Page 10 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

Abi still hasn’t returned from work.

I hear rustling next to me. Peering down, Jack and Sally are nudging my bed, telling me it’s time to get up and feed them. My pretty babies, I could never deny them.

Bare feet touch the ground and the tiny prickly pig hairs brush against my legs. “Let’s go, babies, time to eat.” My words work them up further, cute snorts following as we leave the bedroom that I moved to the main level so my babies could stay with me at night and not have to worry about the stairs. Walking through the living room, the sound of their hoofs against the floor is like music to my ears.

My entire home is decorated in an abstract and unique aesthetic, as my mom would call it. Thehardwood floors are black, which match the wood trim and cabinets in the kitchen. White quartz countertops are my pop of color to the place as the walls are lined with beautiful dark Victorian-style vintage wallpapers, yes, wallpapers, plural, because one style would be boring. I have dark blues and purples with blacks and dark creams. My furniture is a mix of velvets and corduroy materials, and my wooden fireplace mantel once housed many individual deep red candles. I have since let the wax melt, making a beautiful draped effect that could never be replaced or duplicated. From time to time, I add to it, placing my candles on top of baby doll heads to burn. The texture and contrast of it all turns my sensory neurons into override with happiness.

The kitchen tile, fixtures, knobs, and handles are all this beautiful vintage brass. My pussy clenches as I admire my castle. Fuck, this house gets me horny. The entire aesthetic is perfection combined with the different textures and patterns, and it tickles my brain in that special spot.

All the windows have brushed brass and iron designs integrated into the tinted glass, allowing me to wander my home as I please, not that clear glass would stop me.

Currently, I’m only wearing a black lace thong. Opening the back door, I walk into the yard, the clicking of hoofs and tiny snorts of excitement continuing to trail behind. Keeping a freezer outside filled with fresh body parts, I open the lid and grab an arm and leg of a guy we had to eliminate a few days ago. He was taking more thanhis cut when collecting from the dealers we allow to occupy our town. We, the heads of The Devil’s Society, don’t take kindly to thieves, among other things, therefore my father made an example of him for those who may have forgotten. We also have a no fentanyl, heroin, or meth rule. Shit’s messy. We like to try and keep this place classy, which our pal was rumored to be trying to smuggle in.

Fucking idiot.

Daddy hung him proudly from the church. He was alive before his neck snapped when being pushed off the ledge, killing him a lot sooner than I would have liked. Before that, he suffered, though, his lips cut off and his hands removed. I’m not sure of the significance with the removal of his lips, other than Daddy being fixated on making them trophies as of late. He does something to harden them, then glues them on a small wooden plaque, adds a couple nails through the flesh around the lips, then displays them proudly on the wall outside of Greta’s room.

As blood dripped and added more stains to the church steps, we would drive others by to show him off and, subtly, send a message: don’t fuck with the hand that feeds you.

I smile at the memory of his limp limbs as I hold them in my hands.

Gus, my babies are going to love you.

Chucking the parts onto the lawn, Jack and Sally hustle over and begin devouring their dinner. Afterchecking on the water dishes, I go back inside where the air conditioner is blasting. The heat is hot but the pigs need some fresh air. I have a muck pile where they can go to cool down, along with a shaded area, so they will be fine. My dad taught me everything I need to know about raising pigs and keeping them happy, and they are the pride and joy of my life.

Padding my feet along the floor, I rush to my library, which has shelves all the way to the ceiling filled with the most fun reads, splatterpunk to horror to history books, which teach me new tricks, like the mummifying tools I used on the pet in my slaughterhouse tunnel just yesterday.

Fuck, I can’t believe all that happened only twenty-four hours ago.

In my library is my coveted scratched, vintage red gumball machine. I got this as a kid, and next to my pigs, this is another pride and joy of mine. Reaching into the bin beside it, I take a hold of a random Barbie and pull its head off. The popping of the head is satisfying, as I throw the body back into the bin. Unscrewing the lid at the top of the clear glass dome, I drop the head inside. It doesn’t fall far, maybe a few inches, because she is filling up fast. I hope to get a new one soon!

For each kill, I add a doll head.

The pest from the slaughterhouse will always be remembered and celebrated in my home. And I guess, like my dad is doing with the lips, these are my trophies.

Tightening the top, realization washes over me. Whatare we going to tell the others about Tash no longer being around?

Racing to my room, I find my Papa’s contact and send a quick message,

Boss Bitch

Tash is resting. What do we tell the Archangels and Demons?

Hellhounds will likely becurious as well, since Tash was in their ranks, but that’s up to the Demons to communicate to them.

If you were to compare The Devil’s Society to the Mafia, Papa and Rylee are like the heads or bosses of the family, with D and Cecilia, our Archangels, as the underbosses. It continues down as such with Demons; Mom, Dad, Greta, Uncle Thomas, and others being similar to capos and The Damned being members waiting to be initiated. One major difference between the Mafia and us is, we are way fucking cooler.

Boss Man

YOU will advise them on a story which contains some truth. Lies are easier to remember when a hint of truth is within.

She’s left tobe with her family.

Fuck,no pressure at all.

We know her family is dead, it’s why we took her in all those years ago, plus we saw her potential. He’s right, it’s the best message to send right now to not cause chaos and worry until we know more and have a plan on how to handle it.

Boss Bitch

---