The Ring

THE RING

Gwen

" I s all this really necessary?" George grunts, his disembodied voice warbling from somewhere to my left.

"Necessary? Nah. Hilarious, abso-fuckin'-lutely." Jack chuckles in response while I ignore them both, trying to get into character. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Be the ghost, I am a ghost," I whisper to myself. You'd think someone who basically has had ghosts surrounding her for most of her life would be pretty well-versed in the subject but honestly, I've never really put much thought into it.

I lower my head, allowing the long black hair of the wig to hang down over my face as I tilt my head, making sure my movements are jerky.

The room is pitch-black, and the guy should be waking up any minute now. I hear a soft grunt from the center of the room.

"Showtime," I murmur as a wicked smile takes over my face.

"Jesus Christ." George's Southern drawl flares with his exasperation. Jack's tinkering laugh follows. Sometimes having voices in your head is a real…inconvenience.

"Will you two shut the fuck up? I'm trying to get into character," I growl. I know I should just be thankful I don't have to listen to Claudia and her bitching anymore, but George is being a real buzzkill and it's sucking the fun right out of this.

As if by magic, candles flicker on around the small warehouse space I use for my kills.

"W-what the fuck? Who's there? What the fuck is going on? Let me go," the dude currently strapped to my table yells, as if that will do any good. Why does everyone always say the same thing? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. So unoriginal.

His eyes fly across the room, searching for anyone or anything to give him any inclination as to where he is or why he's currently tied down. I don't even fight my smile this time.

His eyes finally land on me, and I cock my head to the side, the sound effect of cracking echoing in the silent space.

"What the fuck. Who are you!?" he yells again, a hint of panic in his voice. I take a step forward, making sure to keep my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I say nothing while he grunts as he tries to pull his arms free from the metal cuffs that are keeping him locked to my table.

"I wish I had some popcorn," Jack huffs, and I see out of the corner of my eye his fuzzy body kicking his feet up like he's reclining in a chair, making himself more comfortable for the show. I'll admit this is a little much, but after so many kills sometimes you just have to get creative, you know? Plus, it's so much better when they feel true, genuine fear.

"Leave me alone. I don't know what the fuck you want." His panicked voice rises an octave as he comes to terms with the fact that he can't move. The drugs are finally wearing off enough for his brain to process all that's happening. His eyes are wide and locked on me as I continue to stand there, staring at him, not saying a word, just letting his fear and anticipation build. Sometimes your mind is your own worst enemy.

The candles flicker once more before they peter out one by one. He yells as fear gets the better of him.

Joseph Gilding. Pedophile and serial rapist, doing only three years in prison after one of the mothers of his victims came forward years later. The victim, a three-year-old boy, is traumatized and still currently seeking psychiatric help after the whole ordeal. This is what has led him to me.

I step closer on silent feet. It only takes a second and I'm right beside him when all the lights flicker back on. His screams are music to my ears as he fights for his life. His wrists and ankles are already bleeding from where he's tugged so hard against the restraints they've cut into his skin. The sweet coppery tang of his blood coating the air. I take deep breaths of it, using it to fuel me. This is how his victims felt before he abused them. Scared and trapped.

"What do you want!? I haven't done anything. Let me go!" He yanks again, the chains clanging against the steel table. "LET ME OUT, YOU FUCKING FREAK!" he screams at the top of his lungs as if anyone will hear him. I have to fight to stay in character. Freak, I may be, but at least I don't fuck children. Stupid piece of shit.

I fling my arm out, my gray-painted hand wrapping around his throat and cutting off his words with my tight grip.

"Is that what your victims said before you took them against their will?" I lean forward, my voice hissing into his ear. His body stiffens for a moment before relaxing.

"Is that what this is about? I've served my time," he snarls like that makes any difference. It certainly wasn't long enough and didn't stop him from repeating the acts again once he was released.

I bring my other hand forward, revealing the long knife I had tucked to my side. Feeling as his throat bobs while he fights to push down the fear that's building again. My goal is to make him piss himself. Odd goal, I know, but it's the little things.

"Just kill him already," George says, ready to get this over with.

"Oh, let her have her fun, Georgie, it ain't like she's gettin' any younger." Jack tuts, thoroughly enjoying every moment of this.

I slide my knife lovingly across his cheek, caressing it like a mother might with her child. "Have you, though?" I say, allowing just one eye to peek through the hair. His eyes widen slightly, the only indication that he's worried before he's looking around the space as if someone might walk in at any moment. I mean, someone might but he won't be any help to him.

