Erotica Anthology #10

Gore

#54

Gore

[ Erin ]

Erin tries to control her heavy breathing while hiding behind one of the huge cut of raw meat, its size big enough to cover her slender body, yet nothing seems to be enough to stop her from making so much noise. She is panicking, her heart beating like a hammer, but when it does not work, she resorts to clasping her palm over her nose and mouth instead, not wanting to draw attention to where she is. The woman keeps on moving in between bags in order to distance herself from the danger, yet she can not help herself from trembling in fear, feet almost glues to the floor from the fear.

The killer is here, in the same room as her. He is waiting, looking around, eyes peering to spot his next victim. His body is sweaty, his breathing raging, the grip in his hand tense, and he glares his eyes to the point that it almost hurts. He does not seem to care though, his full attention centered on finding the woman. He knows that she is in here somewhere, hiding, cowering in fear. He will find her, and then he will butcher her, just like the pieces of meat that are hanged in this cool room.

Leatherface begins kicking one of the big meat cuts, hands shoving to push another row of meat away from his sight. She is not behind any of them, but he continues to search through the others.

Erin is doing just fine despite her trembling state, until her shoes slide against the tile floor a little bit to sharply, causing a friction of rubber against porcelain to sound it, and thus alerting the enemy of her presence.

Heavy steps suddenly picks up, charging fast towards her.

The woman is screaming now, and she struggles hard to push the slabs of meat cuts out of the way, trying to distance herself from him.

Leatherface is quick on his steps, sure and lethal. The woman does not stand a chance.

She hears the sounds of a chainsaw being turned on, its blade cutting through the flesh and bones from behind her.

He is hot on her trail. The fear pushes her to move vigorously, but the same fear also makes her turn reckless.

In less than a few seconds, Erin feels a dark shadow behind her. Before she can turn around or do anything else, the brunette feels a blunt force impacting on the back of her body, causing her to tumble down, landing splayed on the cold freezing floor. Her back hurts so much to the point that it is almost paralyzing. She tries to will herself to move, only managing to shift her shaking hand slightly, before the same blunt impact makes its way towards her head, knocking her out cold.

When Erin opens her eyes again, she is positioned in a different room. The bastard has hanged up somewhere at a chain, and she panics not only from unable to feel the ground under her feet, but also from the sharp pain at the back of her neck. It hurts so much that she screams a screeching scream, the sound tearing through the dark room until it echoes back to her ears. It hurts like hell, and when she tries to move, she feels something tearing at the skin of her back.

“What the—” Her voice is merely a whimper, barely coherent. She tries to move her hands, raising them to the level of the chains that is hooking her to place. Erin struggles to find it, trying to figure out what is happening to her. It seems like she has been hooked to a chain, just like a freaking animal ready to be butchered.

Leatherface chooses that moment to step out from the shadows, dragging in his signature chainsaw at hand. Erin screams for help in the top of her lungs with newfound vigor, her voice so loud it is almost deafening, yet it is as if no one is able to hear her.

The serial killer is still trying to pick up his choice of spot, purposefully prolonging this while Erin grows even more panicked. She can her blood trickling from the gaping wound of her back while she trashes against the hook, each struggling causing the wound to widen up even more, overwhelming her sensory with gut punching pain.

He lingers his rusty saw from different points of her body, as if trying to decide which place to cut in mind. He makes the saw hovers over her neck, causing Erin to take a huge gulp, before it goes down to the level of her blood stained tank top, resting just where her breasts are. The sharp teeth of the saw grazes against her n*****s through the shirt, and Erin swears that he has just make a new cut on her. The cold contact causes her breathing to pause for a few seconds, the dead silence stretching for moments too long, before it eventually moves down.

The masked man is not giving her any chance to calm down though. Her chest begins to beat like a black bird once again when he places the chainsaw over her gut, blade barely touching the naked skin where the ends of her tank is lifted just enough to expose her stomach.

Even when covered in blood and sweat, her slightly toned stomach still appears taut. Leatherface trails the edge of his saw across the muscles of her flat stomach, the teeth of the saw craving dangerously at each ripple of tame muscles. He is taunting her, she knows, but Erin can not help but to play into this sick game of his, unable to deny that creeping terror that is slowly but surely consuming her entire being.

