*IMPORTANT*
This story is a work of fiction and holds to no certain religion. When commenting, please don’t tell me how you think I should change my story or what you would like to happen next, but i would love to know what you thought of the story. Also, I do know that this scene is a little disturbing (i was alittle surprised at myself as i wrote it) and if you found that it crossed the line, tell me. Thanks for you feedback. Enjoy.
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My mind drifts as I stare, unseeing, at the scene reflecting in the mirror hanging above my bed. Over the centuries, boredom has become my constant companion. Not even the extremely talented blonde kneeling between my thighs could distract from my constant need for something...more. A sigh of boredom escapes my mouth, but the blonde takes it as encouragement and renews her vigorous efforts.
“Enough. Leave me.” I dismissed her, releasing myself from her grasp.
“But, your highness-“
“Did you not hear me the first time?” I asked, softly, my voice belying my displeasure. Her once cornflower blue eyes, now reflecting the flames of the hell she had earned her place in, widened in fear. Her form disappeared in a poof of smoke with a snap of my fingers, leaving me as I originally requested. Maybe a little trip to the seventh level of hell will teach her to follow instruction.
Stretching, I head for my en suite. The shower was already running, the servant, a little mouse of a girl was kneeling in wait of my arrival. Per ususal, the water was hot enough to melt the skin off any human. The burn of the water, the small hint of pain, got me off more than Blondie was able to. My hand gripped my cock, squeezing, pumping it slowly to savor the pleasure/pain of my rough handling. Little Mouse’s wide eyes, seemed to devour my dick like it was a popsicle in the desert.
“Come here.” I said, startling the little mouse out of her staring. Quickly, she complied with my demand, standing in front of me, eyes downcast. My hand lightly skimmed its way up her arm. “Hmm, let’s see what you did to get here, Little Mouse.”
My free hand roughly clenched around a fist full of her hair, forcing a gasp from her mouth. Twisting, I forced her under the water, her screams echoing as I locked eyes with her. Immediately I was transported into her memories.
Little Mouse, Melissa, sat in her bedroom, a knife in hand, staring at the moonlight reflecting off the sharp metal. Her bitch of a mother hit her again. Her little sister had been crying again, the wailing causing Melissa’s head to throb. Before she knew what she was doing she had slapped the little brat across the face, knocking her into the coffee table.
“Shut up, you little bitch, always fucking crying. I’ll give you something to cry about.” Melissa said as she gripped her little sister’s face.
So focused on the little girl, Melissa was unaware of her mother’s quickly advancing form. She was yanked up by her hair and thrown back. Her mother was screaming at her, the words unrecognizable. Her sister, the whiny bitch was being cradled by their mother, her sobs quieted by unconsciousness.
“How dare you? How dare you?! Don’t you ever touch your sister again! GO TO YOUR ROOM! I’ll deal with you when I get back!” Her mother screamed, juggling her little sister and the car keys. Melissa was left alone for hours, her eyes locked on that knife. The flash of headlights pulling into the drive broke her out of her thoughts. They were home.
She waited, and waited. The knife in her hand, partially hidden as it sat beside her leg. Her sister came in first, a bandage around the cut on her head from the coffee table. A lollipop, partially eaten, was clutched in her hand as a nonstop stream of chatter escaped her mouth. Mom was the last to come in, her hands clear except for the keys dangling from her right hand, her dominant hand.
She didn’t even see me coming. So busy with the little brat’s story she couldn’t stop the knife from sinking into her stomach, couldn’t stop me from plunging it into her again, and again…and again. She tried to push me away after the first cut but, the damage was already done. The brat’s screams, usually so annoying, were like music to my ears as the warmth of Mom’s blood splattered across me, my hands red, so red.
Red.
Red.
So red.
“Please! No! Sissy, why are you hurting mommy?! Why are you hurting mommy?!” The little girl, about five years of age screamed as Little Mouse butchered her mother in front of her. Little Mouse’s eyes gleamed, eyes glowing with insanity as she abandoned her mother’s mangled corpse for her sister.
She deserved it.
They DESERVED it.
Disgusted, I ripped myself from her memories. Such a petite, innocent looking person, committed the vilest of crimes without remorse. Even now, as the water flayed the skin off her back, her eyes had taken on a manic type of pleasure.
“She deserved it.” She mumbled repeatedly, “She deserved it.” Her hands were making grasping motions, as though still reveling in the memory. I shook her, bringing her attention back to me.
“You, my dear, are no longer receiving the leniency of service. The ninth level of hell is where you belong.” I said, my hands grasping her face as she gripped her sister’s face that fateful night. My other hand plunged into her stomach, working its way under her ribs, finding her soul. Ripping it out none to gently, I looked upon the small black, withered ball of light, contemplating the appearance of my own. Inhaling, I swallow it, storing her soul with all the others in my vast collection, before snapping my fingers to send her to the pits of Hell.
“You put me here. You put me here as overseer of these vile, despicable humans you have created when my only crimes were disobedience and envy for a father that never loved me like he loved his prodigal son.” I said, angrily, “Now, I will take something you love and let you see it go up in flame.”
