DYING TO SURVIVE (Dark Erotica)

by Hildreth, Scott

  “Lean forward, please. And by all means, don’t try to escape, agreed?” Ryan said as he stood behind her.

  “I won’t,” she assured him as she leaned forward.

  Ryan reached behind Dana and unlocked the handcuffs. Carefully he removed them from her wrists, and placed them on the table beside where she was seated. As he walked toward his seat she raised her hands to the table and rubbed her wrists.

  “I actually prefer not to use the handcuffs to be quite honest. I just feel I need to use something. You know, to deter any kind of bad decisions on your part. And I’m not implying you would attempt anything, it’s just best for both of us. Well, you understand, don’t you?” Ryan asked as he sat down into his chair.

  “Yes I do,” she said as she continued to rub her wrists.

  “And, I don’t want you to think for one minute that this entire thing has been about teaching you a lesson about internet dating sites,” Ryan coughed a laugh as he spoke, covered his mouth with his hand, and continued, “it’s much deeper than that. I wouldn’t gather up four identical women and mentally torture them to teach them a lesson about safe dating. I’m not completely mad. To me, it’s well…”

  “It’s about money. It’s about success. Ultimately, I had to find four particular women. To find you in the typical public setting would have taken a lifetime. It may not even be something I could have done in two lifetimes. I don’t know, Dana. But I know this; having that dating website with the profiles and photographs – that saved tremendous trouble, and has made this venture very profitable.”

  “So, someone is paying you to do this?” Dana asked with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Oh no, quite the contrary. I devised the plan. The game. The entire thing. I developed it myself,” feeling prideful from his accomplishments, Ryan rubbed his hands together and paused from speaking.

  “Game? This is a game?” Dana asked.

  “Well, it’s difficult to explain. Yes, a game of sorts. I maintain an interest in psychology, and the human mind in general. Sexually speaking, the wilder the desire, the more thought-provoking I find it. Not necessarily for me, so to speak - just stimulating in general. The gentlemen that spend time in the BDSM lifestyle range from interesting to downright scary. While reading profiles and postings on Fetlife’s website - for entertainment purposed only, I might add - I encountered multiple wealthy Japanese business men that possessed certain kinks. One thing led to another, and I developed this game. It’s similar to betting on a horse race,” proudly, Ryan pointed toward the camera.

  “See, the camera for instance. It’s recording data that is being fed to a hosting site that provides live private streaming to the partners who have invested in the game. We have all placed multiple wagers regarding who would be first to volunteer, and which option, ultimately, the person would choose. You could have chosen death, disfigurement, or any other number of options. Had you picked death, I would have given you other options – including the manner in which you chose to die. All of these potential options have odds placed on them. The house, that’s me,” Ryan motioned toward himself with his hands as he spoke, “covers the odds.”

  Dana covered her mouth with her hand, feeling ill from her understanding of what was happening. A game with four the women - and lives being forfeited for money made her ill. For some reason, a random act of violence was far more acceptable. She thanked God for the ability to choose life, and hoped Ryan was a man of his word. She prayed for the strength to be able to endure the pain associated with the torture that Ryan was preparing to expose her to.

  “Dana?” Ryan snapped his finger loudly, “Did I lose you?”

  “No, I am listening,” she responded quietly.

  “You appeared to have faded away. I thought maybe the injury to your face. Well, never mind. As long as you’re paying attention, that’s all that matters. Now, one last time, are you certain you choose disfigurement over death?” Ryan asked as he waved toward the pile of money.

  She wondered for a split second where precisely Ryan had bet his money. Giving her the options again, she assumed his money was bet on her death. She found a small amount of comfort in thinking that she may be causing him to lose money in his sickening wager.

  “Yes, I am certain,” she responded as she stared at the scalpel.

  “Very well,” Ryan stood and smiled a soft smile.

