Damon lost his hands, she said, because he didn’t use them to stop her torture. She sliced out his tongue, as promised, because he stayed quiet when she was being raped and beaten. She took her time with each, sawing through bone, talking to him and staunching wounds where needed. I only encouraged her, beautiful as she was. Even blood splattered, a little deranged. She was mine.
It was when she shoved his legs apart that I stood up straight, met her at the table and asked what she was doing next.
“His cock,” she said. “His penis. He let them rape me. He let them use their… he let them.” She nodded, gave her shoulders a shake like she was about to kick a ball into a net.
I had not a lick of sympathy for the man, even when he vomited out of his tongueless mouth and shook his eyeless face, begging her not to do it with whines and deep groans.
“I don’t want to touch it,” she said with a frown, her hand hovering near his disgusting crotch. He reeked, the urine dried and sticky with dust and tiny strings of fabric. I didn’t want her to touch it either.
“Hang on,” I muttered, looking around for something we could use. I ended up in his kitchen, returning with a dishcloth a second later. With a grimace, I used my thumb and forefinger to lift what remained of his shriveled dick, the dishcloth between us. It had retracted so far into his body I had to give it a tug to make enough space for Violet to work.
He continued to mutter and moan, begging, delirious, sweaty. He pissed again, all over the rag and my fucking hand. “Ugh!” I yelled, pinching his tip to try to stop him. Foul prick.
Violet took a deep breath, and I had to look away as she rested the blade against his cock. “Feel it,” she demanded, pressing in just a little to dig into the shaft. “Feel it, Damon. What I’m about to do to you.”
He only cried. I was impressed he hadn’t passed out or to the other side yet. But he didn’t. He screamed with each slice. His throat gurgled and groaned through every millisecond it took for my sister to turn him into a eunuch.
Blood spurted from the hole in his crotch, and his dick shriveled even more in the dishcloth it lay bundled up in.
Violet took it, her face determined, her nostrils flared like she was keeping down bile. She pried Damon’s jaw open and dropped the appendage into his mouth. His gagging turned yet more desperate, whines of pain and despair that made her heart sing, made her eyes glow.
I watched her as she slammed his jaw shut, as she dropped the knife and used both her hands to make his jaw move, to make his teeth grind together to turn his penis into mush.
“Chew,” she murmured to him, so soft it was just above a whisper.
She was panting as she worked, forcing him to chew his cock up when he wouldn’t do it himself. His moans were a constant now, high and pained.
“Massage his throat,” I whispered.
“What?” she asked, glancing up at me in surprise, her brow furrowing.
I grinned. “If you massage his throat, it will make him swallow. I saw it on a vet documentary once. They got a cat to swallow its pill by rubbing at its throat.”
Our eyes locked for a moment, a shared understanding of what we were doing. Then she nodded and did as I asked, her hand roughly massaging his throat until we saw it bob.
“He actually swallowed it,” she said, almost in awe, sitting back to look at him for a second. “I hope he chokes.”
A beat, then with one final swift movement, the knife was in her grasp again, and the blade was buried in his neck.
He gurgled, blood oozed from his neck, and after a few clawing moments where he tried to suck in air, everything stopped; his life left him in a blink, a sad, pathetic little blink.
“Oh my god, I did it,” Violet said, looking down at her handiwork in awe, rearing back. “He’s dead.”
“He’s more than fucking dead, love,” I responded, my hands moving around her waist to lift her off him, unable to witness them touching anymore. “He’s destroyed. Ruined.” She needed a shower.
“I hope they all see it,” she muttered against my neck as I twisted her to me. Her legs wrapped around me, and I staggered back until my spine hit the wall, as far as we could get from the corpse.
Her mouth landed on mine, that tension she held in her body rupturing out as she groaned against my lips, her tongue plunging against mine. Fuck, she was delicious. A fire raged between us. Her hips writhed; my cock yearned to bury inside her gorgeous body and fuck any remaining anxiety away.
“We need to go,” I said with huge reluctance, still groping at her skin. “We need to get the fuck out of here, get back to the cabin before anything goes wrong.”
She groaned deeply into my mouth, but nodded. “Is there anything we need to do, or can we leave him like this?” she asked, her voice breathy.
I kissed her again, unable to stop myself, losing myself in her once more. The smell of the blood, the high from killing such a bastard, from watching my sister shine — it was making me forget, making me want to risk it all to get inside her.
But.
“Give me ten minutes to remove any sign of us from the police.” I got my hands on her shoulders and pressed her back. “Don’t touch anything. Just stand there.”
