Hillary_Tail of the Dog (29 page)

She grabbed on to his scrotum and squeezed it as hard as she could. She could feel his testicles constrict within her hands as he cried out in intense pain. Tears filled his eyes and he felt as if all the air in his lungs had been extracted, leaving him to suffocate slowly.

“Are you going to get hard again and come?” Hillary shouted.

Dr. Bentley couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He was in more pain than he had ever experienced...so far. He tried to open his mouth to say something, anything, but he could only moan and whimper. Hillary’s hand was still firmly clutching his most delicate area, threatening to cause greater harm and pain, and he was powerless to stop her.

Miraculously, or so Dr. Bentley thought, Hillary released the hold on his scrotum and dismounted him. As she turned to walk away, her stomach cramped up and she doubled over. She began throwing up violently. It gave Dr. Bentley a much-needed moment to recover his senses.

After nearly ten minutes, Hillary sat up on the floor, facing Dr. Bentley.

“What’s wrong with me?” she demanded.

“How would I know?” he answered, not concerned about sounding unsympathetic. Then his mind raced frantically, trying to formulate a plan to use her condition to his advantage.

“You’re a doctor aren’t you?” she barked.

Yes, I am
, he thought, attempting to figure out his next step. He was sure that her infirmity had to do with the fact that she had ingested human flesh and blood after several weeks of surviving solely on intravenous nutrition. Her body did not have sufficient time to process the complex proteins and amino acids present in what she had feasted upon.

“What are you feeling?” he asked, faking concern as he stalled for more time to think. Should he say that she was poisoned? What then, though? Would she just kill him quicker than planned?

“My stomach hurts, it’s cramping up and I feel nauseous.”

“Why don’t you lie down and rest a while?”

Hillary rolled her eyes. She was still on the floor, holding her stomach.

“I don’t have time for a nap,” she snapped, “how can I feel better
now
?”

“You’ll just have to wait for it to pass,” he replied.

“I can tough it out,” she said, as she slowly crawled over to the bag and the objects on the floor.

“There’s no way I’m gonna let a little pain interfere with a lot of pleasure.”

Oh, shit!
Dr. Bentley thought, cursing himself for not having a plan, some way to keep her from inflicting more pain. He quickly realized that he was not good under pressure, nor did he have a tolerance for pain.

Think, think,
think!
He screamed to himself. He made a good effort to think rationally, to formulate some sort of plan that could give him the upper hand. He was beginning to feel a small resurgence of confidence when Hillary stood up and walked toward him. What lingering remains of his newfound confidence vanished instantly when he looked at her hands and the objects therein: Monica’s straightening iron and some metal skewers. His mind went blank as he braced himself for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience. Hillary plugged the straightening iron into the closest electrical outlet, stared back at Dr. Bentley and grinned chillingly. She was in pain now, but she would feel better in just a few minutes....

~18~

The first thing Dr. Bentley became aware of was the sizzling sound—seconds before he was hit with the searing pain that threatened to steal away his consciousness. His moist scrotum hissed and crackled between the heated plates on Monica’s flat iron. Aside from hearing them blister, he could smell his testicles cooking, smell his singed pubic hairs. He would have happily succumbed to the numbness of unconsciousness but unfortunately for him, he was wide awake and experienced every ounce of pain as if time stood still and his senses had been amplified. What seemed like torturous hours was actually just torturous seconds. Hillary moved the flat iron away from his charred scrotum.

“Now will you behave? Or do I need to burn your pecker too?” she asked sternly.

Dr. Bentley’s wailing began quieting down to pained sobs. He did not respond. He was sweating excessively and breathing rapidly. Hillary grew angry. Adults were always a problem, with their fat bodies and frail hearts. Kids could tolerate so much more. When she tortured children, she never worried about them having a heart attack or a stroke. She exhaled heavily as she stared at Dr. Bentley’s blank eyes.

“Can you hear me?” she yelled. She shoved the straightening iron into his chest. He barely felt it poke his sternum. He was in too much pain.

