Stubbed Cigarettes

      I'm laying under this 1992 Mitsubishi Expo, making sure all the connections aren't leaking.

      “What’s that?” asks the 5 year old girl I'm watching.

      “That's the engine,” I respond looking quickly at what she was pointing at.

      “What's that?” she asks pointing at something else.

      “That's the fan belt,” I respond again looking quickly.

      “What's that?” she asks pointing to the windshield washer fluid.

      “Listen, I'm doing something right now. I can't teach you how a car works. Go play in the backyard. I set up the swing set for you the other day.”

      “I know but I'm tired of playing alone,” she says sadly.

      How fucking annoying. She constantly needs attention. I can't even check to make sure the oil in the car is at the right level without her hovering and asking “Why” this and “What's that?” I came out here to escape my wife, the annoying cunt. Constantly worrying and nagging about money. Like fuck, I'm one person and I can only do so fucking much.

     I pull out a Maverick, and light it. I inhale the delicious piece of death. The smoke curling in my lungs and blackening what it touches. The purest joy of controlling your own death. I finish smoking my cigarette and throw it unthinking to the ground. I see Courtney pick it up out the corner of my eye as I continue assessing what work is left. I wonder if she will try to suck on it...

      As she touches the butt to her lips, I call out to her, “Hey, what are you doing?”

      “Nothing,” she throws the butt away from her as if it burned her, and it gives me an idea. I didn't argue with her. I returned my attention to what was under the hood.

***

      I light another Maverick, enjoying the way it burns. I go through my ritual, and instead of throwing it on the ground, I call Courtney to me.

      “Do you know why you shouldn't smoke cigarettes?” I ask, knowing she loves learning answers to questions.

    “Why” she asks, in her happy 5 year old voice.

      Instead of saying anything, I grab her right wrist and twist it so that her forearm is facing up. It is such beautiful, new, unharmed skin. This little person has no scars, she is still a pure human being. 

      I stub my cigarette out in the middle of her forearm, and she doesn't whimper or pull away once. She doesn't cry, she just says “That hurts.”

      “That's what happens inside your body when you smoke cigarettes.”

I let go of her wrist and continue to watch her, she doesn't move. She's just observing what's happening to her skin, like she is disconnected from the pain.

She trusts me enough to let me do anything, and it gives me an idea.

-Kiz
(This story continues on realitybykiz.blogspot.com)

Bocal avec écrou

His face twists in agony.

“I won't give you the satisfaction!” he gasps.

“What was that? You won't what?” as I grab his balls, and lightly squeeze.

“I. Won't. Give. You. The. Satisfaction,” he spits in my face.

“Oh, really? Well, that's too bad. I had wanted to hear you scream but if you won't give me the satisfaction...” I squeeze his balls in my hand. Poor boy already has a varicose vein in his nuts, two even. The doctor told him that he could get surgery to fix it or let his balls slowly suffocate and deal with the pain. Maybe it would go away, but not usually. He was always complaining about the pain, he liked to complain about his ailments. So I think I'll give him something to complain about. I squeeze his nuts as hard as I can, and he's grunting and sweating. It seems he won't give me the satisfaction. Well, lucky for him, I'm a resourceful girl. I look around the shed. I see a pair of water pump pliers...

“Do you think these would illicit a reaction?” I hold up the pliers, “look! They're adjustable, so every time I squeeze your balls with them, It will get tighter, and tighter, until... POP!” I laugh loudly, as I imagine his balls being popped open like a nut in a nutcracker.

“You're a fucking cunt,” he spits at me.

“I love being a cunt. Look at me, who is stopping me? I have you tied across the wall of your shed, with all of your most vulnerable, valuable parts hanging out with the breeze lightly drifting across them. I am a cunt. I will hold my head high and proclaim such. But if I am a cunt... what insult could hurt you? It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not here to insult you, my love. I am here to make sure you uphold your end of our vows,” I smile mischievously at him. “I am standing here now 'till death do us part.' I do not break my promises, and so, I need the stipulations of our arrangement to manifest.”

He looks at me confused. I just smile. If he hasn't figured it out yet, he will. I smile at him seductively as I lower myself to my knees before him. I watch his dick get hard... ever the slave to his need to stick his cock in something. I raise up the water pump pliers where he can't see them, and clamp it onto one of his balls. I begin to squeeze and watch his expression slowly change, as he feels a terrifying agony. I look at my hands closing the pliers, and focus. I think about him telling me the way I think is wrong, and him telling me that he doesn't need to try to fuck me anymore because our marriage certificate is a “fuck for free” pass. I hear him grunting now. I think of the time he asked me why I don't want to fuck him and I replied, “I don't feel pretty.” He asked what would make me feel loved and pretty and I told him to take me on a date and he responded by telling ME to plan it. It was looking like his left nut was about to explode, and I yelled, “SURE! LET ME PLAN THE DATE YOU'RE TAKING ME ON!”

