Delicious Obsessions

*This story was written as a challenge: Write a 10,000 word story in two week. The story Itself is 10,105 words written in six days.

Waking Up

It was the pain that woke me. My body so frozen it burned. Every muscles in my body spasming. My face feels like every bone is broken. My head feels as if it is full of a mixture of wet sand and thousands of shards of ice. I try several times to open my eyes before realizing they are open, and I am laying in complete and total darkness. It takes me a while to be able to move. The floor feels like polished stone. Blood covers my tongue, I can feel it dry around my nose and mouth, pooling on the floor under my head. Through the smell of my own blood the scent of death is unmistakeable. Still fresh, but undeniable. With time I slowly peel my face from the stone. I hear running water nearby and try to make my way to it. The floor is so smooth I almost glide to the water. Slowly though, so slowly. As I use my muscles more, the more I am able to use them. So much pain though… Unbearable pain. I want to curl up into a ball and scream, but I don’t have the strength. After endless time my fingertips brush across liquid. Ice has formed on the edges of the shallow, slowly drifting water. I barely hold back a scream as I dip my hands into the water over and over again washing the blood from my mouth, nose, and face. I try to sip some of the water down, but it is too cold. It only hurts and I cough it up violently, tasting blood again. I lay crying for a while, tears freezing on my face. I try to pass out to escape the pain.

Eventually, I manage to lean myself halfway up a wall. My legs useless as I sit, breathing in the pain. I start by rubbing my hands slowly up and down my arms, warming and working the muscles. Next, I move to my legs, gasping as they wake up. Ice digging into my skin for what feels like hours until I am able to wake and warm them. As I force my body to start working, the blood to start flowing, three thoughts chase each other in circles within my mind. Where am I? How did I get here? Who am I?

With time, my body becomes my own again. On hands and knees I make my way around the room. The floor and walls are made from the same polished stone. The edges and corners are smooth and rounded like a bottle. Smooth… and seamless. No doors or openings of any kind. A small stream of water trickles along one wall, coming from several tiny holes in one wall and escaping from several small holes in the floor. I must have been dropped from above. An oubliette? The only other thing with me in the small room, is the corpse.

A woman from the feel of it. Long hair with a slight wave. Slender body with a broken neck and her skull caved in on one side. She seems to be wearing a simple dress, but made from a heavier material, good for winter. I carefully slide it off of her, trying not to get her blood on it. I wrap it around myself the best I can for extra warmth. Her shoes are small and useless, but her stockings I slide over my hands and arms. There is nothing else on her.

The sound of the trickling water should be calming, but instead is driving me insane, echoing off the bare walls. I move back against the wall, trying to warm myself more. I lose myself in my thoughts again. Where am I? How did I get here? Who am I? Who is she? How did she die? Her dress smells so good. Like baked goods, sweet pastries, cakes, chocolate, vanilla…  I bury my nose deep into the fabric and inhale deeply, breathing in the fragrance. An image flashes across my memory. A room packed with tables and chairs of polished wood full of people laughing and talking as they eat their sweets and drink from mugs. A lively band in the corner playing joyful tunes. Shadows dancing on the walls from the warm fires and candles. In the middle of all this merriment stands a woman unlike any other. My breath escapes me as one of my questions is answered.

Remembering Josephine

Josephine lived in a two story house along the outskirts of the village, hugging the surrounding forest. Her father had built it for her mother as a wedding present. Josephine grew up very close to her parents. Both very kind and loving. She had been an only child and was showered with all of their attention and every material object they had to offer. For most children, this sort of upbringing would cause them to grow up selfish, vain, and narcissistic, more or less rotten to the core. However, Josephine was as sweet and loving as her parents. When Josephine was sixteen, an illness spread over the countryside, claiming the life of her mother along with countless others, and forcing her father to his bed. Four years had passed and he not once set foot to floor. Josephine had her father moved to the second floor of the house along with all of their treasured belongings, and had the bottom floor turned into a cozy escape for the villagers. Warm fires were scattered throughout the rooms, shadows danced along the walls from the light of the flames. Tables and chair carved by some of the villagers from the finest wood provided more than enough seating for the many patreons. A section was  left open for a lively band and joyful dancing. Every day Josephine baked fresh sweets to serve to the villagers. Cakes, pies, pastries, cookies, chocolates, and several of her other creations  filled  the stomachs of all ,and was cheerfully washed down by her sweet liquid creations. Her specialty was a rich warm chocolate with a dash of chili pepper. Smooth, dark, and creamy. Just like her.

Josephine herself was like the walking embodiment of her creations. Her skin smooth, soft, and as creamy as the whipped cream she topped her pies with. Her lips red and sweet as her cherry pastry fillings. Her hair wavy and dark like caramel. Her eyes rich milk chocolate. Her movements flowed like melted chocolate, and her voice sweeter than sugar cookies. Her personality matched her special warm chocolate, soft, smooth, and sweet as could be with just a hint of mischievous playfulness.

Every women doted on her. Every man at some point in their life was in love with her, but she made it clear to everyone that her father was the center of her world. For the remainder of his life, her world revolved around him. Making sure he was well taken care of and spending every free moment by his side. Her future husband and children would wait for her if they truly loved her, for now she knew where her responsibility laid.

