Consumed- The Complete Works

by Kyle M. Scott

  Panic throbbed around his senses as more bile rose in his throat. Kris closed his eyes, focusing on the gag, doing all he could to fight it back. If he threw up wearing this thing, he’d likely choke to death on his own puke.

  What where these women doing?

  Was this some sort of BDSM club? What the fuck had Lee gotten them into?

  He heard laughter, soft and lilting. Undeniably female.

  And then felt a fire spread on his cheek as it was met with a vicious slap.

  Kris grunted, pain shooting through the left side of his face.

  It did its job, apparently. His vision cleared, just a little.

  Another slap, harder this time. He felt his head rock to the side with the force of the blow.

  “Wake up, buttercup,” a girl’s voice said.

  He blinked once, twice, trying to gain purchase. Despite the ferocity of the blows, he still had one foot in oblivion.

  Perhaps it was best that way?

  He felt hands cup his testicles, smooth and cool to the touch. They were gentle, almost erotic in their massaging.

  Kris tried to focus, saw a pair of slender ebony fingers with white nail polish, they squeezed and fondled his balls with the keen intimacy of a lover.

  His brain, in its current state of flux, was having a hard time processing all this shit.

  He must have gotten wasted, far beyond the point of no return. Somehow, he’d ended up in some sort of bondage-themed orgy. Had this been his own doing, or had he been drugged by these women? It was all a blur. He’d done some shit in his life that made such a scenario seem entirely plausible, but…

  Around the choking ball-gag, Kris screamed. High pitched and trilling, as the woman’s tender fingers tensed, then squeezed.

  Hard.

  Sickening waves of pain shot through his centre as the unseen woman made a tight fist of her hand, crushing his testicles in her vice-like grip. The pain was unbearable. Tears welled in his eyes, though his head cleared almost immediately, all signs of the drug rapidly receding as she continued to ball her fist. Kris wailed.

  Only the soft sound of laughter met his proclamations of agony.

  He watched, helpless with eyes wide, as the hand down there turned white at the knuckles. The flesh of his ball-sack was turning a dark, ugly purple. One of his testicles was swelling out from between her forefinger and thumb, it looked seconds away from bursting like a tiny, purple balloon. Veins throbbed angrily as the hand tensed further.

  And then twisted.

  It felt like a spike had been ran through his cerebral cortex. His whole body lit up in fresh agony as she wrenched his sack to the left. He felt his tubes close to tearing. Soon, his balls would burst right open spill to the floor where…

  Just like that, the hand loosened, then moved out of sight.

  Kris cried into his ball-gag like a child.

  “That should do it,” another voice said, with no small amusement.

  “I think you may be right,” answered another. There was sarcasm there, and again, a cold humor.

  He recognized the voice.

  How could he not?

  ‘Go to sleep, little boy…’

  It was her.

  It took a few endless moments before the panic really set in. Pain had temporarily rendered Kris near-insane, but the first woman had been right. Their torturous methods had the desired effect. He was coming round. Big time.

  As the pain finally began to subside a little, the fear took hold. Kris remembered.

  He’d been drugged. No question. The ‘how’ of it was unknown, but did it really fucking matter when he was wearing a gimp-gag and being sexually tortured by the best looking women in the world?

  Probably not.

  Slowly, he lifted his head.

  He almost wished he hadn’t.

  Kris was onstage. Just below him, he could see the very seat where he’d been sat before all…this…took place. He now recalled falling from it in a dead tumble, taking the seat with him, but now it sat up straight, and in it sat the red-haired temptress. She was fully dressed now, wearing what looked like a business suit of some sort. The image was utterly surreal, and completely incomprehensible to Kris in the moment. As his eyes met hers, she smiled, wiggled her fingers in a cute little gesture of greeting, and relaxed back into her chair.

  All feeling was returning to his body now. He felt the muscles of his arms cramp, and realized he was tied to the dancing pole with his hands behind his back. How long he’d been there, he had no idea, but the cramping sensation led him to believe it had been a while.

  He attempted moving. Useless. Impossible.

  And talking was out.

  He tried anyway.

  “Whuuurthathfuh!?”

  The redhead smiled ruefully, and shook her head.

  “Save it,” she purred. The show’s about to start.

  With that, she tilted her head to the right, directing his vision. Until now, he’d barely even registered the red-haired woman sat before him in the suit, not to mention the fact that his balls had almost been ruptured by one of her accomplices, but now, he took it all in.

  There were three poles that made up the main stage. Earlier, he’d only noticed two of them, probably due to the lighting of the place. All his attention had been on the dances taking place in front of him, but now he could see that the two other poles were erected slightly further back on the stage. Only a few feet and no more. The lights of the strip club were no longer a dazzling blend of color, strobes and lasers. Now, the house lights were all the way up – all pretence of entertainment washed away in the harsh, brilliant light that pulsed from overhead, bathing every surface in an unflattering, sickly hue.

  The effect was much the same as when Kris had attended parties on LSD. When the room was dim, and the lava lamps flowed, the vibe would be wonderful, affording a sense of privacy and comfort, but when the lights went up…

  The comfort would be dispelled as though it was no more than illusion. And the shy, fragile individuals would be left without the soft sanctuary of the shadows.

