Torture Porn

by John Putignano

  She is trying to ask me why I’m doing this. When I was younger explanations really got me hot. That was nearly three decades ago now and how I have I matured, thus I ignore her. Now don’t get me wrong, I still see the artistic integrity within the mind fuck and can appreciate the impact of psychological torture; but it just doesn’t get my dick hard anymore. I am a physical kind of guy now. I love to get my hands filthy.

  I walk away to my record player. I always liked vinyl. This new age of digital music, it lacks greatly. When I drop the needles upon the record I feel bliss throughout my body as every sense is awakened by the classical work Orpheus in the Underworld. This wonderful work was written by none other than Offenbach. I hear the string instruments, the brass, and the screams of my victim and one word comes to mind…grandeur.

  I once bought a embalming kit online.

  I once bought a dildo with a knife attached to the end online.

  I turn with an diabolic grin upon my face. She sees this and I see panic throughout her body as she pisses all over my table. She’s terrified for she knows that I’m truly getting off to this. And now the song is picking up it pace and I feel the energy throughout my own body. My mind is flooded with images of Roman gladiator battles, burned corpses in the trenches of World War 1 and the bloated bodies floating around in the flooded streets of New Orleans after Katrina. I reach down and grip hold of her lower jaw, my thumb tucked within her mouth and my other fingers now pressed hard against the mental protuberance. It takes very little effort as I yank it free from her face.

  Her tongue flaps around like a fat slug, and her eyes begin to roll around like a slot machine. She unleashed a grotesque sound of gurgles and distorted screams. Denying her a second to react further I took the jaw and began to beat her with it. Each strike made fresh gashes into her skin. After a few jaw whippings the little bones crumbled to nothing and now my raw meat mitts were pounding away at her face.

  I once bought a book on Jeffery Dahmer online.

  I once bought a snuff video online.

  Beneath my force her right supraorbital process cracked along with the ethmoid bone. This caused that eye to now float a little within the socket. I jammed my index finger over the top of the eye, thrusting it down into the jelly of the retina, tearing through the choroid, and felt for the optic nerve. Once I felt a good grasp on it I tugged, tearing her eye free.

  She went into convulsions as her tongue flopped wildly in her mouth. This was it. This was the end. She had enough and her body was going into shock. My god it is so beautiful.

  I once bought a knife set online.

  I once bought a hooker online…and now she’s on my table and dying.

  I fucking love the internet. That’s why I do this, that’s why the camera in the corner is connected to a live feed. Somewhere in Japan a man in a business suit is jacking his cock and watching me destroy this fucking broad. I am someone’s internet purchase.

  As she dies I imagine my bank account increasing by six figures. When she goes silent I slowly walk over to the camera and shut it off.

  My work day is complete.

  Hell Birth

  A putrid reek filled the aura of the room. A network of ancient pipe work dripped slowly into overflowing pails of water. The wood was swollen and water-logged, bowing from the excessive moisture. The ground was made of cracked and tarnished concrete. The walls were covered in mold and grime, adding to the filthiness of this cellar. This was a revolting, all-encompassing atmosphere of woe; a woman shrieked.

  Her extremities strained as she pulled tight against the ropes that bound her. Like a fish she flopped and flailed, her naked body smacking against the old wooden table. She cried out. "It's coming!"

  He emerged from a dark corner in the cellar, appearing devilish in the light of the swinging hook lamp. He wore a filthy white undershirt tucked into old blue jeans. He was whistling a soft tune as he approached the nude and pregnant woman. At the base of the table he bent and picked up a large leather apron. He put it on.

  She continued to push and strain, hollering out as sweat poured down her face, neck and breasts. "Help me!"

  "Shhhh, breathe sweetheart." He whispered as he ran his fingers through her soft hair. He pulled up a metal stool and positioned himself between her legs.

  "Daddy, it hurts so much." She managed to get out before more screams took over. He held back tears; he hated seeing her in agony.

