Le Cercle De Vengence-by Cherry Lynn Thomas Posted by cherrypieprod , Thursday, December 9, 2010 at 8:46 AM, in

“Did you like raping me? Did you? How does it feel to be the
bitch? You don’t like it do you?” Her anger hit him like hot rockets
of fire. Flying spit smacked his face with immense intensity. Her
eyes were ablaze with the all-consuming crazy lust for blood. She could
taste it on her lips. She needed more now; she liked it way too much.
He sat in a wooden chair, bound and gagged. Only hoping for the off
chance that someone would happen by. However, the chance of that hope was starting to dwindle as
the hours dragged on and on. She looked like a caged animal, pacing to
and fro as she waved the machete wildly mumbling incoherently to
herself. Swallowing the frog in his throat, he prayed for the first time in
his life.
“God please help me. I swear. Just help me.
Help me!!” He whispered as tears welled in his eyes. And for once he
felt what it was to be completely alone.
“What the hell are you babbling about? Did you say something to me?
Do you want “it” again? Do you?” She stood inches from his face,
glowering at her prey. He shook his head emphatically. He had to keep her at bay
for as long as possible. He couldn’t let her smell his fear.
“It” was nothing to be reckoned with. “It” consisted of an intense
beating, hair pulling, a few paper cuts, and lots of rubbing alcohol. All very
psychologically detrimental. But overall, he was dealing quite well
despite the fact that he had, no use of this arms or legs. His mouth
having been gagged, had managed to go numb. Blood trickled from every
orifice opening on his battered body, including new openings she had created with
her machete. He had in fact created a monster. Nevertheless, who could fault
her. Let’s start from the beginning.

March 1981

Evelyn Parks was a prominent real estate broker in South Beach. She
was going places, and fast. The world was on a string in her world, and
she deserved it. Having been abused as a child by many different
foster parents, she stopped talking for three years during middle school.
Upon being moved to a nice family, she began to regain her facilities.
Coming out of her shell took far less than anticipated, thus her foster
parents encouraged her to do all sorts of things, hoping it would aid
in her recovery. Moreover, it did. She graduated from high school the class
valedictorian, head cheerleader, and class president. She was on fire.
The summer after high school, she joined a non-profit women’s
organization hoping to make a difference. Meeting all kinds of interesting
women, and men, she quickly became part of many circles. Some of which
would have made most people uncomfortable. She was known to consort with
gays and the minorities. Didn’t she know her place? Having worked on
numerous projects for the past four years, she had created her own
circle. And a very A-list one at that. As the years progressed, men started to court her. One man went as far as to stalk her.

His name was Cliff Roth. He despised these bra burning liberal women.
They belonged at home with the kids, and in the kitchen making his food
in preparation for when he got home. Their behavior would not be
tolerated. He would teach all of these whores a lesson. So he followed Eve every where she went. Never coming to close. Always just a few steps behind. She had never actually seen his face.

December 31st, 1981
Having been watching the small organization of woman for almost three
months now, he was ready to make his move. Eve worked there. He would simply blow up the
building. That would rid his pristine world of these whoremongers once
and for all. The plan was simple enough. He would pay someone to go
in and deliver the bomb in the form of a package. If the delivery boy
died in the process, o well, that was a risk Harper was willing to
take. He would be across the street, a safe distance away enjoying the
fireworks.
At four o’clock the delivery boy went in. At four o’ five he came back
out all grins. Ten minutes later the building was blown to
smithereens. Debris and burnt flesh came flying from all directions. He chuckled
to himself heartily. He had done the Lord’s work. Now they could all
get back to their lives. He got into his pick up and drove slowly
along the main drag, content with himself. He lit his
‘after-sex-cigarette’ since that was the only time it was permissible for him to smoke.
Turning onto his street, he happened upon a lovely young woman walking
alone. He slowed next to her, watching her uneasiness. It was Eve.
“Do you need a ride? I wont hurt you love.” He grinned happily. The
endorphins had given him a surge of power. He could do anything, or
anyone. Scanning the area, he determined they were alone. He hopped
from the truck without putting it in park. He leapt in front of her,
blocking her path. Her heart raced with fear. This was what her foster
mother had warned her about.