Falling For Josephine

I was a toddler when Josephine was born. I don’t remember the first time I saw her, but I was always infatuated with her, as was the rest of the village. When there was a festival or dance I would run up to her as her mother held her and offer her small treats. Her mother was kind and took the treats saying she would feed them to Josephine later, even though I now know she was much too young for them. During free time at school she was always surrounded by the other children. I could barely get a moment with her and never alone. As she got older and would walk home from school without the assistance of her parents I often wanted to be the one to walk with her, but there were always several others by her side and my house was on the other side of the village. In our village it was customary for a girl to be at least sixteen before she started to be courted by the boys of the village, so I waited. I had it all planned out. On her sixteenth birthday I would invite her on a moonlit walk, alone, and sweep her off her feet. Soon I would be the only one she would want to be around. Over time she would not give the others even a single thought and spend all of her free time with me. Then, when she was eighteen, I would ask her father for permission to take her hand in marriage. The wedding would be perfect. All of the men of the village would look on at us, envious of my victory. Envious of me on my wedding night, what I would take from her no other man could have. My enjoyment of her every night thereafter. Our children a symbol of what I had, and they couldn’t touch. It was to be, magnificent.

Unfortunately the illness spread before her sixteenth birthday, and once her mother died she was always surrounded by well meaning villagers. I have yet to forgive her mother and father for destroying my flawless plans. With her grieving over the loss of her beloved mother, and struggling to nurse her father back to health, it was not time to attempt to steal her away from the others for some moonlit cuddling. So I waited.

I spent every moment I could watching her bake and mingle with the others. I would slowly enjoy her sweets and sip her warm chocolate, imagining her skin to taste the same as her cake, her lips to be even sweeter. I watched as time and time again the men would slink off, their tail between their legs when she turned down their marriage proposals.

I however bided my time. Waiting for the right moment. I loved being near her. Her skin forever smelling of her chocolate and vanilla sweets baking. I learned her every move and schedule, and any time she was in the village I offered to escort her around and carry her packages for her. She would gratefully accept and we would spend the day laughing and enjoy being with each other as she gathered her baking supplies, medicine for her father, and the odds and ins she was in need of.

After time passed I could wait no longer and seized the moment. I bought her the most expensive engagement ring I could. It was beautiful. A gold band with several small diamonds surrounding a large diamond. Any girl would long to wear it on their finger. Her father by this time was rarely conscious, and only mumbled nonsense, so I did not bother to waste my time on asking him for his blessing. On Christmas Eve, her favorite day of the year, I asked her to walk with me for a while. She collected her new long winter coat, hat, and gloves, and joined me. She flowed over the snow, still smelling of chocolate and vanilla. She laughed with me, her cherry lips parted into a shadow of a smile. We strolled to a small bridge over a frozen stream, the moon reflecting off the ice. I knelt on one knee, and revealed the ring to her. The moonlight shimmered off of the diamonds. I confessed my love to her, promised to love her ‘till my final breath and beyond, and to give her the life she had always wanted and deserved. I resisted the oncoming shivers. The snow soaked through my pants and coat. Her smile faltered and she told me she was flattered, but she had responsibilities to her father, and for now could not entertain fantasies of marriage. The same rehearsed lines she gave to all the men who proposed to her before me.  I was stunned. I had known about each and every rejection before me, but I should have been different! I am not just some commoner. How dare she reject me! She should have been honored I had chosen her to be my wife. Chosen her above all others. She should have shown me undying gratitude. She should have been speechless with overwhelming joy. She should NOT have dared to toss me aside like a broken toy.

I know not how long I knelt there, shock and anger growing. When I snapped back to myself Josephine was gone. I stood, grasped the ring tightly in my fist, and like a storm raged through the forest. I found a fallen tree branch and beat the trunks of trees and bushes. I threw rocks at bird  nests. I destroyed everything I could, which unfortunately was not much. Anger growled in my mind and pulsed through my burning veins. Eventually, I came to a village I had not seen before. Light was starting to form in the eastern sky. Had I really walked all night? My legs were aching. I groped in my pockets until I found the ring, unsure of when I had placed it there. I looked down at my hand, coated in dirt, smeared with blood, the perfectly clean gold and shimmering diamonds spotless on my palm. I screamed with rage and threw the ring. It landed in the snow at the feet of a pretty little thing. And that, is when I met Natasha.

Natasha

If I had to use only one word to describe Natasha, it would be, expensive. Her winter boots were soft leather lined with red fox fur, her long winter coat was also red fox fur that looked amazing with her cherry red hair and matching lips, Her blue eyes matched the sapphires that dangles from her ears, her throat, and on several rings on multiple fingers. Gold and sapphires dripped from her body. The jewelry and clothes she was wearing at that very moment cost more than half of my village. She gracefully moved to pluck the diamond ring from the snow, and smiled at me. Her hair... her hair was the exact same color... It made the rage inside of me grow. How could her hair be the exact same color as Josephine’s lips? Those betraying lips. Lips of poison.

I quickly gathered my composure and casually strolled up to this high class woman of great money. After a moment or two of introductions and general conversation I could tell this was going to be a good day, and this expensive dog would be eating out of my palm shortly. Her name was Natasha. Her father was the richest merchant in a rich town. Her and her father had argued the previous night, and she had decided to miss Christmas mass in revenge. Her father wanted her to marry the son of his business partner. She wanted someone richer and younger. I slipped the diamond ring on her right hand and invited her to join me for a morning stroll.

