Sweet revenge

The only thing that covered him was a simple loincloth. I just couldn’t bare looking at him completely naked. He was visibly malnourished; you could count his ribs just by looking at him. The smell of urine and waste was overbearing my senses; I decided to just stop breathing. It had to be done. This was the last chance I had to convey my feelings for that bastard that dared to think he could subjugate me. After all, this were his last hours of life upon this plane of existence before I destroyed his measly and pathetic soul. The body before me had its wrists shackled and was hanging from the ceiling, his feet barely touching the ground. It already had impressive scars from previous visits from some of my more vicious and sadistic boys. One scar ran along his left leg, another from his right nipple to abdomen almost touching the loincloth. They probably still hurt. He had the looks of a defeated man, a shell of the proud being he once was before all this happened. However, I saw right through him, I saw the hidden defiance, the will to live, to escape and pay me hundredfold for all that he suffered under the hands of my boys and my own.

It all started when I was year and a half old. I already had an extremely beautiful body of the seventeen year old. We were introduced at some gala and with that came news of him being my supposed intended. Oh, how I raged, the temper tantrum I threw was truly memorable. Even now fifteen hundred years later, I’m quite proud of the destruction I caused. Fortunately, for me my House is quite picky when it comes to picking my mate. Xander was completely rejected from the start. Still I had to withstand his idiocy and bide my time to free myself from him and those cretins who matched us. Finally, today arrived the day of my revenge.

My boys prepared him perfectly, the only thing left to do before the ritual was the breaking of his mind, his spirit. Otherwise, the ritual would not work. It had to work; there could not be any mistakes. It had to be perfect. I woke him up with a slight dose of stimulants, so that he would not faint. Moreover, they had a severe side effect of making ones mind more susceptible to the type of mind-fuckery I wanted done. First, I weaved an illusion in his mind bringing him to the days before his ‘death’. It was a repeat performance of the complete annihilation. His social status, his wealth, political power, everything he owned, one after another, thing after thing being destroyed by his own two hands, every feeling magnified tenfold. It was enough to break lesser man. To break Xander was needed more than that. So began the murders of his acquaintances, co-workers, friends, family, and finally his loved ones, those closest to his heart. All that blood that’s on his hands, that he spilled it sure was terrifying for him, he who never killed. I broke the illusion to see his face trembling with hatred and disgust at himself. In addition, the eyes, they were the best thing I have seen in a long time. The pure fear of oneself, the loathing, the hate that he regarded me with. My apathetic face changed into an impossibly wide grin, my face demonic, my eyes alight with unholy gleam. I started the last phase of breaking the man who I hated with passion unrivaled. At first, I made light cuts across his chest, slowly drawing out the precious liquid. Finally, I came with the dagger to the loincloth, which I cut. It has fallen and revealed the rest of his body. The sight of his erect cock disgusted me, so I continued with my plan that of a very slow castration with my extremely dulled blade. His agony, the screams, and moans of pain were music to my ears; the sounds were beautiful like the finest orchestra playing one of my favorite pieces. His penis was cut off and I quickly cauterized the wound, he couldn’t die that early in the game. While I wanted to try some things on him or remember some ways of torture I used when young, unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to do everything. At most, I had maybe half an hour left. What a pity. I started breaking his bones, first fingers than arms, crushing his feet. And than began another symphony of noises coming out of his mouth as I started cutting of his skin piece by piece, torturously slowly, as to savor this moment for the rest of eternity, of my life. At long last his voice died out, his eyes devoid of anything. The only thing left, the destroyed shell of a proud being.