by Matt Shaw
* * * * *
“Who likes Period Play?” Tom was asking the group as they continued playing with themselves. Period Play was another strange fetish that some men had (and women, I guess). Men eating out of a woman on her period, before fucking her. The end shot being that of a bloody pussy; a sticky cream-pie of blood and semen.
Harry was undoing my restraints.
He leaned in close to me and smiled, “Keep up the good work,” he whispered, “your fear smells lovely,” he breathed in deeply.
* * * * *
“Can you smell your own fear? Does that smell as nice as my fear did?” I asked. “Does it turn you on? Make your horny for me?” I lifted the garden shears to his nose and opened them up; his nose soon between the blades. “I’m feeling generous,” I told him as I held the shears against his skin. “If you want to breathe in through your nose one last time…”
He was screaming before I’d applied any pressure. The scream continued, echoing through the room, as his nose dropped to the floor in a bloody, pulpy mess.
I took a step back, looking at his face. Blood pouring from the fresh hole in his face, leaking into his gaping mouth as he continued to strain his vocal chords. He started to splutter on the blood as he spat mouthful after mouthful onto the floor.
“I thought you liked blood?” I asked. A fact I had learned from the set of the film.
* * * * *
“You’re free!” Harry said as he walked away with the restraints.
I summoned all the strength I had and rolled from the bed. I landed, hard, on all fours on the concrete floor. Slowly - aching - I started crawling towards the warehouse’s exit. Looking behind me, the men were all watching. Tom was the only one who was following, slowly, behind me.
Harry called out from next to the camera. His voice stole my attention and I saw him hit the recording button once more, “I vote yes for the Period Play, my good friend.”
I turned to Tom, still crawling forward, and watched as he both smiled and nodded. He quickened his pace and - when close enough - lashed out with his booted foot. I shrieked, as it connected with my undercarriage, and I fell forward onto my stomach where I immediately rolled into a tight ball. Tom reached down and grabbed my legs by the ankles. He pulled my legs apart, exposing my vagina to both himself and the voyeurs near-by. I struggled to break free from his grip but couldn’t - the pain turning all limbs to jelly. A sadistic grin on his face, he stamped down with his foot. Another scream. Tom looked down at smiled wider. Keeping my legs held apart, he took a side step to show the others what he could see.
“We have blood!”
A cheer from the men as Tom dropped to his knees and buried his face into my pussy.
* * * * *
Harry was unconscious. The shock of what I’d been doing obviously taking its toll on his body and state of mind. Still not enough yet. Still nowhere near enough. Now, though, is a good time to undo the restraints. We’re gearing up towards the end and, for that, I need him on the floor. Ideally on all fours but I doubt he’ll be cooperative. Regardless - need him off the pillar.
I walked out of the main room into the back area where I’d earlier slipped into the cat-suit. My clothes were hanging over the door. I pulled the jeans down and fished around in the pockets until I found what I was looking for - a small, silver key. The key to his freedom. His freedom from the restraints that is. There is no escaping this warehouse. He will die in here.
I took the key back into the main room and approached Harry’s pillar. His head was still slumped down - clearly still unconscious. Good. It’ll be easier to do this without the possibility of using his new-found freedom to lash out at me although I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped any chance of that happening with the previous blows to his shoulders and kneecaps, with the hammer. To be sure, I’ll give his limbs another pounding with the hammer - ensure the job is done properly. Don’t want him running away from me - like I had done from them when the opportunity presented itself.
I undid the top padlocks and unwound the chains. The top half of his body slumped forward - secured in place only by the ones around his legs. I crouched down and removed the lower padlocks too, before sliding the bottom chains off and dropping them to the floor with a satisfying ‘clank’. He fell forward, face first, and landed in a broken heap on the floor. No surprise there. Had it been someone I cared for, I would have put something soft down for him to land on. Tough shit if it hurt.
I dropped the padlock onto the chains and walked to the front of the pillar, next to where he was slumped. I picked the hammer up, which wasn’t too far from where he lay, and cracked it down (hard) on his kneecaps again. One at a time. I didn’t stop at his kneecaps, though. It was still entirely possible for him to lash out at me with fists. After all, I hadn’t touched his hands yet.
I re-positioned myself on the floor next to his hands. With my left hand I reached down and turned his hands around so they were palm down on the floor. A hard enough hit and I believe I can break all of his fingers and knuckles in a single blow. I put pressure on his wrist to stop his hand from moving and raised the hammer high in the air, with my other hand. I closed my eyes and brought it down hard. A crack. Funny time to get squeamish but there was something about the sound of breaking bones which repulses me. Even when it was bones belonging to someone who deserved them to be broken, like Harry. Can’t be squeamish now, though. Just need to keep going until there is no risk of him trying to punch me. I raised the hammer again and continued to hit the hands individually until they no longer resembled hands.
A few hits more.
I dropped the hammer, satisfied that I’d done enough.
“Now wake up, you fuck.”
* * * * *
“Cut the cameras,” Tom called across to Harry who duly did as Tom had instructed. Funny. I thought Harry was the director.
