for sale for awhile. It's on 15 acres, give or take, with a couple of barns--and it even has one of those old underground storm cellars. They're having a hard time selling it because it's right next to an abandoned limestone quarry that's about half full of water, and most everybody gets the heebies about that. Too dangerous, too creepy, haunted, or whatever.
I think it sounds perfect, me. The last fucking thing that bothers me now is dangerous or creepy, and I could teach any fucking ghost out there what the real meaning of "haunted" is. The place has been on the market long enough, I should be able to get a hell of a deal on it. The dogs will have plenty of space to run and play, which they deserve after being cooped up in that little crackerbox house for so long. And I'll have enough money left over to turn that storm cellar into the perfect playroom, probably. Not likely to have many trespassers with a haunted quarry for a next door neighbor--except for maybe the Deeve teenagers looking for a place to practice in secret, like Kaj and I did. I'll have to see if I can make it more easily accessible for them without looking too obvious. I know how it is to need a place to go.
Maybe I'll even start hosting some RTP functions out there every so often. That could fill a dual purpose: keep up a good, purist front and keep the buffet open for meat to feed the beast when I have to. That quarry is deep, so there’s another solution to a problem I keep having.
Kaj would think that was hilarious.
Almost as hilarious as the name I use now, in secret. The one I usually leave somewhere on the flesh of the ones who have to keep paying for what they did to him, and what they just keep doing to others like us; it's usually carved, but preferably burned. In Estonian, it means "echo". In Greek, it means "pure".
I'll never forget you, Kaj. I won't let them, either. I love you, you sweet fucking Deeve.
And just for the official record...
I'm not crazy. I'm just alone. What's left to lose?
Yours, in service,
Kaja
Again, this was the hardest thing I've ever written in my life. Every fear, every fury, every hurt, every ounce of love, every everything came out in this. Those who know me will recognize that the hardcore portions go against all that is me...but when the beast wants a voice, sometimes you just have to give in.
So here it is, Dave. Flaws, warts and all. Thanks for the kickstart.
And Redscript--thank you again for the perfect illustration. Love you, you sweet Deeve. 😉
Mistress Aura
_________________________
End Of Times, Pt 2
(WARNING: Following section contains items that may not be suitable for sensitive readers)
After 6 months went past, I finally figured I could stand down just a little. Like I said, there was nothing big that came my way. I knew what to look out for; they only had me under minor watch for about a month after they took Kaj, and I didn’t give them shit. After all, as far as anybody knew, Kaj and me weren’t all that close anymore, so after 30 days, I guess they figured I had managed to “escape from his clutches before any of his poison effected” me. Model citizen, me. Go to work, come home, smile pretty, mow the yard, give to the RTP bitches that come to the door practically every other fucking day begging for money for one RTP outreach or another, take cookies to the old man across the street when his fucking kids forget him on his birthday for the third year in a row. For all the conspiracy theories Kaj rambled on about, a lot of it really did sink in and I did it all right. He would be proud of me…if he could have even remembered who I was.
I did go to see him, just once, a few years after everything. I wish to fuck I hadn’t, but for me to do what I do, it was necessary. I seriously don’t like talking about it, but if you want to know what happened to Angelique, you really gotta know the “why” behind the “what“. And I know you want to know what happened to her, or you wouldn’t be here. I don’t know how well it will set with you when all is said and done, but it’s way too fucking late to give a shit about that, or anything else. I don’t regret a damned thing I’ve done. And make no mistake--I’ll keep going, because it’s the only thing that makes me feel close to alive anymore.
It’s the only thing that feeds the beast.
I was a little bit sorry when she died. Oh, not because she died, fuck no. She just died too soon. I wasn’t done, but she went and fucked that up on me, too, the stupid mangy bitch. At least she got to die with her eyes still in, though. I usually don’t do that. I’m not stupid. I make sure there’s no way what’s leftover when I finally walk away can identify me, so I‘ll bet if you think hard, you can figure out by yourself the grisly little souvenirs I take with me when I‘m done. Okay, okay, I’m just kidding. They’re not really souvenirs, I’m just covering my tracks. I don’t really keep them. Guys do that, girls don’t.
