GOD ON THE TONGUE (standard:other, 1663 words)
Author: Jenkis	Added: Sep 12 2000	Views/Reads: 4693/2315	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A strange teenage girl enters the scene inside a dark, underground rave to change the course of your life forever...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

tightly). You count to five before following. 

There is a long hallway upstairs and you follow her at a safe distance.
She stops in front of the second door to her right. It is closed. You 
hide behind a wall right across from the door. You can hear the sounds 
of a man and women moaning and crying out. You try hard not to smirk. 
You see the girl reach to her right leg, near the ankle, and take out a 
small gun which had been attached to her boot. She holds it in her 
right hand and puts it behind her back as she slowly opens the door 
with her left. You’re not prepared for the sight as she opens the door 
and almost let out a shocked laugh at the spectacle. The first thing 
you see is a naked woman sprawled on the floor, legs wide open, 
pleasing herself with the aid of her right hand. Her head rests against 
the arm of another woman, who is on all fours as a man, you assume this 
must be Christian DeFiore, enters her violently from behind. The three 
of them are oblivious to the intrusion, as they are caught up in the 
heat of passion. You can see the man's detailed abs flexing as he ha 
his way with the woman, whose eyes are by now rolling to the back of 
her head with pleasure. The girl stands in the doorstep for a second or 
two before cocking her gun and pointing at the head of the first woman. 
Finally, the man opens his eyes long enough to see the girl and manage 
a “What the fuck?” before the girl fires at the first woman’s head, 
killing her instantly, and the other woman screams. The man is 
speechless in shock and the other woman has gotten up and tries to run 
as the a bullet hits her right temple; her lifeless naked body falling 
to the floor. “Who are you?” the man finally gasps out. “Are you 
Christian DeFiore?” the girl asks coldly. “Yes,” he nearly whispers. 
You can all hear the girl smile. “Good,” she says and walks in 
completely closing the door behind her. 

It is good after more than two hours that the girl walks out. She is
putting her black leather jacket and obstructing the view inside of the 
room. There is blood on the white wife-beater top she’d been wearing 
under the jacket. She now zips the jacket all the way up. She shoves 
her hair out of her eyes and you catch a glimpse of a bowie knife as 
she tucks it in the back of the waistline of her pants, which fit 
snugly around her hips. She looks from side to side before starting to 
walk back the way she came. The room inside seems to empty besides the 
two dead women’s bodies but the curiosity inside you grows with every 
passing second. You get out from your small hiding place and walk 
towards the open door, looking around and finding the hall deserted. 
You step at the door without entering and out of the corner of your 
eyes notice a shape. You turn into that direction and fight the nausea 
as your eyes focus. There is the badly maimed, dead body of Christian 
DeFiore. His wrists have been tied to a pipe in the ceiling and there 
are cuts, scrapes, burns and bruises all over his arms. With another 
pang of nausea you realize that his balls are missing and so are his 
toes. There are parts of his chest that have been burned to the raw 
flesh and scraped to the point where it all looks like a bloody, 
fleshly  mess.  His mouth is covered with black masking tape and his 
bronze eyes are wide open in horror, but also lifeless. You hold on to 
the doorframe with your right arm as the sickness sweeps over you and 
you fight it back. You finally take deep breaths and prepare to get the 
hell out of that place. 

You turn to find her standing a couple of feet from you, the gun pointed
straight at your head. The last thing you see is her lush, pouty mouth 
twisting in a mean, amused grin and her eyes flash bright at you before 
she pulls the trigger. 

Then Black. 


Tweet