Hello, my Freaky Darlings!
Here’s a new short story for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy it.
Eat Your Heart Out
She walked down the well-lit street. Her heels click clicked on the pavement. The road was too bright, and the cars drove too quickly for her purposes. No man looking for a trick would stop here. She would have to walk another street, in another neighbourhood, to pick-up the right guy. She should perhaps have stayed at the hotel, but business was slow, and none of the businessmen staying there were what she was in the mood for. Adamina was in the mood for someone rough. She wanted to feel it. Needed to feel it. So far, the other men she’d plied her trade on were too soft, too easy. They hadn’t been much of a challenge. She craved a challenge. What she wouldn’t give for a man who would make all the pain and blood worth the effort.
A grin spread across her red lips as she watched a car slow and put on its hazards before coming to a complete stop a few steps from her. The car’s bright lights nearly blinded her as she walked towards it. Her grin became an alluring smile as she approached the driver’s window. It slid down silently. Another car hooted as it sped past her. It’s side mirror barely missing Adamina’s arm. She controlled her impulse to flip the other driver the bird. It wouldn’t be professional, and if nothing else, Adamina was a professional.
She inclined her head through the open window and got her first glimpse of the John who’d stopped so unexpectedly. His lips were fat, almost too big for his face, and his eyes were the exact opposite. They were too small and close together, and with his thick glasses, he looked like a cyclops. He was also a short shit and would probably have a severe Napoleonic Complex. The evening might not be a total loss, after all, Adamina thought. He could be exactly what she wanted.
“How much?” he asked.
Looking at the car, a brand-new Lexus, and his perfectly cut suit, she knew he could afford to pay a little extra. Not that he’d be paying with cash tonight. Admina extracted a different currency from the men she picked up. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been one of those who’d profiteered off the pandemic.
“If you have to ask, you can’t afford me,” she said and started to walk away.
“Don’t be in such a rush,” he said. “Get in.”
The lock for the passenger door clicked open as she strolled around the car and climbed in. Her skirt hiked up her perfectly toned thighs as she sat. The leather was cool against her bare skin. The cocky smirk that played across his lips as he put the car into gear and re-joined traffic was belied by his white knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel in a death grip.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I know a place,” he said. “It’s not too far from here.”
She nodded as she glanced at his right hand, clocking his platinum wedding ring.
He probably wasn’t taking her home to meet the wife, although that could also have been fun. She wondered if he could have a flat on the side that the wife didn’t know about, but as she looked at his diminutive stature, she doubted he had enough game for any regular side action. He could be the sort of man who had to pay for it pretty regularly and not just to have it with his wife, but Adamina also discounted that idea. His nerves and level of excitement were too obvious. Someone who picked up hookers on the side of the road regularly would be calmer. Adamina had a feeling that whatever he had planned was going to be interesting, but it certainly wasn’t going to go the way he thought or wanted. Adamina had her own plans.
“What’s your name, Handsome?” Adamina asked him.
“No names,” he said, glaring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel even tighter.
“No problem, Handsome,” Adamina said with a nod while she smothered the smile threatening the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t call me that,” he said. “I know I’m not.”
“What would you like me to call you?” Adamina asked.
“You can call me Sir or Master,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. Adamina turned her face away from him so that he couldn’t see her grin. She didn’t see his fist, but her cheek certainly felt it.
“I’m not an idiot,” he shouted. “Don’t disrespect me you fucking whore.”
His spit sprayed across her now red cheek, and she got a whiff of the alcohol on his breath. He liked his whiskey from the smell of it. He’d obviously needed to find his courage at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. She wondered if he hadn’t picked her up would he have taken his barely suppressed rage out on his wife or some other unsuspecting woman. Adamina had been at the right place at just the right time as usual. Once again, she was Karma in action.
Going on instinct and his body language, Adamina decided to play the scared victim. She chose to cower in the seat. It gave him a false sense of power over her. Being punched and abused was pretty much par for the course for so many women, especially for a woman in Adamina’s line of work. Being hit had ceased to scare her a long time ago. It occasionally still pissed her off, but mostly it excited her. Not sexually, but the retribution she would exact later. Sir would pay for that punch and the momentary feeling of strength he received from it.
“That’s right, Bitch,” Sir shouted at her and the world in general. “I’m in charge here.”
“Yes, Sir,” Adamina said in a submissive tone.
Without using the car’s indicator, Sir took a left turn across traffic, narrowly missing another oncoming vehicle. Hooters blared. Sir laughed. He jammed his foot down on the brakes and came to an abrupt halt at a deserted and ramshackle cemetery. Adamina recognised the place. Her mother and grandmother were buried there, as were so many victims of the pandemic. In the end, they’d all just been dumped in mass graves or cremated. There’d been too many to keep track of, so no one really knew what had happened to their loved ones, if they’d been buried or just had their ashes blown away by the wind. Now the graves were forgotten and deserted by the survivors who only wanted to pretend it had never happened.