We ended up at her mansion where we slipped in and browsed her father's collection of fine wine. We would have hours of privacy to enjoy. I told her all of the sweet lies that she wanted to hear. I casually mentioned the ring had been a Christmas present for the girl I had hoped to court. However I had found her in a compromising situation with another. I also let it slip in conversation that I was relieved I had not gone with a more expensive ring, not that I couldn’t afford it, but because the woman in question did not deserve it. Then after a dramatic pause and glancing at the diamonds on her long finger I mentioned maybe I should have gone with the more expensive stones. I told her about my mansion and it’s finery. My several servants, large stables, and any and all lies I knew would catch her attention and feed her greed. When she was tipsy from the drink I convinced her to allow me to hook her finest carriage up to her finest horses, and ride with me back to my home where I would allow her to browse through my family jewels and pick one out as a gift.

The ride back to my village was delicious. She rode with me in the front of the carriage. Such daringness and rebellion for a woman of such high standing such as herself. The first few times I attempted to kiss her lips and neck she fained modesty, but soon the wine took over and she wrapped her arms around me and tilted her head back as I kissed her lips, throat, and upper chest. Her coat hung slightly open, the freezing air chilling her skin, my mouth and free hand warming her up. Soon, she returned the attention. Brushing her lips over me, covering my skin with her kisses. It was then I saw her for what she really was. A high priced whore.

Much too soon we made it to my house. One of the biggest in the village, but nowhere compared to hers in size or elegance. It was a small way out of town. Growing up I had despised its isolation, but now, it would serve its purpose nicely. I told my whore Natasha the horses needed a rest. That I knew the commoners who lived here, knew them to be out, and that they would not mind if we warmed ourselves while the horses rested. I guided the horses into the stables and lead Natasha into the house. I lit up a large fire, and we sat on the couch together. I poured more wine for us. Nothing fancy like she had, but good enough to get the job done. We soon continued our adventures from the carriage. My hands glided along the fur of her coat and the rich fabric of her dress. She moved underneath my body as I ran my fingers through her hair… that cherry red hair… poisonous hair. How dare she… Was I not good enough for her? What do I need to do, need to be, to have her realize she should be groveling at my feet! She should be honored to be my whore for the rest of her life. I stared into that cherry red hair, wrapped my hand around it and jerked hard. Natasha screamed and flailed beneath me. I let go of her hair, wrapped my fingers around her gold chain necklace with a large sapphire dangling from it, and wrapped it tightly around her neck. She tried to breathe, tried to release my hands from the chain, tried to release the chain from her throat. Weakly she dug her nails into the back of my hands. Her struggling became less and less, and all too soon, her struggles stopped. I held the chain there for longer than I needed to. I stared into her wide empty eyes until the rage filled me once more, then I went for a knife. I frantically cut the hair from her head in savage clumps. and threw it into the fire. I easily ignored the smell of her burning hair. When she was all but bald, I watched the light flicker along her face. Such a beautiful face. Perfect for a whore. I decided there was no point in letting a whore go to waste.

After I was done with her body I removed the ring from her finger, and placed it back in my pocket. Carefully I removed the rest of her jewelry and expensive clothing, placing all of  it into a bag. I took her body and her belongs to the carriage hiding it under several layers of blankets, and packed up several days worth of food. I rode away from her town for over a day, only stopping when the horses forced it. I buried her deep in the forest, naked like a whore should be, and continued on for another day. I came to a large rich town where I sold the carriage, horses, jewelry, and clothes. I bought a new horse, loaded up more food, and made my way back home.

For weeks I stayed locked up in my house. Constantly looking out the windows, waiting for someone from Natasha’s town to come searching for her. My nights were sleepless at first, but as time went on I began to relax, began to sleep more peacefully. After a month or so of no word... I realized I had gotten away with everything, and I wanted more.

Chel

I spent most of my time for the next few months indulging in the pleasure of a town half a day's ride away. I had made more money than I could dream of selling Natasha’s belongings. However, I could not spend it in my own village. How would I explain my sudden wealth to the villagers? So I spent my time feasting and enjoying the pleasure of the women in a town that did not know me. I soon had a favorite location with my favorite women, and I showered them with gifts to keep them graveling at my feet. I gave a false name, and even though those around me more than likely knew it, as long as I kept providing them with gold they did not care.

When I first viewed Chel, she was watching me through a window. I was in a bedroom with three of my favorites. We had left the curtains open. Chel met my eyes when I saw her. I could see the want in her eyes. She wanted me. She wanted to be one of the women I was with. She wanted my attention, my affection. She wanted to lick the remainder of my last meal from my fingers. I kept eye contact with her as I enjoyed the women to their fullest potential. Tears threatened to fall from her soft grey eyes, her long pale blonde hair circling her body. Her simple white dress, clean but that of the lowest of peasants, was tight on her thin body. When I had finished with the women I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them again Chel was gone.

From then on, I would watch for her. She would always be watching me through windows. I would hold back on my feasting and pleasures until she showed herself. I knew she would if I gave her enough time. If I was feasting when she arrived I would eat slowly, enjoying each juicy mouthful, slowly licking my fingers clean. Ordering dish after dish, watching the longing in her eyes. She would lick her lips and place her hands over her stomach, the hunger shining in her eyes. If I was with my favorites when she arrived I would pleasure them for hours, making sure Chel saw all and could hear their screams of pleasure. Making sure she knew that I knew she was there, but I never allowing my favorites to know. This was a secret between only myself and Chel.

