[darkstalker]

alright, for those wondering why i haven't posted much of late. one was i was working with corvid on a combined story and now i've been working with graheg on samantha's torture and we've agreed to post this as one complete story following the same thread on house of ordeals. this part starts getting more severe and i've looked through boardrules and haven't found anything contradictory with my content so far but if there is, let me know and i'll adjust or remove said sections from the story parts i'm writing. now without further adu, the next parts to house of ordeals! enjoy!

******

He walks in, patting the crone on the shoulder, nodding silently. The Darkstalker holds his hands behind his back, nodding to the girl. Like the other two, he has dawned a mask, one of a skull, his eyes seen through its black orbs. He looks towards the girl, who shivers, staring at him violently, her body shaking, breath heaving. Her breasts jiggle nicely, invitingly. Or they would, he thinks, if Albino hadn’t already torn them apart already.
“Tsk. Tsk,” he says, running a finger down one of the girl’s orbs. The one that said “whore” with the “O” beautifully drawn over her nipple, but purpled and swollen, looking for the world like diseased meat now. He pulls away, standing back with his pressed suit and black leather shoes. “Tsk. Tsk, brother. You have ruined part of her already and my full enjoyment can not be had.”
“Fuck you,” says the Albino. “You should have been here earlier.”
“Yes,” says Darkstalker, nodding. “Perhaps. But fortunately Mother can address this. Well...” he says, kneeling down towards the girl. “After a bit more agony and pain of course.”
He can see the girl panting, breathing heavily as she sucks in mouthfuls of air. He traces a finger down her cheek. “Do not worry child. There is always pain where healing is involved.”
“Mother,” he says, calling behind him. “Please boil some water. I’d like to ....” He runs his hands over the swollen forms, tickling them lightly, hearing the girl moan. “Play with these when they are not so distorted.”
He hears the old woman cackle, a sound like a rustling paper bag. “Sure thing child. It will be a pleasure!”
Her old shoes flop away against the stone cement, the door slamming behind them. “I placed some water to boil as I came in, suspecting the games may have started... prematurely.”
He holds the woman’s breasts now, squeezing the ends, hearing her moan and squeal. Unlike the Albino, he enjoys the squeals of the women beneath him. “So how are you going to hurt her?” asks the Albino.
Darkstalker is silent, looking at how the breasts are hooked together, hooking the flesh of her breasts. Even if he wanted to, this would not come without pain to the girl. But fortunately for him, it is her pain he seeks. “By undoing your work, brother,” he says. “I must admit, you do quite the thorough work.”
The man chuckles behind the clown mask. Darkstalker squeezes the girl’s breasts now, taking a tight hold on them. “So...” he says, looking into her large eyes, hearing how her nose sucks in wheezing breaths of air while her cheeks puff and swell trying to suck in air through the dirty underwear gag. “Let us undo your work.”
His fingers squeeze down and he begins to pull, smiling behind his mask as the girl throws her head back, eyes squeezing tight as she shrieks behind her gag. For Darkstalker is pulling both her breasts in separate directions, the two hooks wanting to hold on to her tender flesh and thus tearing and ripping meat as they are slowly pulled apart. The hooks have done their work and as Darkstaker pulls, the flesh stretches and tears, blood pooling between her breasts quickly.
The girl for her own part thrashes and screams, her eyes bulging and tortured sounds coming from behind the gag. Her body jerks to and fro but Darkstalker holds firm, pulling her large purpled mounds apart until the two large hooks separate with a pop.
The albino is laughing, clapping manically while the Elder brother in his clown mask simply shakes his head. “You are truly a cruel one, DarkStalker,” says the elder.
“I try,” says Darkstalker, holding onto one of her breasts and rather then twist the hook out, simply pulls, ripping away more flesh and blood. The girl is bouncing against the board, shrieking.
Darkstalker twirls the hook before him, looking towards the hooked meat at the end, the girl’s breast meat bleeding profusely. “Didn’t mommy and daddy ever take you fishing?” he says. “The fish,” he says, gripping the other hook which had stayed in her left, opposing breasts. He pulls at it, jerking it up and ripping a thin strip of meat with it. “Felt much like this.”
She shrieks loudly, the tears trailing down her cheeks and over her neck down into her beautiful clavicle. “It does hurt beautifully,” he says, looking at how the red meat glows in the light.
He bends down towards her, using the hook to trace along the curves of her neck. “And we are hardly done, my dear. Not hardly.”
*****