His balls did pop, like I imagined, a water balloon of blood. And continually gushing.

“Oops,” I said sweetly, “I guess I don't know my own strength.”

And did he begin to yell. Not words. Just a note. One solitary, painful note. A howl so loud I almost smashed him in the face with a hammer. But it was a symphony. The physical equivalent to all the pain I felt.

“Oh, now we have this ridiculous mutilation!” I say, “Why don't you let me just... fix... this...” I reach into a bucket and pull out some wire cutters. “Look at this mess, tsk tsk.” And I place the wire cutters around the veins holding his broken nut to his body, I find the smallest size, and slowly cut through every layer of his veins and arteries to get his mutilation free of his body. Then, I grab gardening shears to cute through the remaining crap, and I laugh as his broken testicle falls into a jar of water, it immediately getting a cloudy red.

All the while he is screaming, crying,  and 'giving me the satisfaction.'

-Kiz

Broken

 The door opens and a blonde man about 6' invites me in. I walk the main hallway and see pictures of him with a beautiful blonde woman and an adorable little blonde girl about four years old.

"Who is that?" I inquired as a point at the pictures.

"That is my daughter and her mother," he responded.

"Are you and baby mama still together," I ask innocently.

"No," he sounds withdrawn, "we don't really get along when we live together so we don't. It's better for our daughter. It doesn't bother you that I have a four-year-old daughter?"

I smile at my perfect guess, "Do you take care of her?"

"Yes, I make sure she can do social activities and does well in school."

“Then what is there for me to feel weird about or disapprove of? You take care of your responsibilities."

"I have a really good feeling about you."

I beamed at him, and stretched up to kiss him. He put both his hands on either side of my face and it felt really deep. To my heart deep. It was getting hard to breathe with my chest so full of this... lust?

“Let me take you to the room” he whispers into my ear and it sends a jolt down my sciatic nerve. I let him take my hand and lead me to whatever room he wanted in a daze. My head feels light and I’m walking on air. I'm following his scent mostly and it boasts of Old Spice and a twinge of sweat. We enter the room, nothing to really boast about. It is small but clean, only a bed and a dresser. The bed is a queen size with windows on either side. The blinds ware currently pulled down. The dresser is on the right side of the bed if you're laying in it. The floor is carpeted a midnight blue, and the walls are a generic baby blue color. The bedding fits the blue theme, but it also had clouds on it. The fabric looked to be cotton. The dresser was a heavy wood. Unpainted, but definitely polyurethaned, and dark. There are 6 drawers, all evenly spaced and look to be the same size.

“This is the guest bedroom. That would be why it's so plain,” he says when he notices me looking around.

“It's nice, I like simplicity,” I respond quickly and quietly. I walked around the bed, to get a better look at the wood grain on the dresser, putting the bed between us.

“Turn around and get on the bed,” he demanded, suddenly dominant. I smirk; the game has begun. Our delicate dance of seduction to the point of orgasm.

I turn around, smiling seductively. I see him holding a digital camera, and my face immediately falls.

“I don't want you to take any pictures,” I blurt out.

He puts the camera down on the bed, walks around to me and cups my face gently in his hands. “You are gorgeous,” he begins “You are fucking special. I want to be able to remember this later. I want to remember exactly how your hair looked, and the intricacy of your make up. Those details fade with time, and I don't want them to. You're like a princess. How can you ask me to not try to remember every last detail of you? Your beautiful, flowing black hair, that almost reaches your waistline. Your golden, almond shaped eyes. (He rubs his right thumb across my bottom lip) Your full, bright lips that pop from your face. Girl, it's all about your eyes and your lips. But you have also been blessed with a small, adorable, very snobby nose. I could do without it being pierced, but I suppose that's neither here nor there, is it?”

“I'm...”

“You are beautiful,” He kisses my forehead. “You are smart,” he kisses my chin. “You are funny,” he kisses my left cheek. “You are talented,” he kisses my right cheek.

I'm sure I'm blushing at this point, for someone to compliment me so much in such a short span of time was very odd. If he saw all these things, I must be these things. He notices my blushing, and he moves quickly to grab the camera and snap a picture.

“See? It's not killing you. You're beautiful, even the camera thinks so,” as he snaps another picture of me. “Now do as I ask, and get on the bed, please?”

“Ohh, please? Well, alright then,” as I climb up on his queen sized bed. I pose like a model, laying on my back, with my upper body propped up on my elbow. 'Looking out the window' with my lips slightly parted. I laughed and flopped back.