I took pleasure in torturing her. Letting her know with my actions that I saw her, knew what she wanted, knew what she longed for, but would not give it to her. She was forsaken to watch me give it to others. My heart soared while I watched her heartbreak. Watched her long for me. When I saw her start to reach her limit, about to go insane, I changed my tactics. I knew which window she would be at, and when. So I start to leave her little gifts. Nothing to big. She needed to keep her standing in life. She would be able to eat a juicy red apple as I feasted on chicken and pork. She would grasp her new small wooden heart pendant that hang from a simple chain from around her neck as she watched me with my favorites. I knew how to keep her holding on. I saw in her eyes when I needed to give her more, and just how much to give her. I kept this going for weeks before I got tired of the games and decided to pounce.

I stayed away from the town for two weeks. More than enough time for her to start to worry about my health. To wonder if I would ever return. I waited for a dark and stormy night. I hid myself in an alley she always walked down, and waited for her. I eventually saw her slowly making her way along the freezing mud. Her arms wrapped around her body, shivering, her hair drenched. When she got close I stepped out  in front of her and shoved her hard against a wall just as she noticed me. She only struggled for a moment, but when she realized it was me she became completely compliant, doing all I wanted with such gratefulness I could barely hold back my laughter. I slid the diamond ring on her right hand, she gasped with shock and pleasure as she saw it for a moment during a flash of lightning. Before she reached her maximum pleasure I whispered in her ear asking her if she would do anything to pleasure me. She nodded frantically as I stared at the back of her head. I wrapped my arm around her body and slid my knife deep into her chest, my other hand covering her mouth as the thunder rolled, hiding her muffled screams. She kept her promise, pleasuring me to her fullest ability at that moment. The rain washed her blood from me as I slid the ring from her finger. I let her body drop to the mud where it belonged, and walked away. The next time I was with my favorites I heard her name mentioned in passing, but nothing more. Nobody cares about the homeless.

Sophina

Not long after Chel’s demie I received a letter from a friend of my father informing me he would be visiting me for a week, and would be bringing his daughter Sophina with him. I was puzzled as to why he wanted to see me. My father had been dead for years and I had never been particularly close to any of his acquaintances. I packed away most of my money and hid it in the stables along with the diamond ring. I knew not if this man or his daughter were thieves and wanted to keep my riches for themselves. I bought food and drink to last throughout their visit and waited. The man as short and round as could be stepped from his carriage, or stumbled would be more accurate, and began scurrying around, checking on his daughter, the baggage, and the horses before finally coming to me to shake my hand and tell me the usual niceties that go along with meeting after a long absence. I watched as his daughter was helped from the carriage. Her dark black curls fell around a plain face and average body. She yawned as she exited the carriage and stretched as if waking from a long sleep. After their baggage was placed in their room Sophina lay down to rest and her father sat near the fire with me. He rambled on,  talking about pointless subject after pointless subject. Droning on and on. My mind kept wandering, and for hours he failed to notice my attention was not on him. As soon as the time came where I could politely excuse myself to my room, I did. I locked myself away, grateful for the escape. A week of this… How would I get through a week of this?

The next day I settled on a different strategy to get through the week. I invited his daughter to go on an outing with me. She declined remarking it was too tiring to walk or ride horses, and once we got to where we were going we would have to turn around and come straight back, so might as well stay here rather than waste the time and effort. Lazy does not even begin to describe that waste of a lump that called herself Sophina. She lazed about, only moving when forced to. She expected her father to do everything for her, and if he wasn’t within calling range she would give me a sad pleading look and would pout until I did what she asked. I went from being host to being servant. By the second day I decided she would die. On the fourth day when she started to make advances towards me I decided her death would be painful. For the week they were here I was as polite as I could be, Sophina’s servant, or more accurately slave. They devoured all of the food in my house, and just as supplies ran out they decided it was time to leave. When they had finally gone I slept for three days to recover from the whole ordeal. Then I got to work.

I waited a week or so before sending Sophina a letter, telling her how much I missed her presence and voice. How much enjoyment I got from her company, and sprinkling the letter with confessions of affection and longing. At the very bottom of the letter I revealed to her that I had fallen for her the moment my eyes settled on her, and I had to use all of my strength to not sweep her off of her feet right then and there. However, her father had spoken to me and made it painfully clear that I was not to pursue a relationship with her, and that she needed to burn each of my letters after she read them so that her father would not discover our love and sever our communication. She was not to worry though, for I would continue to send more and more letters to her, and if she was patient we would soon elope and she would spend the rest of her life in a large manor with servants. Every few days I sent her a new letter filled with as much romantic fluff as I could muster. She was much easier to handle when our only communication was letters. I was surprised every time I received a letter from her in return. I was truly shocked she could find the energy to hold a pen long enough to respond.

