nearly overwhelming. He had the power now. He didn’t have to wait for her summons. He could just stroll right in if he wanted. Maybe with one hand hidden behind his back?
But that wasn’t right was it? It was the key for next door he held, not the one for her bedroom. But it was hard for him to tell the difference as her summons sounded in his mind.
Benny, mummy needs you…
And suddenly Ben felt sick with excitement as he stroked away. He knew he shouldn’t, that he’d be punished, but he also knew he had no choice. Even if he hid she always found him and the longer he made her wait, the worse the punishment would be.
And her voice called again.
Mummy needs you…
And in his mind Ben pushed through the door and she was splayed out on the bed in front of him. Her legs spread so it yawned like a cavern before his eyes, the noises from next door just perfect and apt. His neighbour’s cries growing in volume, matching beat for beat her groans of pleasure.
Ben couldn’t take his eyes away as the buzzing surrounded him like a swarm of bees. As he watched her slide the vibrator in and out. Watched how it glinted beneath the lights. His dick rock hard in his pants as he wondered if he’d only be watching today.
Or would she let him touch her? Would she touch him?
Ben longed to take it out and stroke it but didn’t dare. Not with her looking at him like that. A look that made all the old scars itch. And even though he felt sick to the stomach with the thought of the pain that would be coming, Ben couldn’t stop himself from moving toward her.
There would be pain anyway because his whole life was pain.
And she called to him again as the flesh of her pussy slurped…
Benny, mummy needs you…
And Ben couldn’t hold back. He ejaculated in thick, ropy jets across his chest, his body spasming with pleasure, as in his mind he clambered onto the bed.
But suddenly everything was wrong. It had all changed and the bed was gone and he was sobbing in the corner as she stood over him, her eyes blazing and he knew what was hidden in the hand behind her back. And as she shrieked at him, flecks of spittle dotting the corners of her mouth, he just couldn’t stop cowering.
How dare you! How dare you do that to mummy! I should cut it off! That’s what I’ll do! Cut it off..!
The vision took Ben by surprise, burrowing into his post-ejaculatory bliss and briefly his face cracked as a sob ripped from his lips. The sounds from next door seemed to have disappeared and Ben couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d imagined them in the first place. He sobbed again and felt wetness on his cheeks but he didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction and anyway, it was always worse if he cried.
They were the rules: you didn’t scream and you didn’t cry, or it got worse.
But the fear barely had time to creep in before the red started to close across his vision and his sobs cut off before they even really began. Replaced by a smile as the walls and ceiling began to form. Because he wasn’t the helpless child he was then and the power had been switched around.
Switched around so it was time for his revenge.
And the bench formed before his eyes, loaded with the arsenal of playthings he’d built up over the years to complement the original set of kitchen knives and it was so tempting to take the key and go next door and take her but he knew he needed to be patient; that the man she left with looked strong and that he could cause problems.
But that was okay, Ben thought, his grin spreading wider as he realised he was now inside the Red Room again. His erection jutting out hard against the leather apron as he studied them hanging there limply; just patiently waiting for his ministrations. There was plenty to keep him occupied here.
…And in his mind the two images arrived simultaneously, flashing up in split screen. In one she was writhing on the bed and there was love in her eyes. Love mixed with desire and adoration but in the other the shutters had come down and her face was wreathed in smoke and her eyes blazed with anger and disgust and he fucking hated her so much but he loved her too but hated her for making him feel so conflicted. Hated her for the mix of arousal and hatred the images caused in him.
And he moved over to number six, hanging on her hook, bathed in the glorious red hue. Her resemblance was slight: the same hair and eye colour, a vague likeness around the jaw, but she fought so much when he took her and even if she wasn’t one of his favourites, Ben wanted one that struggled now. He wanted her to fight hard. He wanted to watch as the realisation hit her. That despite her best attempts to escape, despite her belief she was a strong person, there was nothing she could do. That she was helpless.
He yanked her down, the hook slurping as it emerged, shiny with a deeper red than the light that bathed it and slung her over his shoulder, his hands roving over her cold and lifeless buttocks as he marched over to the table and slung her down. The screams she’d unleash were already playing in his mind making his penis throb, and when he reached down to touch it; it was already slick with pre-cum.
When he raised some up to the red light, it glistened just like blood.
He’d tie her face down, he decided; face down so she’d look even more like her.
He wrenched her legs and arms into position and slowly strapped her in. He watched the colour spread through her pallid frame, hunkered down so he could watch the sentience return to her eyes; watch the realisation of the situation dawn on her.
She bucked hard and her screams were everything he’d hoped for. He watched fascinated as the restraints cut into her wrists and ankles, chafing free the skin, sending trickles of blood snaking down her limbs. He stood and circled her slowly, drinking it in, his mouth dry as he caught sight of her pussy, the lips parted by the splayed position, peeking at him from between her spread thighs.
He’d start there this time. Start at the place she’d used to imprison him for so long.
He stood and made his way to the bench and ran his hands over the array of knives, past the hacksaw and surgical scalpels, across the claw hammer and the two chipped and stained chisels. His hands gripped the power drill and just the feel of it had him gasping for breath as he slowly twisted the chuck and selected a bit from the pile on the bench.
It was long and thick, the length of it covered with hooked and glittering barbs and the way they whirred as he experimentally depressed the trigger sent him weak at the knees with excitement. He could see it going in, grinding away. He could feel the flecks spattering against his skin and as he stepped toward her, his hand slipped beneath the leather apron.
He began to masturbate…
* * * * *
When he snapped back, Ben was outside her window again and they were both stretched out in front of him, naked and sprawled, the man’s cock, limp against his thigh, still glistened with her juices around its base. Ben could see the filled and tied off condoms beside the bed and his breath caught in his throat as she shifted position slightly and he caught a glimpse of her pussy, smiling wetly between her thighs.
He thought back to the minced one he’d left behind in the Red Room, the way the drill had gone in so easily, pulping and shredding. The screams she’d unleashed as he’d wedged it in, ramming it to and fro. He thought back to it and overlayed it onto the scene in front of him now and before he knew it he was ejaculating again, thick ropes of his jism spattering the glass much as they’d sprayed across the ruined snatch of number six.
Ben was digging in his pocket, about to head for the back door when his eyes fell on the sheet of paper taped
