Torture Porn Read online

  I was lost in a dream, a beautiful dream in which I was by the lake on a lazy summer’s afternoon. I was allowing the sun to shine down upon me and stared up at it. Then I heard the howl of a wolf.

  I jumped up and saw the three wolves from the earlier dream. They approached me in a column. I quickly got to my feet and took a defensive stance.

  “Please, if we meant to hurt you I assure that you would already be dead; we are here for Isabella.”

  “What do you want with her?”

  “The Overseer misses her. He wants her back.”

  “Who’s the overseer?”

  “He rules the Gloom. Don’t worry mortal, just return the girl.”

  “Never.”

  “She isn’t human, she isn’t in love; she can’t feel love. She’s using you. Be careful. We warned you.”

  Outside a wolf’s howl had awoken me. I felt a intense cool breeze. The window was open, and I saw that Isabella was gone.

  I walked all night looking for her. I pulled mycoat tight around me as the wind tore through my soul and froze my bones. All around me seemed to be the howling of wolves. I ignored them and continued on.

  I walked along one of her hunting trails that she often took. I continued on for a while and then I saw in my lantern’s glow blood upon the dirt. As I looked ahead I saw more and knew something was wrong. My walk turned into a jog and quickly into a sprint. I dashed through the woods and continued to follow the trail until I came to a large rock.

  On top of the rock was Isabella. She was naked and covered from head to toe in blood. Beneath her was the torn open carcass of a wolf, and not just any wolf but one of the demonic ones from my dream. She stood there with the innards of the wolf handing from her mouth as she chewed on them. She hadn’t noticed me.

  “Isabella!” I hollered up to her but the wind stole my voice and sent it in another direction. I called out to her again and this time she heard me. Her were a blazing red and she opened her mouth to reveal sharp fangs. She hissed and spit like a wolf.

  I turned and ran. I dodged the branches and roots as I ran back to my house. I heard Isabella running after me. I glanced back to see her running on all fours like a wolf. I was no match for her and within seconds she pounced on top of me.

  “Hello lover.” She spoke in a demonic and twisted voice. She followed this up with insane laughter as she drooled blood upon me.

  “Isabella, what’s going on?”

  “I have a gift for you. You will join me and we will live in the Gloom.”

  “Isabella, what are you saying?”

  Before I could mutter another word she sank her teeth into me and I felt pain at first but that soon diminished. I felt a sexual awakening within me, an orgasm which ran through my veins. I was drunk on the sensation as I felt everything go numb. Then I passed out.

  When I opened my eyes Isabella was gone. I climbed to my feet and reached a hand to my throbbing neck. It itched and my body felt different.

  From the woods came a small wolf. It walked up to me. I was scared at first but the fear quickly was replaced with a love as I realized I was looking at my Isabella. I dropped to my knees and opened my arms. The wolf came to me and began to lick my face. I turned my head and caught our reflection in a puddle. I too was a wolf.

  The gift of lycanthropy given to me by my lover has lengthened my existence. The year of my writing this is 2011 and much has changed in the world. Isabella has since passed away, taken back to the Overseer after six hundred years upon this earth. Me, I continue to live my life all over the world. My name changes every couple decades, however I like Fantine the best.

  The Head

  He’d spent the entire afternoon pursuing road kill. Sure there were healthier things for a nineteen year old man to be doing, like working or dating, but he wasn’t an ordinary man. He had one desire in life, and that was corpses. This is not to assume that Simon wasn’t a sexually active male, he got more than most his age; he just had unusual tastes. He was a necrosexual, and he loved to have sex with road kill.

  The first time was the best. He was only thirteen years old and had a head full of confused thoughts. He loved gory movies and had a strong sex drive…but he realized early on that his sexual attraction wasn’t to anything alive. He was turned on by the dead.

  He fantasized every night. He masturbated while thinking of that cold flesh deprived of oxygen, the skin in various states of decomposition. Men, women or animals…it didn’t matter to him. The only requirement that would satisfy his morbid fetish was that the subject was a cadaver. He’d never murder anybody; in fact he’d never even had sex with a human. His lovers were those killed on the side of the road and to him Highway 44 was an orgy of dead meat.

  His first sexual experience was with a dog. He saw the maggot infested hunk of meat baking in the sun. The pungent odor aroused him, and he felt like his erection would break off in his pants at any moment. He looked at the decaying animal and eagerly unzipped his jeans. From this point on it became an addiction.

  Of course no one knew of this. Necrosexuals are not ones who live out loud. He lived with his mother and father in the good old suburban town of Seekonk, yet the community had no idea how sick he was.

  But he didn’t see himself as mentally ill now did he? Who was he really harming? Necrophilia is essentially a victimless crime and it’s not like he desecrated loved ones. No, he only took those who were tossed away like trash to begin with. He satisfied his strange sexual urges by recycling the dead animals he discovered.

  He had been hunting all afternoon but route 44 was vacant. He took his explorations all around town and still came up empty. A neighbor’s dog got his attention and he thought how easy it would be to kill it. He could crush its head with a rock but no, that would be sick. He had standards.