  "I know hun, I know." He reached a hand out and gripped her knee. She continued to cry as the labor pains shot throughout her body. He reached down into a toolbox which rested next to the table. He rustled inside it a little. "Ok, I need you to push sweetie."

  "Daddy…"

  "Push darling. You need to push."

  "I want to go to a hospital."

  "This is not an option sweetie. You know what the hospital will do. We take care of our own, now I need you to listen to me and push."

  "Oh god!" She pushed. Her wails pierced his eardrums. He felt his brain rattling inside his skull. The head began to crown. A smile plastered his face. He positioned his hands in place as the birth continued. He allowed the child to fall into them.

  The baby cried out. It flailed its little arms and legs as it sucked in its first breath. She raised her head, desperately trying to see the baby. "Daddy, let me see."

  He ignored her, reaching into the tool box. He pulled out some garden sheers and snipped the umbilical cord.

  "It is a boy. Your first child is a boy." He said excitedly. His daughter leaned up and smiled at her father.

  "You mean our child."

  "That's right baby…our child."

  "You can do it if you want, I know how much it brings you pleasure."

  "No baby, you should do it." He shook his head. "It is your first. With childbirth come great responsibilities."

  "We should do it together." He didn’t need any more convincing, and like a child in a candy store he nodded.

  "Ok." He stood up and carried the baby over to a small steel table. He placed it on the cold surface as he returned to his daughter. He reached down as he began to cut her ropes. "It is amazing to see you on this table. Your mother has given birth countless times on this exact table, as has your sister. Now you have become a woman, my sweet little girl."

  When the restraints were gone she pulled her sore body off the table. She eagerly walked bare foot to the metal table. Her father was right behind her, his arms wrapping around her. She reached a hand back and rubbed his face as he kissed her neck. They looked at the little crying infant.

  "He's so beautiful." She tried to hold back her tears.

  "He is." He wrapped her hand in his as he slowly pulled it across the table. They rest on a metal hammer. She smiles as she runs her fingers over the small metal object. She felt a jolt of excitement throughout her body, similar to sexual arousal.

  "I am wet." She whispered as he blew into her ear.

  "It is your first time. You will remember this forever."

  She wrapped her hand around the handle of the hammer as she raised it. She felt his hand still wrapping hers. Together they raised it high in the air above the crying infant.

  "I love you daddy."

  "I love you baby."

  And with this the two of them slammed the hammer down, onto the baby. Its cries instantly ceased as the skull cracked open. Blood and brain matter spilled out from the hole and onto the table. They raised the hammer again and when it came down the abdomen burst like a piñata. The blood sprayed all over her nude body as she laughed hysterically. They brought the hammer down a few more times before dropping the weapon. She turned in his arms and looked excitedly into his eyes.

  "I did it."

  "You did. And next time you can do it yourself."

  "I can't wait for my next child." He held her in the dark cellar, kissing her beneath the glow of the hook light.

  Upstairs, in the kitchen, the mother hummed a soft tune. She was cleaning dishes when she excitedly turned to the
cellar door.

  "It's done. My little girl is now all grown up."

  The Shut-In

  Virginia’s Nissan Altima pulled into the gravel driveway. Anxiously she hummed an upbeat melody to divert her mind. It wasn’t working. The small rocks which made up the driveway crunched beneath the weight of her slow moving tires. She continued to hum, a desperate attempt to hide her angst from both herself as well as Jeff.

  She put the car in park and killed the engine. With her hands gripping the steering wheel she closed her eyes tight. She shook her head and let out a deep breath while whispering to herself “He’ll be fine. It’s just three days. I’ll be gone and when I return things will be fine.”

  She briskly shook her head as if somehow this would empty her mind. She imagined her fears and insecurities falling free like dandruff from her hair. She imagined an overwhelming sense of calmness flowing over her body like water from a shower head. She took a deep breath and let out an exaggerated exhale. She then reached a shaking had to her car door handle and jerked it open.

