Page 69 of Starving Butterfly
“What do we say?” I asked as I ripped the gag away from his mouth.
He screamed at the top of his lungs, “HELP!”
Cole punched him so hard that there was a sickening crack as the bones in his nose shattered.
“Try again,” Cole barked.
Almost at the base of his dick, I turned the spiral cutter one last time as he wailed loudly, cursing at me.
It wasn’t nearly enough pain to rectify the pain he caused me. It hadn’t even begun to satisfy that dark hole that his very presence created.
“Say thank you.” I growled as I pulled the accordion-styled skin out, stretching it. The blood made my fingers slip as I uncurled the loops.
Jeff had lost it, screaming every obscenity he could manage. I just continued ripping parts of skin to form those soft, round chips of flesh. When I collected enough to cover the plate, I held the napkin with firm pressure on his dick to make sure he didn’t bleed out before I was done.
“Scott, will you be a dear and put these in the deep fryer, shouldn’t take long at all.”
“Yeah,” he replied, looking sickly green but taking the plate and walking away.
“I’m sorry, I —” Jeffery started but was cut off by Dustin’s fist colliding with his other cheek.
“That’s not a thank you.” he growled.
“P-p-please,” he begged. His body shaking as it went into shock.
The napkin was soaked in blood, and Jeff looked like he was about to pass out again. Maybe he drank too much wine.
“Keep trying,” Cole slammed his fist into Jeff’s jaw again.
Scott returned with the crispy dick on a silver tray and passed it over to me. They looked like poorly fried hog rinds, and I was ready to throw up at the thought of one of those.
“Open his mouth,” I ordered.
Jeff clamped his jaw shut, jerking against their hold. Dustin pinched his cheeks in and forced his mouth open while I picked up fried dick and shoved it in his open mouth. Dustin held his mouth closed while Cole pinched his nose closed.
“Swallow or suffocate.” Cole hissed.
Jeff’s eyes bulged as he couldn’t breathe, fighting until his face was red. Just when I thought he was going to end his miserable life sooner than I planned, I saw the bob of his Adam's apple and he swallowed.
“That wasn’t so bad was it?” I chuckled, holding another fried skin pinched between my fingers.
“Fuck you,” he spat.
“I think he needs a little something to wash it down, what do you think boys?”
“Absolutely,” they agreed, and Scott handed me the wine bottle.
“Flip him over.”
60
WEAK
January 23rd
Dustin passed me his pocketknife, and we cut him free. He lunged out but fell flat; blood loss will do that to you.
There were so many times I thought of killing him, but I was a coward. I held on to the fragile chance he would change, and when he didn’t, I looked the other way. Pretending I didn’t see it.