  All would be revealed.

  Just as it was now.

  Tied to the pole on his left, was another man. He too was naked, and looked to have been beaten severely. His left eye was swollen shut and weeping blood. His lip was split open and his left ear looked as if it had been chewed on. The lobe dangled, bleeding on a thin strand of flesh. It swayed as the man’s head swung loosely from side to side. Kris recognized the same dull horror in the man’s eyes that he felt in his own.

  The man’s genitals were black and blue.

  Whatever these women had done to him, it had been horrendous.

  Kris reeled at the thought of what awaited him.

  The other pole, the one to his right, had also housed one of the women’s captives.

  Or at least, he thought it had.

  It was hard to tell.

  The thing that lay crumpled in a heap by the base of the pole resembled a man in shape, but that was the only discerning familiarity. It was a red, weeping mess, bent over at an impossible angle. Kris tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Was it really a man?

  It looked…

  A muffled wail drew his attention to the side of the stage. His eyes widened in horror.

  Lee was there, placed on all fours, naked as the day he was born, his face pushed into the floor with his head turned to face Kris. His arms tied behind his back by a thick cord. Blood seeped from the areas around the binds where it lacerated his flesh.

  His ass was pushed up, his knees bent underneath for purchase.

  Behind him, a woman knelt, Chinese. She wore a jet-black suit, complimented by a red tie. She looked like she was all set for a day in the office.

  Or would have, had it not been for the giant dildo gripped in her fist.

  The sight of it sent fresh terror through his system as he studied the phallic object.

  It was made of metal. Its smooth length tapered off in
to a vicious looking point, like that of a spearhead. It looked razor sharp.

  Kris met his friend’s pleading eyes, helplessly. Lee stared back at him, desperation burning in his gaze.

  “It’s always the men doing the fucking, isn’t it? Seems a little unfair. We’re always the ones being penetrated. Speared on your poles for your own wanton carnality. Why is it always the women who ‘get fucked’?” asked the redhead from her ringside seat

  “You do the fucking, and we get fucked. One is always the invader, and one is always the invaded. How would it feel, I wonder, to have the proverbial shoe on the other foot?” she mused.

  Kris closed his eyes as the woman holding the razor-sharp dildo leaned forward.

  “Watch, or I’ll cut your fucking eyes out and feed them to you!” the Chinese woman hissed.

  Kris believed her.

  He opened his eyes as, slowly, methodically, she slid the dildo into his friends puckering anus.

  Lee’s screams filled his head, enveloped his world. The blade went in smooth, slicing open Lee’s asshole like it was cutting through butter. His friend’s eyes rolled up into his head as she slid the implement in further, deeper, until it was all the way inside. Blood flowed from his ravaged anus, pouring down the torturer’s fist.

  She drew out the blade.

  “Now fuck him,” the redhead ordered.

  The Chinese woman fucked him.

  The blade slid free, bringing with it a small river of shit and blood that coated the blade and sluiced to the floor, before she thrust it forward with a grunt of exertion.

  Forward and back. In and out.

  Kris thought the sounds of tearing flesh would drive him mad.

  He wished it would.

  Lee’s wails reached a new crescendo as she sped up her ministrations, slicing his insides to shreds with abandon. Blood pooled from Lee’s mouth as he howled. His screams were met with no mercy.

  His asshole shredded to ribbons now, the sweating woman gave one final, almighty thrust with the dildo; pushing it in as far as she could. Her fist disappeared momentarily as it easily entered Lee’s newly expanded anus. Lee finally fell silent as she withdrew her shit and gore-stained fist with a grunt of disgust and tossed the vicious sex-toy to the stage floor. She flicked her hand spraying the muck across Lee’s naked back.

  The whole awful display had only lasted a minute at most. It was the longest minute of Kris’ life.

  He wept for his dead friend.

  He wept for himself.

  “Glad you’re finally fully with us,” said the redhead. “Beatrice…remove the ball gag.”

  Unseen hands lifted his head again, this time far more gently, obscene in their seeming compassion. As the hands worked to release the gag, the redhead, whom he now understood to be the ringleader of these monsters, continued.

  “Sorry about the gag. A bit unseemly, but you men tend to wail and holler like…well…like little girls, actually. We wanted you kept quiet for a time. We always save one for last, and this time you’re it. That pussy behind you died of shock, can you believe that shit?”

  Kris met her eyes. She was smiling sweetly.

  The gag finally removed, he breathed a deep rasping breath, his throat burning from lack of air and the ever-present bile that swilled in his gullet.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kris gasped.

  “Oh, for fun.”

  The women – how many he had no idea – laughed as one.

  “It’s not easy being a stripper, you know. It’s not easy working in the sex industry in any capacity. Ask any of my girls. It consists of long hours, hard labor, and little thanks. It pays well, but that’s hardly compensation for the shit we go through…having to deal with you…” Venom dripped from her words like acid as she spoke.