“I guess you want more,” she said, holding the flat iron inches away from his limp penis, giving him an opportunity to protest.

Tears streaked down Dr. Bentley’s face. He wanted to shout “
NO! NO!
” but was mentally incapacitated to do anything but shake his head wildly.

“Too bad!” Hillary exclaimed viciously as she brought the open iron closer to his penis. He could feel the heat radiating off the ceramic plates. Hillary grabbed his penis with her left hand and was just about to enclose it within the flat iron when she heard music playing. Startled, she withdrew her hand and dropped the iron. It fell to the floor, hitting Dr. Bentley’s foot on the way.

“What?” she asked quizzically, before realizing that the sound was coming from a cell phone. It was Dr. Bentley’s ringtone. She walked to the rolling table where the phone was and answered it quickly.

“Hello?”

“Uh...who’s this?” a woman on the line asked softly.

“My name’s Mary, who’s this?” Hillary asked.

“Patty...Jake’s wife....”

“Oh yeah, Patty,” Hillary said playfully, “I’d put Jake on, but he’s in the shower.”

“What?” Patty asked, confused. “Who are you?”

“I’m the girl your husband’s been seeing. Guess he’s bored with you, Patty.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patty snapped, “where’s Jake?”

“In the shower, didn’t you hear me the first time? Why don’t you be a dear and go take care of Amber Skye, I—”

“You know about Amber Skye?”

“I’ve been with Jakey for a long time. He’s almost done in the shower. Maybe I’ll tell him to call you back when I’m done taking care of him.”

Hillary could hear Patty gasp just before she disconnected the call. She laughed maniacally as she placed the phone back on the table and walked to Dr. Bentley.

“Your wife just called,” she said, as she approached Dr. Bentley. “I told her you were busy with your girlfriend.”

“My wife…knows better than that,” he replied slowly in a pained voice.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll pay her a visit and see for myself.”

Dr. Bentley was overcome by a new, intense form of fear and worry. Suddenly, all of his concerns for his well-being—all of his fear of being tortured and mutilated—all of it became secondary to his concern for his family. Hillary read his expression like a book. She had acquired a whole new way to torture him: threatening his family.

Remembering that his wallet was in the tattered pants she had thrown to the floor, Hillary quickly retrieved it from the back pocket and flipped it open. She pulled out credit cards, and dropped them to the floor. Then she pulled out the photos from a plastic sleeve within one of the slots.

“Wow, Jake, Patty is gorgeous! You lucky devil.” She threw the picture of his wife down upon him. It landed on his lap.

“Oh my God...so this is Amber Skye!” she exclaimed.

Dr. Bentley hated to see her holding a picture of his innocent daughter, as if, just by touching the photograph, Hillary could harm her. The picture was forever tainted.

“You must be so proud of her. She looks like she belongs on the cover of one of those child magazines,” Hillary commented. “Look at those chubby, rosy cheeks...delicious!”

She licked her lips as she tossed the photo to the floor and continued inspecting the contents of his wallet.

“Oooh, lookie here,” she said, her eyes aglow with mischief as she pulled out his driver’s license.

Dr. Bentley looked on in horror.

“So you’ve agreed to donate your organs...how very noble of you. Of course, I don’t think they’ll be much use once I’m done,” she said with a chuckle. “Jacob W. Bentley...hmmm, what does the ‘W’ stand for?”

Dr. Bentley ignored her.

Hillary grew angry. She slapped him across the face, leaving her handprint across his left cheek.

“William,” he groaned.

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me, just like I was good enough to answer all of your God-damned questions when I was tied up to that bed. Do you understand me?”

Dr. Bentley started nodding somberly but quickly added a resigned “yes.”

“Good, then. Oh...how far away is Summerville?”

“A couple hours away,” he replied, lying. It was just a forty-five minute drive from Patrick’s house.

“Really?” she asked skeptically. “Where exactly are we, by the way? Are we still in South Carolina?”

“Yes, not far from the coast.”