No one visited the graveyard anymore. There wasn’t anything to mark the mass graves, no monument to the fallen. They’d simply been dumped, and the ground bulldozed over. Adamina hadn’t been to visit her mother’s or grandmother’s graves in years. She felt guilty for her neglect. She briefly wondered about her sisters. Would they be happy to see her if they knew she was back in town? She hadn’t spoken to them since she left after their mother died.
After the pandemic, the entire area had been taken over by what some believed to be a gang of bloodthirsty thugs who took particular pleasure in attacking the lucky few who knew where their loved ones were buried. Adamina, on the other hand, knew that a gang of thugs had nothing to do with it. Not in the conventional sense, anyway. Those who were responsible for the attacks had also killed a priest and a few nuns from the local parish who’d been tending to the cemetery. As a result, no one in their right mind ventured within its derelict walls. The rumours of the nuns haunting it also helped keep people at bay.
Sir didn’t realise it, but he’d brought her to the perfect place. He’d brought Adamina home.
“Get out,” he shouted.
Adamina wasn’t entirely sure how he thought he was going to make her do anything until she saw him pull the snub-nose revolver from the glove box. It looked like a Smith & Wesson .38 Special.
The pleasant thought of breaking his nose right then and there flittered across her mind, but the revolver made things a little more complicated. She decided to bide her time. Adamina had always been a patient woman; it had served her well over the years.
“Please,” Adamina begged. “You don’t need to hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please put the gun away.”
“Get out of the fucking car,” Sir screamed. “I won’t ask you again.”
He raised the revolver, and bent his elbow, ready to hit her with its butt. He hadn’t cocked the hammer, so he wasn’t ready to shoot her just yet. Good to know, Adamina thought. She still had time to play.
Her heart rate quickened with excitement as she stumbled out of the passenger seat. Her heels caught in a deep crack in the paving.
“Take those fucking things off,” Sir said gesturing at her shoes with the revolver. “While you’re at it, you might as well strip.”
“You want me to strip here?” She asked, looking around the abandoned parking area.
“Since when are whores shy about taking their clothes off?” Sir asked, pointing the revolver at her face and pulling the hammer back. “Strip.”
“Yes, Sir,” Adamina said as she kicked her shoes off and slowly unzipped her dress. She put on a show, seductively pushing one sleeve over her shoulder and then the other.
“Stop it,” Sir said, waving the revolver around. “Just take your fucking dress off and be quick about it.”
“But you told me to strip,” Adamina said. “I was only doing what you told me to do.”
His face turned beet red as he marched up to her. His face barely an inch away from hers. This time she saw his left fist before he punched her in the stomach. The air rushed out of her as she doubled over and fell to her hands and knees. Loose gravel bit into her skin. He had a remarkably strong left uppercut for a man of his stature.
“Do what I tell you when I fucking tell you,” he screamed down at her. “You’re all the fucking same. You don’t fucking listen. Why can’t you just do what I tell you? Why do you always have to make it so fucking hard.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Adamina wheezed. “I’ll be better.”
“Get up,” he yelled, as he gestured with the gun, still firmly gripped in his right hand, for her to stand.
Adamina wriggled out of the rest of her dress. The black fabric pooled around her bare feet. She contemplated kicking it at him but decided a bullet wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t sure how fast he’d react or if he was a good shot or not. She stood proud in her black lace bra and matching thong.
“You have absolutely no shame,” Sir said, looking at her.
“Why would I?” She said with a shrug. Adamina had always been proud of her body. She worked hard to keep it perfect. She saw no reason to hide it or pretend not to be proud of it.
Adamina knew that continuing with the subservient and fearful act was probably the best way to keep Sir feeling that false sense of security, but the more she interacted with him, and the more he hit her or threatened her, the more pissed off she got. As they made their way inside the cemetery and the closer they got to wherever he planned to take her, the less inclined she felt to play the role of victim. She looked forward to being able to drop the act.
The revolver’s muzzle dug into her back as he pushed her forward. Battered and broken headstones littered the ground like abandoned trash. She even spotted a few broken wine bottles and the remains of a firepit. It looked like some people had enjoyed themselves. Then she smelt it before she saw it—a puddle of dried blood and what was left of a dismembered corpse. The party hadn’t ended well for someone.
The sound of Sir gagging made her smile. For all his bravado, he didn’t have the stomach for what really happened within the cemetery at night.
“Greetings, Sister,” a naked woman perched on a broken headstone said. “You’ve been gone for so long. We feared the worst.”
“I’ve been travelling,” Adamina said.
“I see you’ve brought dinner,” the other woman said.
“It seemed the polite thing to do,” Adamina replied.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Sir shouted. “Who the fuck are you?” He pointed the revolver at the new arrival.
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Adamina said as she turned around and faced him. “Keres won’t take kindly to that. She isn’t as sporting as I am.”
“Who are you?” he asked, the revolver wavered in his grip as he tried to point it at both Adamina and Keres.
