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Keegan Keller


Posts : 90
Join date : 2013-10-14

PostSubject: Insanity.   Tue Dec 03, 2013 7:18 pm

Okay this is really bad. Its dumbbb. It started out as a present for you. I felt like writing something in first person and I was thinking about having someone hit their lover. It was originally going to be Xavier for you, but somehow it turned into Zach and then I went off and wrote how he would react to hitting Elvis >< I will warn you right now that it is very gorey, even more so than other Trever scenes we've done. So if you're not in the mood for that, don't read it. Hehee.

Before I even open my eyes, I can tell something's wrong. Something is terribly terribly wrong. 
Elvis is not in my arms.
I force my eyes open, groaning softly. 
"Presley?" I murmur, then again, louder this time. But I receive no answer.
I know that I shouldn't overreact so easily. But it's just my nature. When you live for years constantly in fear, you get used to it.
I get out of bed, running to the bathroom. No Elvis. I check the kitchen. No Elvis. Soon I've checked every room in the house and there is no Elvis to be found.
That's when I begin to panic. My breath comes in short bursts, my eyes darting around as if hoping to spot him in some room I missed although I know I have checked them all. The walls feel like they're closing in around me and I feel myself shrinking against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting there, cowering like a child. Where is he?
I used to have panic attacks a lot. Trever always knew how to handle me... He was sweet to me despite his violent nature. He'd hold me close, tell me he was here.
But now no one is here to help. I'm all alone and the room, I swear, is getting smaller. 
"Elvis." I attempt a scream, but it comes out as a whisper. I clench my eyes shut and prepare for everything to go black, like it does when no one stops the attack.
But instead, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"Zach?" The person whispers.
Trembling, I open my eyes to see Elvis standing over me. The room is back to normal size.
I stand up on shaky legs and simply stare at him.
"Where were you...?" I manage, my eyes wide.
"I was at Mack's..." He holds out a bag full of drugs as explanation. 
Before he'd spoken, I just wanted to hold him and love him. But now, I'm furious.
"Y-you left me alone for drugs?" I question. I can tell my voice sounds quiet, almost scary.
"Well yeah.." He frowns. "I didn't know you would... Freak out."
"How could you do that?!" I exclaim and I take a step towards him, shoving at his chest. "I panicked! I didn't know where you went! I had a panic attack!" I scream. I don't know what's coming over me, I'm simply so angry... And I'm still on edge from my attack.
"Dude, can you calm the hell down?" Elvis frowns at me and I can tell he's high already, or else he would be comforting me instead of getting defensive.
Normally, I accept this. But it infuriates me now. I'm seeing red.
"Calm down?" I ask incredulously. "You left me!" The world is spinning around me and then, before I can calm down, my fist comes down across his cheek. 
I never thought I would hit him... I know I'm violent, especially for a submissive lover... But I just never saw myself hurting him...
I guess I was wrong.
Elvis simply stares at me, his cheek already swelling. He blinks a few times, as if he hasn't fully registered what has happened. I stare back, my eyes filling with tears.
And then I run.
I run out of the front door, sobs overtaking me as I run all the way to Trever's home, pounding on the front door until he answers, taking one look at me before taking me into his arms.
I'm still on the verge of a panic attack, and he can tell. So he holds me tight, wraps me in a blanket, like you would if you were swaddling a child, and whispers things in my ear.  He tells me whatever happened is okay now, tells me I'm perfect, tells me he loves me. And within minutes, I am calm, although I'm still sobbing uncontrollably into his bare chest. I look up at him and realize I must have woken him. I apologize and he tells me not to worry so I don't.
I realize that although I'm sad, I'm still ridiculously angry too. I ask him to lock me in his special room with a bitch and he does so. He picks out his best for me and ties them to the table with knots that I could never do like he does, so perfectly with his skilled fingers. With a kiss on the head, he leaves me alone.
I almost feel bad for the bitch on the table.
It is a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He is muscular, but not obscenely so. His abdomen is flat, but not chiseled. His long blonde locks hang just past his shoulders. I want to screw him but I don't, knowing that this would be cheating. I remember words from Trever, that I now know from experience to be true. Our art form is never as fun without fucking them afterwards. 
I strip down as the bitch watches me. I know that I will have to get off one way or another by the end of our fun, whether it is with my own hand or this boy's skull.
When I lived here with Trever, I always tried to be as nice as possible to the bitches. This one must remember that because he attempts to smile at me.[url=x-apple-data-detectors://1]Tonight[/url], however, I have no patience.
I grab a large hammer from Trever's wall and I hear the boy question wearily what I am doing. I give him no answer. He will find out soon enough.
I grab a long plank of wood and a coil of rope and then I approach him.
I am silent as I shove the wood in between his ankles, tying them to each end of the plank with sturdy knots. Not as good as Trever's, but they will hold.
Before he can even speak, I take the hammer and swing it down against his ankle bone. I was hoping to be able to hear the bone shatter, but I can't over his blood curdling scream.
I make sure to jam a ball gag down his throat this time, before doing the same to the other ankle. I grin this time, letting out a sigh of relief as some of my stress fades away.
I can barely concentrate on this though with the bitch sobbing so hard. I let out a growl. 
Trever and I are alike in many ways, being we are both in need of some human emotions. But one of the ways we are unalike is evident in the way we go about our fun. Trever lives to torture. And while I can enjoy this as well, most of my fun happens after my victim is dead. I live for the smell of their flesh as it rots, the bloating of their body, the discoloration of the skin. It's much more pleasurable for me to watch as blood flows out of a cut without the person squirming and ruining my view.