I’d feed them to the old man’s dogs when I would walk them for him some nights, when it was rainy and his arthritis was really chewing on his knees. Little Sasha’s pretty partial to tongues, bless her furry heart. All that protein does wonders for their coats, too.
And I usually don’t kill the fuckers, either, so don‘t start thinking I‘m some serial. Angelique was the only one I really seriously considered killing, but in a way, she pretty much killed herself, so it wasn’t technically my fault. Only a couple others have died and for the most part, it was always their own goddamned fault. If I tell you not to move, then don’t fucking move. If I tell you to do something, then do it. 1 + 1. If you can come up with 2, you get to live. Or didn’t they teach you that in school, one of those earlier years before you got to watch the vid of my best friend’s brain being turned into a fucking scrambled egg inside his beautiful skull?
Besides, having one actually die on me just makes the whole thing harder. Then I’ve gotta find a place to dump what‘s left, clean up the whole fucking house, blahblahblah…I fucking hate CSI. Everybody’s a goddamned amateur forensic specialist these days. What could have been done in a couple hours winds up taking closer to six sometimes. Just too fucking complicated.
And there’s no real finesse in causing death. If that’s all I wanted to do, I could just go the Borgia route and be done with it. That’s not good enough. Kaj is the walking dead, but he doesn’t realize it. I want them to pay every day of the rest of their miserable lives for what they did to him, but I want them aware.
After a year, everything had gone back to safe for me. I got a better job, made more money, moved to a better house in a different part of the city. The old man was pretty sad that I was leaving, so to keep up appearances and to make sure I still had my little fuzzy mop-up kits available, I kept stopping by once in awhile. Usually when it was supposed to rain. And I make some kick-ass chocolate chips, too, so I always took him at least a couple dozen. Kaj used to love them.
Kaj. Fuck you, Kaj. I fucking hate you. I hate you for leaving me, I hate you for what I’ve turned into. You’re the one who wakes the beast, damn you. Every memory you left behind--every song you liked, every drawing on my bedroom wall that you explained to me line by line, every time I look down at my own feet and remember what it felt like to have you take me past every limit I have--all that shit starts poking at it with sharp sticks until it wakes up. Every door and window in my own soul that got slammed and chained shut when they put you in that transport in front of the whole fucking world…I died right along with you.
I love you so fucking much.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Well, by now, you probably figured out that Angelique wasn’t the first one. She was the first one who died on me, yeah, but she wasn’t the first one I chose to start hacking away at the debt the RTP owed Kaj. Excuse that pun, it was really unintentional. Believe me, I’m not big on humor anymore.
I never went after anyone high up, that’s stupid. The only smart way into a tyrant’s fortress is to start tearing apart the foundation. Weaken the foundation, it’ll hit the fucking ground. You don’t want to aim your weapons at the king, they‘re used to that shit, that‘s what they‘re trained for. Aim at the princes and princesses and make it look like maybe the courtiers are responsible. Take out some of the guards and leave confusing evidence. Wobble their faith. Get them talking; first to, then about, each other. That much of what’s left in that Book is solid no-bullshit: A house divided among itself cannot stand. Your checkmate move? If you can get the king to start suspecting the queen and vice versa. If you can inject the poison right into the heart of the kingdom, you‘ve fucking won.
Whatever, that’s way out there for now and I’m running out of time, so I’ll cut to the chase. You want to hear about Angelique. Hope you’re ready for this. Most people can’t deal.
First, Kaj.
I did go to the institutional dorm where Kaj was living the day before they were finally remanding him back into his parents’ custody. I’d heard about his release from some underground news source, and the beast rolled over inside. Once I got it into my head that I needed to see him, nothing would make the thought stop, so I rented a car and drove there.
In the time he’d been in there, I’d changed a lot. Lost a lot of weight, changed my hair color, even wore colored contacts. Half the time, my own mother didn’t recognize me anymore. But, I pretended to be there to check out the facility for an imaginary relative who was going over the edge, and managed to get there just before lunchtime. And as luck would have it, I got a gossipy little bitch who was not only new to her RTP state-assigned position, but apparently already bored as fuck with her job and wanting to show off her vast knowledge of the “dorm dirt“. It didn’t take much to make her think she and I would just be B-fucking-FFEs. I’d say she was another RTP brainwash casualty, but I don’t think she had a fucking brain to wash in there in the first place.