“What is it?” Harry called out.
Tom removed his mask and dropped it at my side.
“Fucking bitch is out cold.”
“What?!” I heard Harry walk over. I didn’t open my eyes. Just laid still. Carried on pretending to be out for the count, wouldn’t have had to pretend if I hadn’t taken action. Every time I had tried to push him away, from where he lapped between my bloodied legs, he’d reached up and slammed my head back against the concrete; enough to daze me, enough to stop me from fighting back, enough to stop me from ruining their shot.
“Was just trying to stop her from fighting back,” Tom said.
“She fucking dead?”
I felt Tom’s fingers on my neck.
“Because,” Harry continued, “if she’s dead, that’s a lot of money right there, you know what I’m saying?” he hissed. His voice was low. No doubt wanting to keep the possibility of my death a secret from the perverts watching from a few feet away.
“What’s going on?” one of the men shouted.
“Is she fucking dead?” Harry hissed.
“No,” he said, “there’s a pulse.”
“You’re fucking lucky. Because that would have come out of your cut.”
“What’s going on?” the voice from the back piped up again.
I heard Harry step away from me. More footsteps behind him as Tom followed. Harry’s voice was muffled as he explained something to the group of spectators. I strained harder to listen to what was being said.
“Who’s Mr. Stone?”
“I am.”
“You got the cash?”
“Over there.”
“All there or do I have to count it?”
“Always insult your guests?”
Harry apologised. “Tom, get the bag.”
I heard Tom’s footsteps get fainter as he walked to the other side of the warehouse to - I presume - where the money was. Payment for coming along and watching? I wanted to turn my head to see what was going on but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk them seeing I was awake. I couldn’t risk the punishment starting again.
“We’re good,” Tom ca
lled out.
“Okay so - as agreed - when the time comes you’re the one who gets to pull the trigger…And I’ll throw in a bonus, if you want to go on camera - you can fuck her any which way you want too.”
“Really?”
“Sure - think of it as an apology for the remark about counting the money.”
“Any way I want?”
“Friend - if you want - you can do it after she’s dead. As long as it goes on camera, I don’t give a fuck.”
My heart skipped a beat. I turned my head to the side and opened my eyes. They were all grouped together. The majority of them had their backs to me. If I don’t make a move for it - I’m as good as dead. I need to make a run. I need to escape. Summoning all of my strength, I rolled onto my front and pushed myself to all fours before standing. The pain was unbearable; not a single part of me that didn’t ache.
“She’s awake!” Tom called out.
I looked at him, he was in the corner of the room next to a bag (I presume of money). Don’t waste time, don’t hang about, just go. I started to run towards a door closest to me - thankfully one which had the sign ‘exit’ illuminated above it.
“Stop her!” Harry shouted.
More footsteps running behind me. I didn’t waste time in looking. Just kept running. My body slammed against the door - the large push handle - and I spilled out into the road. I was in a large industrial estate; one road in and one road out. I knew I didn’t have the strength in me to run far enough to ensure I was safely away from them. Especially considering they were right behind me. Only one option; the river across the road and behind the barrier. I ran as fast as I could, scared of stumbling and scared of them catching up with me. Without thinking, knowing how close they were, I vaulted over the barrier and down into the cold, cold waters.
ESCAPED
The water was freezing and took my breath away. I broke the surface and took a deep breath. I needed to disappear. Full of as much air as I could take in, I submerged myself under the water’s surface once more - in time to see faces leaning over the barrier.
Can’t go back up. Can’t go back up. Can’t let them see me. Hopefully it’s dark enough to make me near invisible. Hopefully the water is murky enough to hide me…I started to swim, keeping as close to the wall as the weeds on the river bed permitted. I wasn’t sure what was keeping me moving, I didn’t know why this strong survival instinct had kicked in. My mind seemed clear - other than the single thought ‘survive’. No thoughts about my mother and father, no thoughts about my childhood, no other memories (or regrets) flashing through my tired mind. Just survive.
Starting to run out of air. How easy would it be to just stop. Stop struggling, stop trying not to breathe in the filthy water, just drown. Certainly more peaceful than the death waiting for me at the warehouse. I deserve a bit of peace. I deserve some quiet.
Mum and dad flashed through my mind, smiling, happy, a time of us playing together from my childhood, sitting on beach towels on the sandy beach. I recalled that it was Tenerife when I was nine, or ten, years old. Thoughts of them weeping at my funeral. No coffin. Body never found. I simply disappeared. Can’t do that to them. Can’t.
I broke the surface of the water and took a huge gasp of air. I half expected to hear them call out my location but I didn’t hear anything. I looked around. Had gone further than I’d thought I had. I can’t see them. I can’t hear them either. I wanted to get out of the water but didn’t dare. Can only keep swimming along the water’s edge. Far enough to know I’m safe. Far enough to take me closer to civilisation.