“No, continue. You look gorgeous, I want to see all your faces.”

So, I started making faces at him, like a child. I would scrunch my nose and cross my eyes, I would stick my tongue out and widen my eyes.

“Let me help you. Take off your clothes, one article of clothing at a time, changing positions, and faces. I need you to show me how much you want me,” he explained.

So, I started by scooting over to the edge of the bed, and slowly taking my shoes off. I looked at the camera, and tried to wink, but it made me giggle.

“I'm not laughing, babe. I want you to seduce me, right now,” he interrupted.

Once I had gotten my shoes off, I started unbuttoning my knee length, light brown coat. I unbuttoned from the bottom to the top, so that when I was done, I could slide it off my arms. I stepped off the bed a moment just so it could fall to the floor; and he took a picture. I climbed back on the bed, on all fours, looked back and lifted my upper body, so that I was simply kneeling on the bed. I squat down just a little, and slowly start to pull my leggings down. Soon, I had pulled them down enough for him to see my ass and my thong, and all the while, he was clicking away. It felt strange. I was something to be valued, something to be adored later. He wanted to keep memories of me. His memories of me at my most vulnerable, and I felt beautiful. I stood up, to pull my leggings down to my ankles, slip them under my feet, and kick them on the floor with my coat. Then, I laid on my back and slowly started to pull my shirt up, arching my back so that I could pull it off. When I got to my long shirt being over my breasts, I paused. I smirked at him, and threw my shirt at him, after I swiftly pulled it off. Laying now, in my bra and underwear, I realize that he is still completely clothed, and I find that unacceptable.

“Take your clothes off,” I insist.

“Why must I do that? This part is about you.”

“Because, you're fucking sexy, too” I whine.

He slips off his pants, “Play with yourself while I undress.”

I follow his direction, moving aside my thong to reach my pussy. I hear him inhale as he looks at my vagina.

“That is beautiful,” he snaps a couple pictures “Hold it open for me, I want to see what it looks like on the inside.”

So I do, and after a couple pictures, I move my fingers to my clit. I begin to move my finger in tiny circles, while I watch him take his clothes off. He had already slipped his pants off, so I watch him remove his shirt. I watch every muscle flex and relax as each is used. He has an athletic build, but more agile instead of strong. Small, precise muscles. His skin, is pale Irish/Italian, with some random beauty marks. He then turns his attention to his last article of clothing: his boxers. He looks up at me and smiles mischievously, and then just slides them down and steps out of them. My mouth drops. I look at his groin and I see a 7 1/2” dick, about 2” diameter. It looks monstrous, and I don't quite know how it'll fit in my 100 pound body.

“Mmmmm, yumm,” I whisper breathlessly.

“You like my throbbing cock, girl? Would you like a taste?”

I simply nod my head and move to crawl towards him. I slide off the bed, onto my knees. I hold it in both hands, both of my small hands and the head was still poking out. So, I begin to suck on it. I heard noises of a camera taking pictures. But now, I don't mind so much. I have something else occupying my attention. A very big thing, occupying all of my attention. I am falling in love with this dick nestled between my lips. He is getting very hard, and all I can think about is how much I want it inside me. I want to feel every inch of this gorgeous cock, tearing me apart, slowly. I removed my hands and tried to see how deep I would be able to take it into my mouth. I can get bout 5 inches before my throat starts rejecting it. He moans, and holds my head down for a second longer. I take as much of him as I can again, this time holding my breath and he gasps. He holds my head down a little longer, and starts thrusting his hips into my throat. As I start to gag, he chuckls, and let go.

“You're doing such a goo job, girl. You look so beautiful with my cock down in your throat.”

I want to please him so I return to that technique, each time, he holds my head down to the point of gagging, and takes a few pictures. My eyes start to run.

“Good girl, get on the bed. Get on the bed on your hands and knees and arch your back,” he demanded.

I do as I'm told, and I feel something soft and wet touch my butt hole. I feels amazing, just playing with the idea of entering. I feel his tongue swirl around my butt hole and pop in for a second, and then pull out. I felt something really cold and wet fall on my ass, and I realized it was lubricant. I felt his hands rub it all over my ass in his finger enter my asshole, like his tongue had, but much further in. My back arches more, and I let out a moan. He seems to like my reaction, he continues slowly at first, then he picks up his pace. With his other hand, he rubs my clit, then after a few minutes, he stops. Then I feel something thin and hard, covered in lubricant enter my ass, that felt nothing like any body part. It was rough on the end, like there was some thick, hard rubber on it, but the shaft of whatever it was seemed very smooth. I felt it go in and out a few times, a little further in every time, until I felt something preventing it from going in.

I look over my shoulder to glance at what it was he was using, and I saw my heel, poking out of my ass.