We went outside to their ever-so-classy “al fresco” area just as most of the people were sitting down to eat. Jesus, that was eerie. Not a sound out of them. None of them. They either stared at the food in front of them and ate real quiet, or let their assigned attendants feed them, depending on the level of conversion they’d been through.
I saw him sitting by himself at a picnic table. He was way too thin, his hair was shorter than I think it had ever been in his life, and he was just staring off in the distance at some place in the sky. He never moved, just sat there. Every so often, it seemed like maybe his lips were moving, but he never moved his eyes. I tell myself sometimes that he was probably singing to angels, finally teaching them the right fucking way to do it, but that’s just so the beast doesn’t get too hungry too early. I told you I don’t like talking about this.
Bimbette noticed where I was looking, so she whispers, “You know who that is?” I shook my head, playing stupid. “Oh, my god, that’s Kaj!” she said, all excited. “The Kaj, remember him? The Deeve that got busted for sleazing on Major Grayson’s niece?” She shook her empty fucking head and kind of laughed. “You’d think he would have figured out that wasn’t the best idea ahead of time. What an idiot, huh? Well…even more now than he was then, I guess.” She laughed a little harder at her own joke, but I seriously didn’t see the humor.
I pretty much tuned her out then when an attendant came over and I watched as she took Kaj by the hand. Those hands. God, those hands, it all crashed onto me all over again, all the things he used to do with those beautiful hands. It took every single ounce of strength I had to keep my shit together, to keep from falling apart right there. But he stood up right away when she touched him, just like he was some fucking trained circus animal. When he turned to follow her, that’s when I saw the healed-over burn scars across his forehead. The RTP’s “forever” calling card. Then I watched him walk away from me for the very last time, until they both disappeared into the building…and I’m totally serious when I tell you that that attendant is still walking and talking today only because she treated him as gentle as if he was a little kid.
The other one, little Miss Tour-fucking-Guide..? Well, you know. Shit does happen. Did I mention her eyes were blue? In fact, they were almost exactly the same color blue as Maxie‘s collar, not even half a shade difference. I held one right next to it and checked not quite a week later.
So then I had two mental vids of watching Kaj get led away that stayed on a fucking loop in my head. Sleazing on Grayson’s fucking niece. Yeah. Right. Fucking traitor bitch. It didn’t take me long after that to figure out it was time to do what I’d always known I needed to.
I found her. Skip-tracing is easy if you know the right programs…and the right people. She and her family had moved after her father took a job working with his brother-in-law in the RTP security offices about a year after she sold Kaj. Because of Daddy‘s new job, her position in the kingdom had elevated and it made me have to slow way the fuck down. It was frustrating, but I’d toss the beast a little appetizer now and again while I waited, to hold it over until dinner. It’s not like there’s a shortage, the fucking RTP Anti-Deeves are everywhere, and I don’t do shit half-assed. Nothing ever got tied to me, it always looked like it was pointing at somebody else.
But bottom line, Angelique was the entrée, and we were gonna have us a little fun before I finally let the beast finish its meal.
I tailed her for about a month, on and off, learning her routine. What a lazy-ass bitch. She never worked a day in her life that I saw, but she spent plenty of time shopping and “doing lunch” with her lazy-ass bitch friends. Sometimes I’d sit in the booth next to them and listen to all the shit they were blowing up each others’ asses, and more than once, I saw strangers still picking up her lunch tab for being the “brave little girl who turned in that monster Deeve”. Still playing the Madonna after five fucking years, then smack-talking the fuck out of whoever had been at the table the minute they walked away.
I made my move the day I heard her start talking shit about some young guy who worked at the shoe store she spent so much time and money in. I right away got this hinky feeling that she didn’t think riding the “Kaj train” was paying off as much anymore and she was looking for a new conquest. You know, another float in the “look at me!” Angelique-parade, and maybe another incentive hit. No, fuck that. The bitch wasn’t going to do that to anybody else again. Not ever a-fucking-gain.
