Chapter 1

Bea lay in filth as the ceiling creaked, dust cascading down from heavy footfalls and a thump of something above. Master was home. Clamoring up, with popping joints and scraping metal, she settled in on her knees, readying herself. Any second the door would open and he would look in at her.

Master was home.

To her surprise though, the door didn’t open. She waited, not just for a minute, but several dozen. Nearly an hour by her estimation, before the heavy metal door swung in. Without words Master approached, down the old stairs to stand over her, his hand raised.

Bea didn’t flinch as his massive palm struck just under the chin, knocking her flat to the filthy, dirt floor.

His face broke into a smile she didn’t see. She knew better than to move, to do anything but lay where she’d fallen.

“Happy to see me, cunt?”

His voice was a low gruff, forced out like each word hurt to speak. A raw throat.

Bea answered quickly and loudly, “Yes Sir”

He knelt next to her, tracing a finger along her gaunt, marred flesh. Licking his lips as he grabbed the heavy gauge chain from around her neck and pulled, lifting her easily as she scrambled not to choke under her own weight. With a slow, steady motion, he brought her face inches from his.

“You’re almost out of water this time, so you must be very happy to see me,” he laughed, prodding her, “and you’ve healed up too.”

With hot stinking breath in her face, his fingers slid over her exposed skin. Along her face was a long scar his fingers traced, nudging her jaw and pushing her head.

“So pretty cunt. I’ve made you so pretty. Prettier every time, don’t you think cunt?”

“Yes Sir,” she repeated, trembling as she dangled by her neck, careful not to touch him, not to reach out in desperation as she tried to breathe. She knew better; responding with the same loud, though shaking voice.

Procuring a small key from his pocket, he twisted her around, finding the locking metal bolt holding the chain around her neck. He let it all clang to the floor as he turned it open, replacing the restraint with his hand at her throat. Grinning, he smiled and spat in her face.

“Such a pretty cunt.”

He smacked her cheek softly before reaching down to feel her slit, rubbing a dirty finger over it and tugging her scarred cuntflaps before dropping her.

“Run upstairs now, I’ve got a little present for us. You need to cook dinner first.”

Bea was starving, and obeyed, moving quickly up the creaking stairs. She didn’t touch what he’d left on her face, knowing he’d beat her if she did. As she neared the top, she felt warm air for the first time in days.

Before she opened the heavy metal door, she looked back at him from the doorway.

“Sir.” she called down, her voice low, muscles tense.

Below, he had begun to pull a large metal table from the wall.

“I am glad you’re back Sir.”

Her head dipped as she spoke, eyes down at her feet. The shadowed man didn’t respond, not even acknowledging her as he pulled down a metal collar from a wall of instruments.

Chapter 2

Sophie wrenched against her bindings, only stopping as Bea emerged. The sight struck her. A heavily scarred, dirty, nude woman walking from the doorway. Bea’s mangled form was unnerving at first, but she hoped for an ally, trying to draw her attention as she screamed into her gag. Bea didn’t react, as if she couldn’t hear at all, instead walking slowly past and out of view.

Sophie strained to listen, but her heart pounded in her ears. Driven to escape, she twisted against her restraints, a thin rope around her arms and legs. She fought to slip a wrist, trying to free even one limb. The cordage cut into her flesh as she worked it back and forth. Seeing a small fray, she used her teeth to gnaw wildly, trying to pull more apart.

She felt a slight give, and then more. Just a single strand left, until finally - a free hand! Fighting the urge to scream in triumph, she quickly pulled the gag from her mouth and then began freeing her other hand, ankles, and knees. The knots were tight, but with one free hand she managed. Standing up for the first time in a day, her legs hurt, but she pushed, hobbling towards the door.

With her singular focus, she didn’t notice Bea. In a swift, fluid motion, she grabbed Sophie by the hair and used her leverage to toss the young girl to the ground away from the door. Face down, Bea put a knee in her back, pinning Sophie with her face to the hardwood floor. Trying to twist, she was surprised at Bea’s strength, holding her put with her gaunt, naked form.

“Sir!” Bea shrieked, her voice piercing through the house, freezing Sophie in terror.

A dreadful silence hung in the air until a slow, heavy clunking of footfalls and creaking stairs echoed from below. Fear replaced hope in Sophie’s heart as she slowly saw the man appear from below, his dead eyes fixed on her. In his hand a large manacle.

Bea grabbing Sophie by the arms and rolled her to lift her up, giving her Master space as he reached down to hook the restraint around her neck. The collar locked with a bone-chilling click.

Now shackled, Bea released her. Getting up without another word to kneel just behind the man, her posture arched in an extreme way.

The man reaching down grabbed Sophie.

“How rude to leave before dinner,” he said in a deep, menacing voice.

The man quickly closed his fist, striking her chest to knock the air from her lungs. Sophie wheezed loudly, unable to speak, the room spinning. Overwhelmed, everything became heavy. To heavy to lift and protect herself. Her legs felt like sand, and her chest burned.

“What a waste,” he growled, “no fight in you?”

Pulling a knife from his pocket, the man slid the blade along her shirt, pulling. The stretched material cut easily as he jerked the knife up, leaving thin lines of blood wherever the razor-sharp blade grazed her skin. Sophie wincing and tried to scream, but could only manage a wheezing, huffing noise as she tried to push air out.

Licking his lips, he dragged the blade under the straps of her bra, slicing it and cutting her more. With the young girls chest exposed, he slammed her again to the floor and carved her waistband instead, cutting through her shorts and underwear in a single motion. Pulling the material with incredibly strength, he ripped off her whatever was left, stripping her completely as he eagerly gripped her clean, bare flesh.