He pauses just right above his navel. The piece of equipment is not on yet, but already Erin is shivering in fear for what is to come to her. She can’t help it, being hanged from her back with her legs touching air, the weight of her body only adding up to the digging pain embedded inside her flesh. Erin wants nothing more but to get away from all of this nightmare, but her limbs feel like they are half asleep, too muddled up by the pain to be moved properly. It hurts too much to move her upper body, and the metal hook seems to only dig even deeper whenever she tries to do something. There does not seem to be anything she can not to lessen the pain, or even trying to get herself away from this horror.

She still feels cold when he removes the chainsaw off her skin. He pulls back slightly just to turn on the equipment.

Now is her chance, she tells herself. Erin tries to rise her arms, but a thunder of pain shocks her from her back when she tries it.

The masked man is practically seconds away from activating his murder tool, and here she is hanging about like a victim. She needs to move quickly if she wants to escape from this, and that means fighting through the pain at all cost.

Erin yells out a whimper of pain as she pushes herself to reach the dangling chain that is connected to her from above. She winces as she moves, but she is gradually building progress in her hasty attempts. And when she hears the sound of roaring coming from below, she knows that she really needs to act fast.

Panic makes her movement slippery. She manages to grab into it, thinking that she can pull herself off the chain, but she ends up slipping. The chains tense and the hook ends up ripping more than a few muscle tissues from inside her back. Screaming in pain and frustration, Erin thrashes wildly now, not caring even if she is only hurting herself. She just wants to get as far away from this place. Please work!

More blood begin to drip from her back, staining the skin and her white top, but she does not care. If pulling up does not work, she will go down instead. Erin uses her body weight in a desperate attempt to lower herself, snapping the bleeding tissue along the way.

Leatherface positions the chainsaw towards her mid section. Erin struggles with great strength. She thrashes and pulls and screams and screams until—

Her skin rips.

Something within her body snaps, causing liters of blood to flow out in one go.

Erin falls to the ground, the tips of her falling hair nipped by the saw just at the nick of time when he swings it forward, its blade ends up cutting through empty air.

The masked man swings his chainsaw downwards, and Erin tries her best to roll her body out of the way, but she is too late.

The young woman scrambles to her feet, using her hands to stable herself, only to find out that she can only use one of them. The other one . . . Erin looks down, only to find the upper half of her arm.

It’s gone. Her arms. It is supposed to be there but its gone. Her eyes see but her brain can not compute.

Erin stares at the floor near the masked man’s feet, where her amputated arms lies still, pools of blood gathering around her lifeless limp.

She screams bloody murder.

And scream and scream and scream until there is no sound coming out of her throat, until it dries out and throbs in pain, yet nothing still match to the pain of losing her arm. And if she does not move quick soon, she will be losing more than just an arm.

Erin knows what she should do, but her entire body is freezing in fear. She feels extremely faint and she can not breathe. And while the young woman is drowned and choked in her own fear, the serial killer steps in closer, each step slower than her hammering heartbeat.

Everything seems so surreal. No, there is no way that this is happening. This is way too cruel. She can’t—

Leatherface uses one of his legs, the sole of his boot kicking the woman off to the cold concrete floor. She topples down without much help, still too shocked in a state to catch herself from losing her balance. He does not remove his feet though, instead pressing the weight from her chest while he aims for her middle.

Choking in her own blood, the merciless blade of the saw finally gets to her.

Blood squirts out in tiny fountains as the blade makes way into her stomach, pushing apart the skin to occupy the spinning metal object. Erin is in so much pain that no sound even flows out from her parted lips, her eyes bulging, still staring hopelessly at her severed arm lying across the floor.

The masked man presses in, drilling right from the small button of her navel. He watches intensely as what starts out as a thin cut soon turn into a wide messy cut across her stomach. Blood guts out, obscuring his view from the mess he makes. Chunks of flesh flies everywhere as the blade spins, spitting out bits and pieces of the woman wildly at every direction. She bleeds so much to the point that her clothes are completely soaked in her own blood, coloring her skin with dark red.