When she got up to go to the john, she actually broke all the rules and went by herself because the rest of them were bullshitting on their phones. So I followed her. While she took her happy little piss, I pretended to be touching up my make-up, but what I was really doing was waiting to see if she recognized me. If she didn’t, it was time to kick it up to high gear.
She came out of the stall and just glanced at me, then started glopping on more of her lipstick. Gross bitch didn’t even wash her hands. And she didn’t recognize me, not even enough for a second glance. Unbelievable. Like I said, I know I didn’t look the same as I did when Kaj was around, but I’d been within 10 feet of her at least a dozen times in the last month. She was so goddamned oblivious to anything that didn’t directly effect her, I still think she did the gene pool a sequoia-sized favor by checking out. So I waited another couple seconds, then put on the “OMG!” voice and asked if she was the Angelique.
That got a smile out of her. I know my shit, and by then I had her pretty much fucking pegged. She hadn’t changed much, I knew every button to push, and within 10 minutes she was adding her number into my cell phone contact list herself.
For the next month, I pretended to suck up to her, feeding her every single fucking line she wanted to hear. She got addicted to me fast, like my constant praise and worship was fucking crack to her. I managed to turn her off that poor kid’s scent, and just kept scattering her attention whenever she started to try and fixate on another poor bastard, which really wasn‘t hard to do, either. As long as the conversation stayed focused on her, she was as easy to lead as one of the inmates at Kaj’s dorm.
God, she was exhausting to deal with. She wound up with me damn near every day for one reason or another, and for 30 days of pure fucking hell, I put up with her bullshit, her tantrums, her arrogance and even her occasional jabs at Kaj. I sat there, gritting my teeth until I was sure I’d only have little fucking stumps of them left while she told the most outrageous fucking lies about how she’d had to fight Kaj off the last couple times he’d been with her, and it was only because she was scared for the safety of her family that she’d finally sicced Intervention on him. My heart was pounding behind my eyes halfway through her shit, and if I still smoked, I would have probably had a stroke by the time she finished her evil fucking fairy tale.
Eventually, there came this night when we were at my house and we got to talking while we drank some shitty-tasting “only-the-best-for-Angelique” expensive wine she brought with her. The subject had turned again to the wonder that was her and I chose that moment to ask her the one question that might have saved her life if she’d answered it right. I asked her if she ever felt a little bad for what had happened to Kaj after she turned him in.
But she puffed right up and said, “Of course not! He deserved exactly what he got! God, he wasn’t just a Deeve, he was one of the worst kinds!”
I asked her what she meant and she proceeded to proudly list off the “disgusting things” Kaj liked, the things he and I would spend hours, sometimes even days, doing to each other. She was killing me. I listened until I couldn’t stand it anymore, the beast was screaming and clawing holes through my gut to get at her.
I put on my most sympathetic face and told her that had to have been the most harrowing experience of her life. She pasted on her own pathetic little woeful face and nodded, so I told her to come sit on the floor in front of me and I’d give her a massage. Of course she leaped at the fucking chance to be pampered so I started massaging her shoulders. She gave out this big, happy sigh…and she sure as hell wasn’t expecting the sudden sleeper hold I put her in once she was totally relaxed. What with the wine filling her head, she was out in less than a minute. Shit, she barely even struggled.
I already had what I needed and where I needed it, so I hauled her down the steps into the old coal bin room. It took me all of five minutes to get her secured to my table. I’d had this padded leather table, hospital grade, extra wide and complete with the full leather restraints, since back when Kaj and I played. I never could bear the idea of parting with it, so when I moved into the new house and saw the awesome little concrete room in my basement, I set it up there. It felt totally fucking right to use that table for Angelique. Total justice and win.
Once I got her belted in as tight as the straps would go, I sliced off her clothes, flipped on the digicorder and waited. Finally, she made some weird-ass snuffling noise and opened her eyes. I let her go through the panic when she figured out she couldn’t move, let her get through all her stupid, pointless screaming--I mean, shit, I hadn’t even touched her yet!--and waited for her to calm the fuck down so we could…talk.
Dinnertime.
When I finally came into her line of vision, would you believe the stupid little bitch thought I was there to fucking save her? The minute she saw me, she started telling me to hurry up and undo the straps before “they” came back.