  “Did you know that recently, a high-ranking sportsman beat his partner half to death and raped her repeatedly, and that when the poor woman went to court to see the filthy bastard locked up, his defense claimed that she’d had it coming? It’s true. She’d been a star in the adult industry, you see. She’d fucked men for money, on-screen – desperation can lead to such things – and that deemed her less than worthless in their eyes. Her rapists defense attorney was a man, of course. In his eyes, she was a whore, and a whore deserved to be raped.”

  Kris listened, weeping as the redhead spoke her piece.

  “That’s the world we live in, buster. A world where men crave our flesh and lust after our bodies like rabid dogs, yet when we give them what they want, they see us as whores. They use their ridiculous religions to hold us down. They use their physical strength to keep us under their boots. What was it that James Brown said? It’s a man’s world…

  “Well, that’s as may be, but that’ll all change. Women like us…we’re everywhere. We’re sleeping in your beds while you’re out fucking the girl from the office. We’re raising your kids while you drink yourselves into idiocy in places like this. We gave you the world, and you threw it all back. It’s all going to change, though. One day you’ll be the ones getting fucked…”

  “What…has this…got to do…with me?” Kris moaned.

  “With you, personally? Nothing. Nothing at all. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You came along here looking to sexualize us, to objectify us, to treat us like meat. And if you could, you’d fuck us. Fuck us within an inch of our lives and laugh about it with your friends later. After all…’we have it coming’, don’t we?”

  “I didn’t even want to come here. I love women. I…I have a mother…”

  “So did Ted Bundy.”

  “What about Aileen Wuornos, then? She was a woman!”

  “Ahead of the curve.”

  “You’re fucking…insane.”

  She sighed. “We’re not insane. We’re women. We’re the first of many. We’ve been burning at your stakes for too long, and soon…very soon…you’ll all be burning on ours.”

  “I love women,” he repeated. “I do.”

  “Aww, I know you do. You all do. You love us on our knees with our holes open and our mouths shut, if they’re not jammed full of cock. You’ve spent millennia holding us down, in every nation and in every way. This here…” she pointed to Lee’s bleeding, shit-stained corpse. “This is just our own little way of letting you know that your time is up. News will spread of what we did here. We’ll be long gone, but the act will change the world. Our message will be heard.”

  “You’re feminists!?” he blurted.

  “Labels…just labels. What we are, is women. And we’re tired of being stripped of our dignity. In the case of the ladies in your immediate vicinity, I mean that quite literally.”

  Kris caught a light flashing in her right hand as she spoke.

  His balls shriveled at the sight.

  She held a straight-razor.

  Smiling, the redhead stood from her seat, no longer a spectator to the depravity onstage. She hopped up onto the stage with one fluid movement and stood before him. Their noses almost touched as she reached her free hand between his legs and gripped his flaccid penis.

  To his side, the Chinese stripper appeared. She too held a razor. He saw his own terror reflected in its steel, moments before she gently laid its edge across his temple.

  From his right, the cold touch of another blade caressed his nipple. Kris struggled uselessly as the three women prepared themselves for what would come next.

  He wished he could die.

  “Like I said, you stripped us of our proper place in this world,” the redhead whispered in his ear. “How does it feel to be the one being stripped…?”

  She slid the razorblade underneath the folds of his foreskin and in a downward motion, she began sawing, peeling off both the shriveled skin and the rest of the flesh covering his shaft like the skin off an overripe apple.

  The others followed suit.

  It was a hell of a thing, just how long a man could survive while being skinned alive.

  She’d unsheathed h
is cock like she was removing a little jacket, and Kristal had already removed his face. His skull gleamed behind the bloody strands of flesh that her untrained ministrations had failed to remove, but for the most part, his face was gone. She’d cut his lying tongue out too, for good measure, though it hadn’t stopped him screaming.

  His nipples, her Chinese companion had seen to. They lay like little fleshy pebbles on the stage in a pool of blood. The rest of his chest area, she’d sliced off in slivers. Strips of flesh hung from his throbbing, bloodied musculature like peeling wallpaper.

  Yet the man was still kicking. Still begging.

  Growing disconcerted with his wild eyed stare, which seemed wholly fixated on her, she raised the blade horizontally to his eye level and in one fluid motion she sliced both his eyeballs in half. They puked fluid like small open mouths.

  That was better.

  She’d had enough of men’s accusatory stares to last her a life time.

  The young man twitched and writhed as her girls continued their work, but she herself had other issues to attend to.

  Making her way from the stage, she walked to the back of the bar, being careful not to step in any broken glass. These shoes she’d bought to go with the suit hadn’t been cheap. She thought they were a nice touch, though.

  They added a little class.

  At the rear of the makeshift venue, she stared directly into the camera that perched their on its tripod, surveying all, beaming out to the world via a live feed.

  “Aileen Wuornos…” she huffed. “Fucking amateur.”

  She smiled into the camera’s all-seeing eye.

  “Now ladies…who’s with us…?”

  ROOM 7

  I found a new place to dwell – Elvis Presley

  August 1969

  Welcome to ‘The Oceanside Inn’.

  Just south of Belmont Way, and a little off the beaten track, you might say.

  We run a tight ship here, with all modern commodities in each room, a splendid in-house restaurant and bar, and even a small outdoor swimming pool, for when the weather is just right.