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FrozenPetals

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I am currently writing a sick and twisted romance novel. It has demons and alot of gore, but everyone who has read it so far has liked it. And I plan on getting it published as soon as I finish it. I am really more evil then some people would like to admit to themselves...

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11/26/2007 1:33:53 AM

This was taken from the first chapter in my novel The Sacrifice. I will use this site as my audience because only the fans of BDSM will truely appriciate my work. Enjoy.

In this part of chapter one the story is being told through the eyes of a demon belonging to the Followers of Balik, as he walks through an underground torture chamber. This sect of demons are responsible for channeling energy to the demon priest Morthyetis so that he can make predictions for the royal bloodline. The Defillers are a different clan of demons who are responsible for producing this energy by inflicting pain on humans. The more pain is inflicted the better the prediction.

     There was a middle aged man strapped down to a splintered blood-stained wooden chair. The straps held him firmly at his neck, across his chest, abdomen and thighs, around his forearms and wrists, and also his shins and feet. Like many of the other captives this was the first time he would taste the cruelness of the Defilers. Once bound the man watched as one of the brown cloaked demons walked over to the scorching fire pit in the center of the room. The demon hunched over and carefully pulled a red hot iron bar from the flames.

     The man struggled to break free from the chair all the while pleading and begging hysterically to the Defilers. Making outrageous offers of wealth and worldly pleasures for his freedom. But no amount of money or beautiful women could satisfy the Defilers, they craved for nothing but the misery of man. By the time the cloaked figure returned the man had only exhausted himself in his futile attempts to escape.

     The demon held the bar close to the man, waving it around his face, watching him squirm in the chair. He wanted the man to anticipate the pain. The captive turned his face away from the heated rod, and sunk in his chest and stomach as the demon traced an imaginary path down his torso. He could feel the intense heat radiating off the glowing metal as it singed the hair off his chest. There was an evil in the demons eyes that burned hotter that the metal he held within his hand, such a vile look that the man was petrified.

     Then before the bar lost any more heat, the demon made a tear in the man’s trousers exposing one of his legs right above his knee. The man screamed as the hot iron bar was rolled across his bare thigh. His teeth clenched together was his skin sizzled and cracked. The melted skin wrapping around the bar, cooling and sticking to it, as it was drug over his leg, leaving a strip of bare muscle tissue. The smell of burnt flesh quickly filled the room. In one final scream the man’s face turned pale and he fell limply in the chair. The demon turned and walked back to the center of the room casting the bar into the fire once more. The leather straps that held the man were untied and his limp body was dragged to a metal cage on the other side of the room. The cloaked demon wiped the blood and other bodily fluids away and another captive soon took his place on the splintered wooden chair.

     Not even ten feet from the last grotesque act the man’s eyes fell upon another torture. Only this one he was familiar with. A male captive was laying flat on his back on a table, his limbs bound making it impossible to move. On a tray beside the table all manners of instruments lie neatly in a row. A demon approached the man and studied him carefully. The idea of this torture was to break every bone in the person’s limbs, then allow the bones to heal, permanently disfiguring them. For this torture the man’s consciousness wasn’t required, so if the man did pass out the during this procedure the demon would still continue. Not pausing until the task was completed.

     The demon began with the man’s fingers, breaking each one and the joints, until they were rubbery and unresponsive. Then with a small mallet he hammered the man’s hands breaking the bones within them. A few of the tiny bones protruded through the man’s skin, but that did not make any difference to the demon as long as they were broken. He snapped the captive’s wrists. By this time the hands were discolored, turning dark shades of red and purple. The demon lifted the mans arms and broke them in two places: once bellow the elbow and once above the elbow.

     Then the demon moved on to the legs. Breaking each toe and smashing the feet just as he did in the hands. Afterwards slamming heavy stone slabs on his ankles until they crushed, fracturing under the pressure. Then upon shattering both of the captives knee caps the demon was finished. The man was then released from the table and dragged by the collar of his shirt to a cage just as the first had been. Though the prisoner had been one of the largest men in the room, he hadn’t even made it past the first hand without his body trembling with convulsions then falling unconscious. Such a pity that he didn’t have a higher tolerance for pain. The Defilers always delighted more when their victims were awake.

     Moving his eyes across the length of the cold stone wall, he came across a frail girl. The teenage girl was striped naked and her arms were suspended above her by chains hooked onto the ceiling. The girl’s long straight brown hair draped over her slumped shoulders, covering her skeletal frame. Her face as still as a sculpture with large brown eyes and full pouting lips. Once being the envy of all whos eyes fell upon her, now withered and dull, an empty shell of a person. She stood in a shallow metal tub. Her face lowered,for she was too weak to lift it. They had taken from her every joy that she had ever known, so that the only feeling that remained was sorrow.

     A different demon knelt down beside the tub with a thin sharp blade in his hand. He slid his hand across her cold skin, mentally making notes of where he would cut her. With exact precision he slid the blade across her delicate skin, making small cuts in a row up the front part of her thighs. Trails of blood slid down the length of her slender legs. Then again the man cut her, this time just bellow her navel, and along the sides of her torso. Never cutting her deep enough to kill her or cause any lasting damage, this ritual blood-letting was just meant to induce pain.

     The girl had come expected this. The history of her time spent here was told in the many scars all over her body. Slowly the tub beneath her filled. Once satisfied the Defilers would wrap her in a sheet and carry her to her cell, where she would then cradle herself and dress her wounds. But for now she waited. When she was first brought here many years ago she cried. But over time her body became numb with scar tissue, and now there were no more tears, no more emotion.


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youngfatwhore
 
 Age: 36
  Virginia