I couldn’t help it. I lost my shit and started laughing. The dopey cow look she got on her face then made it worse, and I literally laughed until tears were pouring. I finally managed to ask her who the hell she thought “they” were. She said she had no idea, and asked me where we were. The cow look was back on her face when I told her we were in my basement, and it took everything I fucking had not to lose it again.
“Come on, Angie,” I remember I said to her. “Let’s play, huh?”
She went from looking like a cow to a flat-out ox at that and said, “What do you mean? Just let me up! And don’t call me Angie, you know I hate that!”
I ignored her and said, “I’m gonna show you something, Angie. I’m gonna show you exactly what it is that you decided was worth stealing the rest of Kaj’s life for.” I smiled at her but I don’t think it was a particularly nice one because of the way the fear started in her eyes. “But I’m not gonna make it fun, like he always did. Oh, hell, no. I’m going to make it as fucking unpleasant as I can.”
“Stop calling me that! What are you talking about? How would you know what he did?”
I leaned in until my face was about 6 inches from hers and said real softly, “Because we learned about all of it together, Ang. Kaj taught me a lot. I’ll show you.”
I know she would have turned her head away if she could have, but there was even a thick strap across her forehead that kept her from moving. So she just wrinkled up her brows and said, “You? Kaj and you? How would you even know him? You mean you’re a Deeve, too?”
That stopped me dead in my fucking tracks. Nobody had ever called me a Deeve in my life except Kaj…and when he did it, it was usually right in the middle of another orgasm he was forcing out of me. It always made it hotter for some reason when he called me that, kind of like being called a “little slut” can do to you sometimes, you know? He knew that, knew me, and he’d use it to crank up the intensity when he was seeing how many sweet spots he could hit on me all at the same time while I was screaming through a monster climax. But nobody, nobody had ever said that to me since. I just stared at her for a few seconds, already trying to decide where to start. The beast was gonna have to wait just a little while longer before I gave my hands to it to use. She needed a couple lessons in my world first. We’d see who was a Deeve.
All of a sudden her eyes got fucking huge and she said, “Oh, my God. It’s you.“
I started hearing this weird roaring in my ears but she was suddenly really pissed off. For the last time in her life, little Angelique was totally fucking furious to realize who I was, that she ‘d been too fucking stupid and self-absorbed to recognize me, but top of the list was that Kaj and I had gone places she’d never known about while he was with her.
She started calling me every name she could think of while she went crazy pulling at the restraints. Never will understand why people do that. There you are, totally helpless and at the fucking mercy of somebody, so now’s the time to start running your mouth. Is this a fucking logical move to you? It wasn’t too smart on her end, either. But dumbshit is as dumbshit does.
I let her go until I could see she was running out of gas, then I reached out and gave her a good, solid backhand. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll cut your tongue out of your head now instead of later,” I warned her. “I’ve got work to do and distractions piss me off, so if you don’t want to go out choking on your own blood, shut your filthy ass mouth.”
I moved down to the other end of the table, then ran my fingernail up the sole of her foot, from heel to toe. She sucked in her breath, tried to jerk it away, but no go, the straps had her damned near completely immobile. I did it again, to the other foot, and she hissed, trying even harder to pull it away from me. I know she wanted to tell me to stop, but I guess she had a single dim moment of intelligence and knew I’d make good on my threat if she said a word.
She was completely restrained and I took full advantage of that. I moved around the table pretty systematically, testing every spot on her body. She was pretty fucking ticklish, especially around her navel, her knees, her ribs just under her arms, and of course, her feet. I spent the better part of an hour driving her right to the brink of total fucking hysteria by zeroing in on any part of her body that produced the most response. She screamed, she laughed, she begged, but I was as methodic as a robot. She was there to suffer, and I was going to see to it she fucking did.
Her feet were total ground zero, though. I could drive her through the roof within seconds playing there, so I kept going back to them, no matter how much she howled at me. I even considered tormenting her by sucking on her toes, but only for barely a second. Just the thought of it made me fucking sick. That was worship, the last thing this greasy slut deserved. That was special. That was Kaj. That was love.
And I hated this bitch with every fucking cell of my body.
