Page 2 of Soulless Deeds

“Please, sir.Please stop—” The terrified plea cut short on a pain-filled gasp.

I shimmied the door open, sneaking a peek through the one-inch gap. A naked adonis was strung up in the centre of the room, limbs outstretched in a star as his back was torn to shreds, the red V of his Vice tattoo stark on the base of his neck, camouflaging with his blood.

Behind him was a heaving middle-aged man sporting an expensive suit and a black leather whip, the tip lined with plated metal to cause maximum harm. Droplets of blood covered his face, highlighting the crazed expression pinpointed on his victim—his veryunconsciousvictim, who had befallen to the assault.

The client didn’t seem to notice or care, his heavy hand advancing to deliver a series of unrelenting blasts. He was absolutely destroying the man’s body, ripping nasty strips of flesh from his comatose form and getting high off the damage—proven by his rock-hard cock which was impossible to miss.

I was all for a little bit of pain, but that flaying was dangerous and borderline psychotic. Yeah, the worker may have originally been a consenting flagellant, but he was way past that. His injuries were gravely deep, the gashes sure to leave scars if the flaying continued.

Then, a high-pitched noise came from the captive—a mix between a scream and whimper. He had regained consciousness—barely—the sight pathetic enough to have me intervene.

I snuck up behind the sadist asshole who was too caught up in his ministrations to detect me. He visibly shook with wrath and pent-up lust, the noxious mix causing his frame to shake.

On his next backstroke, I grasped the whip and pulled hard on the lash, the momentum shifting him off balance. He turned with speed, a feral rage distorting his features. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember him. Not that it mattered. By the time his expression could change, I’d already wound the rope several times around his neck and swiped at his legs. He buckled to his knees, hands grasping at the leather constricting his bulging throat.

He was a handsome man, his expensive cologne and three-piece suit screaming old money, his brown eyes popping red like fireworks as mini blood vessels burst behind his rapidly blinking lids.

With all the commotion, torn-up adonis was finally able to escape his restraints, bearing some gnarly bruises from the strain. He fell to the floor on all fours, completely still, digesting the scene with swirling silver eyes. He didn’t stop me.

I tilted my head in contemplation. I had a theory I wanted to test.

Psycho said I wasn’t strong enough to rip the lower jaw off a living person. He should have known better; I was all too willing to take on the challenge. The man at my feet tried to fight me off, of course, and with his solid muscular form, he may have stood a chance—if his system wasn’t already heaving from oxygen deprivation.

In one fluid motion, I wrenched his head back, shoved my hand in his mouth and yanked on his mandible. His teeth pierced deep grooves into my flesh, but I didn’t relent, pulling with force until I heard a reverberating crack.

He screamed (well, tried to), and I sighed in disappointment. I’d dislocated his lower jaw rather than ripping it clean from his skull.

Cutting my losses, I gave his neck a quick, thorough twist, the echoing fracture bouncing off the walls as his body slumped to the floor. As kills went, it was relatively clean.

Naked adonis had backed himself against the far side, body trembling, limp dick bobbing, tears staining his face.

Ignoring him, I roamed his room and fingered all the jewelled figurines that lined the shelves, all carved in precarious sex positions. His room was themed as a treasure trove, and he was supposed to be the crown jewel, no doubt.

“You can stop crying now. He’s dead,” I said.

He continued to sniffle. “That’s why I’m crying.”

“Oh… Was he your boyfriend?” I didn’t bother looking. I already knew the tears were fake.

“No. I’m crying because his death will come at a price. One I may not be able to pay.” My gaze flicked to his, which were narrowed into slits…at yours truly.

I huffed dramatically, laying a hand over my chest. “You can’t possibly be blaming me? I saved you.”

“And that’s the only reason I haven’t sounded the alarm.” He approached at speed for someone severely injured. I sneered as he laid a firm hand over my outstretched wrist. “Put it back.”Not such a scared little baby, after all.

I pouted, returning the figurine that was smuggled beneath my long sleeve.

“And the other one,” he said, lifting an obnoxious brow to my opposite arm.

I rolled my eyes, returning each jewel that had miraculously made a comfy home in my dress. Turning for the opposite shelf, I squealed. He had gum. My favourite gum in the whole wide world.Sweeter than Sweetwasn’t just candy; it was a fuckingrevelation. I swear, they ate that shit up in heaven. I was surprised they left enough for us lowly earth dwellers at all. By that token alone, I knew he was my type of person.

I jumped on one of the sex swings in the corner, content in blowing bubbles with my valuable find. He settled on the edge of a double bed, sparking up a pipe, in his birthday suit and all. I didn’t mind. Nudity was organic, the most natural thing in the world. It also helped that he had the body, face and dick of a perfectly crafted male specimen.

After a few tokes, his body relaxed, rigid posture now poise. His silver gaze tracked up and down my long-sleeved mini dress covered in sequins that directly matched his eyes.

“Anyone would think this was premeditated.” I smiled. He continued to suck on his pipe as I kept swinging back and forth. “This has been sanitised, right?”Damn, I ought to have asked before I hopped on.

“I haven’t seen you before. What room are you from?” He offered me the death stick. I refused.

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