>>| this .is .a fiction. .it’s bad. very bad. don’t read .if you don’t like the tags. .i wrote .it, so .i can put the rest for my thinkpan .and go to cocoon. #fiction #nsfw #nsfwe #bdsm #cw-bdsm #aftercare #gore #violence you sit .at the back .of the scuttlebuggy. .a smell .of leather, .a hint .of tobacco. you look .over .and see .a figure sitting .in the driver’s seat. nevertheless, before you could peak .in front .and .ask something, he grabs the rear-view mirror with his hand, wearing white gloves. the light .in the cabin was just .enough to figure .out not .only silhouettes, but .also the colors. .as they tilted the mirror, .instead .of showing .a random part .of the .interior, .it was now showing his .eyes. they were serious. dead serious. "where?" a voice spoke, .asking the destination. .it was so loud, that you were .about to jump .on your seat. .instead .of verbally providing .it, you reached .out .into your pocket, .and you took .out .a small piece .of letter. .a little paper, .a bit crumbled, but fresh. .it had .a handwritten note .on .it. reaching .out between the seats, he looks to the side .and notices .it. white fingers snatched .it .out .of your clumsy hands, .almost dropping .it. looking .at .it, he scoffs .and places .it .into his .ashtray. "roger." the ride was .a long .one: speeding .up, turning left .and right. .all the time nobody was speaking, not .even you. .a line .of smoke was spreading .out from tall driver. looking .out the window, you could see .a lonely street. some were .empty .and some were not. "we’re here." that voice .again, startled you .at the start .of your ride. nodding you .open the door, pushing, .and leaving the scuttlebuggy. closing .it .and turning .around, you were .in front .of what looks to be .an .abandoned motel. you winced. maybe .it was because you were .embarrassed, .or maybe .it was the place .itself. but you made your choice. you .arrived .and you stood there. there was nothing left to do, besides moving .out. finally, finding the right room number, you make two knocks. .and then .a silence. .only crickets .and distant howls could be heard .in this place. .at .one point you thought that .it was .actually .abandoned. there were no people .around, not .a single living being. .and right .as you turned .and headed .out, leaving this place, the door creaked. .it began to .open wider .and there he was. you don’t know how you met him, he was .a chill guy. nothing .out .of the .ordinary. but something .about him was definitely wrong. yes, he had .ups .and downs .in his personality, but .overall he wasn’t shown .any kind .of violent moment .outside .in his life. besides talking .about dissections .on dead bodies .and hunting down .in the forest. .and there he was, casually .inviting you .inside. you stepped .in, closing the door behind. the lighting here was much better, better than .in .a taxi. looking .around, you haven’t noticed .anything .out .of the .ordinary. .an .old bed, .a wooden table with .utensils, two rusty chairs, dark curtains for .a single window, .a basic bathroom .and .one sports bag .in the corner… .alright, the last .one was .unusual, but .it was his belongings. .and speaking .about his stuff. he had prepared .a cup .of tea for you .and for himself. .and to make .it more polite, he pulled .out .a chair from the table, .allowing you to sit. both .of you finally managed to go .and have .a little teatime, talking .about stuff. hobbies, likings, movies, songs… you felt much safer. taking .another sip, you calmly put your cup down, resting your hands .on the table. he .asks you to close your .eyes, because he had .a surprise for you. you .oblige .and do so. you were now seeing the darkness, feeling bits .of warm tea .on your tongue. you began to .imagine what gift he wanted to show you. then you feel something poking .into the back .of your palm, your left hand. .and before you could .open your .eyes .and look .into .it, you heard .a big smack. eyes .open wide, .as .a big sharp pain, spread .across your left .arm. .a sudden scream .escaped your mouth, .an .agonizing .one. .it was so loud that .even neighbors could hear .it, .if there were .an .actual .one. then you locked your pupils right .on your wrist .and saw this gruesome picture. .a nail, piercing the skin, throughout your flesh .and .onto the table. your .arm has been pinned to .it. .a panic set .in your mind, .as you tried to pull .it .out, but .it was deep .inside, .unable to remove without damaging your hand .even further. .another scream, wailing .out some strength .out .of your body .as bloodpusher began to circulate your blood .even faster. you wanted to remove .it, wanted to let .it .out, .as .it burned like hell. you wanted to reach .out, grasp .on the tip .of the nail .and quickly remove .it. but your hand got slapped by .a hammer from .an .unknown direction. .another wince, closing your .eyes. with .another wave .of pain, your .eyes started to tear, watering your sight. .and before you could react, your right wrist got snatched, placed .on the table. you tried to remove .it, but the body felt .uncontrollable. hand rested, .eyes stared .at .it, .another nail .and .another smack. now both .of your .arms were pinned to .it. the rhythm .of your bloodpusher quickened, .as both .of your .arms started to bleed. whimpering .and whining like .a barkbeast, you winced .at him. but what he could say was .a big smile. .and then confusion. "what? you wanted .it… now you pay…" a panic set .in your mind. what? what do you mean .i wanted .it? when did .i .ask for this? where did .i say that? .and what payment was he talking .about? you watched him walking .around, while you cried for help, for pulling them .out, to stop this .agony. .and then he disappeared .out .of your view, leaving the corner .of your .eyes. you were scared now, .as part .of your pain passed .away. you sat there, hearing something metallic rustle from that corner where the bloody bag was put. "found .it." what? what do you mean you found .it? you wanted to see this, you needed to see this thing he was talking .about. but right you could see .it, he grabbed your chair .and pulled .it .out. you haven’t been prepared for that, .as wrists tug .on those nails, damaging more .and forcing more pain .out .of them. legs trembled .in .attempts to stand .up. "you don’t need this" he stood right behind you, holding something .in .one hand. with .a free hand, he tugged your shirt back, .almost wanting to choke you this way, but right before hearing metallic clicks. he started to slice through your shirt. before you could say .anything .in protest .about your clothes, he was .already finished. "don’t worry, you don’t need that." he puts back the scissors .and pulls .out something .else from the bag. "and now…" a sudden burning feeling spread .across your back. you screamed, just like before. .it was so painful, .as much .as .it was with the nails. "you like .it when you’re getting whipped? that’s .interesting." another swipe .and .another. he started to change the color .of your skin .into the color .of your blood. he kept going with the whips, .as more .of his back turned brighter. soon .enough, .it was so much that your back started to bleed. .and to stop this .all, you tried to scream, to beg, to cry, to tear for him. nevertheless, the .option .is that you were left with was just .a noise for him. he kept going with .it for more than just some pesky seconds… no… .it was minutes, which felt like days for you. .enduring this was quite .an .achievement .on .its .own. .and .on .a final bloody note, you lost your conscious. on the next day, you found yourself resting .on your stomach, .on that rusty bed. you quickly started to check yourself for .any damage, but they were .all .in bandages. did he treat you? for .a moment you felt you were gone, .as he was .about to torture you .until you were dead. but .instead he was sitting peacefully .on the .other side .of the room. "greetings…"
