Bad Guy

(Original Challenge: I am the bad guy, and this is my story.)

The man’s bare hands held on to svelte, pale thighs in a clenching vice, pushing the slender quivering legs backwards to reveal the tight ring of muscle he wished to pound into. The man salivated, grubby fingers gripping the fine skin even tighter. He stood. With his head, he beckoned the rest of the awaiting men crowding near the doorway. The men entered hurriedly with increasing enthusiasm, their eyes trained solely on the alluring sight of the panting form on the bed. The first man was already unzipped, his throbbing desire a grotesque image. Without much patience, he slipped three fingers into the ring of muscle, rotating the digits and spreading as wide as he could. The figure writhed on the bed, agonized screams filling the air. The struggle was evident. The figure was thrashing, his rope-bound hands wriggling uselessly in the musty air. Tears flowed freely from clenched eyes. The gruff man ignored the actions. He merely slipped out the fingers and replaced them with his red-hot desire, desperately pounding into the figure. It was a swallowing, dark heat in which his heart throbbed in beat with and sparks of raw, carnal pleasure exploded in front of his eyes, threatening to ingest him whole. The figure now screeched, animal-like, as the ruby essence flowed mockingly from his tattered hole, down onto the floor. The figure was ripped inside out, then mauled open again, and again, and again. The cycle continued as dark ripples danced in front of him, wrapping around him and trying to consume his darkened soul into oblivion. Somewhere, a hand violently grabbed his jaw and forcefully opened his mouth. A pulsing organ was shoved into the opening, incurring his immediate gag reflex despite his near unconsciousness. He hacked and coughed as his vision swam piteously against the flooding tears, weakened hands hanging limply from where they were hung. Then, his ears briefly picked out a muffled thwacking sound. A slash of agony ripped through his open back, blossoming with a fiery fervor. The pain was wringed from him, and an animalistic scream sounded somewhere from the back of his throat. The flesh on his back was raw and wrenched open. He could almost fill his insides tasting the hacking, dirt air. Due to the fact that his mouth was preoccupied and gritting teeth could not serve as an almost non-existent distraction to the agony, his fingernails were instead buried deep within the flesh of his hands. The whip came down upon his back again, unrelenting. It was returned with a hoarse pathetic cry of whimper. Before the boy was drowned into blissful unconsciousness, his eyes shone with the stirrings of an unforgotten beginning, of a live he used to have.

Over months, those eyes changed, slowly and surely, breaking with every step along the way. The malice was seared into the fluttering gaze, coated with a shivering sheen of desperation. The slithering tendrils of evil latched onto his heart, threatening to consume, to conquer. The cries and unholy screams soon transformed into deranged chains of bubbly laughter and grins. The blackness shrouding his heart soon blackened it, deadening the tissues into mere oozing rotting matter. Acrid acid spewed out of it and polluted the tubes travelling through his body, colouring red blood into foul black. Years passed and the transformation was finally complete. A dark insatiable evilness arose from the shadows, glinting, devouring eyes roiling into its own head. Stained claws extended into the innocence of flesh, ripping and tearing deep.  

I am the bad guy, and this is my story.