From her letters I could tell when she reached her peak of anticipation and longing. I sent off my second to final letter to Sophina telling her the time had come for our elopement. I would ride to her village and find the perfect meeting place for us and send her a final message telling her when and where our little randevu was to occur. I gathered the needed food and supplies for the journey and started on my three day journey to see Sophina. I told no one from my village I would be leaving, not that anyone would notice. I rarely got visitors and by this time the villagers were use to me being gone for weeks on end. I searched the forest around Sophina’s dwelling. I had to making sure not to go too far, for she would not be willing to travel long distance for any reason by foot. It took hours before I found the perfect tree. I sent her a message telling her to walk down to the stream behind her house and follow it east. I would be awaiting her arrival. I again told her to be sure to burn all of my messages so we were not found out. I also told her I had several presents waiting for her.

Moving slower than a snail Sophina oozed her way along the bank of the stream. I feared she was about to give up and lay down for a rest so I called for her and rushed to meet her. I wrapped my arm around her and carried her to the blanket I had prepared. A late night snack of all of her favorite delicacies. We sat and ate as she sipped the special wine I had prepared for her. Halfway through her bottle she fumbled over her words, yawned, and slumped over fast asleep. I had perhaps an hour before she awoke, so I got to work.

I bound Sophina wrists and ankles tightly to the tree, her back against the trunk. I kissed her cheek as I slid the ring on her right hand. I wrapped extra rope around her hand, binding it to the tree to be sure not to lose it in the feast that was to come. I sat and continued to eat and sip my own wine until she woke. The tight gag prevented her from screaming. I finished my meal, walked up to her, and withdrew a knife. Her dark curls swung as she shook her head violently. She tried to talk through the gag but barely a muffled whine escaped. With great pleasure I slowly sliced across her stomach. Deep enough to allow the blood to flow, but not an instant killing wound. Her muffled pain brought me inconceivable joy. I gathered up my belongings and walked across the slow moving stream, hiding myself deep in the bushes, and waited for the feast to begin.

Soon, short dark figures on four legs crept into the moonlight. They growled quietly to each other at first, then the smell of blood became overwhelming to them, and they feasted. Her muffled screams echoed delightfully in my ears. My eyes never strayed from her body as it was ripped to shreds. The ground become soaked with her blood as the wolves ripped her apart. The most enjoyable moment was when two wolves fought each other for her intestines, pulling back and forth, while the intestines were still attached to Sophina. Her body jerked as tears flooded her eyes. Just like everything else in her life she put no effort or energy into her death. Only hung there.

After the wolves finished their meal and continued on their way I walked carefully back across the stream. I removed my ring from her finger, and released what was left of her mangled body to fall to the ground as I bagged up the rope, gathered my things, and left. Sophina would never have to lift a finger again. If that was her dying thought, she died happy.

Rasheal

I first saw her on a hot summer night. She was simply standing there, staring at me with her cold grey eyes. Such cold eyes. Even on the warmest day of the year her eyes sent cold shivers down my spine. She would catch my eyes, hold my gaze for a moment, then turn and storm away. She wanted me to know she was watching. Wanted me to know the cold fury that was within her. She looked familiar, but I could not place her. After Josephine’s rejection I cut off all contact with her, but I did need to enter the village from time to time. The grey eyed girl was in the village waiting for me. She stood in front of the bakers, the butchers, the general store, the forest near my house, on the side of the road. She would wait for me to see her then just turn and walk away. For over two weeks I saw her every day. She was getting under my skin. My anxiety level was raising, my sleep was no longer restful. Nightmares swallowed me. My nights were flooded with screams, blood, and water.

Two weeks in, the staring was no longer enough for her. I came home to find my front room filled with animal corpses, decaying corpses. She must have been collecting them for months. The smell was unbearable, made worse by the summer heat. Liquids seeped into my floor. Flies played on the bodies as my stomach emptied into the flower bed near my front door. I paid some of the villages to remove  the bodies and burn them. The floor had to be pulled up and replaced. The smell still lingered. Mutilated animals appeared in my bed. My food and drinks were broken into and filled with maggots and other slimy creatures. My horses were slaughtered, their remains spread around my yard, and smeared on the side of my home.

I started to chase after the grey eyed girl every time I saw her, but she slipped into the shadows and drifted away without a trace. I began to spend all of my time away from my house. My stomach cringed and twisted with anticipation of what new horror I would find next. Most of my time was spent with my favorites. I drank more than I should have, checking and double checking all I consumed. Expecting to find little unwanted extras. I knew it was only a matter of time before I saw her in that town as well. Staring at me through the window. Her cold grey piercing eyes. Her long hair as black as death. One night I realized who she was.

I was with my favorites in our normal room, having our fun. The money from Natasha was starting to run out, but I had great need for pleasure at that time. My only escape was the moments with my favorites and before passing out from the drinks. I looked to my side and saw a ghost in the flash of lightning. Grey eyes staring at me through the window. I jumped, startling my favorites and rushed to the window, but she was gone. I felt the blood drain from my face while my thoughts swirled in chaos. Then a moment of clarity filled me with intense rage. I took my rage out on my favorites. Taking pleasure in their pain and screams as I violently enjoyed their bodies. My pleasure was short lived however, for we were interrupted. I was thrown onto the streets, blood covering my skin. At first only that of the whores, but as I was surrounded by the men of the establishment I knew it would soon be mixed with mine. I soaked in the mud for hours before I was able to drag myself up and slowly make my way to a place that would take my money without question and allow me to clean myself. I spent the next week healing before I was well enough to begin my revenge.

