Friends | I can't shake the growing desire to sink knives into flesh and feel the resistance of the muscles and sinews and the cracking wet snap as they finally tear. To smell the sharp smell of blood and the rank scent of insides. To hear someone try to call out for help through cotton stuffed mouth taped down with duct tape. Their precious pleading eyes searching for some kind of mercy or forgiveness in my cold dead ones. And that sweet little dance of desperation as they struggle with the ropes tied tight with expert knots I learned in training...leaving their skin white where it rises and red beneath the yellow ropes. Yellow is such a happy color. Of course...once I got ahold of someone I wouldn't end it too quickly. Not when photographs snapped in the dimly lit room can be serenaded by the whimpers of my model and the winding whir, like a drawing breath, as the camera gets ready for another shot. They don't teach guys like me how to torture like they did for me to retire the skills in veteran status.... NanaAlex: hey good looking! 7 years ago • Report 0 |