“Are you fucking me with my shoe? Get it the fuck out!!” I scream.

“You liked it a second ago,” he smirks as he pulls it out.

“There's shit on that!” I shriek.

“There's shit in your ass...”

Yes that was true but it wasn't right to me to have that happen. It felt dirty, I wanted to take a shower. The next thing I know, my shoe is in my face.

“Lick it,” he says, amused. “Lick any part of it, it won't kill you.”

So, I licked the part of the heel closest to the sole of the shoe. The part that hadn't gone into my ass. I was not ready to taste that. He seemed unsatisfied, but let it go.

“Lay on your back, with your head hanging off the bed,” he demands.

I move over to the edge of the bed, and let my head fall off. He holds my bottom jaw, and slides his dick into my mouth and down my throat. I pushed him for a second to catch my breath, but then he started to not have any reservations about how I felt. With his left hand, he was taking pictures, while the right hand was on my throat, feeling his dick slide in and out.

“You're such a good girl,” he moaned. “You. Are. Such. A good. Little. Girl.”

I couldn't respond so I did nothing. I just laid there and let my throat be forced through, until my gag reflex kicked in and I threw up a little on his dick. He pulled out, looked at it and asked me to “clean up my mess, please.” So I started to lick it off. He grabbed my nose so I would have to open my mouth to breath, and shoved his dick as far as he could down my throat. He began pumping my face quickly and hard with his big dick, and I was having a hard time breathing. My body started rejecting the abuse, but he paid no mind. He just continued thrusting for another 45 seconds, until I really threw up on him. He took his dick out of my mouth, and slapped me in the face.

“How are you going to clean this mess up if you keep making a bigger one? Roll over.”

So I rolled over, and he grabbed the back of my head with his right hand and shoved himself in my throat again. My gag reflex acting immediately, mostly from the smell of my vomit. He didn't even give me time to taste his cock before it was reaching my stomach. He was just clicking away with his camera, while I couldn't breathe and was throwing up. I didn't quite feel beautiful anymore. My make up and my nose are running, I look like a mess. Right before, he lets go of my head, he pushes his cock down my throat, somehow, further down my throat than he has yet.

When he finally pulls out, I gasp for breath and sit up quickly. My throat is gaping and I pull in as much oxygen as I can. Giant lungfuls, and I still feel like I can't breathe. He is smiling at me, and I'm confused. I must look horrid. He gets on the bed, and pushes me slowly back, and my legs apart. He begins to lick my clit, slowly and lightly. It feels amazing, and I begin to moan. I feel his finger slide into my cunt, and the pace of his tongue quickens. He adds his ring finger to his middle finger in my vagina, and I can not help but feel him inside me. As his pace quickens, so does my breathing, my mouth getting dry. I am getting lightheaded from all this heavy breathing. It feels so good, I start grabbing at the sheets. My moaning becomes higher pitched, and he starts licking my clit harder. My right leg starts to shake, and I can feel the familiar tension building. My muscles start to tense up, and my body starts getting warmer. He rubs his tongue harder still on my clit, while moving his fingers in and out, and I cum. I cum all over his hand and face. Like a floodgate opened, and all of my fluids rushed out of my relaxing muscles. It felt incredible and I thought I would just float away.

My bliss was short-lived however, when he wiped his face and ordered me to “Roll the fuck over, and spread your ass cheeks, girl.” I began to do what he asked, but I was moving too slowly because he pushed me down. I felt the lubricant sliding down my ass again. I checked to see, both shoes were on the floor.

He leans close to my ear and says “I hope you like my dick in your ass as much as you liked my finger.”

Before I had time to process what he said, he had shoved his entire dick into my ass. I gasp as suddenly, there is much less room in my body for my organs. I cry out in pain, my ass being ripped open, feeling like a fist punching through tissue paper.

He grabs my neck, ad whispers in my ear “You love it when Daddy fucks you, don't you, girl?” He pulls out slowly, and thrusts himself back into me quickly, “I asked you a question, girl. I want you to say 'yes, I love it when you fuck me. Daddy.'”

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me, Daddy,” I whisper shakily.

“Not loud enough,” he thrusts into me hard, again.

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me, Daddy,” I say more audibly through gritted teeth.

“Girl, I can't fucking hear you. You are going to have to be louder than that if you want Daddy to love you,” he thrusts into me again.

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me, Daddy!” I yell. The tears have returned, and I can't fathom another pain like this. Searing pain ripping up my back. Encapsulating my brain, making my whole body hurt. I imagine this is what birth must feel like. I try to move my leg under me to get some leverage but he notices and puts some of his weight on me.