By now, she was raw nerves, so I dragged my nails along the soles of both her feet, heel to toes, then the other way, slow, like I was painting a fence. It was different this time and she caught onto that quick. She grunted once, but when I started a soft, steady spider-tickling, that’s when she started to laugh some. I played her feet kind of like Kaj used to do to mine, searching out all the little places that make your toes crunch down then splay out again, begging for fingerstrokes under your toes--not manic attacks but slow, steady tickling that would eventually turn both feet into little powerhouses of sex. You keep dragging a single nail around, looking for giggles but making sure you’re hearing little sighs and moans in there, too. Every so often, you blitzkrieg around just to shake things up and get some screaming going, but you always fall back on the slow, steady stroking. After awhile it almost feels like your whole body is going to cum if the tickling keeps up.
I stopped for a minute and looked up at the other end of the table, watched the way her tits were heaving while she panted.. “What’s wrong, Angie?” I asked her, “Is this making you feel something special?” I moved up the side of the table, tickled the hot spots above her knees, then tickled and tweaked the inside of her thighs. Her hips were trying to rock up and down, and I could see she was all steamed up. “Does it make you feel dirty?” I poked a finger at her crotch, digging in a little. “You’re wet as shit, you fucking little *****, what would your uncle think? What would your Daddy think?” I pinched at her clit, which was trying to stand more and more at attention, and she shuddered, really straining to push herself at my hand. “Is tickling your feet on the List, Angie? Is tickling on it at all? I don’t think it is. You know what I think?” I flicked at her nipple, then tweaked it, rolling it until she moaned again. “I think you’re a Deeve yourself, and you’re a fucking greedy one on top of it. I think that’s why you hate Deeves so much, because you are one.”
“Maybe we should show your daddy and your uncle how much you really like all this. Maybe we should show the whole fucking world that this is getting you off. I would never have done this without digicording it. Hey, we could show it alongside Kaj’s vid! Double-fucking-feature! Whaddaya think, you two-faced fucking bitch?”
At that last mention of Kaj’s name, the beast broke free. I probably would have kept on playing with her, just to humiliate the shit out of her, but it was too strong. Too hungry. And I’d made it wait way too long.
“Oh, yeah, that’ll fuck with your senses, huh? Agony? Ecstasy? Which one is gonna win?” I paused for a second, then laughed what I guess was pretty much a scary laugh, judging by the look she got on her face. “Well, you know, I’m betting on agony, but let’s hear from your fucking county.”
I picked up a brush from the shelf and said, “You know something, you piece of shit? Those feet aren’t fit to walk on the same fucking ground Kaj did. There’s only one way to fix it.” I began to scrub at the bottoms of her feet. She started squealing like the little pig she was, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop, not when she started to gag from needing to take a breath, not when she pissed herself, not even when the steel bristles of the brush ripped through her skin and started tearing it off in ragged strips. I kept going, back and forth, one foot then the other, until her screaming was nothing was hoarse croaky sounds while the blood dripped down onto the table.
When I finally did put the brush aside, I did experiment with just a couple more things--a little bit of wax play, some good tight clothespins of her nipples and her clit, I even used a nice brine water rinse to get all the blood off her feet. Or what was left of them.
I finally went back down to the end of the table and said, “Admit it, you lying bitch. Tell me you’re a Deeve.”
She refused as best she could, her voice being almost totally fucking gone. I shook my head and picked up my bolt cutters. “Say it, *****. Look at that digicorder and say you’re a fucking Deeve!” I gave her one last chance, but she decided to be stubborn. I guess she didn’t believe I’d do it.
I sighed. “Pride goeth before the fall, Angie,” I reminded her. The bolt cutter snapped through the bone and gristle of her big toe and it fell to the table. Her throat literally bulged with how hard she tried to scream, but I think maybe her vocal cords may have already been wasted by then. But when you look at the vid, you can read her lips. She admitted it, over and over again.
The blood was gushing from the stump on her foot and I slapped at it. “Ah, damn it, you’re making a total fucking mess here. But you’ve always been good at that, haven’t you? I should’ve fucking expected it.” I grabbed a little blowtorch and cauterized it a bit to make sure she didn’t bleed out on me. Then I picked up the toe and held it up so she could see it. Her eyes showed she was right on the edge of totally blacking out or totally snapping, so I knew I had to move fast.