I stalked the streets at night, hunting for her. She made it almost too easy to find her. Those eyes, so much like those of who could only be her sister. I stayed out of her sight, and followed her. I learned where she got her scraps of food. Where she lay her filthy head at night to sleep. Her name. My personal demon called herself Rasheal. I followed her as she searched for me. Followed her to my house. I did not follow her inside, but I would learn soon enough what new defilement she inflicted upon me. I learned all I could about her, then took my sweet revenge.

Rasheal lived in a small shack outside of town. I watched as she left to scrounge up some meager scraps for her last meal. I slipped out of the storm and into her one room rathole. Scraps of cloth for a bed with a few scattered insignificant objects littering the dirt floor. I tossed my bag of tools into the nearby corner and stood against the wall near the door. I leaned my sledgehammer against the wall beside me, and pressed myself against the wall, waiting for her to return. I tightly held a strip of leather in my hands, letting it dig into my palms as I squeezed tighter and tighter. The storm was picking up fast, she would not be gone for long.

I tensed as I heard her approach. She slowly drifted through her door. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her hair hung in tangles to her knees, wrapping around her body. She was drenched through and through. As soon as she swung her door closed behind her I pounced. I tightened the leather around her throat, kicked her knees out from under her, and dragging her to the ground. When she grew weak I slammed her face over and over against the ground until she was almost unconscious, I rolled her onto her back, placed the diamond ring on her right hand, stood, and grabbed the sledgehammer. I waited for the next lightning strike and roll of thunder... and struck. I brought the sledgehammer down on her left knee. The roar of the storm covered any sound that might have escaped her swollen throat. With the next three strikes of lightning I destroyed her right knee and both arms. As she lay there choking on her sobs, her face soaked from rain and tears, her cold grey eyes full of fear, it was finally time for me to have my fun.

I told her about her sister. How I used her. How I knew what she wanted and toyed with her emotions for no reason other than enjoyment. As I shared my stories I used my knife on Rasheal. The same one I had used on her sister, Natasha, and Sophina. I didn’t bother to mention Natasha and Sophina, however. Their deaths would bring her no pain. I slid the knife through her skin leaving small holes. I used my fingers to open the wounds winder. playing with her insides. Careful not to rupture anything to important. I stripped us both down and minute by minute, covered both of us with her blood.

I had my way with her as I told her in great detail about her sister’s death. Entering her in ways humans were  not meant to be entered. Every wound of hers growing larger as my pleasure grew. I no longer worried about injuring her insides. I only enjoyed their slick warmth. I held myself above her, panting heavily, full of ecstasy. I stared into her grey eyes as she drifted into oblivion. I lay on her until her blood began to cool, then I stood, placed the diamond ring back in my pocket, gathered up my clothes and tools, and walked into the storm.

Aireona

Repairing my house would take weeks and the rest of my money. I paid who I needed, and decided to take a rather long holiday. I walked, sleeping on the ground when I was tired, no particular destination in mind. I continued on my way until I reached a large rich town. I originally planned on only slipping through it. I slunk through the back streets, in the darkness, and only stopped when I heard laughter. A group of young females in their  late teens maybe early twenties, hurryed along in a group. I watched them as they scurried past me. One of them caught my eyes, winked, giggled, and dropped a silk ribbon at my feet. I retrieved the ribbon and followed behind them, staying to the shadows. Once I knew where she lived I searched for a stream to clean myself in, then I waited for all of the lights in her house to dim. I quietly made my way in the dark and I carefully tossed pebbles at her bedroom window until she answered. She leaned out of her window, peering into the darkness. I stepped out of the shadows and waved to catch her attention. She saw me, smiled, waved, rushed back inside, and within minutes slipped away from her cozy home and into my cold arms. Even in the night I could see how silky her pale hair would be to touch. The moonlight made her bright green eyes sparkle. Her pale skin was even paler in the moonlight. What little clothing she wore hugged her body tightly. She threw herself at me, kissing me passionately. I had her over and over that night, there in the alleyway. She could not get enough of me.

For several weeks she set me up in a small out of the way inn. She provided me with everything, and left a little extra spending money every time she left my bed. Never enough for me to clean myself up properly, but enough to keep me satisfied. During the day I would wander the streets, during the nights she would enter my bed.

One afternoon I glanced her on the street with a small group of her acquaintances. I strolled to her smiling and gave her a low bow. She turn her nose up at me in disgust, and hurried by. She had treated me like rubbish in street, like scum. I was stunned and slunk back to the inn. I spent the rest of the day laying in bed wondering what to do next. She silently strutted into the room without warning and before I could collect my thoughts she covered my mouth with hers. Hours later as I lay beside her trying to catch my breath I inquired about her actions. She laughed. She. Laughed! She couldn’t be seen associating with someone of my social standing. She was an aristocrat. It would soil her reputation to be seen with me. She laughed again, and tossed some gold on the table. Understanding hit me then. I was her secret whore.

Rage filled me. My hands shook. My vision went black. No rich whore was going to treat me as if I were beneath her. Not even one of her social standing. I formed my plan quickly. It was easy enough to find a whorehouse in the middle of town that would allow me to pay for a room for the night. I would be providing my own whore. The room was on the top floor, as I had requested. I shifted the bed, aligning it with the window. I secured a rope tightly to the bed, and left a noose dangling from the other end took a few sweet moments to anticipate its future. I hid the rope under the bed and returned to my room at the inn to await my whore.

