Her Essentia: Make sure she stays dead (Her Client Trilogy Book 3)

by Richard Verry

  He yelled again, doing further damage to his own hand in his struggle. Standing back, she watched him squirm under the straps, his hands pinned to the bench by the knives. Blood flowing profusely now, it pooled on the floor underneath him. She laughed while he screamed.

  As his screams mellowed to grunts, he exclaimed. “You … are so … going … to pay … for … this.”

  “And that’s where you are mistaken, Jon. I’ve already paid for it. Now, it’s your turn to pay.”

  Chuckling to herself, she walked over to the pegged wall and began reviewing the selection of whips, floggers, and similar items hanging there, waiting to be used on some unwilling flesh.

  Selecting a flogger for its medium weight with fronds twice the length of the handle and tipped with particularly nasty, sharp studs. She swung it around a few times to get the feel for its action.

  “Ah, this is nice,” she remarked loud enough for Jon to hear her.

  Walking back to him, Jolene spun the flogger in a circle about his naked body. Spinning it around and around, she teased him with the action, letting his mind conjure up what was about to happen.

  Adding power to her swing, she suddenly stretched out and landed the fronds right on his cock and balls.

  Eliciting a powerful scream, his body tried to double over in pain. The straps holding him down, his attempts to fold over and hold on to his scrotum ended in vain.

  He screamed for seemed like hours to her. Jolene stood there, watching him dispassionately with her head tilted a bit. She watched with reserved interest as his face went all red and his tendons and muscles bulged from under his skin. “What a baby?” she thought to herself.

  Between gritted teeth and grimacing in extreme pain, Jon spit at her “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Laughing at his toothless threats, Jolene swung again, hitting him squarely on his cock and balls a second time. Blood instantly splattered everywhere as the studs of the flogger him sliced open. One ball sack was cut deep enough that she could see the actual testicle, swelling from the trauma, and hanging on by a thread.

  He screamed and screamed some very satisfying screams. Jolene couldn’t help wonder if that was how she sounded as he whipped her.

  Jolene continued walking around him, flogging him repeatedly, all across his body. The studs on the tips of the fronds sliced his skin, increasing the damage. Blood splattered everywhere as the flogger whipped around, casting blood spray everywhere. It wasn’t long before Jolene was covered in the blood of the bastard. Tables turned, she took gleeful pride in her handiwork.

  Pausing a moment, as Jon had done to her, Jolene stood over his naked body and jeered at him.

  “How pathetic you are Jon. Crying and whimpering like a baby. What’s the matter? You can dish it out but you can’t take it. What a pathetic specimen of manhood you are. You should be ashamed of yourself and your entire sex.”

  Struggling to speak, Jon managed to say. “Trust … me … cunt. I … I will … kill … you … slowly … bit … by … bit.”

  “If I don’t kill you first, that is Jon. Shall we continue?”

  “Fuck you cunt.”

  “Tisk, tisk Jon, such foul language,” she replied as she swung the flogger hard and cleanly right into his gut.

  “F … fuck … you … bi … bitch” he grimaced.

  “Promises, promises Jon,” swinging the flogger again, landing it right on his scrotum yet again.

  “Yeeeeooooooowwwwwwwwww” he answered, straining against the straps in a vain attempt to shield his balls from her onslaught.

  On and on she swung the flogger, thrashing and cutting him all over as the studs landed on unprotected skin and tender flesh, slicing him deeply.

  With Jon bleeding profusely and Jolene slick from his blood, she stood back. Tilting her head up, she snarled.

  “Oh, Jon, this is so much fun and we’ve only gotten started.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Fuck … you … cu … cunt.” Jon managed to grunt between surges of excruciating pain coming from his balls.

  “I’m … so … so … going … to … kill you … you … cunt” he somehow managed to mutter.

  As his mind tried to process across the agonizing pain, he struggled on how to extricate himself from this bench. He designed this bench to be escape proof. He took care to make sure, when his bitches were laid out on it, he could have his way with them, safe from retaliation. It never occurred to him he himself would ever be strapped to the fiendish device. Yet, here he was and he was at the mercy of his latest bitch.

  What bothered him more was just how did she come back from the dead? She was dead. He knew it. He killed her. He electrocuted her. Her body should be cooling even now. Yet, here she was, standing there. She was doing to him what he did to so many others before her.

  “Fuck!” he screamed in his head.

  He didn’t know what hurt the most, though it was probably his balls. He knew exactly what that particular flogger was good for. He designed it to flay the skin. It didn’t tear skin. It sliced skin from flesh. Assuming the flesh survived, it would be scarred for life. Flesh that would elicit the most horrified looks from bystanders. Scarring being so thick and rippled, observers would naturally divert their cringing stares. To date and by design, no one had ever survived.

  In addition, here, the cunt was using it on him. She was slowly slicing his body into thousands of strips. He couldn’t see his cock and balls but since he could feel their agony, he knew they were still there. A few more strikes with that particular flogger and he knew he would lose them for sure.

  Between grimaces, he would seek her out, to see what she might do next. As she progressed with her determination to hurt him back, he could see her body, beautiful as it was, was now slick with his blood. She appeared to be the devil herself, her skin all red with blood and glistening. Not a bit of her pearl white skin was showing now. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she been bathing in his blood. In a brief moment of levity, he realized that it wasn’t far from reality.

  She was the devil incarnate. She was exacting the same punishment as he had done so often to her predecessors.

  “What a team we could make?” He thought to himself between moments of lucidity amongst the torrent of the whipping action of the flogger.

  “Too bad it’ll never happen” he realized.

  She was not in any frame of mind to apprentice under him. While it would be interesting to mentor female version of him, doing so would be a bit of work mixed with a lot of fun. He would be interested in doing that. No, she was only interested in revenge for what he had done to her.

  “Shit, she knows I intended to kill her. In turn, she intends to kill me. Well, let’s see if she can do it.” Jon commented to himself.

  As he reflected upon the problem, he continued doubling over in agony as she whipped him repeatedly with his nastiest flogger. His screaming never abated as she struck him over and again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jolene was a person outside herself. She knew it. She could see it. She hated it. She couldn’t help it and she couldn’t stop. The pent up anger and revenge of her own anguish percolated until it spilled over and spewed like an exploding star, shooting her rage into the universe.

  Of two minds, she argued within herself. What, the hell, she was doing? Yet, the passion of her rage overwhelmed her and took control. Her characteristic morals of not hurting a fly trapped in the house were supplanted by the agony of her own pain.

  Swinging the flogger almost non-stop now, bathed in his warm slick blood, she wielded the flogger like a mad woman. Her rage and need for revenge wouldn’t let up.

  With each strike of the tips of the floggers, huge slices of his flesh were sliced open and blood flew. She was actually most impressed by seeing the bastard’s cock barely hanging from his body. The logical side of her brain wondered if he would ever get it up again. Not that it mattered. She was determined to end this scourge of a specimen of the human species forev
er.

  Running solely on adrenaline, she paused to review her handiwork. Jon’s body was a bloody mess. It was striped with deep bleeding welts, his stomach, and chest having taken most of the torrential downpour of the fronds.

  “Was he missing a nipple?” She wondered, smiling to herself.

  Dropping the flogger to the floor, she stood amidst the blood and gore all around her. Looking down at her blood-drenched chest, blood dripping from the tips of her own nipples, she dispassionately acknowledged her bloody attire or lack thereof.

  Walking up to the table filled with toys, she found the butt plug he had used on her. Glancing around, she discovered the transformer that powered it, along with the remote he used to activate the charges from inside her ass.

  Carrying the items back to him, she placed the transformer on the floor and rested the remote on the nearby shelf. Holding it high, Jolene walked up to him and held the butt plug high above his head.

  “Hey, Jon, Lookee here at what I found,” she teased the helpless bastard.

  “If you think you’re going to use that on me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Oh, Jon what a wonderful idea, I’m so glad you thought of it. Gee, I wonder if you have any lube around here.” She taunted him as she pretended to look around. “No? Well, no matter, your blood will do,” she added.

  Walking around to his rear, she grabbed his cock and balls and lifted them out of the way, squeezing them hard as she did so. She felt him tense up, dealing with her squashing his balls.

  “Oh look Jon. What a hairy asshole. You should take better care of your grooming.” She teased as she toyed with his sphincter. Watching him grimace, she sliced her nails along the tender muscle pretending to cut him.

  After dipping the butt plug into the blood of one of his open and bleeding wounds, she placed it against his anus and pushed. It slipped in easily. In fact, it slipped in so easily that it surprised her.

  “Oh, Jon that was very good. I’ve seen you done this before Jon.” She went on, taunting him.

  Grabbing the wires on the butt plug, she affixed them to the transformer and plugged the transformer into the nearby wall socket.

  “There now Jon, all ready. What do you say now? Shall we find out how it feels? Oh, I’m sorry. I already know how it feels. It’s your turn now. Do you have anything to say before we try it out?”

  “Fuck you cunt!”

  “Ah, Jon, is that all you have to say? I’m disappointed.” She responded as she picked up the remote and pressed the button.

  He screamed continuously as his ass lit up with the horrendous electrical shock delivered directly up his rectum.

  “Oh, Jon, I’m so sorry. That was the low setting. Here, let me turn it up higher.”

  Bending over to the transformer, she spun the dial and pressed the button on the remote.

  This time, his scream was more of a wail and loud. In truth, it was loud enough to deafen her though her ears didn’t register the danger. Glaring at her torturer, she simply returned to him the gift of screams he had given her.

  Releasing her finger from the button, she mocked, “Say, Jon, did I scream as loud as you are now? Hmmm, I don’t think so. I think you are a pussy. Your screams are at least, twice as loud as mine were. Let’s try it again.”

  Turning up the transformer to its highest setting, she again pressed the button.

  “ARRGGGGHHHH!” his screams transforming into a piercing shriek.

  Chapter Twelve

  This cunt definitely deserved to die. Wait until I get my hands on the bitch again. He would teach her a lesson she would never forget on her trip to hell.

  There were toys and more devices he could use on her. All he had to do was get off this fucking contraption. The problem was, of course, he didn’t know how. The bench was his own personal design and once strapped to it, one did not get off unless they were released.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed.

  “What’s the matter, Jon? Do you want to stop and get off the bench?”

  “Unstrap me cunt!”

  “Oh, you do want off. Hmmm, let me see. What was it you said when I asked you the same thing? Oh, I know. Fuck you cunt. Well, fuck you too. You’re as much a cunt as I am. So deal with it.” She told him.

  He knew she wouldn’t let him go. If she did, she had to know he would kill her a second time, and this time, he would make sure she remained dead. Which he would do of course but not until he repaid her for how she treated him.

  Yet, how to get off the damn thing was the question? That’s what he focused his attention on, diverting his attention from the cunt.

  “Hey, Jon, lookee here at what I found,” he heard her say.

  “Oh, shit he thought to himself, she found the electrified butt plug.” he thought to himself.

  “If you think you’re going to use that on me, you’ve got another thing coming.” he spat at her.

  “Oh, Jon, what a wonderful idea ….” he stopped listening at some point, knowing whatever she was going to do, she would do. The trouble was he knew what she was going to do. Moreover, he was in for it in a big way. He had even electrocuted one of his cunts a year or so ago simply by using the very same butt plug and giving the cunt too much juice.

  As she pressed the plug against his anus, she pushed it in, firmly seating it in his asshole.