Before her mind could process what was happening, it happened.


He leapt onto her body like a jaguar on a hare. Her arms were pinned
to her side as pulled her back into the truck. He used his knee to slide
her frock up higher on her slender body. She writhed and fought,
desperate to be free, desperate for some sort of normalcy to her already
hectic world. He had his way with her, ripping her clothing and flesh in
the process. What had she done to deserve this over and over again?
She was worth more than a piece of ass to some ruffian. Anger welled in
her chest and throat. Closing her eyes, she thought “she was going to
have to fix this situation”. The rage enveloped her like a blanket of
black velvet. Her vision began to blur, and everything looked oddly
dim. Finding her voice, she began to growl and scream with anguish,
clawing desperately at the air and her attacker. Nails dug deep into his
bitter flesh, leaving the evidence of her wrath behind. Smelling the blood,
she became increasingly hungry for more. She snapped her head back, and
continued to head butt him, over and over again, knocking him
unconscious. His face was bloody and unrecognizable from the continuous
pounding he took from her skull. She panted heavily as she surveyed her work.
Satisfied for the moment, she slowly sank into the seat and began to ascend back to reality.
Panic seized her when the reality of what she had done, landed her flat on her ass. She may have
killed him. Touching his face, he stirred only slightly. In
desperation, she searched for a pulse. Anxiety welled in her throat at the
prospect of what she may have done. Frantically she scanned the streets
for any possible witnesses. Shoving him to the side, she scooted into
the driver’s seat, and headed to her house, about a half a mile away.
Her mind raced during the drive, darting from the road back to her
victim. Arriving at her house, she cautiously looked around again as she
slid out of the truck, and scurried to the passenger side. She dragged
his limp body to the ground, not being careful with his person. She
pulled him to the house and dropped him in the living room.


Wiping the sweat from her brow, she searched for rope or string of some
kind to restrain him should he wake. Emptying drawers and cabinets,
she finally came across some twine at the bottom of a closet. Quickly she
stripped him. She wanted him to be raw before her, just as he had made
her. Happily, she bound him to a kitchen chair, tying him in no
particular fashion. Grabbing an oven mitt from the kitchen, she attempted
to shove it into his mouth. His eyes popped open just then, wild and scared. Eve took pleasure in this. She spat profanities repeatedly in his
face as she continued to shove the mitt into his mouth. He shouted as
loud as he could, only to be muffled by the mitt. Struggling in vain,
he tried to break free of the knots. However, Eve had done a great job
of double knotting everything. He was going nowhere.


She paced angrily in front of him, back and forth. This lasted for
what seemed like an eternity. He had no idea what this woman was going to
do. He may have picked up the wrong girl. He watched her with
fascination. Yes, he knew he may die, but he was more enthralled by the idea
that this woman had taken control of the situation and had fought back.
No woman had ever fought him before. He was Cliff Bradford, actor
extraordinaire. A force not to be reckoned with.
Cliff Bradford was an interesting specimen. Starting out in Tinsletown
at the age of ten, he had very little time for socializing, or a life
at all. He became friendly with the staff on the set. Stagehands,
grips, lighting guys, and just about anyone he could talk to, he did. He
needed to get inside their heads and find out what made this people
tick. What was their motivation? Much to the dismay of his parents, he
excelled at his career. Having been born into wealth, he was accustomed
to getting exactly what he wanted at all times. This included women.
He would stop at nothing to achieve what he wanted. Nothing. Over the
years, he had molested over a thousand different women, and a few men
to boot. His insatiable desire for sex is only succeeded by his will to
be the most powerful man in Hollywood. His family, being the upstanding
citizens that they are, kept all of those matters concealed.