  Jeff watched from the window. He watched Virginia’s queer behavior. Thoughts began to develop in his paranoid mind. He knew something was wrong and being as sick as he was he expected the absolute worse.

  Cancer, Sickle Cell Anemia, Multiple Dystrophy, AIDs

  He decided it was better to wait the four or five seconds until she reached the front door. Maybe it isn’t that bad? He shook his head, disappointed with himself. He hated acting like this, hiding in the shadows and watching. He wished he could greet her at the door like before. Greet her with a smile, meeting her halfway. He imagined the world as it was before, before his mental breakdown.

  It seemed like forever to him but it had only been three years since his agoraphobia isolated him from the rest of the world. Three years since he lived a somewhat normal life as an average man with a decent job making decent bank. Three years since he would smile and be the social epicenter among peers. Three long years have passed since the day he couldn’t get out of bed.

  He remembered that day well. Had it been two days before someone noticed? He was catatonic, lying in bed muttering incoherent sentence fragments. He was unable to move. He urinated in his bed, and lay there in his filth for two days, that is until a concerned Virginia came to his rescue.

  She called the paramedics, and they took him away to the hospital. He spent a week there before he would be released back to his home. His home; this turned out to be a prison sentence. It was here he remained since, not so much as stepping out the front door. He segregated himself from the world and it was within the confines of this house where he found solace. This was his world, and the only outside influenced allowed was Virginia.

  Virginia was a true friend. She made sure to visit him every day and bring him groceries once a week. The love he had for her was strong, an unbreakable bond like brother and sister. Jeff was ignorant, however, of Virginia’s feelings.

  She saw their love in a much different light. Where Jeff saw sibling love, Virginia saw a potential for long, everlasting romance. She understood he was unable to commit to any relationship right now, but in time. He was ill, damaged yet salvageable. His vulnerability amplified her feelings for him as she set a foundation to build passion; one day when he’s finally healed she would be there.

  And they lived happily ever after…

  She knocked softly on the door, careful not to knock to hard. To knock with aggressive force would set Jeff into a panic, and he would retreat to a safe spot in the house. Days would go by before he could be convinced to come out. Batting her lashes she cleared her throat before calling out in a soft voice “Jeff, It’s me Virginia.”

  Now came the routine; the deadbolt would open giving Virginia her cue to open it. Jeff never opened the door. His phobias wouldn’t allow him to. He would retreat from the door to the entranceway of the kitchen as he awaited Virginia’s safe entry.

  “Hey Jeff, how are you?” She called out, closing the door behind her. He emerged from the shadows timid yet excited to see her. She had a calming effect on him, sort of like a drug.

  “Oh, you know how it is. It’s just another day in my mental little world.” He joked. Virginia forced a laugh although she was uncomfortable with it. She understood that his jokes which made fun of his ailment were a defense mechanism to help cope with the situation. She didn’t have to like it though.

  He led the way to the living room. It was bare with the exception of a couple leather couches, a coffee table, and a television sitting on a stand. As always his house was immaculate.

  Of course my house is clean I’m locked in here every goddamn day. Even a shut-in is capable of developing cabin fever. If it wasn’t for the cleaning surely I’d have fallen off the deep end a long time ago.

  Jeff motioned for Virginia to take a seat. She followed, obeying the laws of Jeffery’s World. Jeff decided who entered his world, as well as how they behaved in it. He always led the way from room to room and gave permission to sit, lean, eat and drink; or whatever else. Virginia only one time in the past sat down without permission. For the next two weeks Jeff sat in a mind shattered catatonia because he lost control of his world.

  “I was watching an amazing documentary earlier.” Jeff took a seat in the couch opposite of her. He leaned back sinking into the cushions. “It was on string theory. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Yes I am. It involves a lot within it but the bulk of it is the theory of extra dimensions.”