I kept edging my way as far as I could go, shivering the whole way. I knew my best bet was to swim across to the other side of the river and climb out there. Over there, I’d be safe. I couldn’t bring myself to do it though. I couldn’t. My limbs were aching and the freezing waters were numbing my joints. Every other week this year there’d been various stories, in the papers, about youths drowning in the river. They’d get drunk, according to the reports, and dare each other to swim across just to disappear under the water’s ripples at the half way point. Their bodies found the following day by police divers. Water in their lungs. If I tried to swim across, now. I wouldn’t make it.
Another memory of a happier time spent with my family flashed through my mind; laughing in the back garden on a hot summer’s evening. Dad was cremating some burgers on the disposable barbecue mum had bought with the monthly shop - just as she did whenever there was good weather. She’d wanted a real barbecue - a nice one - but dad put his foot down. He said there was no point due to the fact that the weather in this country was so unpredictable. By the time we’d come to use it, the next time we had good weather, it would be rusted and broken. Much easier to just get the cheap disposables.
The wall I had been edging along stopped. Instead it was more weeds leading the way to a bank I could easily climb up. I didn’t make a move for it, though. Not immediately. I stayed flat against the wall - my eyes scanning the river bank for any signs of movement, any signs of people waiting for me to suddenly appear from the water. I’m not sure how long I waited - watching the side - but it felt like forever. My body was stinging now - not just from the blows I had sustained but because of the water too. There were no signs of movement. Slowly I pulled myself from the water. Thankful to get onto dry land - the latex cat-suit had been made much heavier by the water.
On the bank, I wanted to crash on the mud and sleep until morning - maybe longer - but I couldn’t. Just because they’re not here now, looking for me, it doesn’t mean they won’t be on their way. No doubt throwing some clothes on so as not to attract unwanted attention if there is anyone else out here at this time of night. I stumbled across the mud, my feet sinking in as I did so. A few more feet and I was on the pathway which lead to the road.
I started to run.
Can’t slow down now.
As I continued to run towards what I hoped to be civilisation, I couldn’t help but keep checking behind me. I was expecting to see people chasing behind or a car on the horizon speeding towards me and yet - each time I turned - there was nothing. Just blackness and emptiness. Regardless of the lack of people following, it didn’t stop me from continuing to run as hard and fast as I could despite the feeling that my lungs were about to burst from within my beaten chest.
I jumped at the sound of someone shouting from nearby. Breathing so heavily, as I continued to fight off the exhaustion, I had missed what they initially said. They called out again and I span round in the direction of the voice.
“I said are you okay?” they called out again.
“Please help me,” I said.
It was an older looking woman. She was sitting in a car, parked up by the side of the road on the opposite side to where I was. She climbed out of the car. My first thought was that she was one of them - I don’t know, a wife, perhaps? Waiting patiently for them to finish doing what they’d obviously paid to take part in so she could give them a lift back home again? No. A silly idea. No one would support their partner to do that.
“What’s happened?” she asked as she hurried over to me. As she neared I dropped to my knees. So tired. I can’t go on. If she is one of them - or anything to do with them - it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do about it. I have no more fight left in me. I’m done. If there is where it ends then so be it. I started to cry. As she neared I felt her hand on my shoulder - no pressure - just a gesture to let me know she was there. I looked up, teary-eyed, and saw the horrified look on her face when she saw the state I was in. I probably look like Hell. My face aching from the hits I had sustained, my jaw throbbing, I can still taste blood in my mouth despite thinking I’d washed most of it away when I landed in the water. The look on her face was important though - it told me that she was definitely not one of them. It told me that she had compassion. She had empathy. And - more importantly - she was shocked.
“Please help me…” I stammered through my tears.
“My poor girl what
happened?” she helped me to my feet. “Come on, it’s okay…” She helped me towards the car. We walked around it and she helped me into the passenger seat. I yelped in pain as she sat me down - and again when she put the seat belt around me. She slammed the car door and ran round to the driver’s side. She hopped in and closed the door before firing up the engine. “It’s okay,” she reassured me, “I’ll get you to the hospital…”
“No!”
“What?”
“No hospital. Please.”
“You need…”
“Please…”
The woman looked at me. A genuine - welcome - look of concern on her face. She nodded, “Okay…then…where do you want me to take you?” she asked.
* * * * *
“She took me home and waited with me as I had asked. My good samaritan. I ran in, threw some clothes on and came back down with a handful of clothes thrown into a bag. Took me home. I mean - to my mum and dad’s home. She kept saying she thought I needed to go to the hospital but I was worried you’d come looking for me there - and at my own home. Neither place felt safe. Only mum and dad’s home…Only that felt safe to me.” I looked at Harry. He was still out for the count. Hadn’t heard a damned word I was saying. Didn’t matter though. He wouldn’t have cared about these details. The fact he sold the lives of innocent people to the rich and perverted - that showed he didn’t care about the little details. To him, we weren’t people. We weren’t human. We were just play-things. “That woman,” I continued regardless, “…What you did to me…In that brief time with you and your friends…made me forget that people like that existed. Good people. Caring.”
Harry started to groan as he laid there on the floor. Slowly he was coming round. As he became more conscious of his surroundings his groans became louder and more pained. I smiled.