The pill pressed into Holloway’s lower lip like a communion wafer, his tongue darting out instinctively to lap at it—dry, bitter, the way his throat always felt after too many whiskeys. Tasha tilted her head, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed convulsively. The knife’s tip traced lazy circles on his inner thigh again, just shy of the femoral pulse. There you go, she cooed. Gonna keep you nice and hard for what’s comin’.
The pill slid down Holloway’s throat with a dry click. His chest heaved, sweat beading along his upper lip as his erection pulsed against the silicone ring—already harder, darker, the veins standing out like cables under a thin sheet of plastic. Oh fuck, he whimpered, hips jerking against nothing. Tasha, I—I can’t— His voice cracked as the Viagra hit his system, his cock swelling to an obscene thickness that made the ring bite deeper into purple-tinged flesh.
Tasha dragged the knife’s flat side up his inner thigh, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. You ever hear about medieval punishments, Mr. Holloway She tapped the blade against his swollen tip, eliciting a strangled yelp. They’d strap men to tables for this. Hammer little metal cages over their dicks. Her smile widened as Holloway’s bladder let go again, a fresh trickle joining the stale piss soaking his boxers. Course, they didn’t have Viagra back then. Couldn’t keep ‘em hard while they sliced.
The Ziploc bag crinkled as she dumped its contents onto Holloway’s groin. Ice cubes scattered across his trembling belly, some slipping into the folds of his flab, others lodging against his straining cock. He screamed—a wet, gurgling sound—as the cold seared his overheated flesh. Tasha caught one cube between her fingers, pressing it directly against the swollen head of his penis until his shrieks dissolved into hyperventilating sobs.
The ice cubes melted into rivulets of cold water that snaked down Holloway’s trembling thighs, their numbing effect creeping into the swollen flesh trapped beneath the cock ring. His erection faltered—just slightly—the veins loosening their grotesque bulge as the cold did its work. Tasha watched, fascinated, as his cock twitched like a dying insect, the angry purple hue fading to a sickly pink where the ring still bit deep.
Holloway’s scream cracked into a wet, slobbering whimper. Please—no more—I’ll do whatever you say! His jowls quivered with each word, spit flecking the corners of his mouth as he strained against the jump ropes. The veins in his neck stood out like frayed wires under his clammy skin.
I’ll remove this ugly thing, Tasha murmured, dragging the knife’s tip along Holloway’s inner thigh in a featherlight caress that left goosebumps in its wake. Then maybe you can think like a woman for once. Her voice was honey-sweet, the same tone she’d used when telling her nephew to hold still for his flu shot.
Holloway’s hips bucked against the jump ropes like a fish on a line, his cock straining against the silicone ring until the veins pulsed black under his purpling skin. P-please, he slurred, spit pooling in the folds of his jowls. Lemme cum just once—jus’ once more ‘fore you— His words dissolved into a wet groan as Tasha dragged the knife’s flat side up his inner thigh, the metal so cold it burned.
Tasha threw her head back and laughed—a full, throaty sound that bounced off the walls like shattering glass. Oh, you still think you’re gettin’ off She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. Look at you, wheezin’ like a busted radiator, stinkin’ like three-day-old fish left in the sun— Her nose wrinkled as she leaned in close enough to count the burst capillaries on his cheeks. And you really thought this— She flicked his throbbing cock with her middle finger, watching it twitch pathetically against the silicone ring. —was gonna find its way inside me
Tasha let a slow, sticky strand of saliva dangle from her lips before letting it drop onto Holloway’s twitching cock. The spit landed just below the swollen head, catching the blue TV light as it slid down his shaft—thin, glistening, pathetic. Holloway gasped, his hips jerking upward like a marionette on rusted strings. That’s it, baby, he wheezed, his jowls trembling as she wrapped her fingers around him. Just like—fuck—
Tasha let a slow, sticky strand of saliva dangle from her lips before letting it drop onto Holloway’s twitching cock. The spit landed just below the swollen head, catching the blue TV light as it slid down his shaft—thin, glistening, pathetic. Holloway gasped, his hips jerking upward like a marionette on rusted strings. That’s it, baby, he wheezed, his jowls trembling as she wrapped her fingers around him. Just like—fuck—
The knife flashed downward—not with the wild slash Holloway expected, but with the clinical precision of a surgeon making an incision. The blade parted skin just below the silicone ring, so sharp the pain took a full second to register. By then, Tasha was already peeling the cock ring away like a rubber band from raw meat, her fingers slick with blood and melted ice water.
Holloway’s scream started as a high-pitched wheeze before collapsing into a wet gurgle, his bloated face turning the color of spoiled liver. The knife hadn’t even finished its arc before arterial blood sprayed in a hot, rhythmic pulse—one, two, three—painting the underside of Tasha’s coffee table in perfect crimson arcs.
The first spray hit the underside of the coffee table with a sound like rain on a tin roof. Holloway’s body convulsed, his thighs slapping against the couch cushions as if trying to outrun the pain. Tasha leaned back just enough to avoid the worst of the arterial spray, watching with detached fascination as his cock—still half-hard from the Viagra—twitched like a dying animal severed from its brain. Blood pulsed in thick, dark gouts, pooling in the divots of his sagging belly before spilling over the couch’s edge.
The butcher knife clattered onto the coffee table, its blade slick and gleaming under the TV’s flicker. Holloway’s breath came in wet, stuttering gasps—each one shorter than the last—as his blood seeped into the couch cushions like ink through tissue paper. Tasha watched, fascinated, as the crimson pool branched out in fractal patterns between his splayed thighs, the edges feathering into the fabric like delicate lace.
Holloway’s mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish, his eyes bulging with a realization that came too late—far too late—to do him any good. His fingers twitched against the jump ropes, their frayed plastic handles now slick with his sweat. The arterial spray slowed to a trickle, the blood pooling thick and dark between his thighs like spilled wine. Tasha leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and watched with the quiet focus of a scientist observing an experiment reach its inevitable conclusion.
The TV droned on—some forensic expert discussing trace evidence with the calm detachment of a man who’d never bled a day in his life. Tasha tilted her head, listening to the narrator describe how arterial spray patterns could pinpoint the exact angle of a wound. Behind her, Holloway’s wheezes grew shallower, wetter, the sound of a punctured tire losing air.
Holloway’s last breath escaped as a wet rattle, his chest deflating like a punctured air mattress. Tasha watched the light leave his eyes—not with a dramatic flicker, but with a slow dimming, like a cheap bulb burning out. His tongue lolled against his teeth, swollen and purpled from biting down on nothing. She reached over and pushed his chin up with two fingers, closing his mouth with a soft click. There, she murmured. Now you look almost decent.