Darkstalker takes the hook to his lips, running his tongue over the length, enjoying the taste of her blood. He has taken to a type of enjoyment in drinking in the blood of his victims, but truly, he only does this to see the fear in the girls’ eyes, much as this girl’s are now, wide and fearful, her breathes coming out in long wheezes. He chuckles and tosses the hook aside.
“Well,” he says, clapping his hands together. “It’s time to unravel the rest of this mess.”
The girl is trying to shake her head, or at least as far as the bonds will allow her, but it is very little. “Oh, do not lie,” says Darkstalker as he finds the first hook and begins to pull. “I know you want them out as badly as I do.”
The girl is shaking, sobbing, her knees slapping onto the spiked board repeatedly in pain and agony. She probably does not notice the sharp nails down there compared to what she is feeling now, with the hook slowly tearing away at her flesh meat. But Darkstalker can see it, feel it as the hook slowly tears away from her flesh and the second begins to pull. Each hook he goes by, he pulls at, slowly...
The pain on her face as it scrunches with agony with each pull of the string as Darkstalker simply unwinds the string and stretches the string out, the hooks digging deep into her skin and stretching, biting and pulling at that same meat as they are wrenched away. It is exquisite. Just as her crying is.
Well, for him at least. Albino does not seem to take it so well. “Shut up!” he says, slapping her across the face. “Let me enjoy this!”
He watches Albino slap her twice more and sink his fingers into her neck, her eyes bulging and body gasping as she struggles for breath. He simply holds the hooks and waits for the Albino to finish. After all, he wouldn’t want to kill her too soon either. What’s the fun in that?
“It is good you are done brother,” he says as the Albino pulls back. “Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”
The girl’s tears and squeals are very apparent, the Albino’s threats seeming to have fallen on deaf ears. “Fucking girl is stupid,” he hisses under his mask.
“Patience brother,” says Darkstalker. “That is why I am here. She will learn, as all do, why I am called the Dark Stalker. So patience.”
The Albino nods, the older Elder simply enraptured with the show. Yes, thinks Darkstalker, the show is only beginning. He unravels the hooks, painfully, slowly, each one ripping away a small chunk of flesh from the girl. The show begins, and all that is done now is mere foreplay....