Eve, still pacing and wild, whirled around at her captive, seemingly
pleased with the current situation. She lunged at the chair, stopping
only inches from his face. He could smell the hot desperation on her
breath. She glared at him
vengefully, her mind racing all the while. Slowly she rose to an erect
position. Carefully, she walked to down a corridor to the garage, out of Cliff’s
eyesight. Again, he tried to get free. The knots were just too
tight. When Eve returned, she looked different, almost translucent. It
was as if something took over her being, replacing her with an alien of
sorts. Her hands were behind her back, making Cliff very nervous.
She showed her prize. A machete. He tried to scream, but only
muffled yelps escaped the oven mitt. She licked the tip of it hungrily.
She needed more blood. Ripping open his shirt, she traced the machete
along the line of his chest, watching the dips in muscle that ran along
his torso.


“You know, I can kill you right now. In addition, no one would ever know.
But I’m not going to. I have something much better for you.” She
straddled him in the chair. His manhood stirred beneath her. She
snickered at him.


“That would make you happy wouldn’t it? If I just gave you some? If I
just fucked you!” Her voice got increasingly louder.


“Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t just rape someone and
get away with it. I’m not going to tell the police. I have my own way
of dealing with you.” She grabbed the back of the chair and drug it to
the stop of the basement stairs. She thought for a moment, she could
do it nicely or the right way. So, she did it the right way. She let go
of the chair, letting it fall to the foot of the stairs. It crashed to
the cement floor, leaving Cliff cracked and broken. He whimpered in
pain. The dim light bulb overhead swung back and forth, creating an
eerie glow. When Eve reached the bottom, she stood over him for a
moment, watching.


“How does it feel to be helpless? Huh? How does it fucking feel?”
With that, she kicked him in his side, crushing a few ribs in the
process. A few more cries of pain escaped the oven mitt. Again, she kicked.
He cried again.


“Why are you crying? Don’t be a fucking baby. Take it like a man.
You’re a man right. Take it!!” Blow after blow landed on his body. His
face, his stomach, his back, nothing was missed by her heavy foot.
After a few minutes she stopped, snapping herself back to reality. She
really needed to keep it together. Picking up the chair, she sat it
upright, on its now three legs. Bloody and defeated, Cliff’s head hung
to his chest. She smirked at him as she removed the oven mitt.


“What do you have to say for yourself? Speak dammit!!” She was in his
face, spitting and shrieking for him to respond. But he refused.
Mostly because it hurt far too much to even breath. Becoming infuriated,
she stormed back upstairs, only to return with the machete and some
sheets of paper.


“You’re going to fucking talk to me dammit. You were such a man an
hour ago. What happened?” Grabbing him by a tuft of hair, she yanked his
head back with one hand, while the other proceeded to cut him deeply
with the paper. One cut below his eye, another behind his ear, one along
his leg, and yet another on the tip of his penis. This one caused a
loud cry of pain much to the delight and surprise of Eve. She giggled.
She was really enjoying this torturing thing. Continuing to cut him in
random places all over his body, this went on for the next hour or
so. Shoving the mitt roughly back into his mouth, she walked over to a
dark corner of the basement. Cliff, desperate and scared tried to
reason with the insane woman.


”I’m sorry. I had no idea. You are just so pretty. I wanted to touch
you, to hold you. Is that wrong?” He said thru the mitt. She flew from the corner, holding a
bottle of rubbing alcohol in one hand. Her grin was devilish and
seductive.


“You wanted to touch me. Touch me now.” She straddled him again,
planting her lips full on his, sucking his tongue and lips. He began to
relax as he got into the groove of the moment. But it was just that, a
moment. With one foul swoop, she threw the entire contents of the
alcohol bottle on him, drenching his body. His cuts screamed in agony, his
skin sucking the liquid dry. Especially his penis. Satisfied, she
retreated back upstairs, leaving him in his misery.