Instead of going all out, he likes to toy with this victim. He cuts her, but not deep enough to kill her instantly. No, he wants to play with her more, make her suffer and make her sing out her agony. Sadly, this particular toy has worn out, not making much sound other than a slim whimper.

That will not do, so he will have to be a little bit more creative than this. The masked man twists the chainsaw, turning it ninety degrees until he is cutting her vertically. The woman is barely conscious at this point, until the newfound pain brings her back to live. Her scream is stretching, too dry that it sounds forced, but she is still as loud as he knows she can be.

A sadistic smile is pulling at the man’s lips beneath the mask, causing the muscles around his face to hurt a little bit from the unusual gesture. He has not been smiling much in his life, but he thinks this time it is appropriate for such an occasion.

He begins thrusting the saw in and out of her guts, pumping her out of blood and pieces of her guts as the teeth keeps on spinning inside and on her. It cuts her up wider from the outside, the outer layer of her skin parting wider at each thrust until he can see the many layers of her skin from the gaping hole of her mid section.

They look almost beautiful really, the sight allowing him to appreciate the artistic side of human flesh. He can never get bored with this, because one is never truly the same. He had cut a fat man’s belly before, and his insides are rather different from this woman’s. She does not have much meat he can cut open to, making access to her insides even easier.

His saw is already making some juice from her guts. All kinds of smell fill out the air when he hits certain spots, but that does not seem to discourage him at all. He is already used to the putrid scents of human nature, and even bathed in the glory of it. She has such a pretty face, but she looks even prettier in misery.

When he is drawing out too much blood to the point that the entire floor and both of them are covered in it, the woman barely moves. He can not even draw out a scream from her anymore, because she is already dying. She is so close to losing her consciousness, but he knows that she is still alive. Just a little bit more. He can still have some fun with her.

Once she is all cut up, he sets aside the chainsaw and begins diving his finger into her belly, feeling out the little bit of warmness that is still left inside her, squeezing out her organs recklessly like he is playing with a squeeze ball, being eventually starting to pull out the strings of bowels fistful by fistful.

Look at this! Look at how much s**t you got in here! He does not say anything, because his actions say it all. Tears stream through her eyes as Erin watches on with blurry vision, her body barely functioning anymore at this point, yet it still hurts like hell and back again. She blacks out at some points, unable to keep up with the pain, but the masked man seems to always find ways to bring her back to consciousness again and again, all the while pulling out her intestines like she is some mystery to solve.

. . . Curse you! Damn you all to hell! She hopes someone else will get him, and that someone will not go easy on him. She wants him to die as horrible as she is dying. Erin is still full of hate and pain even in the short moments that lead her to death’s door.

The masked man pauses a second to glance at her glaring; she looks so weak that she can barely move a muscle, but he knows when he spots one. He has seen too many of it through all this time. Not many are able to stay alive for this long, he has to admire this, though in the end it only entertains him more. There is no little of things that he can enjoy anymore, but this is definitely one of them; to have someone’s guts within his reach, to feel out just what exactly humankind is made out of, to measure their will based on the very organs that keeps them going. He does not simply ignore her; he thrives in her reactions.

After the continues abused of her chainsaw, as well as being forced to occupy his hands while trying to pull out her insides, her once tight and toned stomach has turned into a flimsy, gaping hole, her guts and what is remained of her digesting and reproduction system exposed. She is bleeding so much to the point that her once tan skin is now all covered up in dark red.

Once he pulls out most of her bowels, he begins moving on to other things, making the stubborn woman feels every single touch of his grabby hands. He can feel just how soft her insides are, playing the warm organs with his fingertips, tracing amused touches across the places that she never knew she could feel. Even as her guts piling around her sides, Erin is still hanging into her dear life, though barely. It hurts! God, it hurts so much!

He can feel the shape of her womb, the many bags of her reproductive organs. He pulls them out one by one also, the impact of the chainsaw making them very easy to be pulled out by bare hands, albeit still very slippery. Human bodies are so fragile, and his little experiment continues to proof so. Once he scoops them out also, he continues by moving on to the upper deck, aiming for her respiratory system and heart this time.

