An Unexpected Gift

Torture, a method so perfect,
Even God found it useful.
He liked it emotional,
I like mine, physical.

As I peel his skin.
The door knob twists,
I can smell her perfume. Vanilla and Cherry.
I almost come just thinking of this double win.

Shhhh! I whisper as he so beautifully whimpers.
Dont be a nuisance.
Be quiet and still.
I'll get back to you when I'm done using the crib.

He tries to scream,
With no tongue, I bet it's harder than it seems.
Don't ruin it darling.
You know eitherway, I'll kill Her and take her beautiful bloody skin.

As she walks in,
So pale, so thin.
My heart is racing.
A whack across her head, knocked out, she lays there, not even close to dead.

God,  so beautiful.
Such perfect, lovely skin.
Supple and kept well.
My my, aren't you a wonderful thing.

Clean, not a scar.
Perfection itself.
I love these kind of trophies.
They scar even better, going deeper, God,  so deep in.

The crib,  Oh! how it makes me swoon.
Metal branches with sharp sharp thorns.
Barbed and with grooves,
So it can pull a little bit out, on the way in.

Ahhh! She's awake.
My radiant radiant angel.
Ooh! The fear in her eyes,
Drives me absolutely crazy.

I kiss her lips, so sweet and so full.
Soothing her against me.
Her body, laying beautifully.
A contrast to the man's blood  on the cold floor.

I'm so sorry, my love.
I'm usually much cleaner.
But this little bastard,
Didn't listen, when I told him, I'd hurt him if he moved.

It's alright, I promise it'll hurt.
Ooh, ooh! don't be scared.
I'll be gentle. I promise.
I need your pretty bloodied skin.

Delicately I place her,  restraining her limbs.
Suspended in air .
Naked as the day she was born,
Above my gorgeous beautiful crib.

Are you scared my baby?
Ooh! You are, arent you?
The first hit is the hardest.
After that you'll just give in.

Hard I push and she falls, screaming in.
Her perfect skin ripping.
No more perfect,
As the thorns sink, deeper in.

A second hit, this time, in the back,  kicking her in.
She screams so hauntingly ,
If she keeps this up,
I'll come, before I even begin.

Again and again, I keep ramming her in
Brutally, she falls into the crib.
And it rips her,
As she's leaving it.

Broken, bruised and whimpering.
She's almost dead
As my hand goes towards her.
Both their pathetic whimpers, in union, begin.

Knife in trembling hands,
I go towards my angel.
She's bloodridden and broken,
But very much alive and breathing.

So close, I can feel it.
Just a little more is all I need.
As my knife touches her skin,
My trophy, to keep.

Each layer that peels.
She faints and I repeat.
The smell of blood and vanilla,
Surrounding me, taking me in.

Exhausted and broken.
She dies as I peel the last bit.
I feel so perfect, frustration released.
She was my best lover, I say to him, Laying in her skin.

Tired, but not done yet.
My trophy stored away.
Knife in hand I go to him,
"I'm back.Did you miss me. How's my second win "



The Pacifist