The next day:


At around eight a.m., Eve trudged the length of the dirt road to her
job in a daze. What had she done? She was now a felon and would be
wanted within a matter of days. Despite the fact that he had raped her,
there was no excuse for her actions. What if he escaped today, even though there was an armoire up against the basement door? How
would he do it. Her mind was inundated with all sorts of possible
scenarios. But nothing could prepare her for what she came across when she
came to her office building. Having been occupied last night with her
new torture victim, she hadn’t had the chance to watch any television,
or pay too much attention to what was going on outside. Much to her
surprise, there was no office building.


Firefighters, policemen, and news anchors flooded the area, all trying
to get the inside scoop as to what was going on. Rushed people bustled
around and past her as she stood in awe, staring. She was in shock.
This place had been her entire universe. And now, it was gone. Where
was she to go?


“Excuse me sir, what happened here?” She asked stunned.


“There was an explosion of some kind. Did you work here?” The officer
peered authoritatively over his specs.


“Yes” she whispered. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned on her heel,
and headed towards home. Every person that she loved and cared for had
been in that building. She had no idea where to turn now. She was
alone. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized she had to begin the
next chapter in her life if she was going to survive. Tears streamed
down her porcelain face, making it hard for her to see. Somehow, she made
it home through her tears. Slamming the door behind her, she sunk to
the floor and sobbed. Pounding her fists on the floor, she let out
what aggression she was feeling for the moment, exhausting herself. She
crawled to her bed, still sobbing. Climbing in, she closed her eyes to
the world, hoping to forget everything.


Two weeks later:

It had been a little over two weeks since Eve had found herself alone
in the world. Having made a resolve to not leave her bed, she had lost
a considerable amount of weight. Not that anyone was around to notice. The sounds below stirred her back to the real world.
She still had him to deal with.


The basement, dark and dank, now smelled of human feces, urine and
mold. Cliff was a mess by this point. Having not been able to actually
use a bathroom , he opted to go where he sat. This may not have been
such a wise decision, since Eve hadn’t bothered to even acknowledge him
for the past two weeks. He struggled to speak through the oven mitt,
desperate for some sort of communication. She pulled the mitt from his mouth.

“You want me to talk. Fine I will. I have followed your pretty little ass for months. Every time you take a shit, I was right there. Every time you touch yourself and think no one is watching....I’m right there baby. And guess what? I killed all of those little whores you call friends. I killed all of them.” He laughed devilishly. She looked deep into his eyes, turned, and trudged back up stairs. She reappeared with a pen and some paper.

“Are you right- handed or left- handed?” Yanking at his arm, she
dragged him across the concrete floor to the wall, with her machete in tow.
Snatching a spare piece of rope hanging from the wall, she tied his
left arm to the boiler, and released his right. The thrust the pad and
pen at him.

“Write this down. ‘ am sorry for all of the pain I have caused, I am
leaving. I am solely responsible for the death of all those in the
Women’s Rights building. I acted out of fear. I know that it was wrong.
But I cannot go to jail. So I will run. Once again I am sorry.’ And
write it just the way I said.? She stood over him, watching every
move. He added on the end, ‘I hope I see you again one day mom.’ He prayed that
she would notice that he called her ‘mom’ and not ‘mum’.

“You bastard! Did I say add extra shit? Now put it in the envelope.
Do it!” Cliff watched her carefully. Did she know what he had really
done? She didn’t seem to. Snatching the envelop back, she held it between
her lips while she retied him. He already knew the deal with her. It
was best not to fight her. Should he get that urge, she had ways of
putting him back in his place. A few cuts here and there, a facial
beating, or perhaps a skull rearrangement might be in order. Thus, he
remained docile. Eve slipped out the front door and ran to the corner to
drop it in the mailbox.