She can barely feel anything anymore when he gets to her heart. His vile hands wrap around the gentle organ hungrily, before yanking it out as well. Her body is completely paralyzed at this point. She loses all feelings entirely, not even feeling anything when he shakes her body up and down brutally as he tries to tear that part of her up as well. His entire arms are buried inside the area where her bowels are used to be, occupying the small, tight space until he tears out a new one on her. Erin does not care though, as she welcomes the sweet calming state of death.

There is no pain; there is only darkness.

Her eyes do no even close properly when he manages to rob her of her heart, the thing still pumping ever so persistently, the muscles still remembering how to move even though the body is not receiving any more blood flow. He tosses it out merely a second later, bored with it already, the still thumping heart joins in along the rest of the pile of the woman’s discarded organs. His attention turns to the now dead woman’s mid section opening, using his bare hands to brutally rip her apart.

He is doing just fine, finding it easy to tear open her tissue muscles with his bare, blood soaked hands, until he starts to get to the back bone. He flips her body around, eyes assessing the damages that he has created, before settling to the bloody wound below her neck, where he had hooked her up like a piece of animal to slaughter before. It was a waste that she had managed to drop herself off from it. She would have died in one swing if she had stayed. But no matter, he is having more fun like this anyway.

Since the spinal cord is too stubborn to be broken, even after using the end of his boots to continually kick her in hope of snapping her in half, the masked man eventually relies upon his most trusted weapon and cuts through.

The floor is still soaked with his victim’s blood by the end of the day, but he has found a nice way to recycle the chunks of meat in that slaughter house, by making her pigs’ feeder.

. . . . .

[ Heater ]

He has her in the casket. All of her friends are already dead, and soon enough, she will be too.

Heater can not stop screaming on the top of her lungs, fear eating out her very soul. The saw has been jabbing through the casket’s lid, and pretty soon it will hit her. She is trapped inside with no way out. The girl can not do anything, her only exit already blocked by the murderous masked man.

It does not take long before the chainsaw bust through the casket’s lid entirely, damaging enough that she can see him through the newly formed hole. Everything happens so fast that wood dust enters her respiratory system without her being able to prevent it from happening, sending the girl off to a series of heavy coughing. The cutting does not last long, before as soon as he turns the lid into pieces of wood, he lifts her up and drags her onto the dirt above.

Suddenly, Heater can feel hands on her, grabbing, scratching, clenching, leaving all kinds of hand marks all over her tender skin. It stings where his rugged palms touch her, but she bets this will be nothing compared to what he plans to do to her.

Slamming her against the hard ground, knocking the breath out of her upon the impact of her skull, before he situates himself sitting on top of her. Heater feels dizzy, her world spinning around her out of control. She knows that she needs to move quick, but her body refuses to budge. The masked man takes this chance to press one hand upon her exposed stomach, the other lifting the end of her shirt out of the way.

His grimy fingers trace unwelcome touches all over from beneath her breasts to the dent of her navel, the other tracing from the band of her pants and up to her mid section. Heater’s breathing increases from the panic, fear gripping at her very core as he moves above her.

Leatherface moves quickly showing a single form of hesitation, touching her stomach as if it is his, as if he has any rights to her at all. Heater tries to fight him off, punching and kicking aimlessly, but the man is much stronger and heavier than her. When he gets sick of her struggles, he smacks the side of her face so hard, it causes her world to go dark for a few moments.

Heater’s vision turns black for some time while she can hear her ears — especially her right side — go ringing for more than just a short while. Her right cheek throbs. She has clearly never been hit before, especially not this hard. The impact causes her to be rendered for more than a few seconds. And while the young woman is overwhelmed with pain and confusion, Leatherface uses that chance to place himself in between her parted legs and removes his mark.

He only lifts it partially, revealing dry dotted skin and lips that are way too large for his dull jawline. The masked man leans his face down before Heater can distance herself from him, and that is when she can feel something cold and slimy rubbing against her belly button.

She lets out a panic scream, yet the man merely continues to touch her. It must be his tongue! He is licking off her skin like she is a God damn candy, trailing wet saliva all over across her stomach while he enjoys himself dining off from her shivering form. She tries to leap off, but it only causes the distance between her stomach and his mouth to grow closer, making her almost gag from the contact.

Heater wants him to let her go, but Leatherface is beyond reasoning. She still attempts to punch his shoulders, but the strength is no longer in her when she does that. And while she is trying to get him off her, his tongue is busy tasting and trailing all over across her midsection.