Hillary wondered how she would find her way around once she was done with him. She had practiced driving only a few times and didn’t have a chance to take the driver’s education class at school. She supposed she could wing it. She couldn’t afford to get pulled over and taken to jail. She wondered if Dr. Bentley owned a gun. She made a mental note to search for one before she left. Maybe she could take a cab. She thumbed through the pile of bills within the pocket of the billfold. Dr. Bentley had eighty-nine dollars. It might be enough for carfare, and if not.... If not, it would be the cab driver’s unlucky day. She glanced back down at the driver’s license in her hand.

“I bet Juniper Lane is in a great neighborhood,” she remarked, making it clear to him that she now knew exactly where he lived—and more importantly, where she could find his wife and daughter.

“You stay away from my home,” he warned nervously.

“Or else what? What can you do to stop me?” she laughed.

“Leave my family alone. They’ve done nothing to you...they’re innocent....”

“I used to be innocent too. Did that stop bad things from happening to me?”

“Believe me, Hillary, if there’s any way I could travel back in time and prevent those bad things from happening to you, I would. You didn’t deserve that. Your father deserved to die.”

“And me? Do I deserve to die? Because that’s what would have happened if you didn’t untie me.”

“No, you don’t deserve to die, Hillary.”

“Liar!” she spat out furiously.

“I’m the one who untied you...do you think I would have untied you if I thought you deserved to die? I felt sorry for you, Hillary, I truly did. You don’t deserve to suffer any more than you have.”

Hillary was crying. She had been victimized long enough. She was done being the victim.

“I want to help you Hillary,” Dr. Bentley continued.

Hillary wiped the tears from her face.

“I don’t need your help,” she said angrily, “save your breath. You can’t trick me into letting you go. I’m going to have my fun with you, and when I’m done, I’m going to have my fun with your wife and daughter.”

“No, you—”

“Shut up!” she shouted. “No one’s innocent. I’m going to make them suffer just as much as I’m going to make you suffer.”

Hillary dropped the wallet and driver’s license on the floor. Then she reached down and picked up a long metal skewer. Before Dr. Bentley had a chance to realize what she was holding, she stabbed it through his burnt scrotum. He screamed in agony as he looked down at his swollen, blackened, bleeding testicles. He looked into Hillary’s hateful eyes. She stared back in disgust, her murderous glare forcing him to look away. There was no way to reason with her, nothing he could say to stop her from killing him and then going after his family.

“Do you want to hear what I’m going to do to your little girl?”

No, God no
, he cried to himself. But he knew that it was all part of Hillary’s power play. He had to act disinterested...somehow.

“Whatever,” he panted between moans, hoping that she would drop the subject. No such luck.

“I’m going to cut your cock off and stick it in her,” Hillary said, grinning.

Her sick comment made Dr. Bentley shudder. There was no doubt that Hillary was capable of doing just that. He couldn’t bear the thought of his daughter suffering at the hands of this psychopath. He lost it.

“
YOU SICK FREAK! STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!
”
He yelled loudly, as he tried with all his might to twist free from the bondage. His throat felt raw.

“Really, Jakey, as though you can stop me. I’m going to make them suffer and there’s nothing that you can do about it,” she said, laughing loudly. “I wonder how loud Amber Skye will scream....”

Dr. Bentley broke down and started sobbing. The mental abuse was far worse than the physical abuse had been. With all the adrenaline coursing through his system, he could barely feel his throbbing testicles. All he could think about was Amber Skye’s blood-streaked face, contorted in pain, calling out to him, pleading for him to help her. He had promised her that he would always protect her. He had sworn to her that there were no such things as monsters. He had lied.

Hillary grabbed a hold of the metal skewer that pierced his scrotum and moved it left and right, toward him and away from him like a joystick. Each movement sent a nauseating pulse through him. Rather than hurt, it felt overly sensitive, as if Hillary were tickling his nerve endings. It was in no way pleasant; on the contrary, it was a sickening, revolting sensation that only ended once Hillary pulled the metal skewer free from his damaged testicles. To his disgust she licked the blood and bits of tissue smeared upon the metal.