“Who I am is of little interest,” Keres said. “What I am is so much more important.”
Keres uncurled herself from her perch and slowly made her way over the battered graves towards Sir, who still clung to his weapon and bravado. Adamina could see through it all. She could see to the very heart of the man. Adamina could hear the beat quicken and smell his fear. He was only brave when faced with what he perceived to be a weaker opponent, but now Sir crumbled into a boneless meat sack. How very disappointing. She’d hoped he’d have more fight in him. It would have added to the evening’s entertainment.
“The smell of fear is potent with this one,” Keres said as she sniffed Sir’s neck. “Our sisters will be pleased to see you and that you have brought us a gift.”
Adamina smiled. She had been away from her family for too long.
“Where are they?” Adamina said, looking around at the deserted graveyard.
“Come,” her sister said as she gripped Sir by his throat and pulled him forward. Her eyes glowed red like burning coals. Sir, on the other hand, turned a pasty shade of grey. Adamina thought he might faint. His grip on the revolver loosened and Adamina took possession of it.
“You won’t be needing this,” Admina said as she flung it deeper into the graveyard.
Keres laughed as she led them to the heart of the cemetery. It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination. A bonfire, hidden from view by the antediluvian trees surrounding the area, roared in the ancient grove that the cemetery and the city had been built around. Adamina’s three other sisters danced naked around the fire.
“My sisters,” Keres shouted above the sound of her sisters’ cackling laughter and burning wood. “Adamina has returned to us.”
The three women stopped dancing and turned in unison. Their eyes all glowed the same red as Keres’s.
“Sister,” all three shouted. “We’ve missed you.”
“Why are you wearing those garments?” Alizeh, the youngest of all the sisters asked. “You look ridiculous. Take them off.”
“Yes,” Keres agreed. “They should be burned along with this one.” She pushed Sir towards the fire.
He screamed as he stumbled. Adamina laughed as she removed her underwear and threw them into the flames.
“Your turn,” Adamina said as she stalked around him, prodding him with her fingertips as she circled him.
After she completed a circuit, she stopped in front of him. She couldn’t help but laugh at the look of terror on his face. She imagined it was the look he’d hoped to inflict on her and so many other women.
“Strip,” Adamina said. Her eyes now glowed the same red as her sisters’.
The five women circled Sir. Each one held a silver dagger that seemed to materialise out of nowhere as if they’d willed them into existence. Sir shivered as he tried to get out of his clothes without falling over. He couldn’t stop staring at the daggers as they glinted in the glow from the fire. As he tried to get out of his trousers, he stumbled and fell to his knees. A sob scuttled its way through his body.
“Should we help him?” Fiamma, the middle sister, asked.
Fiamma flicked her right wrist, and his clothes began to smoulder and then caught flame.
Sir screamed as his clothes burned.
“We don’t want him burned just yet,” Keres said with a nod toward Marina, the second youngest of the sisters.
Marina flicked her wrist and water cascaded from above. It was as though a massive tub of water had been emptied over him, but there was no tub, only water that materialised from the ether, much the same as the daggers, and drenched the flames that had begun to blister Sir’s skin.
“Did you have to do that?” Fiamma said to Marina.
Marina simply shrugged.
“We could have cooked him a little longer,” Fiamma said.
“Don’t worry, he will still cook,” Keres said. “But we’re going to have some fun first. There’s no need to rush.”
With a nod from Keres, the five women circled him once more going in a counter-clockwise direction, chanting as they went. Sir clambered to his feet. The women got closer and closer to him as they circled. When they were within striking distance, each of them sliced his back and chest with their blades.
Sir screamed and fell to his knees once more.
“That’s right, Sir,” Adamina whispered in his ear. “On your knees, just like you wanted all the women in your life. It’s not those women who should be subjugated, but weak men like you who can only feel strong when treading on those they perceive to be weaker. You’re a pathetic worm.”
The sisters’ laughter blended with the roar of the fire and the splintering and crackling of wood as it burned.
“Have you said your peace sister?” Keres asked.
Keres stood in front of a grovelling Sir, reached her hand down to help him to his feet.
“Please,” he begged as he grabbed her hand. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a better man. I’ll be a better husband.”
Keres smiled and nodded.
Sir was still begging when she plunged her dagger into his chest. The four sisters danced around them, laughing and chanting as they circled. Keres sliced down and then slipped her other hand into his chest.
Keres pulled his still-beating heart from the cavity and brandished it like a trophy. Sir was silent as he watched his heart continue to beat. He looked almost fascinated by it. His knees buckled as his blood stopped being circulated through his body. He fell to his knees for the final time. While he continued to watch, Keres took her blade and cut a thin slice from his heart. She smiled as she fed it to him.
“There you go,” Keres said. “Swallow like a good boy.”
The sisters stood in silence as they waited patiently for him to eat his heart, slice by slice.
“Come, my sisters,” She said as she turned away from him once the final piece slipped down his throat. “Let us eat.”
So … what do you think?
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