Ending H

A New Dolly

That frail looking, disfigured torturer managed to catch you unawares. The blow to your head had knocked you unconscious and while you were out cold he managed to haul you onto the flat table in the torture room and bound your hands in place. Even as your head throbs and your eyes struggle to adjust to the unnatural dark of the dungeon, you know that you are totally fucked. You don't need to see the implements that the little freak was fondling and drooling over to know that your death will be a slow and painful one.

"Yesch, Yesch... So many different ways, s-sso little time..." He was mumbling to himself, picking up one thing only to hesitate and set it down before picking up another. The soft metallic clank of the tools repeatedly tapping against the sheet the torture devices were displayed upon constantly played upon your frayed nerves, making you twitch and jump at every little noise that echoed off the stone walls of the torture room.

You couldn't see much from the angle you were laying. Not only were your wrists and ankles bound, but your head was strapped down so that you couldn't turn your neck at all. All you could do was stare at the torturer's hunched back, waiting for the inevitable. When he turned around to face you, your stomach dropped.

Everything about him was grotesque. You couldn't stand to look at him but looking away into the pitch blackness wasn't a good alternative either. Panic began to numb your mind as the torturer looked over your body. He seemed to still be debating to himself on the best place to begin your torture.

"Too little... Too little..." You jumped and tried to shrink away from his touch, the tips of his brittle and cracked nails touching your bare hand had your skin crawling and a chill racing down your spine. A pathetic whimper bubbled up from the back of your throat. It was all you could do to not burst into hysterical sobs. The anticipation of pain and suffering might be the worst kind of torture, you thought. But you didn't know cruelty like this miserable creature did...

Trortur was scrutinizing every little detail of your body. Your bone structure, your weight, the suppleness of your skin... He pinched the skin of your cheek, pleased with how soft it was and how it quickly snapped back into shape. You pressed your prettily shaped lips into a thin line as his fingers traced around their edges, but it wouldn't stop him from prying them open so he could look at your pearly white teeth. All there, in pristine condition...

"F-Fine s-specimen... S-sso..." The words got lost in his throat as he fished for his trusty knife. It was an old favourite of his: sharp enough to flay a man but also sturdy enough to cut through the pesky leather straps that held your armour together. The look of terror on your face went straight to his core as he sliced through the first strap with a flick of his wrist.

"W-Wai- W-Wait a moment-!"

Trortur hummed to himself as your struggle against your bindings renewed. The whimpers and cries of despair and defeat are so sweet on the ears... Yours were no different from the others, yet the thrill it brings him is already enough to cause his hands to tremble and he has yet to cause you any real pain yet!

Cut.

Cut.

Cut.

Your chest plate is peeled away like a layer of skin. With every breath you took, your chest heaved. Sweat soaked through your tunic and your eyes were pinpricks with fear. Trortur placed his hand on your chest so he could feel the beating of your heart.

Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum-

Quick, just like a little rabbit's... He stroked the slope of your chest, his own heartbeat quickening as your body shuddered and tears formed in your bloodshot eyes.