He growls—actually fucking growls. I can't help the cackle that escapes my lips. If he thinks he's even remotely the most dangerous thing in this room, he's got another thing coming. Giving up on The Ring act, I toss the wig and instead climb onto his mostly naked body. I smile as I lean forward, my chest almost pressed to his as I whisper in his ear.

"I'm here to ensure you truly pay for your crimes." I tilt my head as I study him, noting he's lost some of his fear, and although I won't lie and say that doesn't annoy the shit outta me, I also accept the challenge. They always underestimate me.

"You crazy fucking bitch, get off me!" He hisses as he bucks his hips, trying to force me off him. I clamp down my knees onto his torso, not allowing myself more than a jerk forward.

"I am crazy, I'll give you that," I mumble, more to myself than him.

"Yeah, you fuckin' are." Jack chuckles, causing me to laugh too.

"Let me go, or I'll kill you," he roars, his anger and frustration at being weak and helpless clearly getting the better of him. I smirk as I shake my head, sighing happily.

"Oh, a threat. You can certainly try. You wouldn't get far but I do love a good challenge." I cackle as I turn my wicked smile toward him as I trace my blade down his jaw, toward his neck and over his collarbone. Why is it that pervs are always so fucking ugly? Is that, like, a prerequisite? Must be overweight, ugly, and old…bonus points if you're also balding.

"Hey, if they were good-looking they wouldn't need to force themselves on others, they would actually be getting pussy." Jack huffs and George grunts in agreement.

"True…" I run my free hand over my chin in thought.

"Jesus, you really are fucking nuts, aren't you?" the guy under me says, drawing my thoughts back to him. My knife continues farther down his chest, the blade slicing through the trail of hair there. He hisses at the sting as the blood wells from the cut and starts to drip down toward the white nightgown I donned for my performance. The white will look so pretty painted in his blood. Maybe I should frame it, hang it on the wall like a prized jersey from an NFL team. I take a deep breath, enjoying the sweet tang of the first blood drawn. The slight bite of fear tinting it in a bitter note. Delicious.

I lift the knife, bringing it closer to my face to examine, the beautiful deep red heating my blood like only one other thing can do.

"You ready, Jax?" I announce, not willing to have all the fun alone.

"About fucking time, little monster." He grunts as he struts into the room like he owns the place. Well, he technically does. Hmm, God, he's so fucking hot. I link my finger into the top of his crisp black dress shirt where it's opened a few buttons, yanking him toward me before pressing my lips to his. My teeth slide over his bottom lip, the bite of pain mixing with pleasure and causing us both to groan, his blood dripping into my mouth.

"Fuck," I whimper, my body already craving his special brand of love.

"Patience, sweetness," he rumbles, his grip still tight on my hair as he looks down at the man under me, reminding me that he's there. Damn, I keep forgetting. "It will be so much better once he's taken care of." He smirks as Joseph's eyes widen and fear creeps back into them. I pout but nod. He's not wrong…the thrill of the kill only heightens both of our desire for each other.

I force my head forward, causing a burning sensation at my roots as his grip on my hair tightens. I capture the drop of blood from his lip on my tongue, needing to catch it before it's wasted on the floor. He chuckles. His hand lowers as it connects with my ass, the slap sounding throughout the space.

"Stay focused, little monster," he commands, his voice stern even though the mischief in his eyes says he's enjoying every second of my attention. I groan but scoot back so I'm sitting on his thighs, his small limp dick tucked safely in his tighty-whities. For now, at least.

"No. Fuck… No!" he pants, his eyes flying to J, looking for help, some type of male camaraderie, perhaps. Too bad my sick fuck won't give him any. I toss my head back, a laugh curling up my throat before escaping past my lips.

"Don't look at him. He won't help you," I growl, finally letting all the crazy shine through my eyes, no longer trying to hold myself back. His face pales to a sickly gray shade as he realizes I'm the real threat in the room. Fucking misogynist. What, a girl can't be good at killing? I roll my eyes, an unhinged laugh escaping me. Dick.

J chuckles, seeing my irritation as he takes a step back, wanting to enjoy the show.

"Hey, Joe…?" I ask, tilting my head again like I'm curious, but I talk before he has a chance to answer. "Have you ever seen a hot dog that's been cooked in the microwave too long?" My eyes slide slowly down toward his flaccid cock.

Jack's laugh bursts through my mind as he flickers somewhere just out of sight.

Fear mixes with anger as Joseph fights uselessly against the restraints. Not wasting any more time, I yank his undies down and honestly, I don't know what I expected but the full-on eighties bush was not it.

