by John Everson
Cind was moaning louder, and Raymond could feel something warm and sticky kissing at his bare buttocks. She screamed once, and her bulging belly lifted from the floor and then her rear end smacked back down, eliciting another yelp of pain. She was writhing in pain, out of control. Her ribs were bleeding from a dozen thin cuts. The razors were everywhere.
“Put one blade to the line of hair that runs from your bellybutton to your penis,” Aaron continued, ignoring Cind’s sudden thrashing.
Raymond touched the beveled corner of a razor to the skin just below his belly button, and felt his balls shrivel at the touch. His cock hadn’t looked this small since he was nine.
“Place the other blade on the same spot on Cindy,” Aaron said.
Raymond looked up in alarm. He didn’t mind hurting himself; he was used to it. But Cind was in enough pain already.
“Do exactly as I tell you, from this moment on,” the wizard hissed. “She will die for sure if you don’t. You must do what I say, if she is to have any chance at all.”
Raymond put the razor on the hot milky flesh above the thatch of dark, bloody hair matted between her legs. She cried out again and bucked against the blade, and Raymond cried out too, as a thin line of red opened below her navel.
“Not yet,” Aaron yelled, and opened his book.
He began to recite something in a language foreign and guttural. Cindy wept and Raymond itched at the cold steel in his fingers. His penis began to grow strong again, beating the fear and thirsting for the climax. The pull of blade against skin. The ultimate climax. It had been denied him for so long.
VII. Last Look Back
“You guys are kinky,” Emily had said, dropping her bag to the floor and accepting the joint from Aaron, who’d picked it off the floor where it lay, untended. Cind had other things in her mouth now, and Sal could only tilt his head back and sigh.
She took a hit and then unbuttoned the third hole of her thin pink sleeveless.
“You’re the sugar daddy, eh?” she said, looking the old man up and down. She put a hand on her hip and pushed it out as far as she could. “You expecting something from me for this as well?”
Her lip pouted a bit when Aaron said, “No, young lady. All I want from you is for you to sit there, at that corner of the diagram, and watch.”
“Whatever, man,” she said, and plopped herself down at the indicated spot. Her denim skirt inched up dangerously high.
Raymond returned to the fray, dropping his jockeys and kneeling down next to Cind.
“How about a taste of this one,” he said, and gasped when Cind raised strawberry lips from Sal’s lap to release his cock. It flopped back to lie over Sal’s bellybutton and Raymond slapped his friend’s leg. “You’re a fucking horse, dude! Wait ’til I tell some of the girls at school. You’ll never have a problem getting laid again.
Cind grinned and nodded, her eyes crossing a little as she bent forward to accept Raymond’s offering. Aaron and Emily watched the trio as they grew closer and more desperate, hands grasping at legs, lips suckling the tight knobs of Cind’s breasts, her own lips and tongue moving from boy to boy, mouth to mouth.
Aaron flipped a page and spoke in monotone.
Unther, agis, outou, felicitatis. Aro, eroto, ovum aii. Torundis dei.
“What’s with the rap?” Emily asked Aaron, who sat across from her on the bottom edge of the star. One of her hands held the joint, the other was tucked beneath her skirt.
“Incantation,” he said.
“Like magic?” she asked.
“Exactly like magic.”
“I thought you just were a perve.”
“That too,” he said, and grinned. His teeth looked evil.
“Do you want to help me a little more?”
“Sure,” she said. “I thought it would come to that. I get to keep a bag of my own though, right?”
“Whatever you want,” he said.
Emily unbuttoned the rest of her shirt unasked, as Aaron disappeared to the back of the room. Her smallish breasts were boldly proclaiming their freckles when he returned and asked her to stand.
Her skirt fell to the floor as she did, and he grabbed her arm as she threatened to fall over, unbalanced. She laughed, nervously, and then pushed a thumb into the waistband of her flower-dotted panties.
“These too?” she asked.
He nodded and she shoved them to the floor.
Naked, orange pubic hair glowing gold in the dim light, Emily raised out her arms and Aaron smiled. But instead of taking her to him, he wrapped a length of chain around her wrists and leaned in to let her kiss his cheek.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “You are a kinky one, eh?”