When my whore arrived I told her I had a special surprise for her. I covered her in a cloak and took her to the room I rented. I could see the lust in her eyes as she entered the room. The thought of being a whore in a whorehouse made her blood boil with passion. We spent the night together. Her, my slave. I had her strip naked and placed the diamond ring on her right hand. I degraded her. I used her. I named her my whore. She loved every moment of it.

Just before dawn when she was would need to leave my side to slip back into her own cozy bed I grabbed the noose I had hidden beneath the bed and looped it around her whore neck. I jerked it, tightening it, pinning her to the floor. Her movements becoming slower and slower, and yet I continued to pin her, choking her until long after she no longer moved.

When the satisfaction seeped out of me I removed my ring from her right hand, gathered up my clothes and dressed quickly. Gathering up her clothes, jewelry, and money, took minimal time. I loosened her noose just long enough to pull her hair loose and let it hang free. I took great pleasure in tightening the noose once more, and tossing her naked body out of the window. The rope slid along the window ledge for a moment, then I heard only the rope creaking as her body swayed in the morning light.

After acquiring a horse I returned to the whorehouse only long enough to view the gathered crowd. Her body had been cut down by that time, but the streets were alive with gossip. I smiled and urged my horse onward. I would sell her belongings in the next rich town I encountered. I decided to return home to check the progress of my repairs. As I left the town a shadow of a thought crosses my mind, then dissolved as quickly as it arrived. I knew not her name.

Lithiah

Lithiah was Josephine’s cousin and closest confidant. She was the same age as Josephine, and a poor imitation of her. Her hair was a simple light brown, her eyes were a plain dark brown, her skin was pale and clear but not significant, her lips were easy to looked over. Both of her parents were taken by the illness a few weeks after Josephine’s mother. She was now the taste tester for all of Josephine’s creations. Josephine was making more than enough money by that time so she hired Lithiah as a live in nurse for her father. Part of the payment was as many sweets as she desired. Lithiah took full advantage of this arrangement. She did her duties as a nurse for Josephine’s father, and did them very well, however she very quickly began to replace her clothing to fit her growing girth. She was still at a respectable weight, but this would not last much longer.

My plan of revenge on Josephine formed in early November with Lithiah at the center of it. I started by sending Lithiah small anonymous presents and letters of affection, much like the ones I had sent Sophina. I spent weeks anonymously courting her, and spent more and more of my time in town. I managed to make my way near enough to her to overhear her chattering away excitedly about her secret admirer. She fawned over the presents, and lost her breath over the letters. Excitement run through her voice as she speculated who her admirer might be. By mid-December Josephine was worried and cautioned Lithiah. I overheard her concerns. Questioning what sort of man would go so long without revealing who he was and what his intentions were. To my pleasure Lithiah did not heed her warnings, and continued to daydream about her secret love.

The snow fell and time passed. Christmas Eve was close at hand. I began to stalk Lithiah at night, becoming more and more obsessed as I saw her with Josephine more and more. Lithiah spent most of her time chatting away and filling her stomach with sweets while Josephine baked and listened. Lithiah was a growing lump sitting there night after night with no purpose in life. Josephine however... Josephine was soft and warm. Every movement liquid, almost a dance as she created her sweet delicacies. I wanted to feel her cherry lips against mine. I wanted to run my fingers through her caramel hair. I wanted to taste her vanilla skin. I wanted her.

The day before Christmas Eve finally arrived and I sent Lithiah a final package. The diamond ring with a letter. In the letter I confessed my love for her and informed her the ring would be her indication to me as to if she would prefer for me to leave her life forever or if she wished for me to reveal myself to her. I told her I would be at the Christmas Eve party Josephine held every year, and if she was not wearing the ring I would cease sending her letters and presents and allow her to continue her life without me. However, if she wore the ring on her right hand, I would reveal myself to her on Christmas Day. I also requested that she not tell anyone of the ring just yet. If she chose to accept my offer she was to place the ring on her finger first thing Christmas Eve morning when she went to have her breakfast. To my pleasure she obeyed.

Before daybreak I entered Josephine’s house, and hid myself away in the pantry. Lithiah was the first to awaken as expected. Joyfully she stumbled her way down the stairs, the diamond ring on her finger. She selected her favorite breakfast pastry from the counter top. A single serving sized chocolate cream pie with vanilla swirl and homemade peppermint whipped cream. She sat hungrily at a small table, her back to me. Halfway through her pie, the same type of pie she always had for breakfast, the poison flooded her system and she collapsed onto the table. Dead.

I smiled to myself, continuing to be silent as I waited for Josephine. Time passed and eventually Josephine gracefully made her way downstairs. Her loose hair swayed as she stepped. Her beautiful eyes flashed and sparkled. Her skin was whiter than the falling snow, her lips still sweeter than cherries. The dark blue dress she wore fit her body perfectly showing her delicious curves and allowing her body to move with liquid grace. She lightly sung a Christmas tune as she entered her kitchen.

Josephine called to awaken Lithiah, laughing and telling her to return to her bed if she could not stay awake. Her laughter faded and she cautiously repeated her cousin’s name. She made her way around the table, and shook her cousin lightly, feeling the coldness in her skin. She instantly realized its meaning and gasped in horror when she gazed upon the diamond ring. She backed away from Lithiah... right into my awaiting arms.