She stomach is definitely flat. No sign of muscles there, the texture of her skin too smooth for her own good. He can not help it. It makes him want to own her even more. Such smooth skin. Such delicious skin! He brings his tongue across her stomach, but he always finds his way back to her navel, encircling the tip of his tongue around the little dent of flesh.

Her skin is fair, almost pale. There appears to be no marks or blemishes too, unlike his. She has no single strand of hair grown out of place. So young. So perfect. And her small though slightly tall stature only makes this even easier for him to do. She is practically helpless against him.

It also adds up to the points when she smells and tastes so delectably, despite all of that running and sweating. One can not really beat a sweet little young girl like her. He enjoys the way goosebumps raise to her skin whenever he moves his tongue against her in a particular way, not being able to help himself but to chuckle from the reacting he manages to draw out of her. The girl only groans in response, too disgusted by his actions, and for even thinking for a second that she is enjoying his revolting touch. He also likes the way her body flutters underneath him like a trapped bird, oxygen rising to her lungs, making her stomach pumps up and down in rapid movement from the growing fear and panic.

After thoroughly tasting her with his taste buds, he finally lifts his face from her stomach. Saliva still tracing all over the beating stomach, the sign of her heart fluttering from utter fear and disgust.

His beard had felt coarse against her tender skin, and it leaves merciless jabs all over her stomach as she tried to fight him off, causing red marks to join the rest of things that he leaves on her skin. She catches him smirking in satisfaction before he puts his damn mask on. She thinks that it is all over, before his shadows looms back over her moments later, this time with a pocket knife flipped in his hand. s**t!

Heater’s eyes go wide when he cuts her. She goes wild under him, but he quickly grabs her wrists with one another while the other is busy carving around her flat stomach. She can feel the stinging pain of the blade cutting through her skin, making her scream even wilder than before as he cuts her upon.

He does not skin the blade deep enough to make any lasting damage to her internal organs, but thanks to her constantly moving around, some cuts go beyond deeper than he first intended, making her bleed all over. The pains feel like it seems to go endlessly, feeling him painting her stomach with his knife. The blade continues to separate her skin from her body, drawing in more blood each time until the girl is succumbed with fear enough to eventually not move so much anymore. Heater is still in pain and shock as her brain barely registers it when he skins her alive. He does not stop until he can finally carve out her entire mid section, the red area spanning from beneath her breasts to above the waistband of her pants.

The last several cuts are more elegant that the first quick jabs, making the pain more bearable, even though it is a very mind-numbing experience overall. By the time he is done skinning her alive, Heater is not even sure if being alive at this state is a blessing or a curse. Leatherface is still far from being done with her though. The man even has the guts to parade enough the newly removed skin in front of her, as if he is showing her off his shiny new toy.

Her skin! Her stomach! Look at what a mess he has made her to be! Her once beautiful body is no longer pretty, now covered with scars and blood from the forced removal.

Heater wants to cry to herself, but she is afraid that even feeling pity for herself will not help her situation at all. He is a sadist. She will not give him the satisfaction, even if it is the last thing she will ever do.

Leatherface sets aside her stomach skin, making sure to be extra careful about it, especially with her navel area, before turning his attention fully back to the girl. She is no longer fighting, the pain already taking every last bit of energy she got in her. Staring down at her with a sick satisfaction, he grabs his chainsaw while still sitting on top of her. He turns it on and hears the engine comes alive roaring, before he starts to sadistically drive it into her midsection, cutting her in half.

Heater’s vision blurs completely. The last thing she sees is her own lower half being separated from the rest of her, before death finally claims her soul. The girl dies tragically, but the serial killer is not even done with her body just yet. He makes sure to cut her up really nice, making the corpse turns into little pieces that is easily transportable.

Leatherface loads the mutilated dead body into his truck, which he drives back to his home. His car is then parked in his garage, which is a shared room with his butchery station. He will figure out a good way to use her flesh next time, but for how, he has a new addition to be added up to his private collection. Beautiful, smooth navel. He wonders what more beautiful young things he will discover next time.

. . . . .

[ Mikaela ]

H

—