Red: An Extreme Horror Novelette

by Doyle, D. J.

  Chapter 3

  With the suitcase now in the car, it was time to move Amanda from the apartment discreetly. My heart beat hard in my chest as adrenaline pickled my blood and my predatory instincts were on high alert. I’d never taken such a risk, but she was a special one.

  The first day I saw her, I had already picked another delightful girl that worked in a tiny coffee shop the next town over (nope, I never shit where I eat).

  I followed Sasha for a week now. Her boyfriend always sniffed about and watched her back. She would be difficult to catch. Then Amanda breezed into the shop like a ballerina in a boxing ring. She was slender, yet muscular; pink and fuzzy, yet capable and feisty. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her dark hair flowed like a chocolate river onto her shoulders, and brown eyes sparkled in the light, a little twinkle caught my eye, and I was hooked. She was the one princess I needed, the one that will accept me for who I am. Who will appreciate the effort I put into the selection process and the time I put into getting to know my princesses, to make them feel at home. To protect and serve. I had to have her button nose pressed against mine, her telling me to give her an orgasm again and again. I wanted to feel my fingers run through her silky hair. When she talked, her voice awakened every goosebump on my body. Her tone, her accent, her perfect, dazzling teeth made me tingle inside without me thinking of my hard cock inside her. This was a first for me.

  I followed her home that sunny Saturday afternoon and then on to the gym later that day. They let me lurk about as I pretended to be interested in membership. Amanda pranced around the ring, gloved fists raised in the air and swiped at her opponent, a small skinny man. I overheard someone say there were no more women to fight or no more women would fight her. She pounded into the skinny guy with punches and kicks to the stomach. He fell against the ropes a few times before they called it a day. I received some awkward stares because I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Amanda, so left with my hood up, my head held down, and without saying a word. Attracting attention at the early stages is not good, I had to be anonymous and stay out of the light.

  I dressed Amanda in sports bottoms and top. What divinity I experienced as I touched her skin, the little hairs on her arms raised up as I ran my fingertips down her tanned forearm over her freckles and beauty spots. Her shins and thighs were just as divine.

  I realized after number four, Donna, that I preferred them tanned skin, biracial women were also a preference. Donna had porcelain white skin with light brown hair, nearly auburn. I found the bloodstains on her skin difficult to wash off without leaving a stain. Scrubbing only made it worse, ‘cause I would scrub too hard, and there would be more blood. She always fought me, I couldn’t tame her at all. I gave her the hardest last fuck, yet she had no respect for me at all, she didn’t even try. Donna did give me the idea of my customized baseball bat, but since I hadn’t created it yet, I used my hand-saw. It gave me a powerful grip with an immense force for every thrust inside her. The teeth hit the tailbone and made crunching sounds. Oh, she loved it! The thrill in her eyes as I gave one final push and pull. Her pelvic bone split in two, and her anus was obliterated. Oh, the pleasure she felt. Blood dripped from my hair like wax from a candle as I stood up to watch my masterpiece unveil itself.

  With Amanda’s trainers on and all ready to go, I easily lifted her and put on sunglasses and a cap. In the dead of night and not a sinner to be seen, I carried her to my car and sat her in the front passenger seat. I pulled the seatbelt over her and clicked it in place. Her head continuously flopped forward.

  “Fuck, sit up straight, Amanda,” I whispered, and lay her head on the seat belt.

  She just looked a bit drunk. I was all packed up and ready to go, I just needed one more thing from her apartment; the most important item of all. I looked through her makeup and jewellery, her underwear drawer and closet trying to find an item, something red. For me to keep, a trinket, my trophy, that would be forever mine. I didn’t notice it before, but there on the bed post, wrapped around a knob, she’d tied a crimson red handkerchief.

  “Would you look at that, it’s perfect.” I untied it and smelled it… “mmm.. Calvin Klein IN2U.”

  I knew my perfumes, all the bitches had good taste in perfume. I put it into my pocket to add to the others later.

  Chapter 4

  I drove for over an hour on the highway, there were not many cars at 2 am so my headlights were on most of the time. Amanda would be awake in about an hour, and she would not be pleased. This gave me 30 minutes to drive the rest of the way there and 30 minutes to set her up in her room.

  I pulled off the road into the forest and drove down the rough laneway with high trees on both sides, not even the moonlight could break through. We were here, my home, an abandoned, run-down cottage that I fixed up on the inside. I left the outside how it was, who knows if it would attract other people if they thought someone lived here. It had to remain as it was.

  I carried Amanda to the front door, for some reason she seemed heavier than before. I struggled with the lock I installed myself, while still trying not to let her fall. Eventually, the door opened, and Amanda was in her new home. The door to the basement was also locked, so I sat her on a chair while I fidgeted with the key. Now came the hard part as these stairs were so deep.

  I let number eight, Fiona, fall down the steps and she broke her leg and arm, the bone split out of the skin. She cried for days, begging for something to kill the pain. I didn’t know what to do, and fucking YouTube didn’t help. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to know each other too well, and I put her out of her misery. I felt sad that day, almost sorrowful. I’d never shot a person before. Her blood went all over the place. I thought a gun was best, like the way they kill animals on the farm. They never fucking said there would be brain bits, skull fragments and blood everywhere. It took a day and a half to clean. My sadness turned to madness with the mess. I didn’t look for a princess for a few months after that.

  I put Amanda over my shoulder and carried her down the stairs facing the door, like a fireman rescuing the damsel in distress and climbing down a ladder. She looked helpless when I lay her on the bed. I kept the bed linen fresh ‘cause women don’t like dirty bed sheets...my mother told me that. She would change them every time the men left, but I hadn’t seen the load they left behind. She didn’t want us getting into bed with that stuff in it. Yes, we shared a bed with our mother in a one-bed apartment. Actually, it was more like a bedsit ‘cause everything was in one room except the toilet and shower. We couldn’t hide in there in case they needed to go, which they usually did, that’s why we were in the closet. So they wouldn’t see us. It was my job to keep little Sarah quiet by playing and rubbing her head to help her fall asleep. I liked doing that.

  I viewed the room to make sure it was acceptable. No one had been here for nearly two months. The walls were still the coffee color I painted them two years ago. They were a flaked white before that with the wooden beams showing. The floor, mixed with sand and cement, was uneven and cold. I did my best to cover up the rotting wood that lay on plain earth with no support. A few cracks developed, however it would hold for another year or two, at least. Just basic furniture…one table, two chairs, a bedside table with one drawer, a rubber lamp, and a chest of drawers for clothes and shoes. Nothing big or high that someone could use against me. The room had a high ceiling, one big empty space with no windows, air ducts or ventilation. Chills rippled through during winter, with icicles forming on the walls, yet it became like a sauna every summer. Only spring and fall were bearable seasons.

  I tied both of her wrists to the leather strap restraints I had placed on each post, at the top and two more at the bottom of the sturdy, cast-iron bed. They always fight when they first wake up, it’s in their nature. I forgave ‘em. It takes time to adapt to a new home, a new boyfriend and leaving their lives, jobs, and family can be stressful. So I take my time to let them get to know me, and I learn about them, things that I didn’t know before. I love hearing ab
out their family life growing up, to listen to stories about their mothers baking cakes and shit. I imagined myself with the same upbringing, which puts a smile on my face, I wanted that normality.

  Oh, before she wakes up, and before I forget, I want to add the scarf to my drawer of Red. Upstairs in my room, I have a chest of drawers, with one drawer dedicated to my collection of items I have retrieved from my princesses over the years. I pull the knobs gently, as these are my most precious belongings. Seven items lay there for me to touch and caress. I didn’t get a token from number one, that’s when I was inexperienced, and it took another three years before I met a princess again. Being in juvie for over two of those years kinda hindered me in that department.

  I robbed a convenience store and, along with a few priors, the judge didn’t go easy on me this time. He said he was sick of seeing my young face in court and I needed to be shown the errors of my ways. On the other hand, I learned a lot. One of the leaders noticed I didn’t have much of an education and took me under his wing for the full time I was there. He taught me how to read better, write proper English, and use more intelligent words. He introduced me to some amazing books, like To Kill a Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men, and Great Expectations, as well as plenty of Lovecraft and King novels, and a few books by a guy named Poe. Weird shit, that. By the time I was released, I had written my Resume, applied for an interview, and spoke like an educated person. I was smart before, I just never got the chance to show it. I’m no genius, but I’m street smart, and sometimes that can go a long way.

  I counted the items out three times and got the same answer. “Two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight.. and now I’ll be adding number nine. This is my lucky number. I’m sure of it.” (I don’t count number one, she was my missed opportunity).

  A smile spread across my face as I carefully lifted each item and studied them. From bitch number two, Laura, I picked her Red lipstick, it was a simple choice because it spread over my hand when I grabbed her mouth in the carpark and stuck her in the trunk of my car when the drug finally took hold. Laura, the first I got to take home, obeyed me for a long time. She let me look after her and feed her. I’m not surprised, she was a homeless prostitute, so having steady meals and a roof over her head must have been a huge difference for her, but the need for drugs drove her insane. She had withdrawals for a few days and begged me to get her some.

  “Please, get me some Coke or Candy? Just a little bit to tide me over,” Laura begged.

  I got her some every couple of days, hoping she would wean off the shit, but the less often I got her drugs, the more she begged for it. We developed a bond, one I did not expect. She trusted me and, even though she might have had a chance, she never tried to escape even after months of being with me. Unfortunately, I trusted her too much and she went to the medicine cabinet, in the small make-shift bathroom I installed in the cellar (I practically put an outhouse indoors), and emptied a few bottles of pills down her cakehole. I found her soon after with foam around her mouth. I did save her, I made her drink water and salt, and she vomited most of the tablets up. She wasn’t the same after that and wanted to leave me. She left me no choice. I fucked her twice to let her think we were fine, then, when she fell asleep, I picked an item from my cage on the wall to finish her off. The lump hammer. Simple, but devastating. I shoved material in her mouth as I forced the hammer in and out of her over and over again. It sounded like a toilet being unclogged with a plunger - suction. Blood poured in buckets onto the sheets, thin foam mattress, and floor. I couldn’t stop, and my body swam in its current. I lapped some up, like I did that day with the dog, and tasted her soul on the buds of my tongue. I never felt such euphoria. A sense of completion thrust through my bloodstream like a hundred rape orgasms all at once. I shed a tear for Laura afterwards. She was my first princess. She will always hold a place in my heart.

  I put some lipstick on and tasted it, licking my lips all around. It still reminded me of Laura. Then, of course, number three; the skank, Stacey, had a compact mirror with a red rose as decoration on the outside.

  Number four, Donna’s item next, a little ‘red’ book of numbers. All her family and friends all listed alphabetically. Then there was number five, Ruby. Her name alone wanted me to have her. A bi-racial girl, absolutely stunning, I saw in a bar one night. Her piss flaps were nearly black, the darkest part of her which made me laugh. It looked funny...my big white dick going in and out of her dark kebab. Her ruby necklace, a perfect trophy.

  “Hello? Help me! Hello? What’s going on?” I heard from the cellar.

  “Oh, shit, it’s Amanda.” I raced down, excited to talk to her for the first time as me and her as my princess. I nearly fell down the steps trying to get there as fast as I could.

  “Glad to see you awake. I’m Todd...Todd Jenkins, and this is your new home. Welcome, Amanda Price!” Her face appeared totally confused as she peered around the room and the straps holding her wrists and ankles. She tried to release herself, but her efforts were in vain.

  “Why am I here? What do you want from me? I recognize you, I’ve seen you hanging around the last few weeks. Haven’t I? Let me out of these straps.” Her voice started quiet but became more aggressive.

  “Amanda, you need to calm down. All I want to do is to get to know you. You’re my princess now, and as long as you behave, you will stay that way. I will love and adore you, look after you, feed you, bathe you. All I ask is for love and respect in return,” I replied calmly, yet stayed stern.

  “I not telling you anything. You better let me go, or I’ll punch your fucking lights out the minute I get the chance. Don’t think I can’t. Just release me, and I’ll show you.” She spat these words at me through her clenched teeth.

  “You will learn in time, Amanda. Take a little look behind you. It’s my wall of punishment. If you try to hurt me, try to escape, try and leave me...one of my tools will be inside you.”

  She tilted her head back to view the cork board with brackets nailed to it. Each set of brackets held an instrument, and they were all locked behind bars. I couldn’t have them trying to use them on me. Seven items hung from the wall. I started with just three, but my taste grew over the years. One I picked up from an antique shop called the Pear of Anguish; an old torture device with a screw that opened the metal structure like a flower (I honestly don’t think they knew what they were selling to me). One or two tools I made myself. My favorite is the small baseball bat with the push-up button that released a head full of nails at the top of the bat. It took hours to hollow out the middle, carve every hole, and connect every nail to the same metal piece in the middle, but it was worth it. My masterpiece.

  “You sick fuck,” she said, as she gasped at the sight of the wall.

  “I suppose I am. But this is your word of warning, now, not later. Behave, or suffer the consequences!”

  I retrieved her suitcase and started to unpack the clothes and shoes into the chest of drawers I nailed to the wall. Bitch number six, Amy, the most aggressive of all, like an animal, threw every piece of furniture at me. Amy smashed one of the drawers and came at me with a stake of wood like I was a vampire. I had to punch her in the face to calm her down. I don’t like hitting women, it’s not my thing, but I had to stop her craziness. I apologized afterwards and said I wouldn’t do it again. She cried on my shoulder, and we made love that night. Make-up sex is better than break-up sex. It was the last time I fucked her. I nailed everything down after that and made sure the drawers couldn’t be pulled out.

  “I can give you some freedom if you’re not gonna do anything stupid. I can attach those straps on the bed to the chains I have on the wall. You can move about and do things. There’s the toilet. We can eat together. You can clean yourself. If you start acting stupid, you’ll be tied up like this, and I’ll do all those things for you. Oh, and you can scream all you want. Ain’t nobody gonna hear you, so you’ll be wasting your breath. If you’re too violent, I’ll drug you to keep you calm or knock you out.
You don’t want to know what I get up to while my princesses are knocked out.” I moved my dick as it started to harden and laughed, but Amanda didn’t. She realized I meant business.

  “I understand,” came a meek reply, and I left her there for a while to ponder on what I said. I heard her rattling around trying to free herself. She’d still be a bit unfocused from the drugs, but I knew she couldn’t escape.

  Chapter 5

  Upstairs, I masturbated in my room, thinking of the lovely Amanda, being inside her. I hope she didn’t hear my moans, I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.

  After washing my hands and cleaning my mess, I needed to finish my daily ritual of counting and touching my trophies. I loved them all dearly.

  “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, number five, Ruby and her ruby necklace.”

  We had a love-hate relationship. She just loved to hate me. Not aggressively or disrespectfully, it was in her eyes, the way she looked at me. When I came inside her all those nights, she confused me. Her voices said ‘Come, fuck me. Come inside me’, but her eyes said something different. I found out later that she was a mother and felt terribly guilty. I had never picked a mother before, I thought I’d done enough following to know if she had children or not. Her voices never told me that. Her daughter lived with the Dad, as Ruby had some mental health issues and never bonded with her baby. I couldn’t look at Ruby the same way, couldn’t touch her. There was no point in keeping her. She could never be a princess. I couldn’t make a mess of Ruby, I used the cleanest item I had…the crowbar. It ripped through her vagina and cervix, into her womb and up into her small intestine. It took longer for her to die than I wanted, the bleed out was mostly internal. Very little blood in comparison to my other tools as most of it stayed inside. I checked on her daughter four or five months after I got rid of Ruby. She seemed happy. Not lost or fucked up like me and probably my little sister. I saw a healthy and content little girl.