Suffer Hard: An Extreme Horror Novella (7 page)

Beth moaned in desperation, shuddering when his fat tongue circled the fear stiffened bud. Instantly her entire breast was wet with his slobber and there was nothing she could do to stem the tears.

She forced herself to massage his side with her inner thigh. Every time the scratchy material of his trousers grazed her pussy she felt something inside her wither and die.

His fingers hesitantly explored the knot of rope at her wrists as he made a meal of her tit. He wa
s getting rougher by the second; she could feel teeth scraping her nipple.

“That’s it
baby, let me use my hands on you.”

He fiddled with the rope some more, but then stopped to move further down her body.

A moan of abject terror escaped her lips when his mouth went straight between her legs. His tongue stabbed at her labia, parting the dry folds with his slimy tongue.

Her mouth opened in a silently inhaled scream of repulsion.

She looked down over her heaving, spittle
sheened chest to the bald head rammed between her legs.

“Oh God,” she moaned, pulling with all her might at her restraints and writhing helplessly.

She felt something give slightly at her wrists and instantly she stopped squirming.

She tugged her hands again and she felt the rope slip slightly over her skin, chaffing her. When man-mountain was contemplating untying her, he must have loosened the knot.

Her heart surged in fresh hope. Maybe she could whack him one over the head while he was eating her out…

His tongue stabbed at her clit.
Was he seriously wanting to arouse her? That thought was more terrifying than anything else he might do to her.

His hands
roamed back up to her breasts as he lapped at her clit. She winced in physical and mental pain at the onslaught to her senses. He squeezed her soggy breasts so hard he left finger marks.

She couldn’t take much more. She was so close to ripping her hands free of the loosened rope and running for the door, for all the good it would do her. She
knew
it would be a mistake. She knew she wouldn’t get far, but if it meant a mere five seconds respite without this
animal
mauling her, then it was worth it…

She was saved from making the most foolhardy decision of her life by a voice calling out.

“Michael? Get down here and give me a hand!”

The voice was
familiar. The old fucker from the pub. The one that had offered the boys a lift to the main road…

Although somehow she doubted very much that was where they had ended up.

Michael paused, his tongue ceasing to swirl on her spit drenched vagina. With an almighty sigh, he rolled off the bed.

Beth found herself staring in horror at the erection straining the crotch of the dirty grey trousers when he stood by the side of the bed. The bulge was huge, in proportion to the rest of him.

Relief swept through her when he walked towards the door.

At last, she was alone. Frantically she jerked and tugged at the ropes. Her entire body was a trembling, quivering mess but
nothing would stop her straining at that damn rope. Not even when she scraped off skin and drew blood.

F
inally, the rope had loosened enough and she was able to tug her hands free.

She sat up, a fu
nny sounding, strangled sob of relief escaping her lips.

She was free.
Sort of. She cradled her bleeding wrists in her lap, wondering what the hell she should do next.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Bish had finished dismembering Jessie and Craig wasn’t faring too well. He shared his table top space with the love of his life, who was now in six pieces. Her arms and legs were slung over him, and her torso and head lay by the side of him.

Craig slipped in and out of consciousness, the pain in his arm stump causing him to run
a fever and black out sporadically.

When he came too
for the countless time, he found he was no longer looking up at the shed roof, but at a twinkling night sky. The moon was full, he duly noted, and his teeth rattled as Jessie’s body parts bounced up and down on top of him.

His slow working mind realised that his table
had wheels
and he was being trundled by Bish down the same alleyway he had walked through with Tim on their way to the mythical car.

They reached the end of the alleyway and came out next to ‘The Dirty Swallow.’

Bish stopped the table. Or trolley.

“I heard you and your fancy lady out here t
alking when yous first arrived. She was sayin’ it were a funny name for a pub, and I was up there listening,” the old man said, pointing up at a window above the sign. “I’ll tell yers why it’s called The Dirty Swallow. Ain’t got nothing to do with dirty birds. It’s ‘cause our family likes to eat a special kind of meat, if you know what I mean.”

Craig just
wished he would pass out again but the fresh, cool air was keeping him awake.

Bish
laughed.

“A lot of folks might consider what we put in our mouths
dirty.
We like
human
flesh you see. Obviously, it’s better cooked, but I quite got a taste for it raw in recent years.” With that the old man picked up one of Jessie’s arms and slurped the bloody stump. “Ain’t put my teeth in today, so I can’t take a bite.”