  Ryan reached into his right pocket of his slacks and removed a pair of rubber gloves. As he pulled them onto his hands, he tightened his jaw and clenched his teeth. Memories of his father bean to fill his head. He looked up from his hands, and focused on the pile of money. As he walked around the table, he picked up one of the towels from the stack. Slowly, he walked around the table and stood beside Dana’s chair.

  “Here, you’ll want to bite on this. It’ll prevent you from screaming, and provide some assurance you will not bite your tongue,” Ryan said as he handed the small folded towel to Dana.

  She accepted the towel and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She prayed again for God to give her strength. As Ryan began to speak, she closed her eyes and said a prayer asking God’s forgiveness for what Ryan prepared to do to her. She opened her eyes and looked up at Ryan.

  “I’m ready,” she said as she placed the towel in her mouth and bit down on it.

  “Well, we both know I could make this as torturous or as simple as possible. You’ve proven to be an extremely strong woman. This part isn’t really for any reason, it’s just. Oh, well, it’s just that I have to do something,” Ryan stated as he leaned over and picked up the scalpel.

  “Place your left hand on the towel in front of you and fan out your fingers. Pick up the other towel in your right hand and hold it,” Ryan inhaled a slow breath, looked up at the light fixture and exhaled.

  As Ryan looked back down toward Dana’s hand he began to speak.

  “I’m going to cut off the very tip, just a small amount, mind you – of your left index finger. I’ll have you know, it really won’t hurt much at all. I won’t remove much, and I’ll make it as quick as possible. As soon as I do, cover it with the towel. I’ll prepare a bandage when we’re done. If you’re prepared, blink your eyes twice,” Ryan said as he turned and looked down at her face.

  She blinked twice and bit the towel.

  With his left hand, he pressed down on Dana’s hand, holding it tight to the towel on the table. With the scalpel in his right hand he carefully positioned it over her finger and placed slight pressure against her finger with the rear portion of the blade. After taking a slight breath, he paused, and pressed the blade down and pulled the scalpel rearward, dragging the surgical blade across the flesh of her finger. As the scalpel moved, the blade sliced through her flesh with minimal effort.

  Ryan’s eyes widened as the blade of the scalpel cut through the fleshy tip of Dana’s finger. Although his hands remained steady for the procedure, his stomach began to flutter. With a hint of surprise in his mind, he fought the jittery feeling and pressed the blade through her finger and into the towel.

  As Dana bit he towel she focused on the wall in front of her, and did not watch the scalpel, Ryan, or see the blood. As the blade slid across her finger, it sliced a quarter inch of the tip of her finger off, leaving a square bloody fingertip exposed. Dana continued looked straight ahead as she bit the towel, not even realizing that the procedure was complete.

  “See? It wasn’t that bad at all,” Ryan said as he reached across the table for the alcohol.

  Dana looked down as her finger began to bleed; now realizing that Ryan had completed his sickening but simple task. With her right hand she covered the tip of her finger with the small towel, stopping the bleeding. Quickly, she uncovered it, looked down at the severed tip, and then covered it again.

  “Towel. Please move the towel,” Ryan requested quietly.

  As Dana complied, Ryan wiped the tip of her finger with alcohol, and covered it with an alcohol soaked bandage. As he did, Dana looked straight ahead,
and bit into the towel.

  “I’m certain that this hurts more than actually being cut,” Ryan said as he wrapped the soaked bandage with another dry one.

  Using the medical tape, he secured the dry bandage to the tip of her finger. When finished, he lifted her hand and admired at his handi-work.

  “Well, that looks like it was prepared at a professional establishment, doesn’t it?” Ryan asked.

  Dana lifted her right hand to her mouth and removed the towel. As she placed the towel on the table, she looked at her left index finger. Uncertain if it was from adrenaline, God’s provision of strength, or that there were very little nerve endings in her fingertip, she felt satisfied that there was really no pain associated with what had just happened. As Ryan carried the scalpel to the other side of the table, she closed her eyes and thanked God.

  Dana watched as Ryan quietly sat down and cleaned the scalpel with alcohol and placed it back onto a clean towel. As he sat down, she wondered if the other women would be given the same options, and if so, the procedure would be the same. As Ryan removed the gloves from his hands, she looked up at his face.