I held it over her face and said, “Okay, Ang, here’s a new game. I just made it up, so it’s going to be brand-new for both of us.” I lowered it closer to her. “You’re going to hold this between your teeth and not let it drop, no matter what I do. If you can do that, maybe you’ll be able to walk again someday. But if you can’t--” I grinned at her-- “then I’ll take the rest of your toes. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
She let out this whispery, mewling sound and I could see she was trying to say something to me. I lowered my head closer so I could make it out.
“No more,” she breathed. “I’ll give you anything. Anything. I swear it.”
At those words, I jumped up onto the table and straddled her on my hands and knees. “Anything? Anything at all?”
She strained to nod against the head strap and I grinned down at her. “Fine.” I lowered my face over hers until our noses almost bumped together and screamed in her face, “I want Kaj back, you fucking bitch!” Then I reared back, slammed that toe into her mouth and forced her to bite down on it, climbed off the table and went to see if there were any more toys Angelique would like to play with with me. But she was dead by the time I got back.
So, it’s time for the grand finale, the answer you’ve been waiting for all this time. You want to know how the bitch died?
She choked to death. She inhaled her fucking toe and choked on it.
So you see? I told you it was her own damned fault. I wasn’t even in the room at the time. If she’d done what I told her and held the damn thing right, she might still be alive. I can’t say she’d still be lunching with her friends or spending Kaj’s blood money on fucking shoes and sports cars, but at least she’d wouldn’t be dead.
So there you go. That’s what I did to her, and pretty much what I‘ll do to anyone who‘s stupid enough to think that the RTP has saved us all from Deeves like me and my best friend. And as long as they keep doing what they‘re doing…so will I.
So anyway.
It's time to move again. I love my house, but I’m only renting it, and I need more room. More freedom.
And the old man died last week. No, I didn't kill him, you shitheads. After all this, do you really think I'm that fucking stupid? He was a nice old guy, he was just...old, and I guess it finally caught up with him. I was actually sorry, which caught me offguard. I haven't let myself feel anything for anybody in years. I guess...I guess you could say he was a friend of mine. But he really did serve his purpose well, even better than I anticipated; he included me in his will, left me a decent chunk of money I never knew he had. And his dogs.
So once that cash is safe in the account, it won't look suspicious at all for me to relocate. It's been long enough and it makes sense for me to want to have more room for my new pets, right? I heard about an old farmhouse that's been up for sale for awhile. It's on 15 acres, give or take, with a couple of barns--and it even has one of those old underground storm cellars. They're having a hard time selling it because it's right next to an abandoned limestone quarry that's about half full of water, and most everybody gets the heebies about that. Too dangerous, too creepy, haunted, or whatever.
I think it sounds perfect, me. The last fucking thing that bothers me now is dangerous or creepy, and I could teach any fucking ghost out there what the real meaning of "haunted" is. The place has been on the market long enough, I should be able to get a hell of a deal on it. The dogs will have plenty of space to run and play, which they deserve after being cooped up in that little crackerbox house for so long. And I'll have enough money left over to turn that storm cellar into the perfect playroom, probably. Not likely to have many trespassers with a haunted quarry for a next door neighbor--except for maybe the Deeve teenagers looking for a place to practice in secret, like Kaj and I did. I'll have to see if I can make it more easily accessible for them without looking too obvious. I know how it is to need a place to go.
Maybe I'll even start hosting some RTP functions out there every so often. That could fill a dual purpose: keep up a good, purist front and keep the buffet open for meat to feed the beast when I have to. That quarry is deep, so there’s another solution to a problem I keep having.
Kaj would think that was hilarious.
Almost as hilarious as the name I use now, in secret. The one I usually leave somewhere on the flesh of the ones who have to keep paying for what they did to him, and what they just keep doing to others like us; it's usually carved, but preferably burned. In Estonian, it means "echo". In Greek, it means "pure".
I'll never forget you, Kaj. I won't let them, either. I love you, you sweet fucking Deeve.
And just for the official record...
I'm not crazy. I'm just alone. What's left to lose?
Yours, in service,
Kaja
Last edited:
