He grunted as he fought the urge to stay quiet.
I thumped him in the forehead. “Hey, just for future reference and curiosity, which burns worse?”
He became hysterical and tried to stand up, so I shoved him down to the floor and hog-tied his feet together. He began to scream at the top of his lungs and to foam at the mouth as the salt really began to burn his eyes. The staples were also under his eyelids and they were digging into his eyeballs as well. He was making so much noise I finally grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. Thin trails of blood were running out of the corner of his eyes as I sarcastically popped off, “We’re at a nice getaway cabin in the woods and it should be peaceful and quiet, so zip it up before I do something really fucked up!”
He held his eyes tightly closed. “You’re gonna fucking pay. Even if you kill me, you’re gonna fucking pay.”
I knew it would be several hours before he would calm down enough to have a conversation with, so I slapped him across the face several more times. “If I hear one peep out of you I will poke your eyes out with a stick, and then I will sew your tongue to your nut sack.”
While the rude bastard rolled around on the floor and moaned, I laid back on the couch and took a nap.
Several hours later when I woke up I found him lying motionless on the floor with snot running out of his nose. His eyes were swollen shut and the skin around them was red as an apple. I thought he was dead until I stomped his crotch again. He moaned a little as he picked his head up off the floor slightly while trying to open his eyes. He was in such agony, instead of trying to fight back he laid his head back on the floor and calmly said, “Please don’t hurt me anymore. I will do anything you ask.”
I knelt beside his head. “So, you would torture yourself in the most unthinkable and horrific way, causing yourself excruciating pain until you were dead?”
After that comment he started breathing heavily and whimpering. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s kind of fun.” I looked around the room. “It’s kind of like how you take pleasure in killing all these helpless animals.”
He started crying and pleading for mercy, and as tears and blood ran down his face I thought to myself how it was a pathetic sight to see a big bad hunter like him acting like a baby, so I laid my hand on his chest. “If you tell me why you killed your stepson like one of these animals on the wall I promise you I’ll give you mercy.”
He hesitated for a few seconds. “That…. That was an accident.”
I reached over and thumped one of his swollen eyes. “Come on Dick, I know what you did.”
He started to say something.
I interrupted him. “I’m giving you a chance to tell the truth. I know more than you think.”
He took a deep breath. “I said that it was a fucking accident!”
I wanted him to confess to what he had done, so I made up a lie in hopes he would come clean. “I’m a hit man that your father hired to kill you. He thinks you’re a piece of shit and that your sorry ass has put his reputation in jeopardy for the last time. He said he is done cleaning up your messes.”
He took the bait and started crying. “So, that’s why that fucker wanted me to move out here? He told me he just wanted me to lay low for a while until things blew over. I can‘t believe he would do this to me.”
“Your father wanted me to tell you before I killed you that you crossed the line this time. And he said he is ashamed of you and that you’re no longer his son.”
He just laid on the floor and didn’t say a word for a few seconds. “I guess you’re going to kill me now?”
“Not until you confess to what you did.”
“I’m not going to tell you a fucking thing! Just hurry up and do whatever you’re going to do and get it over with.”
I stood up. “Okay, but I assure you that I won’t hurry—your dad made it very clear that he wants you to suffer.”
He became really upset and his adrenaline kicked in high gear after that comment. He went from being submissive to a wild beast in just a second or two. Before I knew what happened, he had broken his hands free and jumped to his feet, which were still tied with a cord. He tore the stitching from his lips as he screamed out he was going to tear me apart. He was still blind from the jalapeno juice and salt, but that didn’t stop him from swinging his arms around like a mad man to hit me. While I bobbed and weaved, I stepped towards him and shoved him backwards, causing him to trip and fall to the floor. He kept trying to get up, but I kept pushing him down. He eventually grabbed me around the legs, causing me to fall backwards onto the floor. When I tried to get up he lunged on top of me and started choking me, and as he shouted for me to die, I shoved my thumb into his swollen right eye. He immediately released my neck as he screamed out horrendously. Fluid gushed from his eye socket as he rolled off me and onto the floor. I rolled over in the opposite direction as I held my throat. Seconds later as he was down on all fours holding his hand over his eye, I jumped to my feet and kicked him as hard as I could in the face. As soon as he fell over onto his side he quickly rolled back to an all four stance, then quickly stood up again. He yelled out he was going to kill me as he blindly lunged towards me, and before he could grab me, I moved out of the way, causing him to fall back to the floor. He began crawling across the living room like a wild animal trying to escape, so I jumped onto his back and put him in a triangle chokehold. Within a short period of time, he was unconscious.
While he slept, I broke the legs off the kitchen table and laid the tabletop flat on the floor next to a wall, then I ran out to the car and grabbed a bag full of sixteen-penny nails, a bag of small nails, two large spikes and a hammer. When I came back into the cabin I dragged Lefty over to the tabletop and positioned him on top of it in such a way his arms were perpendicular to his body and his legs were spread eagle. After I removed his clothes, I took the spikes and drove one into each of his shoulders just below the clavicle bones. They went all the way through his body and into the tabletop several inches. I stretched the skin on his right side, or love handle, outwards from his body and drove a couple of nails through the loose skin and into the wood, then repeated the same for his other side. I outlined his entire body with about two hundred large and small nails by toe-nailing his flesh to the tabletop. The larger sixteen-penny nails were spaced about two inches apart and they lined the inside and outside of his arms and legs, each side of his torso and the top of his shoulders. The smaller finishing nails were spaced about a half an inch apart and lined each side of his fingers and hand, and they also lined each side of his neck. It was a good thing he was unconscious, because that would have probably been very painful, but it was easier than having to fight him. Now that the nailing the shit out of him portion was completed, I lifted the table up and nailed it to the interior wall of the cabin. While he hung bleeding like a stuck pig, I stood back and thought to myself what a gross sight this bastard turned out to be. His entire body was covered with blood and his punctured eye was oozing something nasty and the other one was swollen shut. He had snot all over his face and neck and it was running down his chest. The nails were pulling his flesh so tight, that each nail was causing a one-to-five-inch stretch mark. The skin across his chest was so tight that his ribs were showing. He was so hideous looking I went and found a large mirror and propped it up in front of him so he could see himself when he finally awoke. It was getting late and I was starting to feel a little tired, so I sat on the couch and read a book, Stuffing Animals Made Easy- Volume One, that I had found in the office when I was looking for a stapler.
Several hours later, I was awakened by a loud moaning sound; I had fallen asleep. A little while later his moans began to get louder, so I walked over to him to see if he was awake, but he was still pretty much in and out of la-la land.
About thirty minutes later, he was starting to come around, and when he finally got a good glimpse in the mirror through his swollen eye he started screaming his lungs out. He was frantically screaming
and staring in the mirror in disbelief in how his body had been gruesomely nailed to the table. I walked over to him. “Ready to tell me what happened?”
After he stared at himself for a few more seconds, he glared at me and yelled out in a dreadful voice. “What have you done to me, you son of a bitch? Why would you do such a thing? I don’t deserve this.”
“Stop being a bitch. The way I see it you’re getting off easy. I could have hung you upside down by your nut sack.”
He realized his predicament wasn’t going to get any better regardless of what he said or how much he begged. “You might as well just fucking kill me and stop playing games.”
“You wanna play a game? Sounds like fun.”
I walked over to a dartboard that was hanging on a wall and pulled out a handful of darts. Richard’s eye got big as I stood in front of him aiming a dart, and when I threw it at him he flinched. When he realized the dart had stuck into his chest, he gritted his teeth. “You’re a ruthless bastard!”
“Only if I was killing a young boy for money, so let’s not talk about who’s ruthless.”
I threw another dart. “Stop! Stop! Stop! What the fuck do you want man? Shit! Stop fucking doing that!”
“Tell me the truth about the shooting incident with the boy and I’ll stop.”
“Just kill me, you sick fucker! I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”
After I threw another dart, which struck him in his right arm, he screamed like a little bitch.
“Why are you being such a fag over the darts? You should be screaming over the fact you’re nailed to the fucking wall.”
For curiosity sake, I went and grabbed a syringe out of my bag, and when I started to poke him, he hollered out hysterically. Just as I figured, he feared needles. It’s amazing how bad some people have a needle phobia. Now that I knew about it, I went out to my car and grabbed a handful of syringes with extra-long needles. When I came back in I ripped the fins off the darts and glued them to the back end of the syringes with super glue, then filled them with just enough water so they would be weighted correctly.
He started panicking as I stood in front of him with the hybrid syringe darts, and as soon as I threw one he screamed out and started jerking his body as much as he could. The needle sunk about three inches into his stomach. He looked down and stared in horror. “Get it out! Get it out! Please get it out. I can’t stand it! Get it out!”
I threw another one and it stuck into the side of his neck.
He started acting like a little kid at the doctor’s office as he turned his head away. “Please… Please stop! No, no, no… I’ll do what…”
I threw another dart.
“Ewwww… Ouchy! Stop! Stop!”
I walked up to him. “Stop looking away or I will slowly stick a needle into your eye.”
He was looking at me as if he wanted to throw up as I slowly worked each needle in and out, in and out, of his flesh until I finally pulled it out. By the time I was pulling out the last needle, he was dry heaving, and as I walked away he began throwing up all over the front of his nude body.
“If you look away I’m really going to give you something to be nauseous about.”
He apparently didn’t believe me, because when I threw a dart he turned his head, which was a big mistake. The next three out of five consecutive darts struck him in his nut sack and wiener.
I laughed. “Hey, Dick! You gotta needle in your dick.”
He looked in the mirror in disbelief for a few seconds, then he became very angry. “You fucking cocksucker! You’re a fucking coward! You got no balls!”
He was cursing me as I threw the last two darts, which struck him in the throat. He quickly started gagging—the needles had penetrated his trachea. While he gagged and spewed at the mouth, I walked over to him and squatted down next to his legs, and before he had a chance to say anything, I had taken my knife out of my ankle sheath and in one slice cut his nuts off. He tried to scream, but the darts in his throat caused him to start choking again when his muscles tightened in his neck. I stood up and held his bloody sack in front of his face. “I got balls now.”