Craig’s eyes flickered back in his head and in that moment he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in to just die. The old man’s grotesque sucking noises filled his brain with madness.

“Shit, no time for this now, we gotta get you inside and prepare dinner.”

Craig expected to be wheeled into the pub. He wasn’t.
Instead he was trundled down the road. They turned left at the end and went back up the little road with the boarded up cottage the four of them had come down when they’d first arrived.

“
We’re going to my place for dinner. And you ain’t never been to a dinner party like this one before.”

Why was no one coming out to he
lp him?

“Help!” he cried, amazed at the strength of his
own voice, it had been so long since he had spoken. “Somebody help me!”

“Save your breath, son. Not that it matters.
Ain’t no one that lives in this ‘ere village ‘cept me and the family. And the kids, of course, but they don’t get out much. Never during the day because of their skin complaints and only supervised at night.”

Craig had no idea what the old fucker was going on about. Neither did he care.

“Please,” he whimpered to no one in particular.

The table wobbled from side to side as he was wheeled up the na
rrow path to the front door of the boarded up cottage.

Bish
opened the door and wheeled Craig in feet first.

Now he
found himself in a narrow hallway that the table only just fit down. A staircase was dead ahead and a few closed doors led off the corridor. Bish pushed him through one.

Craig lifted his head.

The sight which greeted him defied comprehension.

“Tim?” he called out to the familiar, naked figure lying on his back in the middle of the long dining table.

Tim didn’t stir.

“W
hat
the fuck
is this?”

“Excuse me a moment,”
Bish said, going outside into the hallway. “Michael? Get down here and give me a hand!” he bellowed.

“Tim,” Craig frantically hissed. “Wake up, for fuck’s sake.”

Tim groaned, and Craig breathed a sigh of relief.

He’s not dead.
Yet. But he sure as shit ain’t moving either…

The dead weight of Jessie’s arms bore down on his chest and as much as he longed to shake them off, he didn’t dare.

“Craig,” Tim called out in a hoarse voice. “I can’t move man, I’m fucking paralysed. I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel a fucking thing. Where’s Jessie? Have you seen Jessie?”

“Shit, man,” Craig replied, his heart breaking all over again.

Craig assessed him. There was nothing obviously wrong with him that he could see. Apart from his fucked feet, that is. He was missing the toes of his right foot and the side of his left foot was a pulpy mess. But surely that was no reason for paralysis? In that split second Craig was just grateful that he wasn’t able to turn his head and see his dismembered girlfriend draped over him in segments. The long wooden table on which Tim lay on long ways was the same as the tables in the pub, complete with long wooden benches running either side of it. It must have been over twelve foot and almost ran the length of the room. At either end of it were two, plain, wooden dining chairs.

The room itself was
spartan and the window was boarded up.

On closer inspection Craig saw that Tim was lying on what looked like the biggest, fuck off wooden chopping board he had ever seen in his life.

Fuck man, that’s not good…

“
Craig. You didn’t answer me. Where’s Jessie?”

Craig was saved from answering by the arrival of
Bish, accompanied by man mountain Michael. Without a word Michael scooped up a leg and an arm of Jessie’s and exited the dining room.

Three trips later and Jessie had been completely removed.

Next Michael unbuckled Craig and effortlessly threw him over his shoulder.

Craig screamed in agony, his stump bashing against the man’s chest.

Humiliation mixed with terror when he felt his jeans and underpants being tugged down his thighs. Cool air hit his bare rump and inside he curled up and died of shame.

He was dropped into a chair at the end of the table. He landed with a painful thump on his backside, knocking the blood curdling cry out of him with a hard whoosh.

“Get off me,” he sobbed, fresh pain so extreme coursing through him his entire body convulsed.

“Oh God man, I can’t feel a fucking thing,” Tim said, crying softly all the while.

Craig had no idea what to say to him. He was sick to his soul
of this grotesque nightmare that there was no waking up from.

“What are you cunts
doing?”
he said.

All he could do was
sit there sobbing, mentally and physically exhausted as Michael proceeded to tie him to the chair with a length of thick rope.

Bish
sat down on the bench next to him and regarded him thoughtfully while Michael silently finished the job at hand, then left the room.

“
The family’s coming round for dinner. There ain’t many of us left. Apart from the kids, of course. Michael’s making a stew of Jessie and yer arm. Us grownups will eat first, and then the kiddies get to feed afters.”

