Torture Porn Page 9

  “Listen man, I know this is fucked up but there’s no time to figure this shit out. What we need to do is get out of here. The killers could still be here, you understand. Get your act together and let’s go.” Steve pulled himself out of it and turned away.

  “Ted…I think I lost my mind.” He said softly.

  “I know man, this is crazy as hell.”

  “No, I’m not talking about Patrick. Jane Doe is standing behind you.”

  Ted saw absolute terror in the pale face of his friend. Steve raised his hand and pointed. As Ted turned he saw his nightmares standing before him. The corpse of Jane Doe was indeed standing there. She slowly began to walk toward the two men, dragging her left foot across the floor. Meat and blood continued to fall from the hole in her abdomen.

  “My son needed to live.” The corpse spoke. The two of them froze in horror. They couldn’t move, instead they stood there and allowed the corpse to get an arm’s length from them. She looked from Steve to Ted with foggy eyes. She raised a hand and put it on Ted’s face. “Last night, we met.”

  “That was a dream.” He managed to get out of his mouth.

  “Ted, what the fuck is going on?”

  “Go call the police Steve.” Ted ordered. He tried to go himself but something held him in place. It was as if someone had cemented his feet to the ground. He struggled but it was to no avail. Some sort of spiritual shackle held him. “I can’t move, you understand? I need you to go call for help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t fucking know but I need you to focus right now and call for help.”

  “You don’t want Steve to know the truth?” The corpse asked as she ran her finger over his lips.

  “Ted, what is she talking about?”

  “I don’t fucking know, just go call the goddamn police, Steve!”

  “Ted was there the night I died.”

  “Bitch I have no idea what…” And like a flood gate giving way his suppressed memory came back to him. He had been there the night she died. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Those wild sexual escapades you tell everyone, those stories of kinky sex with nameless woman, they were created by you to fill in the gaps of time you couldn’t account for. You often blacked out and your fear decided to create a lie. The truth is, during these gaps of time you were a participant.”

  “What is she talking about?”

  “Tell him Ted. Tell him about the Coven. Tell him about the Temple of Luciferian Light. Tell him about the bloody orgies, the rituals, the animal sacrifices, the bestiality, the necrophilia; the corpses were provided by your morgue.”

  “Steve…don’t listen to this. She is crazy.”

  Steve looked at Ted’s face and didn’t know who to believe. He could never imagine his friend and colleague engaging in such absurd conduct, but on the other hand there have been some rather extravagant stories. Was it true, was Ted a Satanist; and if so was he responsible for this woman’s murder? This didn’t matter, not now. Later he could sort this out, for now he needed to distance himself from this situation as much as possible, and save Ted if he could.

  “I’m calling the police.” Steve ran to the office as Ted stared long into the corpses eyes.

  Like a projection he saw the events of that night unfold. After a ritual orgy they brought her into the room kicking and yelling. One of the followers put duct tape over her mouth. She wasn’t pregnant at the time.

  The robed followers took and tied her to an altar. She struggled to be let free; tears running down her pale cheeks. It was he who tied her right arm to the altar. The ritual continued on as the participants began reciting readings from some scripture.

  “At the Sabbath, Lord Satan was said to take a woman to be had. He took this woman to one side of the great grove and made love to her, tasting her carnal nature. From this came a child, a child born of unholy blood. This child was a direct descendant of the throne of Hell. By fire and sulfur we invoke you, our dark Lord, to take this woman to your grove.”

  The group waited in fervent anticipation. There was a noise behind them, similar to a distant shattering of glass. This noise continued along with the grinding of stone. The sound of steam filled the room as the stink of rot invaded their nostrils.

  The woman began to convulse violently as she jerked in unnatural contortions. Like a pretzel she twisted; she moaned in pleasure. This continued until finally she let out an ear piercing scream of agony.

  The lights dimmed. They all muttered among the darkness, wondering if the ritual was complete. Suddenly the lights came back on and the woman’s abdomen was massive. The ritual had worked. She was with child however she was dead.

  “You see now, don’t you?” She pulled herself so close that their eyes were no more than an inch from each other. Ted felt her still warm innards continue to spill at his feet as she ran her hand up his body. She leaned in and Ted met her halfway as they began to kiss.

  “Ted?” Steve yelled. Despite his disgust, confusion and fear he knew he still needed to call the police. He ran to the office trying desperately not to look at Patrick’s corpse. He reached for the phone and put the receiver to his ear.

  Outside the room he heard Ted scream. Steve raced to the door, phones still in hand, and saw blood running down the woman’s mouth. She laughed hysterically as Ted swung around. His lower jaw had been torn off. His tongue wildly flailed about in his mouth as he fell to the floor in convulsion.

  “911 what’s your emergency.”

  “I got a situation at the County Morgue in Carion.”

  “What is the situation sir?”

  Murder, Zombie, Satanic Child?

  “An attack and a murder; just send help now!” Steve hung up the phone. He shook his head as he tried to determine his next move. Ted pulled his bleeding body across the floor as he reached out for Steve. “I am so sorry buddy.”