He was speechless as he stared in horror.
I tossed his sack on the floor and grabbed a red-hot coal out of the fireplace with a pair of tongs, then went over and squatted down next to him again. He couldn’t scream or speak loudly, so he quietly mumbled in a terrified voice, “Oh please don’t. I can’t take any more pain.”
“You’re going to bleed to death.”
He took a deep breath. “Just let me fucking die. You have robbed me of everything.”
Before he could say another word, I shoved the red-hot coal into his bloody wound, and as he tried to scream, a sizzling sound and a cloud of rancid smelling smoke poured out from his crotch. He used everything he had to try and pull his arms from the tabletop, but he didn’t have enough strength to even budge the nails or tear his flesh. He could only hang helplessly as every part of his body was being tightly bound. Snot was hanging from his nose as he gave up and held his head down in defeat. He didn’t say a word as I pulled the darts out of his body. I walked over to his ball sack and pulled out the darts. “It’s only going to get worse.”
We played about eight more games of syringe darts and when his needle phobia had lost its luster, I walked up to him with a syringe and stuck it into his ruptured eye, and as he screamed, I sucked the remaining fluid from it. Before I had a chance to insert it into his other eye he cried out, “I did it for the insurance! I shot him for the insurance! I had lost everything gambling!”
Now he was in confession mode. “What about your first wife?”
He took a deep breath. “That bitch was leaving me.”
“And?”
“I had her killed.”
“What’s was the deal with your second wife?”
I could tell he was gritting his teeth. “I hated her.”
“And?”
“I tried to burn that bitch.”
I grabbed the hair on his head and pulled his face up to where I could see it. “Why in the hell is your sorry ass not in prison?”
He grunted out, “My father covered it up.”
I thought to myself how he had answered all the questions that I already knew, so I asked him something I didn’t know. “What made you want to kill all these innocent animals on the wall?”
“I don’t know, for the sport of it I guess.”
I let go of his hair and walked over to a gun case and pulled out a compound bow and a few arrows. Richard’s face had a look of horror as I stood across the room loading the bow. I pulled back on the string and aimed an arrow towards him. “How does this make you feel? Does it make you feel like an animal? It makes me feel tough. I feel like I can go outside and kick a squirrel’s ass.”
He screamed out as I let the arrow go, and when it hit the wall three feet away from him he gasped with relief.
I looked at the bow. “How do you aim with this thing?”
He didn’t say a word as he hung in fear, and as he looked at me like I was a psycho I said, “You’re going to die ether way. It looks like you’re in enough pain as it is, so here’s your chance to end it, you balless bastard.”
Instead of making an intelligent decision he started begging. “Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry for what I did. You have taught me a lesson. If you let me go I promise I won’t say anything.”
I let another arrow go. “Hell no, you’re not going to say anything.”
He closed his eye tightly as he made an ‘ohhhh’ sound.
“It went through a damn window!”
He opened his eye and took a deep breath.
I got agitated and tossed the bow on the floor. “Now I have to wait until morning when it’s light so I can go outside and find that fucking arrow with my finger prints on it.”
He sighed.
“I guess I’ll have to play darts until morning.”
A look of horror came over his face. “You said you would have me
rcy if I told you the truth.”
“I am. I could take you back to my house.” I started to walk away, but then I paused. “You know, if you would have just admitted to the truth earlier you could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”
He didn’t respond.
I laughed. “Hell, I’m having fun, aren’t you?”
He started crying as he hung in a massive amount of pain, and as I watched his tears drip off the left side of his face, I thought how I really didn’t want to play darts anymore and I was bored with the whole torture thing. I went and sat on the couch, and as I flipped through the book that I had been reading earlier, I thought it would be neat to try what I had learned.
After I took a quick nap, I walked up to Richard and showed him the book, ‘Stuffing Animals Made Easy’. “Look, this might be better than darts. Don’t you think?”
He just hung on the table silent.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a party pooper. You said earlier you wanted to die because you’re balless.”
The Dickhead died thirty minutes later. I guess it was from a loss of blood, or the horrendous stress to his body, or maybe it was because he didn’t have any balls, either way it was a good thing for him because the book didn’t have a chapter on how to stuff an animal still alive, which would have probably been excruciatingly painful.”
Dicky gasped in disbelief as he listened to Seth’s story. Seth laughed as he patted Richard’s stuffed head. “Yeah, as you can tell I did it. And it wasn’t as bad as I would have figured it to be. They had everything I needed in a tool shed from when they had preserved and stuffed their animal heads. The next morning I loaded my trophy into the trunk of my car and went and found the arrow stuck in a nearby tree. I wanted it to look like Richard had left on his own, so I packed all of his clothes and personal belongings and threw them in the trunk of my car as well, and before I left I cleaned the entire cabin to rid any evidence of me being there.”
Seth laid backwards on the stuffed man and put his arms behind his head. “It was wonderful to be in such a peaceful place like that cabin and away from all the noise, hostility and violence of town. I wish I could move to a place like that.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 16