Day 2, Spring, 510 AV "Help! Somebody, anybody! Please! Help me! Have mercy!" There she was, sitting on a soft, weathered sofa chair, holding an elegant glass cup in her hands with a satisfied smile on her crimson lips. Her pale, ashen face appeared to be drunk and overwhelmed by her own revelry, not from alcohol, but from her tireless administration of the horrific scene of torture which she was gleefully watching and listening to. The display of her bright, yet hollow gray eyes alternated from being sharp, half-closed slits, to wild and wide-open, depending on how agonized his grovels and pleas rung in her ears. The louder and more defeated it sounded, the more pleasurable it was for her. She hated defiance, although she somewhat welcomed challenges. It was like a fine theater presentation, or a wondrous musical for her, to put it simply. "Please! Let me go! I won't tell a soul! Please! Have mercy!" She burst into melodious laughter at his pathetic bleating, daintily wiping off some liquid recesses on her cheek. Truly, his redundant screaming and pleading neither fazed her, nor touched the strings of her black heart with pity. Rather, it made her feel alive, made her gloat and revel in ecstasy. For while he was suffering on an improvised bed, with his limbs and skin being slowly torn apart by iron strings, she was all smiles and laughter. "You are in my world now, my dear." she whispered ominously, the tone changing from shrill to monstrous as it went on. "Please do go ahead and beg to your heart's content. In the darkness, no one can hear you scream. No one, but me. Go on, pleasure me. Like you said you would." The dark, red liquid inside the clear vessel in her hand heaved up and down against the sides as she stirred it with dainty, circular motions. Every sip she had made was filled with a thick and warm taste, as perfect as the most expensive wine is to the most gregarious connosieur. When the unfortunate naked man turned his slashed, bloodied face towards her, his eyes wide open with shock and terror, she merely smiled sweetly at him as she took another drink of the cup of blood. His blood. "Why are you doing this?!" the man screamed, his arms vainly struggling against the strings holding him down. "I only wanted to get to know you! I only wanted to win your favor!" The lady ceased drinking for a moment, raising a devious, slender eyebrow at the man's declarations and inquiries before downing all the contents of the glass, a satisfied sound prancing out afterwards. She gracefully stood up and glided towards him, circling the rack like a collector in an art exhibition. She appeared to be studying the scene she had made with gusto, observing every nook and cranny of her handiwork. All the man could do in return was yank on his binds, with the tiny knots only getting tighter with every ounce of waning strength he threw at it. "My, my, my. How considerate of you." she said gently to him, as if he was trying to soothe the unfathomable pain wracking his broken body. Her fingers gingerly trailed his sliced and carved cheek. His body convulsed in disdain, disgust and pain as she did, his only open eye thrusting upwards towards the face of evil looming over him. "But don't you worry, you are earning my favor, and you most certainly are getting to know me better. I think you have now seen every bit of who I am. Don't you think so?" The man had come knocking on her doors the night before, carrying a pompous sword and dressed up in clothes fit for a noble of some sort. He had an arrogant look on his face, as if he was there to buy her instead of court her. The moment she opened her chambers to him, he was spouting all sorts of complaints about her vast, but truthfully dingy--and smelly, compliments of her festering corpse doll Drasche--apartment. He was pointing to her mirror, about how absurdly big it is, to her wallpaper about how poorly maintained it was, about her chairs being so uncomfortable. To top it off, he declared that he was there to 'pleasure' her, to take what those dozens of other men had failed to win. He wanted to take it, not even win it. And it spelled the worst kinds of thoughts imaginable within her. The rage she felt inside was nothing unusual, though. She does, however, have varying degrees of respect for those who show her some of it as well. When she does like someone who comes along, she usually kills them quicker. This man, however, had incurred her insatiable wrath by his pompous and high strung ways, and beyond her glamorous and polite demeanor, he was going to pay dearly for it. Once he had ingested the ground slice of Drasche's rotten flesh that she had mixed into the tea she served for him, he was hers for the taking. Within a few moments, he was out cold. The very next thing he knew, he was already bound to his fate. She smirked at her sarcasm, letting the thoughts sink into his drowning mind as she played with his matted and sweaty hair, twisting and pulling at it with varying levels of strength. "I need another glass. And oh! How could I have forgotten. This sensual taste would certainly go well with another more delectable and juicy appetizer.Now, hold still." Without further ado, two long and well-manicured fingers dove downwards, quickly plucking out something with a tiny popping sound. An unearthly scream erupted from the bound man as tremors of blood began to ooze from his now deprived right eye socket, with the orb now resting between her fingers. Long, winded veins still hung on to it from within the cavernous hole, something which she promptly remedied by taking out a pair of massive shears from her waist, effectively cutting off the last remaining bond he had with his eye. Shrugging dismissively at the vituperations and curses that he began to strafe her with, she casually tossed the eye into her glass, then scooped at the streaming liquid from the side of his face. "OH GOD!! OH MY GOD!! Help me!! Curse you you godless bitch!!" he roared in indignation and blinding pain. The strings had by now reached the marrow of his bones, completely severing the Achilles tendons for his ankles and the Anterior compartments for his arms, thus rendering him unable to move, as well as weakened further. The bleeding had by now become so profuse that Karona's mood gradually began to sour; she had but a few moments more with this man for sure. Sighing in a disconcerted manner, her hands once again hovered over his paling face, upon which he frightfully averted it as far and desperately as he could, digging it deeper into the steel rack of the bed. He whimpered and let out a muffled cry as her hand began to radiate with a malevolent sort of coldness, glowing with an energy which could only be described as hellish to look at, Stopping her hand a few inches away from her faces for a few seconds more--just to let him savor his terrible last moments on on earth--she then grasped the width of his face, with a finger unintentionally finding its way into his pulsating socket. She grinned in macabre delight as her middle finger squirmed inside the hole, as if she was cleaning it out,with the sorry man shouting and shouting until his throat was so hoarse that he could no longer utter a sound. She had finally encased him in the grand finale, within the entanglements of her ever-tumultuous mind. Within the darkness, he could see himself clearly, as if he was floating over his own form. His eyes--or his last remaining eye, for that matter--were wide open, as was his mouth, He remained bound, with his limbs finally limp and pale from blood loss. On his bare chest, he could make out some letters which he had neither felt nor noticed before, ones obviously carved with something sharp, possibly her fingernails. At first, he could not understand what the words were, but the closer he looked, the brighter the blood within seemed to burn, and for the very last time, he screamed. "Death is only the beginning." Karona's eyes continued to gaze down upon the final result of her torture, with his features and expressions all as twisted as horribly as she had wanted. "I have to be honest with you, you do know how to pleasure a woman." she whispered to the corpse as she downed her last fill of his blood, letting the eyeball slide down her throat in finality. Now that her session was over, she wondered silently if there was still anything else that she could find pleasure in. Walking back to her couch, she sank down into the soft plushes, in thought about what she would do next. Secret :
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