  “Yes. I found the documentary very exciting yet frightening. It sure is terrifying to know privacy is an illusion.” Jeff could read the puzzled look in Virginia’s face. He smiled. “What I mean is that in this theory there are other worlds overlapping our own. We share this space with others in another world. I might be next to another being right now or inside one. Perhaps those strange feelings we sometimes get, that sensation that we are not quite ourselves, is because we fused two beings together. Our worlds separated by a thin ethereal fabric. I may not like it but I cannot deny the compelling evidence.”

  “As I recall many scientists consider it junk science.” Virginia responded shaking her head. “I mean it is a theory not a law.”

  “Yes, but hasn’t all science at one time or another been called junk science; Witchcraft or back magic sometimes? Before something becomes law it must first be theory.” It wasn’t what he said that troubled Virginia but how he expressed himself. He was getting more eccentric, wilder in his expressions. His hands madly flailed with his eyes as his tone took erratic jumps and dives. He looked like a conductor leading an orchestra.

  “Well that’s real interesting.” Jeff could tell she was distracted. He studied her and noticed she refused eye contact. She looked at her feet as if somewhere in that general direction was an escape for her; a back door where she could slip out.

  “What’s wrong? I can tell something’s wrong.”

  “As usual you’re right. I do have something to tell you. I got a promotion at work.”

  “Well this is fantastic news, but why the sullen look? There’s more isn’t there?”

  “Jesus Jeff, I swear you should become a psychologist when you-” She looked up at him. She didn’t want to finish the sentence. She made it a point to not mention his condition. He held a hand out letting her know it was alright. She continued. “I’m now the regional assistant director of marketing research.”

  “Wow, quite the title but I don’t see why the melancholy.”

  “I need to take off for a few days” She shot her hand out in a stop motion to prevent Jeff from over reacting. “Don’t worry, it’s only three days and I’ll be back. I’m going up to New Hampshire.”

  Jeff twitched slightly, forcing a giant smile as a pathetic way to hide his disappointment. Fears and sadness overwhelmed him. “Ok. Then go.”

  “Oh Jeff, don’t be upset. I wish to god I could call or email you.”

  “No way are you getting one of them goddamn computers or phones in this house
. They carry cancer and allow the CIA to listen in on your conversations.”

  “I know Jeff, I know you don’t trust them I just worry about you and wish I had the means to check in on you.”

  “Listen, you go. I’ll be fine. Christ it is only three days, you think I’m that crazy?” Jeff laughed. This time Virginia also laughed. She had to. He motioned for her to stand and she did. He hugged her tight as he whispered. “Now not another word about phone calls or emails.”

  ***

  After Virginia left Jeff quickly dashed off to the kitchen and reached for the drawer. In the drawer he keeps a collection of pills. There were bottles of paroxetine, diazepam, clonazeopam, buspar; and then he found it hiding in the corner, alprazolam. He pulled off the top to his favorite little anti-anxiety and popped two into his mouth. He shook his head.

  “Three days. Three days and she’ll come back. She has to. But what if she has a car accident? What if she’s kidnapped or raped? If she was raped she could develop a major phobia of males, thus she would stop seeing me altogether.” He shook his head as he softly hit himself with a closed fist. “Stop it, you are doing it again. The what ifs always make you lose control. TV! Got to watch TV!”

  He stumbled back into the living room and plopped himself down on the leather couch. He reached for the remote and turned it on. It was the news. The newscaster looked into the camera with a stern look.

  “A young woman was found today murdered in the Raintree Village projects in Brockton. The woman was believed to be a police informant responsible for a raid on a drug house on Winthrop Street last month. The woman was found execution style with four gunshots from a .22 caliber handgun. Her hands were tied behind her.”

  “And I’m the crazy one for not leaving my house. Terrorism, shootings, gang banging; the whole world goes to shit but still people flock in record numbers to buy more bullshit, yet I’m the disturbed one.” As he talked to himself and the pills began to take hold he heard from upstairs the patter of small feet running across the floor. He shook his head, ignoring it as a side effect from the pills. It was the undeniable laughter of a child which made him shoot up. “What the fuck?”