******

Her cries as she thrashes on the board are amusing. The board itself bangs repeatedly, echoing in the room, the pain down below probably nothing unless said nails tear away into her legs. He’ll make sure that doesn’t happen though. He wouldn’t want a broken nail accidentally stabbing him when he begins fucking her. No. Not that.
“Aaauuummph!” she cries, the veins in her neck bulging, eyes scrunched shut. It truly is beautiful. He begins to pull at the last hook on her left breast when Albino screams.
“I said shut up, you fucking cunt!” he yells, smacking her roughly with a loud crack, the sound echoing in the room. Darkstalker can even see the blood leaking from her nose. He can’t let this go on or she’ll be too damaged to be conscious during the “cleaning.” “I’ll teach you...”
“Brother...” Darkstalker says quietly. “Patience.”
“How can I...”
“Look,” says Darkstalker, pulling at the final hook in her purpled flesh. “Look at how it pulls and tears at her tender young skin,” he says. “Those cries of hers? They are just the sounds of us doing our job correctly.”
“I still don’t like them,” says the Albino.
“I do,” says Darkstalker. “I drift to slumber nightly with them. But for you, just look.” He tugs mercilessly at the line, pulling it slowly. The girl shrieks, beating her legs in a thrumming motion. Darkstalker pays it no mind. “Just look,” he says, “at how her flesh pulls, wanting to hold the line in. And we....” He tugs more, watching as the skin stretches, the flesh held at the barbed end tears open slowly. “We don’t give line but take it. Look at how she bleeds from that line. A wounded bird crying for help against the hungry wolves. Doesn’t it make you want to eat her up brother? Taste her bite by bite?”
The Albino begins to calm, chuckling. “You truly are a dark one.”
“That I am,” he says, giving the line one final jerk before it tears away at the small chunk of meat, dragging a strip with it. Quickly he unwinds the string, seeing as the blood suddenly flows back into her breast meat. It begins to leak more profusely from the wounds as the blood comes back in at full force. “Lovely isn’t it?” he says, “all that pain coming back into the girl’s meat. It must be agonizing.”
And truly it must be. He can see her eyes rolling, the veins still hard against her neck, her breathing coming out hard and fast. But now he can see the lovely tremble of her breast as it bleeds. He almost wishes to squeeze it and begin fucking against it, see all the pain he causes her. But no, not yet. Not yet. Not today at least. They must be restored at least.
He looks at the word burned into her skin and smiles beneath his mask. Well maybe not all of it. Some wounds seem appropriate where they are.
He quickly unravels the string on the other breast, this part being the simple and albeit less painful part. Then there is the shriek. That sound ripping from her throat before he has even noticed the string tugging at the resistance. “Ah, there it is. Like an alarm to sound off the fun. Watch brother.”
Again he begins to pull, taking his time to give the girl the most pain, to watch as the hook pulls slowly at her flesh, stretching it, opening the wound and then tearing a small chunk away. How she thrashes only adds to it and now he can watch that second globe thrash and slap, more blood draining from it. He’ll have to watch that. Make sure she doesn’t bleed too much. No no. That would be no good. Especially if he hasn’t bled her down below yet.
He hears the Albino breathing raggedly, now entranced and continues the performance. Going to the second hook and repeating the process, then the third, the fourth. Each hook brings its own torments to the girl, her lacerated flesh reacting to each new and yet similar pull of pain in new yet similar ways. For Darkstalker, he enjoys watching her thrash almost as much as he does watching that skin stretch and bleed. While he detest that Albino tore into her so thoroughly so early in the game, he does quite enjoy undoing it and bringing more agony to the spoilt rich cunt. It’s only what she deserves. After what her father did to him...
He gives the fifth hook an extra sharp pull, wrenching it far quicker then the others, eliciting an incredible shriek even behind the gag from the girl. “She felt that one, brother Darkstalker,” says the Elder, also chuckling.
“That she did,” thinks Darkstalker as he begins to pull the final hook towards him, her breast coming with it. He slaps it repeatedly, thinking on her father and how he’d openly scoffed at giving him funding for his experiments of reanimating the dead. How will he react then, when it is his daughter that Darkstalker brings back, when it his daughter Darkstalker punishes nightly for his slights. Oh to punish the daughter for the sins of the father. Again and again he slaps her tender meat, hearing her howl. Then holding her by the bearing added to her nipple, he begins to pull, enjoying as the hook tears a line down the length of her breast, catching at the areola before pulling and stretching and then popping. How she howls then.
Darkstalker looks at the hook and sighs. Pity. It seems that one had not been wedged in as deeply as the others. Though perhaps that had to do with him jerking the fifth one. Pity. It must have pulled the sixth out part way and avoided giving her some agony. Now....
The door opens slowly and the crone walks in, bearing the hot boiling kettle of water. “Did you order some boiling water, young man,” she says in a most sweet and gentle manner.
“Why yes,” he says, taking the kettle from the woman’s hands. “Open wide girl,” he says, looking into the exhausted eyes of the teen beneath him. “This is going to sting.” And he begins to tip the kettle, the water spilling onto her wounds and she screams beautifully...