  “Oooh Jon. That was very good. I’ve seen you done this before Jon.” She went on, taunting him.

  She gave him a few more taunts he was loath to respond to before pressing the button on the remote.

  Unspeakable agony jumped from his ass, spreading all throughout his body. He could feel his heart race at the unexpected higher voltage of electricity coursing throughout. He knew he was screaming but it didn’t register on his thoughts. His body couldn’t do anything about it.

  Trying to catch his breath, Jon struggled with the agony of the electricity raging from his ass. Every time she shocked him, he couldn’t help but give her the satisfaction of his screams.

  To top it off, she called him a pussy as if to say the cunt was better than he was. Well, no cunt was better than he was, not by a long shot. They were good for one thing only, to fuck, to torture, and to kill. That’s all, plain and simple.

  A moment later, she turned up the dial to its maximum and pressed the button again. He thought his heart was going to explode from the extreme agony he felt in his ass.

  “Fffffuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!” he screamed in his head while his mouth repeatedly yelled “Arrgggghhhhh”.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Walking up to the tool chest, she opened the cabinet and found the exact tool she was looking for. Selecting it, she returned to the target of her attention.

  Standing over the bastard, she showed him the tool she was holding in her hand. Smiling to herself, she saw him open his eyes and focus on the curved pruning shears in her hand.

  Closing and opening the shears, she asked Jon. “I know what these are for? Do you remember?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “Of course, you do. Why else would you even have them? Hmmm, what could I do with these? I wonder?” She taunted.

  Walking around his body, circling it a few times, she mimicked the action of the sheers pretending to slice something in two. Eventually, she stopped at one of his feet, splayed out wide as she had been only hours before.

  After placing one of his toes in the jaws of the sheers, she said, “Ready Jon?”

  “F … fuck … you … cunt.” He replied in tune with a blood-curdling scream. As she closed the handles of the shears, it cleanly sliced off his little toe. She kept her eyes on his as the toe bounced soundlessly on the floor. It was too bad he called her a cunt. She might have stopped there and quickly finished him off. His epitaph only drove her to slow down and torment him methodically as he did to her.

  Placing the next toe in line between the blades of the shears, she sheared it from his body just as apathetically as the first one.
r />   “My, Jon, these are really sharp. They cut through bone like soft butter. I’m impressed.”

  Screaming his bloody murderous epitaphs, she proceeded and cut the next two toes off, leaving only his big toe.

  “My, my Jon, shall we make it an even five?” she said as she placed the last remaining toe between the blades of the shears and squeezed. It took a bit more effort but in short order, all five toes were lying on the floor scattered in all directions. With blood oozing from the stumps in his foot, she moved over to the other foot.

  “Hmmm, seems like you have a mismatched set. Let’s do something about balancing them out, shall we?”

  Jon, bucking like an enraged animal, screamed repeatedly at her. Of course, his yelling at her was intermixed with his own screams of pain as one by one; she lopped off toe after toe.

  Her tasked completed, she stood up and began walking around Jon’s bucking body, dragging the tips of the pruning shears along his chest and torso.

  Approaching his side, she leaned in and said. “Having fun yet?”

  He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer.

  “No, Jon? Well, let’s see if we can fix that, shall we?”

  “… Fuck … you … cu, cu … cunt.” Jon sneered at her.

  “In your dreams Jon.” she told him, cruel and dispassion in her tone.

  Reaching down to his hand, pinned to the bench by the knife, she placed his pinky finger between the blades and squeezed.

  “You … fucking … cunt!” Jon hissed though his screeching, almost pulling his hand up along the sharp blade, slicing further into his hand, and doing more damage.

  “Really Jon, is that how you talk to a lady? Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” she taunted, taking his ring finger and lopping it from his hand.

  He screamed again, thrashing about more from anger than pain, still strapped to his bench.

  Within minutes, his remaining fingers and thumbs were lying on the floor, dripping blood adding to the blood already pooling on the floor.