  It was behind a grocery store on Route 6 where he caught a scent. It stunk of death, and his nostrils picked up the stink like a bloodhound. As he got closer to the pungent odor his erection grew. He wondered what he’d find. As he opened the dumpster he was surprised to put it mildly.

  There, sitting on a pile of rotting vegetables and expired beef it sat. Tossed away and left to be taken away to the local dumping grounds. What he found was the severed head of a blond woman.

  He almost collapsed to the ground and even ejaculated in his underwear as he stared at the head. Her face had been frozen in the final moments before her death. Her cloudy colored eyes were open, staring blankly at him begging to be fucked. With a shaking hand he scooped it up and stuffed it into his back pack.

  He’d take her home. This would be a special night. Tonight he’d have a human. He’d finally have his first sexual experience with his own specie and a female at that.

  Twice on the way home he had to stop and masturbate in the woods. He was so overcome with excitement. It took all his will to not pull the head out and make love to it in the secrecy of the woods. No, this was to be a special day. He felt something new…was it love?

  When he got home he ran to his bedroom and tossed the backpack onto the bed. He closed the door and hit play on his iPod. The loud death metal music filled the bedroom as he quickly undressed. He pulled his lover from the backpack and placed it onto the center of the bed.

  She looked up at him. He named her Lauren, what a lovely name for such a beautiful woman. He bent down and placed his warm lips on her cold ones and slipped his tongue inside.

  He felt something enter his mouth. He was a little crazy but not crazy enough to actually believe this severed head was sending her tongue his way. When he pulled back he felt it still in his mouth. He spit out a cockroach. This was it; he was so turned on right now that the romance was over. He gripped the head in his hands and jammed his erect penis into the open mouth.

  With each violent thrust he felt closer to god. He felt a sensation no dog or squirrel or even goose had ever given him. As he came in the back of that head he felt bliss that couldn’t be matched.

  When he was done he watched hi
s semen drip out from the severed neck. This turned him on again and this time he decided to try something else, something he had learned from fucking a dead deer. He took his penis and jammed it into the eye socket. The squishing sound as the eye ball liquefied around his dick caused him to last no more than a couple seconds. He had sex with the head six more times before he was done.

  He lay there on his bed with the head on his chest. He looked at it and felt something in his heart. A flutter, he felt what all those high school boys and girls felt; love.

  He loved Lauren. He never wanted to leave her…except he knew that their time together was short. This was the problem with necrophilia. She would decay, like all the others and she would leave him. He couldn’t handle this thought. He needed to do something.

  The stink was bad, worse than any animal. When his parents came home they would smell it for sure. He knew he needed to do something and that’s when the idea hit him. He could boil the meat off. He could put it in a pot and boil it until it was nothing more than a skull. The smell would be gone and he could keep Lauren forever.

  He imagined staying up late and watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre with Lauren, kissing her skeletal lips as he masturbated himself onto her cranium. His parents wouldn’t be home for hours. If he started now he could pull it off.

  He got dressed and ran to the kitchen with the head. He grabbed a pan and filled it with water. When the water was boiling he took the head and looked her in her one remaining eye. He smiled at her.

  “I love you Lauren. We’re going to be together forever now.” He then tossed the head inside the pot. As it boiled he killed time by watching one of his favorite movies, Halloween.

  Hours had gone by and he had fallen asleep, dreaming of his new life with Lauren. He dreamed of all the hot nights they’d have. He dreamed of carrying her around in his backpack and bringing her to the movies. He imagined sitting on a hill with her and watching the sun set. He was pulled from his slumber when he heard the front door open.

  He looked down at his watch. It was eight thirty. He overslept and now his parents were home. He nervously got up as they entered the kitchen.

  “Hey honey, what are you cooking?” His mother asked. He nervously glanced around the room as his father smelled the air.

  “Damn, that smells good kid. What is it?”

  “Stew.” He muttered. He thought for a second. “Lamb stew.”

  “Lamb stew, I never had it before.” His father responded looking pleased.

  “That is a weird smell, but it don’t smell bad.” His mother added. “Is it done?”

  “No, it is just a little longer; I need to add veggies.”

  “Ok there champ, we’ll go shower and get settled in while you cook.” His father took off to the bedroom as his mother kissed him on the head.

  “You are such a good boy” She took off leaving him in the kitchen with the boiling head.

  He went through the refrigerator as he pulled out more ingredients to add. A little carrot, some potatoes, an onion, a little garlic…some salt and a season blend. He added all this and let it cook a little more.

  He nervously dropped a ladle into the pot as he scooped the contents into three bowls. His parents eagerly waited at the dining room table, discussing their work day. As he brought the bowls in he wondered how it would taste.

  Moments after placing down the bowl his parents sipped it and smiled. His father leaned back with a satisfying grin.

  “Goddamn Simon, I think you discovered your trade.”

  “You’re one hell of a cook honey. Seriously this is amazing.”

  Simon looked down at his bowl and scooped the contents into his mouth. He let the stew swish around a little bit and smiled. It was good; no it was amazing.

  They ate their soup. When they were done Simon even insisted on doing the dishes. When he said his goodnights he went back to the kitchen.