"Jesus Christ, Joe. How do you even find your dick in all this hair? Ever heard of seeing the forest through the trees," I spit, disgust clear in every action. I shake my head. Just get this over with.

I slide my knife down the top, not all the way through but just enough to break the casing, so to speak. It splits, eerily similar to an overcooked hot dog. His screams pierce the silence with a decadent cadence that heats my blood. His blood pours from the wound, his white underwear soaking it up. I watch as it spreads through the material rapidly, blooming like a beautiful painting.

"Fuck!" He howls once he sees his tiny excuse of a dick split. The sight only makes me want J even more. My need for him building as quickly as the bloodstain now reaching my nightgown.

He must feel the same because a moment later, I'm in his arms, my body slammed against the nearest wall. He kicks over one of the crates a few candles sat perched on. I don't even care if the place catches on fire, as long as I can feel him against me. We can burn together.

With one arm under my ass and the other hand on my throat, he squeezes, his body quickly taking over mine. I close my eyes as I fight for each breath. His teeth graze my throat and I can't help but moan.

"My filthy, little monster," he purrs, his thick cock jerking against my pussy as my legs wrap around his waist, grinding myself back against him. "Does all that blood make you wet, baby?" His teeth are clenched and I know he's fighting to not slam his cock home right now.

"Yesss." I groan, my head tilted back as he hits my clit over and over again. "Please," I beg, my eyes meeting his once more. I need more. So much more. I smile as I realize I still have the knife in my hand. Using it to pop a few more buttons on his shirt, I bring it to his skin, slicing a little slit before pressing my lips to it, needing to taste him. He hisses slightly, more in pleasure than pain.

"I fucking need you, mon petit ," he groans in my ear as he licks the sweat that drips down my neck.

"Then take me, Jaxon," I growl, my need for him so intense I struggle to keep it at bay. He snatches my knife from my grip, freeing my neck in the process before slicing the nightgown from my body, revealing my nakedness beneath. His eyebrow rises slightly and I smirk, knowing I'm going to be punished for the act of defiance. He shakes his head before he slides my blade, still coated in not only his blood but Joesph's, across my lips, encouraging me to taste them both. Once I've licked it clean, he slams it into the aluminum wall beside my head, freeing both our hands as he tugs his pants down, freeing his massive cock. "Fuck," I groan as I feel his ruddy head against my opening.

"Take me," he commands as he forces himself inside me, my body stretching and fluttering under his brutal force. I don't even bother to hold back my sounds, my body fully in control, all else forgotten. He thrust his hips violently in and out, forcing me to feel every one of his delicious piercings. The squelching of my pussy the only sound in the room besides the slight splat of Joseph's blood dripping to the floor beneath him. He fucks me like this will be our last time and he needs to get out every ounce of hate and desire that's building inside his body. I shudder and jerk as he hits every spot deep inside me, his pelvis working my clit with each slam of his hips. "You feel so fucking good…" He groans out long and low, his eyes closing briefly before they open, and my beast is with me. There will be no more niceties—only brutality—and it's everything I need.

His hand goes back to my throat, his long fingers managing to force my mouth open while still cutting off my air. I hear the sound of him gathering spit before it's launched into my mouth and down my throat. "You will take all of me, Gwen. Forever!" he growls, his voice deep with need and anger.

"Yes. Always," I grit through my teeth as pleasure and pain combine to drive me higher and higher. "Jaxon…" I whimper, needing more, needing it all. His hips never stop as my back slams against the wall again and again.

"What do you need? Tell me, monstre ." His rich command wraps tightly around my throat and forces the words past my lips.

"Pain." His evil smile brightens his whole face. Without any hesitation, he pulls out of me, leaving me crying out for more before he turns me around and bends me over Joesph's ghostly pale body. Aww, I hate when they die before you finish with them.

He chuckles. "Don't worry, my little monster. There will always be more." He yanks my hips back, embedding himself balls deep inside me as he reaches over to my worktable to grab something I can't see. His thrusts never falter as I feel pressure against my back a second before I feel the pain of it entering my skin. I yelp before it turns into a moan. He repeats the action three more times. He takes his time tugging each one before leaning forward to growl into my ear. "I'll hang you from these later." His promise rings in my ear as his hips slam into me one last time, sending me over the edge and into oblivion. The feel of his cum filling me up before it splashes onto the floor. His moans reverberate through my back as he leans against me.

"I love you, little monster," he whispers in my ear, his smoky voice causing my body to quiver.

"And I love you, my Joker."