“Feet too,” he said, and she did nothing as he wrapped two more lengths of chain around her.
“Lay down,” he said, and she did, still pliant and wanting, her own hand reaching down with its chain to touch her thigh. She cried out then, as a hook dug into the tender skin of her breast.
“Careful love,” he said. “Time for that in a bit.”
Behind them, Raymond was lying on top of Cind, who still held Sal’s cock in her hand. Raymond’s eyes fluttered and the world swirled, but he swore that he’d never felt so alive as now, buried inside the warm wet world of Cind, who moaned and smiled, and whispered little grunts and hisses of affirmation. The three were lost in their world. They didn’t notice when Aaron reached between them and pocketed the unopened pack of Tojans. Nor did they notice when the clink of the lifting chains moved above them. And when Emily began to scream and thrash, an airborne witness to their carnal high, they only rutted harder, her cries of anguish fueling their cries of psychedelic passion.
Agnorlic bies is ete iffite allmond reialto, argon, algon, Nighgth! Aaron pronounced, running a thin finger across the bloodied flanks of Emily, who still was making quite a racket, despite the gag. She swung and twisted in the air above the copulating trio. Cind now sat astride Sal, and her own grunts turned to screams of pleasure at each release of her thighs as she sunk his huge member inside her and held Raymond’s face to her breast, forcing him to bite and kiss her as she rode his friend with fury. Sweat dripped down her thin back, mingled with light spots of crimson.
Emily twisted the chains madly, a trapeze artist trapped in mid-fall in mid-air. With each kick she dragged the fishhooks of the chains across her calves and arms again, gouging deeper and deeper rivers of blood. It ran in thin trickles across her ribs, and followed the contour of her body to pool at her taut nipples, which acted like directional spouts for a now-steady feed of bloody milk dripping on the bodies below.
Et tu tu eeem. Agoth, algaraoth. Riventie!
The chain came down hard across Emily’s back, and dug its hooks in deep. But Aaron didn’t let the chain linger, only yanked it back hard, tiny bits of white flesh still clinging to the wicked points protruding every two inches from between the links.
Agoth, algaraoth. Riventie!
And again, this time across her butt, the barbs catching the tender skin between her cheeks and shredding it to the consistency of grape jelly.
Agoth, algaraoth. Riventie!
The chain drew a jagged map of blood across her thighs and Emily screamed into the thick gag. Her struggles bounced her body a foot in the air but rather than freeing her of the restraints, her motion only twisted the barbs in her wrists further, until the white glimpses of bone became open windows.
“Witness,” Aaron said, at last in English, and held her face to stare at the copulating teens below her. Sal was on top now, and Raymond held them all close. Emily’s blood coated them in a slippery spackle of red, and Raymond’s hand smeared it across Sal’s back, as he licked and kissed its saltiness from Cind’s slack lips.
“This is so amazing,” Sal whispered, and ground himself down again as Raymond nodded, and fell backwards to stroke himself hard again for another round, never even looking to see that his lubricant was…Emily.
“It is time,” Aaron said and kissed the bloo
d-smeared cheek of the girl whose eyes were rolling back from azure blue to milky white.
They focused once more when he slapped her, lightly, and showed her the long, oak-handled razor before placing its shining edge between her breasts.
Agoth, algaraoth. Entrey vo Vinte!
The razor cut deep. And long. Her flesh opened gently, like a ripe peach to the knife, its juice raining out across the hands and ground below.
And Emily didn’t struggle anymore.
On the floor, Cind held a long warm rope to her cheek as if it were some tubular blanket, or cuddle toy, and smiled. Her eyes closed and Raymond and Sal held her between them, stroking her breasts and slick, steamy cleft indiscriminate of the bloodied meat that warmed and wet them as they drifted into a drugged sleep.
VIII. Last Chance
Sal woke to pain.