“Oh what pretty skin, so white and clean,” he growled, raking his nails along her body, eager to see her skin marred.

His voice was deep and breathing ragged as he stood, his pulsing flesh pressed against stained, oily pants. Sophie didn’t notice it. Her mind already fled, as sense of shock as she envisioned escaping through the door, leaving her body behind. Tears poured from blank, wide eyes.

Using his boot, the man pressed her flat to the ground, his heel digging into her tit. With his other foot, he pinned her left wrist. Sophie, wincing, tried to pull away, slapping at his leg, but couldn’t get an inch under his weight.

“Cunt, take her thumb.”

The once motionless Bea jumped to life at his command, taking the knife from his outstretched had. She notched it carefully in the crook of Sophie’s open palm and with a clean motion, cleaved into the joint, separating tendons and flesh to pull the thumb free. The last bit of skin tearing in her fervor.

Lifting it Bea presented the thumb to the man while white hot searing pain ripped Sophie’s mind. Kicking and screaming, her body tried to recoil, though still she couldn’t move. Helpless, unable to take enough breath even to scream. Laughing, the man stepped off, letting her roll and clutch her disfigured limb. She writhed as shooting pain radiated and blood poured from the amputation.

Reaching out, he plucked the thumb from Bea’s outstretched hands, examining it. The perfectly manicured nail and soft, fair skin. The clean slice leaving almost no ragged sinew. Holding it out, deep red blood dripped from it onto Sophie’s golden hair.

“Good cunt.”

Ignoring Sophie’s yowling, He knelt in front of Bea.

“Spread,” he commanded.

Jumping, Bea leaned back, her head resting against Sophie. Reaching down to grab her feet. Quickly she pulled her thighs wide, spreading her legs, presenting her hairy mess of a cunt. Smirking, he pressed the thumb against her dirty hole, forcing it inside easily, until just the bloody end hung out. Bea shuddering slightly, feeling the cleaved digit sit snuggly inside.

“Go back to work now cunt,” he told her, letting her up as she nodded.

With each step she felt warm blood drip between her legs as she left the room, not looking back, leaving him alone with Sophie.

Chapter 3

The man reached out to touch her soft, bare skin again. Moving closer, his long fingers wrapped around her, forcing her onto her stomach. He licked his lips and spit between her legs. Even in her state of shock, Sophie heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper.

“Please.. please no,” she sobbed quietly.

“Yes that’s it, now you’re making it fun.”

Powerless she lay still, clutching her bleeding hand, helpless as he rubbed himself against her. She could feel his fingers, and something else pressing into her. What must of been his disgusting, unwelcome cock. Grunting, she felt him thrust, forcing it inside of her. His breathing sharp, ragged as he rutted into her. Sophie’s quiet whimpers were quickly drown out by his primal, guttural sounds.

“Let me hear you scream,”

His voice menaced from on top of her as his intensity grew.

“Scream for me bitch.”

Sophie stayed silent, frozen in fear.

What did he want?

Grabbing the knife off the floor next to him, the man grew impatient, and ran the blade along her back, opening her pale, clean flesh. She suddenly shrieked as she felt the slash, a line of fire drawn along her skin. Blood poured from the wound as she screamed and cried, sending the man into a frenzy. With immense strength she was held in place as she tried to buck him away, tried to stand and run. It was no use as he plowed into her with hate and hunger, fucking her even harder than before.

As her screaming turned to sobbing again, he stuck the knife in her side, deep until his fist was against her. Twisting it, she shrieked, the knife deep in her guts. Her body tried to fight, hysterically but he put his weight on her, holding her down. Pulling the knife out, blood poured from her wound, slicking the floor as he stuck her again and again. The pain was unbearable as she screamed. Much to his delight every hungry drive of his cock between her legs caused immense pain. She writhed and screeched under him.

“I’m nearly finished,” he growled in her ear, biting it, tearing her flesh, blood flowing into his mouth.

His eyes were nearly black in bloodlust as he thrust deeply into Sophie’s fading form. Blood covered both of them. Her clean, pale skin now painted in deep red. Her breathing shallow, her screams losing any force. He could feel her withering spirit beneath him.

In a final frenzy, he grabbed her head, pinning it down as he orgasmed violently, deep inside her. Sophie felt faint, barely acknowledging his final violation. Her mind flitting back to her mother’s smile. A warm day walking along in meadow. A sweet moment from not long ago.

With a smooth and practiced motion, the man pulled Sophie’s head back and pulled the blade along her throat, letting her gurgle as her eyes went wide. Blood shot from the slit in pulses, the smell overwhelming the room. He smiled as they spent their last few moments together, his hand on her cheek until she went completely still.

Epilogue

Bea often guilty about her role in the deaths of so many girls. She could never bring herself to disobey though. She lived a very hard life, and eventually died several years later, alone in the basement after three days without water.

The man was unmoved by Bea’s death and quickly went about conditioning a replacement. He found a mother and son wandering along a trail in northern Montana. Killing the boy, he sought to break the mother. She feign obedience but bid her time and eventually stuck him with an ice pick and ran from the house. When the police returned, they found him soaked in blood on the couch, the pick in his neck and a bible open at his feet. A bloody fingerprint on Jeremiah 31:22.

Over several weeks, the area around the house was dug up, revealing countless victims. Some still rotting, others just bones from years ago.