Taking Josephine

I wrapped my arms around my Josephine, one hand covering her mouth. She gasped once more before the shock overwhelmed her, and my lovely Josephine fainted in my arms. I removed the diamond ring from Lithiah’s unworthy hand, and placed it where it belonged. On Josephine’s left hand ring finger. The perfect symbol that she would be mine, forever. I found her long winter coat, wrapped it around my love, and carried her into the falling snow.

I first found the oubliette while following Rasheal to my house. I stumbled across a small cave and hid within it’s walls so I wouldn’t be seen. I noticed something interesting about the floor and took note of my location. The following day I returned to explore my discovery. The cave was very small. In the middle of the stone floor was the pit. A long rope had been tied to a rock to allow access to the dark pit. By torchlight I explored the small room. The walls had been polished smooth. Not a single crack could be found  in the stone. A tiny amount of water trickled through holes in the wall, hugging another wall as it slowly flowed and escaped through tiny holes in the floor. Such a brilliant idea. Water to keep the prisoner alive so they slowly starve to death. Much more suffering for much longer. That is of course unless you decided to feed them.

I decided to keep Josephine here until she admitted we belong together and promised to be mine, forever. I would allow her to use the rope to climb down so she wouldn’t injure herself. I would even toss down her coat and blankets to help keep her warm as rewards for obeying me. I would leave her there for a few days, alone, with only her thoughts. She would suffer without me. She would only find warmth and comfort in my arms. I laid her down, removed her coat, and waited for her to rejoin the conscious world. She smelled so sweet. The chocolate, the vanilla on her skin. I smelled her over and over until she woke up. That is when things went horribly wrong.

Josephine yelled and screamed and fought back. She tried repeatedly to escape the cave. She would not go down into the pit willingly. I struggled with her, barely able to pin her to the floor, and pulled the rope up trying to use it to bind her. Maybe if I could bind her and get her to calm down she would come to her senses. The moment I started to wind the rope around her she somehow freed her hands, clawed at my face, and kicked me in the most inappropriate of places. She took advantage of my pain, and almost managed to escaped my grasp. Without thinking I pulled her back towards the opening of the oubliette. She stumbled and fell into the pit. She grabbed ahold of my arm knocking me off balance, and pulling me down with her… into the darkness.

The Ghosts Of Sins

I screamed and wept into Josephine’s dress. My love, my forever, my everything... gone. The ring! I scrambled around the floor, searched every inch of Josephine’s body. Where was the diamond ring? It had to be here… Where was it? Did it fall off during the struggle? True it had been slightly large when I placed it on her finger, but..

Again and again I scraped along the stone, slide my hands over Josephine’s body... I found no trace of the ring. I curled up with Josephine’s body. Wrapping her dress around the both of us, and held her close. I continued to weep. My love. I have lost my love. Nothing else mattered anymore.

I could feel my mind drifting in and out of consciousness. I hear my Josephine whispering my name, yet I know it is only in my head. I feel her hand on my cheek, her flesh warm, yet I know this can not be real. In my mind I repeat four words over and over for an endless amount of time. I love you Josephine. I love you Josephine. I love you Josephine. I hear a response whispering in my mind.

If you loved her, why did you kill her?

I shake violently, but I know not if it is from the cold or the pain in my heart. My heart responded to my mind, pleading. I didn't mean to kill Josephine. I am so so sorry.

Sorry is not good enough. My heart growled back. Why should she be different than the others you killed?

I weep harder, inhaling deeper into Josephine’s skin. Trying desperately to lose myself in the chocolate and vanilla.

If only you had waited, waited for her father to die. Why would you have been any different than the others who proposed to her? What more do you have to offer her? The only thing that sets you apart is the blood on your hands.

I began to claw frantically  at my head, screaming, willing for the voice inside my head to stop.

You could have had everything. Could have had her. Could have had children with her. Could have had her sweets every day. Could have woken up to the fresh scent of her baking every morning. You could have  fallen asleep to the scent of her skin every night. You only had to wait. But you let your lust take over. You are such a fool.

I clawed violently at my ears. If I am unable to hear then the voice in my head will not be able to speak to me. I dug my nails deeper into my flesh. Clawing at all I could reach. The pain was immense, the pounding, the ocean of blood flowing from my ears, it all made me feel more insane. The voices however, still rang crystal clear in my mind.

You lost it all, and now you don’t even have your beloved diamond ring. She is not yours. She will never be yours. The ring was supposed to represent your eternal love, correct? Well where is it now? It does not exist. Just as her love for you does not exist.

My breath escaped me and refused to return. I tried desperately to inhale the cold air. Chocolate and vanilla filled my lungs, suffocating me. It surrounded me and swallowed me whole. The air shifted without warning. Hands, so many hands brushed against my face. I try to beat them away, but they are not there. Phantoms. All phantoms. Whispers surround me. I am unable to understand their words, though to my horror, I am able to recognize all seven voices.

You couldn’t wait, and so others had to pay for your rash decisions. Your could not control your rage so innocents were made to suffer. But now it is your turn to suffer.

I lay weeping, surrounded by my sins.

The blood of the dead will not wash from your soul. The stains of your sins will remain with you for eternity.