June 1981

Cliff watched the mice play and feed each other consistently for the
past year. Day in and day out. They were his only companions and source
of enjoyment. That was the only time that he was truly alone with his
thoughts. What had he gotten himself into? A creak from above brought
him back to reality. He remained still, tightening his muscles,
preparing for another physical battle. Nothing. He let his mind wander
again. When was he going to be free? He hadn’t seen the light of day in
almost a year if he had done his math right. Why had no one found him
yet? He was rich, and he knew that his family was looking for him.
Right? Wrong. He had to keep reminding himself of the letter she made
him write. He had given his confession. How had fate turned on him so
tragically? His once sculpted physique had deteriorated to skin and
bones. She refused to feed him more than once every other day, and forget
about drinking. He got to drink the dribbles of vinegar that oozed from a dirty sponge. Every once in a while she would let him pee in a cup,
he knew better than to ask about taking a shit. The first two days he
was there, he had to go, he pleaded and begged for hours, to no avail.
He had to take the conventional method, shit where you lay. That was
most certainly not pleasing, thus he learned to hold it until he was
allowed to go. Eve left him everyday to go to work at a new job.
Moreover, he knew this, but he had yet to figure a way out of the hell she had
created. The machete she had brought down on their first day, still
leaned up against the wall not more than five feet from him. His hand
and feet were both bound, so it was going to be impossible. Jumping up
and down in the chair for momentum, he attempted to reach it, only to
fall over on his side from the lack of the fourth chair leg. He landed with a thud, knocking the wind out of
him for a brief second. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he
saw Eve in the corner behind some boxes. Sure enough, in a flash she was
hovering over him.


“you fucking bastard! Where are you going? Do you not know? You are
my bitch now.” Righting his chair, she punched him in his stomach,
doubling him over in pain. Picking up the machete, she made a small
incision in his penis, watching the blood ooze.


“Is this what you want? Is it?” She cut him again. He shrieked in pain. She had gone way too far. He writhed in excruciating pain. He howled. She laughed hysterically. She climbed the stairs back to normalcy.

She was famished. Since she had begun her tedious task of torturing someone that had initially tortured her, she had not eaten. Pulling condiments and deli items from her fridge, she began to make a sandwich. Nibbling and chewing on her concoction, she thought about what her next plan of action should be. Staring off into space, she took a swig of apple juice, then the next bite. As she swallowed, she realized something was askew. The food wouldnt go down. She reached for the juice, trying to clear her throat, to no avail. Shades of purple and blue filled her once beautiful face. She gurgled and choked, as the life slipped from her grasp. Her life flashed before her eyes. She fell to the linoleum floor with a thud. Her eyes wide with fright, glassed over as the last chokes of breath escaped her. She lay in a puddle of her own bile and drool. She looked like anything but peaceful.

Downstairs, he listened intently. He had heard a thud, but no other sound. He listened, for what felt like an eternity. But no other sound came from upstairs. He waited, and waited, and waited. But she never came. Anxiety mounted in his chest. Where had she gone? After some time, he dozed off. His chin rested uncomfortably on his chest. Someone was standing in front of him, and next to him. He struggled to snap out of his sleep induced haze. They were both women, and they looked really concerned.

“We’re going to get you out of here. Would you like to take a shower?” Her eyes were filled with genuine concern. She slowly undid the knots on his wrists and ankles. The other woman sponged his wounds with a warm concoction. Her touch felt good to his bruised skin. His body sighed with relief. His ordeal was finally over.


Three months later...

Cliff sat in his plush apartment, recanting his recent experience. What had he learned? Absolutely nothing. In the back bedroom lay his latest victim. She was naked, gagged, and bound to the bed post. He positioned her, so that her legs were wide apart. It appeared as if you could see all the way up into her soul. She sobbed and pleaded. He wasnt listening. Someone had to pay for Eve’s sins. Even if it was only her little sister.

The end.