  The woman continued to walk toward Ted, and behind them Steve saw a pair of glowing red eyes set back in the freezer. The eyes got bigger as they made their way forward, out of the darkness. It was a child, but not like any he had seen before. Its skin was blue and its massive mouth housed dozens of sharp teeth. On its head were small horns. Although this child stood no more than fourteen inches, its body was well toned with muscles, and from behind, a segmented tail.

  It let out a deafening growl. The demonic child jumped off the gurney, cracking the tile where it landed. It walked toward its mother and Ted. Ted continued to bleed from his mouth as the child walked.

  “Go on, feed my child.” The corpse spoke. The demon child pounced on top of Ted. It snapped his back, a sound similar to that of breaking sticks. The creature seemed happy with the pain it inflicted. It sunk its fangs deep into his neck and tore out tendons and muscle. Blood shot out like a broken water main, the bright red reached as high as the ceiling. The corpse mother smiled and stared lovingly down at her feeding child. “Go on, we need you to be strong just like your father.”

  Steve shook his head. There was no way this was all happening. He screamed out in terror as he watched his friend being torn apart. He backed himself into a corner as the child continued to tear chunks of meat from Ted’s motionless body. Suddenly it looked up.

  “Leave me alone!”

  The child’s attention was now re-directed to its next fresh meal. Steve flattened against the wall. He heard the police sirens. The demonic child screamed as its corpse mother laughed. The only hope he had left was for the police to arrive in time…

  The Odd Tale of Isabella and Lady Bellamy

  The story I tell is of utmost importance and it must be told now. You must understand that my ability to recollect has been eroding from my brain these last years. It is an ailment which has been turning me into a forgetful and confused shell. Nevertheless this story is one which needs to be heard for I am alive by no stroke of luck but by the will of the Alabama gods.

  1854 was the year my tale begins. My name is Fantine Bellamy and I am a descendent
of a wealthy French family that migrated to the Americas in 1803. My father, Jacques Bellamy, turned quite a profit from selling garments he had sewn together. They were beautiful things; gowns which one swore cost fortunes but were mere pennies.

  My mother was Isabella Bellamy. She was a nurse, however she had passed during my birth. Father never did re-marry. This isn’t to say he didn’t bring home an occasional lady friend, for he did, but he never settled. When I asked why he shrugged and said that my mother was irreplaceable.

  We lived on the shore of a lake. My, this lake was beautiful I say. Sure we would be confronted from time to time with the horrid face of a scaly alligator, but for the most part the atmosphere was an intoxicating blend of exotic birds and frogs. Ever enchanting was this that I often found myself by the water and lost in it. Tranquility is something I once took for granted.

  Anyhow, my tale begins one summer’s eve. I had trotted along a well-worn path used by locals headed to the lake to fish. I cannot stress enough that these were leisure times full of relaxation. A great many days I spent snoozing away the hours beneath an old tree. How I long for those carefree days again.

  It was down this trail I heard a woman crying. I was struck with curiosity at first but my curiosity turned to grave concern when I turned a bend to find a battered woman in the nude. She lay on the dirt with her arms shielding her head from invisible assailants. I rushed down to her aid.

  “Miss, are you ok? Can I help?” I asked her. She looked up at me and my heart began to swell. It was obvious what had happened to her. Some of the local men had their way with her and beaten her nearly to death. The savage monsters even scratched her skin and bit into her. Like a wounded animal she reached out a hand which I took into mine. I helped her to her feet and assisted her back to the house.

  My father saw us outside and rushed to aid. We carried her inside and laid her down on a bed in a room we used for visitors. No sooner had her head hit the pillow had she passed out from exhaustion.

  That night I stayed up with her, keeping watch over her to ensure she was fine. I looked down at her slow breathing, her breasts as they rose and dropped. I felt a magnetic draw to her. I mistook this for sympathy but soon realized it was a strange sexual attraction I had felt to her. Being the era it was I shut the thought out of my mind and lay down next to the nude girl. That night we slept together for the first time, but not the last.

  ***

  A few days went by and her scratches began to heal remarkably. The first day she didn’t talk much but began to eat. The second day she told us her name, Isabella. How queer it was to hear my mother’s name spoken in this house in reference to a living woman, especially one around the same age as myself. Father seemed just as odd about it. My father had clothed her in some of his dresses he had made. By the third day she seemed to resemble a normal person.

  “Where do you live?” My father finally asked. To this question her eyes dropped into her lap and she let out a heavy sigh.

  “I do not have a home. I have been on my own for many years.”

  “Well I helped nurse you back and thus by the Alabama gods I have sworn a new pact to protect you. We have plenty of room here and you may sleep in the guest room as long as you will.”

  “Thank you Mr. Bellamy.”

  “Call me Jacques.”

  ***

  Isabella and I had grown quite close over the next few weeks. We had discussed a great many things and often swam in the lake. I felt my attraction to her growing which was strange for lesbianism was nothing I had felt until this moment. I had always been attracted to men but this woman had something that drew me in. I desired her more than I had ever desired a man.

