Journals of a Psychopath.



Courtney has some punishment coming.


      “You defiled Lady Flarice.”
      “Who is she?”
      “You know she is Kim and I am ready to remove your testes without pain relief.”
Connor’s urine ran to the edge of the block. Clamping his wrists and ankles, I told him about the crime he committed.
      “You invaded my territory and defiled my woman.”
      “I did not know she was yours.”
      “The Lady Flarice is my possession and no reprisal can be too great for you.”
      “Please kill me instead?”
He prayed relevant to death, Connor moved his lips rapidly, and I chortled. I prepared for the mutilation.
“You must lie still if you want to live I could nick an artery and then you will die.”
Connor looked at me surprised, because I guessed his thoughts I knew he wanted to live, his request about dying false. Carving into the skin of the testicle, the knife sharp, and his squawk streamed unceasingly. He passed out Connor looked pitiful. The sludgy noise of the gristle, as it eased from the testicle pouch brief, and the gore gurgled from the wound.
Stretching the skin, he came to and wailed. I sewed the skin of the testis and concentrated on the pattern of the thread. His blood was on the block and laughing zealously, I sliced the other testis. Darning his flap, I showed him the pouch-less testicles. Unfettering the chains, he rolled in a ball and ululated. Binding his empty scrotum with crepe and the flaps were sewn with black thick coarse thread, Connor wept.

Blackclaw Woodlands

      “You must collect Courtney,” the Presenter said.
I was enthralled by the prospect of her demise it would please my Mentors, and imperative to soothe them.
Examining Courtney, she turned the key in the lock, kicked the door shut with her heel, and resting against the door, she quivered. I had deposited clues, Courtney told the cops they believed she was unhinged, laughed behind Courtney’s back. Easing the section, I positioned the panel on the floor. Several forms of entry were available the method chosen dependent on my mood. Tiptoeing upstairs, she was in the washroom and I scrutinized. Humming Courtney analyzed the water the bathtub faucet flowed. Drawing the shirt over her head, I observed her in the oval silver-edged looking glass.
      “You are just right for the purifying.”
Courtney reeled in disbelief, as I propelled forward, and she saw my splendor. Intimidating embellished in the pure white silk robe, Courtney skirled. She ran into one of the bedrooms, I was unperturbed she did exactly what I planned. Hiding in the closet unoriginal and her whole body quaked. Grinning, I jerked the closet door open, and examined Courtney, I saw her true fear.
      “That is a silly place to hide.”
      “Please do not hurt me?”
      “What a stupid question to ask.”
      “Stop wasting time with dialogue,” the Narrator said.
      “Alright, but it is tempting to sometimes speak with them, after all my work is also your pleasure.”
      “The subject is closed.”

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