Something wrenched at his chest, at his groin. His arms were asleep with that pain that says “your arm is above your head, but you can’t seem to move it.” Still, he tried to pull an arm down, and the throbbing in the back of his head only worsened. He forced his eyes open, since those he could move, and the grey swam into focus. In front of him was the grey floor of the wizard’s basement, and the grey steel of hundreds of razor blades strewn about on it. And in the middle of it all lay Raymond and Cind. Her blood seemed to be the cushion they laid upon, and her eyes were closed. But Raymond’s were open.
And Raymond was holding a razor to her belly.
“What the fuck?” Sal called out, his voice a rasping whisper instead of a scream.
Chains rattled at his outburst, and he realized that he hung in the same place as Emily had six months before. Barbed chains held him suspended from the rafters above his friends. He couldn’t see the madman in the robes anywhere.
“Raymond, don’t,” he struggled to say. His breath came in gasps and the pain in his back was blinding with each movement of his lips.
His friend looked up, lips pursed tight, and shook his head.
“I have to, to save her.”
Sal wanted to scream at him that she was beyond saving, look at the blood, and cutting her open sure wasn’t going to help, but then a hand touched his face.
“From three will come one,” the voice said, and something cold touched his chest.
A long-handled barber’s razor. Oaken wood handle. Glinting steel honed to an almost invisible edge at its tip. A drop of blood oozed from its point of contact on Sal’s skin.
Aaron stood beneath him, holding the razor to his chest with fingers covered in crawling horrors of silver—dragon and serpent tails extended from the twinings around his fingers, and a ruby red pendant glowed in the dull light against the black silk on his chest.
“It took the three of you to make the beast’s vessel, and it will take the blood of each to finish its binding. Be still, and you may not need to give your life, as well as your blood.”
Enna titaken onu sus! The wizard called, and then looked at Raymond.
“When I nod, I want you to draw the blades across both of you at the same time. You need only break the skin; but there must be blood.”
Enna titaken unu neevus! He called, throwing back his head.
Inter nuus tui thre. Famis revus novi tus!
Aaron nodded at Raymond and began to draw his own razor down from its centerpoint above Sal’s sternum.
“You’re not cutting me, mother-fucker,” Sal screamed and began to thrash and kick out at the wizard, ignoring the white-hot gouges that the hooks were making in his wrists as he twisted in mid-air. The older man only reached down to the ground and pushed his face closer to Sal’s, brandishing the steel rod he’d blackjacked the boy with before.
“One more word, and this time I will crush your thick skull instead of just denting it,” Aaron growled. “You don’t need to be conscious for this to work. Just alive.”
Sal stilled.
Inter nuus tui thre. Famis revus novi tus!
Aaron nodded at Raymond again. The old man began to slice a blood-red trail from Sal’s chest to his groin with his blade.
Raymond grit his teeth and began to move his own razor down his chest, instantly freeing a welling of blood that wept down his ribcage.
“The girl too,” Aaron hissed, and Raymond gulped, knowing he couldn’t turn back now, but still reticient to cut Cind.
“Now!” Aaron barked, and Raymond’s hand moved, slicing her quickly and firmly from breast to pubes. As he pulled the razor down her body, he did the same to his own, not looking to see how deep the blade cut.
Drops of Sal’s blood were already dripping into the red valley of Cind’s wound as Raymond lifted the razor from her groin and then from himself, tossing both red-smeared blades to the ground.
He looked at the white lines of separating flesh as the long cut began to weep and his stomach lurched.
He felt sick.
Rich red blood seeped to the surface of his skin and began to weep in iron tears to dot his dangling cockhead, and Cind’s body-long carmine gash.
Aaron nodded and smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes. Let your lives mingle and twine. Let your veins unwind. From three will come one. Et tre uno tivet. Yes!”
Sal moaned. Tthe room seemed to grow pale for a moment to Raymond, its sharp primary colors of red and black fuzzing out to pastel pinks and greys. He teetered for a moment beneath the drip of Sal’s chest, and then everything came into focus again.
Cind screamed.
Raymond’s eyes slammed open and he stared at the body beneath him, shivering and spasming. Blood seeped in jagged rivers around the outlines of her ribs, but it was between her legs that the real red river ran. A stew of chunky, crimson gobbets rushed in pulses from between her thighs and Cind screamed again and again.