  “Well. I have some paperwork for you to sign. We didn’t go into detail, but I have some documents for you to sign, stating that you subjected yourself to a psychological experiment from the date you arrived until today. I am a Doctor of Psychology, and you’ll sign something stating that you volunteered for an experiment which may include certain deprivations of the mind. It will, of course, be backdated to the day you disappeared. Additionally, and as discussed, I will pay you for your time,” Ryan reached for the stack of money, and pulled a pile toward where he was seated.

  “Here is one hundred thousand dollars. Take that,” Ryan paused and slid the money across the table toward Dana, “Compared to the amount of money I made today, it’s nothing. Chump change. Also, it may help you with what you need regarding your cancer.”

  “You know about the cancer?” Dana asked softly as she looked up at Ryan.

  “Oh absolutely. I know everything,” Ryan chuckled.

  “Now, if you’ll stand up and follow me upstairs, we can get you cleaned up and taken back to the city. Wave for the camera,” Ryan said as he held the remote control in his right hand and pressed the button.

  As Ryan turned the camera off, Dana wondered if he had any additional off camera plans. As she tried to digest leaving, going home, and being free, she wondered if this was truly over. As Ryan stood and began walking to the door, she felt a little more at ease.

  “Leave the tip of the finger, Dana. You don’t get to take it with you. Come on now, grab your money and follow me.” Ryan said as he stood in the doorway.

  Puzzled, Dana picked up the stack of money and turned toward the door. As Ryan walked through the door and into the main body of the basement, she felt a little more at ease with the situation. With each step, she began to feel less likely that something else was going to happen. Maybe, she began to think, Ryan was a man of his word.

  With each step of the stairs, Dana felt a little less apprehensive about following Ryan. His demeanor, his attentive nature, and his personality in general had become light and more human as each second passed. As they walked into the house, Dana was amazed at the cleanliness and organization of the home and its décor.

  Clutching the money, Dana followed Ryan as they walked through the home. The home was magnificent, and every available space was covered with a piece of art, a sculpture, or some form of decorative furniture. As she followed Ryan through the home, she admired each form of art she passed.

  “In anticipation of your choice of disfigurement, I had your vehicle cleaned and filled with fuel. It did not have a navigation system in it, so I purchased a small Garmin system and temporarily installed it on the dash. It should allow you to get home without much trouble what so ever,” Ryan said as Dana followed him into the kitchen.

  “My car is here?” Dana asked, puzzled.

  “Oh yes, I brought all of your vehicles here as soon as I was able. Now, let us get this paperwork signed and we’ll go over the rules of release, shall we?” Ryan clapped his hands together lightly as he sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Sit, please,” Ryan said as he tapped the chair beside him lightly with his hand.

  As Dana sat, she became more comfortable that she was, in fact, going to be going home. She placed the money on the table and slid it to her left side, away from where Ryan was sitting. As he began to speak, she thought of the women in the basement, what grief they were going through, and what more they would be subject to.

  As Ryan spoke, Dana closed her eyes and listened.

  And she prayed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THOUGHTS OF DYING.

  NINE. “So, what the fuck are we gonna do little miss know it all?” Elena said as she stood over Meghan, who was seated beside Shellie on the bench.

  Meghan had spent the majority of the previous night comforting and preparing Dana for her departure. Describing it as a departure made it more reasonable, more realistic, and less permanent than calling it anything else. Meghan now dressed in sweats and a tank top like the other women, sat with Shellie, hoping that nothing bad had actually happened to Dana. Although she had no basis for this belief, her considering it made everything Ryan was doing seem plausible.

  “I don’t fucking know. To tell you the truth, I really didn’t think he’d take Dana. I felt like it would never come down to that. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know,” Meghan complained.

  “Well, if we don’t have a plan, this is gonna get really shitty really quick,” Elena sat down on the bench beside Shellie and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs.