“Do you think you're going somewhere, girl? Daddy isn't done with you,” he growls. Though, I couldn't imagine it, he hurts me more with his dick. He squeezess my throat, with his arm under my chest. He starts biting my shoulder, and pushing down on my waist with his left hand. Through all of this, he somehow manages to get further inside me, ripping...

I scream out in agony, I can't even open my eyes. All I can do is cry. No one can hear me, and I have never felt such a deep loneliness. But thinking lonely only lasted a fraction of a second, as I once again, wasn't the only person occupying my body.

“Are you gonna lick the shit off of my dick, girl?” He asked into my ear.

“Please, don't make me do that..” I whisper through the agony.

“Girl, I can't fucking hear you. And you aren't aloud to say no, Daddy will find worse ways to punish you if deny him,” he boasted. “So I ask again; Are you gonna lick your shit off my dick, girl?”

“Yes, Daddy. I would LOVE to lick my shit off your dick,” loudly enough for him to hear.

He smirks and pushes himself into me again. He pushes my legs further apart, leans back, and watches himself fuck me. He slows down, watching himself slide in and out.

“You've gotten Daddy's dick dirty, girl. That wasn't very nice of you.” He begins to thrust faster and harder while pushing my lower back down into the bed.. “I'm going to fuck you like the nasty, dirty girl that you are then. And you're going to love it, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I respond and squeeze the sheets in my hands tighter as he continues his onslaught. I lay there, for what felt like hours, days, weeks. My skin is feeling raw and is burning like someone poured gasoline down my colon and lit it on fire.

He leans over to grab my throat, squeezes and pushes my waist down into the bed again, and he bites my shoulder blade. The added pain makes little spots intermittently appear in my vision. I cry, I scream, I gasp. He pushes inside me one last time, and he climaxes. His cock reaching it's ultimate rigidity, feeling like it is literally splitting me open, and his seed spills into my body. He lays inside me for another minute, reveling in his paradise.

Then he flips me over, and pinches my nose again. He rubs his shitty dick on my face, smearing my feces all over my skin, massaging it in. Then he shoves it down my throat, with shit still on it. My body rejects it's own waste, and I throw up again. He pulls out, enough for me to breathe, and continues fucking my mouth, again. At this point, I am so exhausted from the pain, I can't even whimper for him to stop. All I can smell is shit, and all I can feel is pain. I just silently weep, as my body is defiled unforgivably.

He pulls out, and leaves the room. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I don't even care that shit is smeared across my face, that my asshole feels like a tunnel for a fucking train, I just want to sleep. I want to close my eyes, and never wake up. I don't care about any fucking thing else.

He returns, and sees me still laying on the bed. “You need to get yourself cleaned up, girl,” he says impatiently. I just look at him, I don't care. He moves over to the bed and grabs my wrists, pulls me up, and helps me walk to the door. He takes me down the hall to the bathroom, and gets me into a warm shower. I just fall to the bottom, and cry. I cover my face with my hands, getting shit all over them. I pull my hands away to look at them, and I start screaming. He sighs, kneels down, and starts washing my hands and face with a face cloth and soap. He rinses me, and turns the water off; helps me stand up and hands me a towel to dry with.

I start slowly patting myself with the towel. It's like my entire body is under immense pressure. I can still feel the pain but it's become a dull ache in the back of my conscience. He returns with all my clothes, and leaves me to finish drying and getting dressed. A fog was begin to roll over my vision. I continued moving until I was completely dressed. I walked to the closet, and found a packaged tooth brush. I cracked it open and brushed my teeth for about 5 minutes, getting all the shit out.

“God, you took half an hour to dry and get dressed. What else did you do in there?” he inquires.

I smile weakly at him, and he hands $400. I barely notice as I put it in my purse. He takes another picture of me, and a tear falls out of my eye. He kisses it.

“Girl, you really are beautiful,” he coos quietly to me. He then hugs me, wrapping his arms down around my shoulders and pulling me into him. I stand, unmoving as he rubs my back a little. His scent now making my nose and throat dry and itch.

“May I have water?” I ask quietly.

“Of course you can!” he says excitedly, as he lets me go. He leaves the main hallway and returns with a bottle of water. I open it quickly and drink about a quarter of it.

“Would you like me to bring you home?” He asks delicately.

“No, no I can manage the walk. Thank you.” I reply dimly.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?”

“No, thank you. The water is great.”

“Would you like something to eat? I insist, I already have some salad made.”

“Alright,” I give up. I'm tired of saying no. I follow him to the kitchen, and it is also simple. I just see golden flecked, brown tiled floors, wooden counters, and pink tiled back splash.

“Would you like any salad dressing? Ranch, Catalina, Thousand Island?” He asks.

“Catalina sounds delicious.”