“Yes,” Aaron cried. “Agi tuo deus tre!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” mumbled Sal.
The pump of gruish gristle and blood suddenly stopped, and Raymond stared at the spreading, rippling flower of Cind’s sex as her lips parted to release a grey-green fist. The six fingers spread and reached out to grasp at the blood-matted hair above her clit. Its nails were blackened and crusted with scabs of gouged vaginal flesh. Raymond could see its tiny muscles contract as the creature pulled itself out of Cind’s uterus. Another fist punched through the girl’s vaginal lips and then the head appeared, a snarling toothy maw. A face predestined for evil.
Aaron was chanting now, more nonsense, his voice growing louder with every word. The room seemed to flutter with the pound of his words, and when he raised his arms to yell “Tui demonica!” Raymond began to edge backwards.
But then Aaron laughed and reached forward, bringing a hand to the bloody slash across Sal’s belly. With a sudden movement, the wizard drew another razor across the boy’s gut, only this time his motion wasn’t aimed at simply bloodletting. His goal was release.
And release he did.
“No!” cried Raymond when he realized what Aaron was doing. He reached forward but it was already too late.
Sal screamed then, his voice echoing over and over again in Raymond’s ears as frothing loops of glistening intestine slipped from his belly to dangle like a red velvet rope for the emerging demon to use in climbing away from its fleshy prison.
The tiny creature’s mouth opened to taste the air, wicked white teeth glinting as it gulped at the rain of blood, and then its hands reached up to grasp at the end of Sal’s slackening intestine. It suckled the bloody flesh like a tit, teeth locking on and then gulping at the life that trickled into its hellish throat.
Cind was crying in tight squeaking hiccups as the demon slipped fully from her womb, washed out by a stream of black and red womb syrup. Its scaly body shed blood like oil and it clung to the rope of Sal’s intestine as Aaron chanted at the top of his lungs.
Ali tuus dripende demonica. Seul org fuendt dei tripende!
The creature seemed to grow, its arms rippling with violent muscle as its color fluxed from grey to emera
ld and then to violet. It stood as tall as Raymond’s knee within moments, the teat of Sal’s intestine now serving as a sausage link. It chewed on Sal’s gut with vigor, coating Cind and the blood-smeared ground with a foul-smelling spray of tan gruel as it bit piece after piece from the dangling pink rope.
Then it reached up. Its arm seemed to grow as it stretched cruel claws upward, reaching for the bloody rent in Sal’s ruined belly.
“No!” Raymond cried again, this time filled not with fear, but with anger.
The weight against his hip finally registered in his brain—he had brought an out for himself…and it didn’t have to only be for him. He pulled the gun from his pocket and aimed it at the creature’s head.
“Fucker,” he said, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
He pulled it again, and then realized that he’d only stuffed the amunition in his pockets, never loaded.
There were no bullets in the gun.
Screaming in frustration, he dropped the gun and grabbed at the demon child with both hands, gripping it around the throat. The thing turned on him with incredible force, but he held on fast, not sure what he intended, but knowing that he wasn’t about to let it continue to dine on his friend’s insides.
Aaron stopped his chanting and barked out his own negation, but it did little good. Raymond struggled to hold the demon and it shifted and stretched and struggled in his hands. Suddenly it threw both of them to the ground, and Raymond found himself lying face to face with Cind. The demon clawed at her breasts, opening long tangled maps of blood across her chest.
Cind’s face cringed, but she didn’t cry.
“Promise me,” she whispered, and gulped as the demon bit deep into her throat.
Raymond increased his stranglehold on its neck and pulled it back but it seemed to shiver and twist like a snake in his hands. Then it was sinking its fangs into his own chest.
“Fuck!” he cried, but leaned closer to Cind’s face.
“What?” he whispered.
“Don’t let it live,” she begged. There were rivers of red in the blue pools of her eyes, and Raymond felt his own tears well. Tears that had nothing to do with the pain in his chest as the thing suckled wickedly at his breast.