  “Like it’s not already shitty,” Meghan slowly stood from the bench and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Dana’s gone. It’s bad already,” Shellie said as she rotated her hand and looked at what little was left of her fingernails.

  “This crazy fuck. We have to try to kill him when he comes back. We have to. We don’t have an option,” Elena said as she stood from the bench and faced Meghan.

  “How?” Meghan asked.

  “Well, fuck. I don’t know. Let’s talk about it,” Elena paused.

  “When he had me in the basement talking to me, he had a Tazer. He didn’t have a gun. He had it and handcuffs. He’s strong, but he can’t overpower three of us,” Elena said as she looked down at Shellie.

  “Well, two. Two of us. She ain’t got much to offer,” Elena motioned toward Shellie who continued to nibble at her fingernails as the two women spoke.

  “Ok, so when he opens the door, what do we do?” Meghan looked at the door as she spoke.

  “The door pushes into the room. There’s a handle outside, in the basement, not an inside handle. We can’t grab it and pull it. We have to just try to overpower him, or we all rush the door? What are you thinking?” Meghan asked as she began walking toward the door.

  “Well, when he opens it, when we hear it click, two of us could be right there, and be ready for his ass. And just take off running. Fuck I don’t know,” Elena said.

  “If we do that, what could go wrong?” Meghan asked as she positioned herself by the side of the door that opened.

  “I guess, if he pulls it open slowly, and sees us - he just pulls it shut and leaves us here forever to die. That’s what his crazy ass would do. So, we have to be on the side of the door that he can’t see,” Meghan reasoned as she stood beside the door.

  “That doesn’t do us any good. Because then we gotta get to the opening, and he’ll just see us whenever we try and move over there,” Elena began to appear frustrated, walked over to the far side of the room, and stared at the door. As she crossed her arms and stared, she shook her head.

  For Elena to allow herself to be taken into the other room, tortured, killed or even released, was going to be a chore for anyone, and Meghan could see and sense it. Elena had become far more tense since Dana had left, and she was outwardly showing
it. When the time came for Ryan to come and take Elena from the room, he was certainly going to have his hands full. As Elena started cussing in Spanish and staring at the door, Meghan began to wonder what problems Elena’s demeanor could cause if she irritated Ryan.

  Meghan believed that she had heard a car leave the garage thirty minutes after Ryan had taken Dana out of the room. That would be roughly the amount of time it would have taken Ryan to kill Dana, prepare the body for transportation, load it, and leave the premises from what Meghan could figure. The other women complained at Meghan’s request for confirmation of what she had heard, claiming that they heard nothing.

  “What if this. What if, when he takes Shellie to the door, we’re back here,” Meghan pointed to the benches beside her, behind where the door swung when opened.

  “Where we were before, when he got Dana,” she walked in the direction that she was pointing.

  “We haven’t decided if I was next,” Shellie said softly without looking up from her fingernail gnawing.

  “Well, when he comes to the door, he will ask her to turn around. She’s slow at everything she does, and she can turn really slow, taking a little extra time. He’ll become frustrated at her, but not at us. As he waits for her, we rush the door, and yank it open. Whoever gets to the door, the other one will, with Shellie’s help, overpower Ryan. How’s that sound?” Meghan asked as she faced Elena, who still stood along the far wall.

  “It sounds like we’re trying to plan putting up a volley ball net for a fucking beer party. What if this thing goes to shit? We’re fucked. El Mero Chingon comes in, and we’re just fucked,” Elena shook her head and complained.

  “You know. We can do all this planning we want, and this fuckers gonna make it impossible to do it just by one little change in how he opens the door or how he does something. Then, we’re sitting here stupid. And dead. Fuck this puto. I want to choke him or dig his eyes out when I’m in the other room. When he takes me to kill me, I’m gonna head butt that fucking pendejo. Maybe, when he takes me, I’ll kick him in his fucking cajones,” Elena was obviously becoming very frustrated as the time approached for Ryan to come pick up his next victim.