He hands me a medium sized bowl with the salad and dressing. I eat it quickly, without breathing much. I hand him the bowl after inhaling the vegetables.

“Are you still hungry? I have some more food.”

“No thank you. I should be leaving now,” I turn and start to walk towards the door.

He follows me, and just as I reach the door, he hugs me from behind and whispers “You're a beautiful girl. Don't ever forget that.” He kisses me on the cheek, and moves to open the door for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, as I walk out of his door.

“Have a good evening, darling.” He waves and then closes his door.

I walk down the walkway and turn right onto the sidewalk. It is as sunny outside as it was when I went in. This can't be right. Lifetimes have passed since I walked into that door. The bright light was bothering me. I looked through my purse for my sunglasses. Plain white sunglasses. I fished around in my purse for my headphones, found them, and put them on. I plugged it into my phone, and found Amy Winehouse. As she sang, I started to fall away into her music. I let my feet carry me home, it was only an hour walk. I switch my heels with the flats in my purse and continued of my way.

This didn't seem like the man I met on my run that morning. I had never run before, and I never will again. I woke up at 6 in the morning, put on running shoes, and just started jogging. I figured I would take a route I had never taken before, and get lost. I found a park, with a nice path. I was listening to music, and intermittently walking and jogging. Then, at one point when I was jogging, he ran by and hit my shoulder. He turned quickly and apologized, but I didn't quite believe him. So, I started matching his pace. For no particular reason, my foot would fall and propel me forward just when his would. I was having fun. The faster he would run, the faster my legs would move. He let me follow him for about 20 minutes, maybe? Then he turned around, and I almost ran into him. He grabbed my face and kissed me. His tongue tasted so sweet. I could taste an apple. It intrigued me that he would eat an apple before going on a run. I then thanked whatever part of me it was that thought to brush my teeth before I left. His hands on my face had felt so warm and inviting that day. When he pulled away, he smiled and introduced himself. I remember how weird shaking his hand was after such a strangely passionate kiss. We talked a little about what he did. Apparently, he was a lawyer. He dealt with medical claims, “boring stuff,” he called it. If a doctor left a sponge in you during an operation, he would get you a million dollars.

“What do you do, miss...?”

“My name is Kiera, and I work in the photo department of a convenience store. I get to look at everyone's pictures,” I smiled.

“Kiera,” he played with my name on his tongue. “I like that. What does it mean?”

“Black haired.”

“You are, so it fits.”

“I would prefer something a little more specific.”

“Specific like what? It's a name, they used to simply be titles. Plus, I think Kiera is exotic, and you seem to be the same.”

“Exotic!” I laugh. “The most exotic thing about me is that I like foreign foods. Like pizza and tacos.”

“Pizza and tacos, you say? Maybe I can cook you a dinner?” He then asks my for my phone number, which I gave him. He gave me his, and then for a short while we texted each other. He always seemed like a perfect gentleman. Always asking about my day, and how I was feeling.

And then there was today. I can't even begin to understand how one acts so innocently through so many interactions and then all of a sudden, consumes me so completely and unforgivably. I couldn't understand how that could happen to me.

I look back the way I had been walking and whisper “Mr. Devon Sbacchis.”

-Kiz

The Work Bench

 He opens his mouth and words come out. I don't even listen, I just watch his lips move. He always thought he knew what the fuck he was talking about, always thought he was so smart. Well, he can't be so smart anymore. It's not his fault though! Oh no, he never deserved to have his ears cut off, nor his ear canals to be dug out of his head with a barbed butterfly knife. He was a perfect angel, of a perfect God. He never made mistakes. Everyone else made the mistakes.

Until I made the mistake of nailing his head to a desk we were building together. More like he had gone behind my back to get the materials to build with me. Spending more than a hundred dollars on wood, and then not listening to my input on how he should put the desk together, and it came out lopsided. It wasn't lopsided enough for a non-carpenter to recognize. But I could tell, having watched my father perfectly make things from wood for about 20 years. It wasn't the fact that it came out lopsided that pissed me off, but that I told him exactly how to build it, and to fucking spite me, he did the exact opposite I told him. You shouldn't screw a screw into a 2x4 through plywood with a 8 volt drill. But he did. I told him that he should make the frame for the working surface of the desk, and then fit in the support. But he didn't. He did some stupid shit that made no sense. And when I went to stain underneath the wood, to make sure it was completely covered, I saw how fucking lopsided it was. And he was proud of it. He showed off to his friends how cool he was that he made a fucking work bench with a fucking built in computer. A work bench with the illusion of surround sound when you were working at it. A work bench that he made by hand. No matter how many times, he talked about how technologically advance his fucking computer desk was, I saw it, lopsided. It was not distributing weight completely evenly over the surface as it was intended to do. It was ugly, it was a representation of his every imperfection he showed off as quintessential.