  I think she sensed this as well and often she held my hand in hers when we walked. My heart would flutter as I felt her cool soft hand in mine. I would flirt with a slight rubbing of my thumb against hers and she returned the gesture. One day by the river we had stripped down to our under garments as usual but she didn’t stop there. Within seconds her garments were on the dirt and she was as naked as the day I met her.

  She stood there in the hot Alabama sun with her perky breasts and soft elegant curves. I couldn’t resist as her full lips pulled back in smile and revealed her pure whites. I took my undergarments off as well and now we both stood naked on the shore.

  Isabella came in close to me and raised her hand. She placed it behind my neck and pulled my body in close to hers. Our breasts touched and I felt a warm sensation between my legs as her erect nipples teased my own. She leaned in and we kissed. She took my hand and led it to her breast. I cupped one of them and our kissing intensified. Soon we were on the ground with her on top. She looked me in the eyes and told me she wanted me. I told her I wanted her too. We made love all afternoon under a tree among the intoxicating soundtrack of the Alabama wilderness.

  ***

  Our lust began to blossom into love and father began to sense this. He watched with awkward eyes as we held each other no different than lovers did. He even made a comment about how he never sees me with boys anymore. I knew what he was hinting at and told him I didn’t need a boy, not as long as I had Isabella.

  ***

  It was one night, three months later, when my whole life began to change. Fall was creeping and it began to grow cold. Isabella had moved into my room at this point and we shared a bed, sleeping in the nude entangled in each other’s arms. That night I had a wild dream.

  Isabella was in the woods. She was naked and on all fours. She howled to the moon like a wolf and within seconds three wolves arrived. They were drooling, terrifying beasts and much bigger than any wolf I had ever seen in real life. Their fur was a dense black and their eyes a burning red. They approached her slowly. She didn’t seem scared at all. She was calling them.

  My mind was shaken when the wolves began to engage in sexual acts with Isabella. She threw her head back and moaned as the beasts penetrated her mouth, vagina and anus. They bit her and scratched her with their claws. She moaned out in pleasure as she climaxed. I turned away in disgust and when I turned back I gasped.

  The wolves had transformed into demons. They stood six feet tall with massive horns. They were black and looked to be silhouettes with red eyes. They looked down at her and spoke in a different language, one so foreign I couldn’t compare it to anything earthly. This made Isabella cry as the demons began to spill smoke from their bodies. Within seconds they were gone and what was left was a crying Isabella exactly as she was the moment I first laid eyes upon her.

  A scream had awoken me. When I opened my eyes I saw that father stood before our bed with an axe in his hand. He had had a menacing look on his face, a twisted contortion of insanity. He didn’t speak but his intentions I could read in his eyes. He was going to kill Isabella.

  She rolled out of bed just as the axe came down. It split the mattress as the blade buried into the wooden floor. I panicked and jumped up. He struggled with the axe for a second and this gave Isabella enough time to scamper into a corner. She screamed as my father retrieved his weapon from the floor and raised it above his head. He turned to her.

  “You must die demon. I have spoken to the Alabama gods and they told me about your intentions. Leave us alone.”

  Isabella cried out and begged him to stop. What madness had possessed him? I didn’t know what to do and before I could think my body began to react, as if someone else was controlling it. I reached over and grabbed a pair of garment shears off the dresser and dove toward my deranged father. I buried the scissors into his neck.

  He screamed out in agony, dropping the axe. The weapon fell to the the floor and seconds later my father joined. His eyes began to roll back in his head and I watched my father’s existence fade from this life and into the next. When I was sure he was dead I approached my distraught lover.

  She dove into my arms and began kissing me. She thanked me for saving her life and cried onto my breasts. Her tears were warm as they ran down my naked body. She looked up at me with
a quivering lip and spoke three beautiful words.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  ***

  We didn’t contact the authorities. Our unorthodox relationship would surely be used against us so we decided to instead put my father’s body into the lake. We had tied heavy rocks to his corpse and took the boat out. When we reached the center of the lake we pushed him over. When it was done I felt a sensation of freedom I never felt before. My lover climbed upon me and we made love in the boat under the fall sun.

  ***

  When winter came our chores began to intensify. We had to cut wood and ration the food we gathered all summer. Father was the hunter but Isabella was a good replacement. She was even better than he was for she had a real skill at it. She would enter the woods and within an hour or two return with enough meat for a week.

  Things seemed wonderful until one night while eating dinner by candle light. When we were done we listened to the howling winter wind as we sat by the fire wrapped tight in each other’s arms. Then we heard the howl of a wolf.

  Isabella jumped up and screamed. Panic took over as she ran on all fours to the far corner of the room. She dove beneath the table and curled up in a ball. She looked like a frightened dog.

  “Isabella, what is it?” She wouldn’t talk or move. I reached beneath the table to tend to her and she lashed out and scratched my arm. Her nails even drew blood. I jumped to my feet and stared at her in shock.

  ***

  The next day she apologized for the previous night’s behavior. She explained that she had a fear of wolves from when she was homeless in the woods. I wanted to tell her about the dream but found it inappropriate. I took her into my arms but felt that something had changed.

  Isabella had changed.

  ***