Contributor: Tyler Gates
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She holds you down as she tightens the knots around your wrists. You are being attached to the bed frame. There you lay naked and cold. She has a grin plastered across her face. She is happy, an emotion she rarely displays. Reaching past your head she grabs a large box cutter. Moonlight sneaks in past the blankets she has covering her windows and shines across the brand new blade. Fear explodes inside you and begins a frantic race through your veins. Your muscles twitch and you try to shake loose. She smiles as she begins violently slashing at your chest. You scream and struggle to throw her off. She counters by putting her weight into her knees and muffling your screams by forcing her tiny fist in your mouth.
She continues slashing until a gaping hole forms in the center of your chest. Once satisfied with the size she tosses the blade aside and forces her free arm into your chest. The cavity where your heart used to be fills with blood as she begins to pump her fist in and out of your chest. Suddenly she begins moaning and and arching her back; an obvious result of the pleasure she is having. This goes on and on until she climaxes in a torrent of screams; matching yours in volume and intensity. After several moments of heavy panting she rips her blood soaked arm out of your chest and shoves two fingers in your mouth. Forcing you to taste the pieces of your own soul; a taste all too similar to metal shavings. Wiping the rest of the blood on the bedsheets she rolls over and gets comfortable with her back facing you. “Tomorrow night you can do it to me.” she says quietly before falling asleep.
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Tyler Gates exists barely in small town rural Midwest. His life is dotted with violent encounters with hillbillies, night jobs, alcohol binges, gas station explosions, and the occasional cult abduction. Besides playing writer he occupies his time with illegal underground home made hot air balloon races.
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She holds you down as she tightens the knots around your wrists. You are being attached to the bed frame. There you lay naked and cold. She has a grin plastered across her face. She is happy, an emotion she rarely displays. Reaching past your head she grabs a large box cutter. Moonlight sneaks in past the blankets she has covering her windows and shines across the brand new blade. Fear explodes inside you and begins a frantic race through your veins. Your muscles twitch and you try to shake loose. She smiles as she begins violently slashing at your chest. You scream and struggle to throw her off. She counters by putting her weight into her knees and muffling your screams by forcing her tiny fist in your mouth.
She continues slashing until a gaping hole forms in the center of your chest. Once satisfied with the size she tosses the blade aside and forces her free arm into your chest. The cavity where your heart used to be fills with blood as she begins to pump her fist in and out of your chest. Suddenly she begins moaning and and arching her back; an obvious result of the pleasure she is having. This goes on and on until she climaxes in a torrent of screams; matching yours in volume and intensity. After several moments of heavy panting she rips her blood soaked arm out of your chest and shoves two fingers in your mouth. Forcing you to taste the pieces of your own soul; a taste all too similar to metal shavings. Wiping the rest of the blood on the bedsheets she rolls over and gets comfortable with her back facing you. “Tomorrow night you can do it to me.” she says quietly before falling asleep.
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Tyler Gates exists barely in small town rural Midwest. His life is dotted with violent encounters with hillbillies, night jobs, alcohol binges, gas station explosions, and the occasional cult abduction. Besides playing writer he occupies his time with illegal underground home made hot air balloon races.
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Author:
Tyler Gates