One drunk night after we entertained his friends, with his stupid lopsided desk as the central point (how could it not be?! It could play video and sound!), I had somehow convinced him that I wanted him to fuck me. Gave him a seductive look while his friend was telling a joke, or making some generally funny joke about big dick. Because every single time any person in the whole world says the word dick or cock, they want it immediately, right where they exist.

Well, I fucking told him that not every time I say something about a penis, do I fucking want it, and he said “Shut up, You know you want my big cock.”

“No, no I don't,” I replied shamelessly.

He grabbed my hand, and brought it to his already throbbing cock. I rolled my eyes. He was playing that stupid fucking game that I hate because he did it all the fucking time. He was an only child and not used to being told no.

“You're the last one to touch it,” he said playfully.

“I do not want to touch it,” I say plainly, almost as if I were bored.

“Of course you do, you've been talking about it all night,” he said.

I knew he wouldn't leave me alone, even in my sleep so I pulled my pants down laid on the couch all matter-of-factly, like I was a whore he was paying... marriage, haha. So he grabbed my waist and flipped me over to fuck me doggy style. He always “had a thing” about me cumming first. I knew nothing would make me cum, I was drunk and totally dry. As he somehow managed to get my unwilling vagina to create some wetness for him to somehow get in me... I saw my bow and arrow, on the floor, next to the couch. He would love it if I shoved my ass higher into the air. So I slowly lowered my hand, and grabbed an arrow.

He had no idea why I was doing what I was doing, and before he really had time to think about why, I grabbed an arrow, turned around with him still inside me, and stabbed him in the fucking eye. Blood was pouring out everywhere, and I knew he was in pain. He was howling like a wolf, but I soon realized, that if I kept moving the arrow, he wouldn't move, and would just cry about his eye. The more he cried, tears and blood, the more I was enjoying what I saw, and I began to fuck him, my pussy getting wet, so fucking wet. I kept moving the stick, and my cunt, and finally I came. Screaming the loudest I've screamed in our relationship. I pull off, turn my lower body around, and push him onto his back, and I stabbed the life from him, all the while screaming:

“IT'S ALL LOPSIDED, YOU FUCK. I GAVE YOU THE ANSWER AND YOU MADE IT ALL FUCKING LOPSIDED.”


-Kiz

Drink Me

We stumble into the room, drunk, yanking our clothes off. I lay on the bed, push myself up, and spread my legs. I look at him, daring him inside me.
"Play with your fucking  clit," he commands. I smile deviously and bite my lip while I begin to follow orders. He watches, hungrily. My right middle finger moving slowly in circles, while my left middle finger explores the outside of my cunt. I can feel myself getting wet almost instantly. His eyes fixated on my hands and their movements, I want to scream at him to fucking do something, but I know he's toying with me. After a couple minutes, though, I can't just continue to watch him watch me. I push myself off my back, onto my knees and crawl across the bed to him, standing there naked. I look up at him, with my mouth right next to his balls.
"What the fuck do you want right now?" I ask, moving my eyes down to his cock.
"I want to see how far down your throat I can fit my dick," he replies quickly.
I roll over and let my head fall off the bed, open my mouth, and say "ahh" like I used to for my doctor. I feel the head of his dick slip slowly into my mouth, and slide across my tongue. I hold my breath, and my throat constricts around his cock. He puts his hand on my neck, feeling where he is inside of me, and begins to thrust quickly in and out. He leans over, and with no warning, sticks two fingers in my cunt. I moan in response, vibrating his dick. He leans over more, and bites my clit. I push him, by his hips, out of my mouth. I spin around so that my legs are falling off the bed.
"Drink," this time I make the command.
He falls to his knees, burying his face in me. He grabs my thighs and holds my legs up and apart. I close my eyes and enjoy the sudden pleasure. I feel his tongue inside me, and I arch my back, clawing at the sheets. I look down and see his face covered in crimson, and I smile. I hadn't realized it would start today. How primitive he looks, his face covered in blood, focused on his prey. He bites my clit again, and I scream at him, "fuck yes."
He raises his face to mine and I can smell my own blood. It makes me ravenous, and I attack his cheeks with my tongue. While I'm cleaning myself off of his face, he shoves his dick inside me, and I growl at him. He grabs my hair, and pulls my head down onto the bed, and watches me sneer at him. He begins to growl back, and I move to push him off me. He smiles, he likes when I resist.
"Fuck you," I yell at him.
With his hand he isn't using to hold my head down to the bed, he grabs my neck, squeezing a little. "You sure you want to say that right now?" he inquires, shoving his dick inside me so hard I see stars from the pain in my cervix. Instead of saying anything, I spit in his face. He moves his hand to the lower part of my neck, still squeezing and holding me down, he lets go of my hair and grabs a knife. He holds the knife up to my neck, just under my jaw, slightly higher than my lymph node, and begins a deep hard rhythm. I try to gasp for air, but the more he fucks me, the tighter he squeezes my throat, and the more the knife rubs against my skin. I can feel myself reaching climax, and manage to choke out "you're a fucking pussy bitch," and I can feel his adrenaline. His rhythm gets deeper and harder inside me. He cums and yells but doesn't slow his pace.
As I reach the climax of my orgasm, I hear him whisper softly while his lips lightly graze my ear, leaving my blood behind:

"Next time, I'm gonna fucking kill you."

-Kiz

Cockicidal

She was more than angry. Even more than furiously enraged. Her intentions now were the purest evil. All she could think about -- as those fucking voices barked at her on the other end of the phone all day -- was annihilation. She wanted to tear the damn phone out of the wall and ram it into the computer screen. She wanted to destroy her entire cubicle. She knew that when she spoke her voice quivered. It was something she couldn’t control but knew that somehow she had to. That pussy boss was just a few feet away and if she slipped and said something out of line he would likely hear and she might be fucked. Well, she wouldn’t let that happen. It was the fucking ex, it was all his fault she was in this predicament, the fucker fucking that 20-year-old cockslut and leaving his kids behind so he could get his middle-aged pleasure with a whore who theoretically could be his own daughter. NO, she would keep her fucking rage bottled up tight until she left the office, then inside her car would release her primal hatred against him and all he supposedly stood for. What a fucking cunt, she thought, not only thinking of his slut but of him as well. If she had a chance she would cut his dick off while he fucked her and leave the severed part stuck in the bitch’s pussy, all his blood spurting on her instead of his now useless cum. But no. She’d never have that chance, except in her dreams, her daily fantasies, even as the greedy barkers rambled on and on about their stupid fucking troubles, thinking she was really listening but all the while having visions of cock-severing delight.

--Charles F. McKenzie

Guts

She was having a hearty breakfast of his delicious insides. The night before she had eaten part of his liver but spat it out because it tasted acrid. It was late, so she went to bed after swishing him out of her mouth. This morning she started on a lower portion of lung but didn’t favor that either. She kept sampling parts of him until she found a satisfying taste. When she cracked open his sternum and got his heart exposed, she fed on that but wished she could share it with another. No matter. It tasted so fucking good and she couldn’t stop until she ate it all, leaving the aorta for later.

She sat back and licked her mouth clean then looked at his bloody mess of guts. Fuck I hate him, she thought, then pulled out the small intestine, its length much longer than she imagined. She ripped it from where it connected inside him then lifted his head and wrapped it around and around and around his neck, pulling it as tight as she could without causing it to tear and separate. She got up and stepped back a few feet, amused at how he looked being faux-strangled by his own intestine. She grabbed her camera and positioned him – pathetic as he was -- in the frame. Click.

--Charles F. McKenzie

Deep

He digs her out, she’s a corpse now but he digs her out, sets her against a tree, lights a smoke and looks at her. She somehow still has that fuck-you expression, the one that says Fuck you and Fuck your family and Fuck your life and Fuck your intentions when you met me. He feels his sweat-soaked neck and back, trickles tickling almost as they run downward, especially from the armpits. Damn. She was deeper than he thought she’d be. Six feet my ass. They must have been drunk when they did it, or maybe talked too much and didn’t pay attention. But now she’s out and he’s got her. He drags on the smoke, drags again, sucks it in, then leans forward and blows it in her fuck-you/fuck-off face. Well, fuck you, too, dirty ass bitch. I did the best I could, you were the one who drove me to it. He wants to smack her but doesn’t. Instead he finishes the smoke then stubs it out on one cheek, her expression unchanged. Well, of course it is, she’s fucking dead. A fucking corpse that got buried too damn deep. He’s out of shape. Maybe digging up corpses is a good thing after all.

--Charles F. McKenzie 

Savor You

The promises may have been made with the best intentions,
you soothed me.
Though you never made a promise,
everything you said was just as real.
I had been denying the thought of you,
but a wild beast will break free.
Wild dreams will suck you in,
Wild dreams will slay you.
Entice you with possibilities,
and snatch them from you shortly after.
And are you weak to believe them,
to entertain them?
I want your neck in my hand,
your pulse pushing against my flesh.
I want to feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins,
I want to see your eyes clouded in fear.
I want the smell of your own urine to be the last thing you smell,
weakly clawing at my hand around your throat.
You will kneel before me,
as I pull your last breath from your lungs with my own.

-Kiz