Tim didn’t
speak, he was trapped in his own nightmare and trapped in his own body. He made funny little mewling noises, sounding very much like a run over cat dying in a ditch.

“Why can’t he move?
” Craig whispered, refusing to avert his gaze from the old man’s watery blue eyes, despite how much the cold gaze filled him with terror.

“He’
s been paralysed. When I was seeing to you and your girlfriend in the shed, Michael came to pick him up. He’s been waiting here on the table ever since, ain’t you Tim?”

Tim just groaned.

“What do you mean,
paralysed
?”

“I mean his spinal column’s been
severed in various places, you dumb shit, what the hell else do you think I mean?”

Craig’s head reeled. Tim was
fucked.
He was dead from the neck down. Craig might’ve lost an arm, but if they ever got out of this alive, then at least he would have some sort of quality of life.

Tim was better off dead.

You ain’t ever getting outa here alive, so there’s no point even thinking it.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I ain’t going over that again. I’m going to go help Michael in the kitchen. Don’t go anywhere now, dinner won’t be long.”

To Craig’s total relief,
Bish got up and left him and Tim alone.

“Tim? Tim! Don’t pass out on me, man.”

Tim groaned and opened his eyes.

“I can’t even move my head. Fucking hell, why are they doing this?”

Craig didn’t have the heart or stomach to tell him that Tim was on the menu.

At least he’s paralysed. At least he won’t feel anything when they fucking eat him…

“I don’t know,” Craig said.

“Has he gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Go and get help for fuck’s sake! Get out of here and run like fuck.”

“I can’t. I’m tied to the chair. And I’ve lost a lot of blood, I’m in a lot of pain, it’s not like I’d get far anyway.”

He didn’t tell him he’d had his arm chopped off. What was the point in sickening him even more?

“What kind of defeatist attitude is that?”

“It’s an attitude of someone defeated.”

Tim laughed, but the sound was hollow and made his skin feel crawly and tight.

“Craig? Did I hear right? I was
kinda dozing back there, but did I hear that old fuck say he was making a
fucking stew
out of Jessie?”

Craig couldn’t answer. The lump in his throat was too big.

“I didn’t dream that up did I? Craig?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God.”

Both guys were silent for a moment, lost in their own misery.

“I’m the one on the fucking block here. If they start, you know… If they do that, will you find a way?”

“A way?”
Craig asked, although he knew with a sick heart where this was going.

“A way to kill me, man.”

“I ain’t exactly in the best shape here myself.”

“Please.”

“I’ll try,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t try. Promise me.”

“Don’t talk like that man, we’re not dead yet.”

Tim made that funny little
laughing sound again that made his flesh creep.

“Not yet, mate. Not yet.”

A movement in the corner of his eye made Craig spin his head round. A stooped figure stood in the doorway. He looked familiar, and Craig couldn’t place him straight away.

Then it clicked.

“What are
you
doing here?”

“Wh
o’s there? I can’t turn my head.” Tim said. He sounded frantic.

“Hello boys. Are you enjoying your visit to
Hanow?”

“Is that Jake from the B and B?” Tim
asked, the confusion in his voice obvious.

“Yeah,” Craig replied.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

Old Jake laughed. “Why, this is my family. This is my home. I open the B and B in the summer months to direct the occasional tourist meat
thisaways.”

“What the
fuck?
” Craig cursed, twisting uselessly against his binds.

He glared at the old man,
his anger in that moment overriding his fear. They had been well and truly duped. What a bunch of gullible fucking idiots they were.

Jake
just looked so
harmless.
He didn’t have the unsavoury look of Bish, and he didn’t look as old either. He had teeth, a thick head of grey hair and he looked clean. He wore glasses and looked like a kindly, doddering old man.

Like a beloved granddad.

A granddad with a taste for human flesh.

“My, my,” Old Jake said, approaching Tim. “You sure do look
tasty, I can’t wait to get stuck into you.”

“Leave him alone,” Craig said, pulling hard against the rope.

“Calm down son, save your energy. You’ll be needing it for Margaret.”

Craig had no idea what he meant. But whatever it might be, he was sure it couldn’t be good.

Right on cue, Margaret entered the room.

“Did I hear my name?”

“Hello sis. You’re looking radiant this evening.”

Old Jake kissed Margaret square on the mouth. The kiss lingered for far too long than was decent between brother and sister.