  He saw the bedroom light turn off. He was alone. He fished the skull out of the pot and looked at it. He smiled as he kissed its forehead.

  “Thank you Lauren. I never knew I was a cook until tonight.”

  That night he slept with Lauren in his arms as he dreamed of his future with her sand his future as a chef.

  Way Down in the Hole

  When I make a mistake I try to ignore it. I move on as if it never happened. I don’t remember things as they happened, but rather as I want to remember them. This is the only way I have complete control of my life. I know it’s a lie, but I would rather live a happy lie than a miserable truth.

  The city is full of garbage. Even the best poets cannot beautify the city of Brockton. It’s a festering asshole just south of Boston. It’s the vile epicenter of disgusting filth. I fucking hate this city.

  It’s three in the goddamn morning. I have a killer hang over and sitting across the table is this miserable sub human garbage. He’s some mid-twenties douchebag with baby blue eyes. His shoulder length hair is greased back to allow one to take in his handsome facial features. His scruffy beard, that one which is common among the outlaw only added to his mystique and charm. He was the bad boy women fantasized about. He was the complete opposite of me.

  I’m forty six, balding, slightly overweight and have tired bloodshot eyes. I have a raspy cough due to excessive smoking. My voice is broken from whiskey, as broken as my soul. I’m the ugly, old, bald asshole whose slut bag wife left him…and who did she leave me for? It was a man just like this good looking little fuck, this still in diapers cunt head.

  I’m a detective for the city of Brockton, and this young punk before me is accused of murder; yet I’m the shit-bag. I’m the vile and disgusting aging old bastard.

  He smiles at me. I want to take my hand, curl it up and smash his cheek. I want nothing more than to shatter his perfect fucking nose. I bet so many women spread their legs for this little bastard, this insignificant human compost. He possibly fucked my wife. He’s her type. She likes them young, attractive and with a bad boy streak. Yeah, my bitch whore of a wife wants the complete opposite of me. She can fuck men half her age and do it behind my back, yet I’m the scumbag.

  What was the text she sent me? I believe it said I want a divorce Danny. After this she sent a sad face and the words I’m sorry. According to the time stamp on the texts it took exactly forty seven minutes for her to send the second part. I think the guilt hit her after that young lothario fucked her brains out.

  But enough of me and my shitty life…I got a job to do.

  “So who’s the crispy woman in your apartment?” I ask. He continues with that stupid smile, that shit eating grin which makes me want to take my ball point pen and gouge out his goddamn blue eyes. I want to use my car keys and cut massive gashes across his handsome face. I want to make him hideous, a freak at a circus side show. “Hey, are you a friggin mute or something?”

  “I’m sorry detective, but I’m just trying to get to understand who you are.” He responds in a cocky way, it nauseates me.

  “Oh really, well is it clear now?”

  “Crystal.” The confidence of this guy makes me insane. I want nothing more than to yank his perfect teeth out and jam them down his throat.

  “Well I’m just so fucking honored. May I continue with my interrogation?” He motions for me to continue. I feel my stomach heaving as the old whiskey burned an ulcer in my gut. I have to get a grip on myself.

  This room is small, an old interrogation room with a one way mirror. The room was empty except for the table and this cocksucker handcuffed to it. There’s our chairs, of course, and a video camera mounted on the ceiling. This room seems empty; however it was bursting with animosity. I’m not in the mood for games, yet this little twat wanted to play.

  “What was it you asked me?”

  “Who is the burnt woman we discovered in your apartment? Does she have a name?” He looks at me inquisitively. I knew I wasn’t going to get a straight answer, why would I? “An ID?”

  “Do you have an ID?”

  “
Just answer the question.”

  “Let me ask you a question. Your wife, what happened to her?” I knew what he was trying to insinuate. It didn’t piss me off; actually I kind of wished it was true.

  “Good try, but this woman in your place has been dead for nearly a week. I saw my wife just the other night.”

  “What I meant was that the skin on your finger where a wedding ring once was is pale. You recently stopped wearing it…what happened?”

  “Is this really how you want to spend your time? I have you in here facing a murder charge. You go before a judge in the morning and you want to chit chat about my soon to be ex-wife?”

  “I think it’s important. We need to build trust amongst us. I also think that you need to get it off your chest, and once you do you’ll think more clearly…you’ll understand more of what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Goddamn, you are a character. If I tell you do I have your word that you will tell me who the woman is?” He lean in as he raises his eye brows.

  “More than that detective; I’ll tell you every detail of her torture, of her pain. After I explain how she died the name I shall reveal.”

  “The name I shall reveal, listen to yourself; so cheesy. I also want a confession.”

  “Why of course, although I doubt you can handle the truth.”

  “Listen kid, I promise to take it like a big boy.” I cracked my neck as I watch the little bastard stare up at me; stare like some little pissy pants baby eager to hear a bedtime story. This little shit didn’t deserve to know about my wife, but if it was going to get him to confess I can hurry home before sunlight broke. I could take some aspirin and fall asleep. I had enough of the real world for one day. “She was getting bored with me. She said I had gotten too old. She said all I did was drink and work. Perhaps she’s right, but I choose to think otherwise.”