I know I have to off this one fast, or I'll only get angrier. I want the body to be as neat as possible though, that's how I like them. So I crawl up and straddle his chest. I take a sheet, holding it over the boy's face tightly so no air can reach him. He squirms and flails around desperately, his lungs screaming for air I refuse to let them have. I have no clue why he'd want to stick around for more pain, but they always seem to do that. They always cling onto whatever bits of life they can, so reluctant to die. I guess it's just human nature. I continue to hold the sheet steady, not budging one bit as I feel his body trying to buck me off like a mechanical bull. 
"Shh..." I whisper, almost feeling the life flowing out of him. He gives me one last buck of his hips before he stops. I remove the sheet, pressing my ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat. When I hear none, I smile softly, tossing the sheet to the ground and standing up.
Now I can play.
I grab a simple knife and hold it over my new toy's body. The blade is long and slim. I press it into the skin in between his pectorals and slowly trail it down his body, stopping when I reach his pubic bone. I pull back and pause, simply watching as the blood slowly trickles out. I smile, leaning forward to let my tongue trail up the small red stream forming. I moan, savoring the metallic taste. 
Then, my mind moves to Elvis. I think of his fear of blood and how he'd probably faint at just this small amount of it. I almost laugh, thinking of how different we are. He faints at a drop of blood, while I could bathe in gallons of it and be just fine, happy even.
I am smiling at the thought of my lover, until I remember why I was angry in the first place. The anger surges through me once more. And then, before I can stop myself, I'm on top of the corpse. I growl like an animal and sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his stomach. I bite down hard, and shake my head back and forth like a dog until I tear off a large junk of the flesh. It rips with a slushing sound and I get a mouthful of skin and blood. To some, this is sick. To me, it's the equivalent of a gourmet meal. Not the first time I've consumed human flesh, either. 
The anger still coursing through my veins, I let out a screech. I grab a bigger knife this time and jam it into his chest, in between his pectorals again. I stick it deep inside, so the blade is barely visible. And then, I drag down roughly, all the way to his pubic bone. I toss the knife aside and shove my hands inside the deep wound. It's almost too easy now, to grip either side of the boy's chest and pull him apart, so his insides are revealed to me. He is completely split open, from crotch to thorax, and it is beautiful.
I can feel the heat rising from his body. I lean forward, my nose brushing against his intestines as I inhale deeply. I love the scent of the human body. It's a strange odor, a disgusting perfume. 
My moan is louder than I expected as I feel my erection pressing against the boy's inner thigh. I stick one hand into his body, if it can even be called that anymore. I rest my hand against his intestines, tracing over each individual section, reminded of sausage links, although I know they taste more like beef. The blood is slick on my hand as I pull it back, glancing down at it. I moan once more, rubbing the hand down my cheeks, coating them in blood. Then, I reach back in, squishing his organs in my grip, my moans becoming embarrassingly loud and I can just imagine Trever laughing at me in the other room. 
Using blood as lubricant, I reach back to slip three fingers in my rear, the other bloody hand making a fist around my cock, pumping it slowly. 
I lean in once more and press my face into the corpse's thigh. I growl before biting into it, tearing off chunks of flesh and meat, swallowing them all as my hands begin to move. Fingers on my right hand slam against my prostate as I cry out in ecstasy while my left hand helps bring me to the edge. 
My shriek rings throughout the entire home as I cum, my orgasm better than it has been in a long time. My legs feel like jelly as I sink to the ground, resting my head against one of the bitch's broken ankles.
It is then that I begin to cry once more. My emotions are out of control today. But I think of what I did, how I punched the only thing that helps me cling to whatever tiny piece of sanity I have left and I can't help but sob.
What if he never forgives me? What if I'm stuck all alone again?
As if in answer to my questions, I hear voices down the hall.
"Is Zach here?" Elvis's voice asks.
"He is. He needs you." Trever sighs and I imagine he points towards the room I'm in.
I want to call out and tell Elvis not to come in here. I don't want him to see what I've done. He's never seen the full extent of my insanity. But I can't find the energy, so I simply peer up at him as he enters the room,tears mingling with the blood on my cheeks.
"Oh... Zach..." I can tell he is no longer high. I can also tell he becomes sick the second he enters the room and sees all the blood and body parts. I want to tell him he can leave.
But all I can do is force myself to stand and sob into his chest.
"I'm so sorry." I cry, my bloody face in his neck and I know that is probably not helping him try not to faint.
"It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay." He whispers, his voice faint.
I look up at him and see the terrified look he is wearing. It sinks in that he is scared of me and I cry harder.
"I'm sorry!" I can't say anything more through my tears.
"No, no. Don't be sorry."
He has a bruise on his cheek. I'm stronger than I think...
"Sorry!" I choke out once more, embracing him around the waist.
"I love you... Let's get out of here. Please." He whispers and gently leads me into the hallway, closing the door behind us.
He sits down on the floor, tugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face and I can tell he must be woozy. I want to hug him, comfort him, but I am covered in blood from head to toe and I know it won't help.
I look at him and only cry harder at what I must be putting him through.
I am a monster.
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