The Accumulator

A firm prod in his side caused Chilsrik to wake with a start. Instinctively, he reached for the sword he kept near his pillow, but found that when he moved, his hands were tied to the bed posts. As he struggled against his restraints he also found that his feet were bound to the posts at the end of the bed, elevated so that his bare bottom was in the air. He leaned as far forward as he could and craned his neck downward to see what was going on at the foot of the bed. Alkeryn, the wench he had taken to bed earlier in the night, was standing there in the tightest leather outfit he had ever seen, smiling as though nothing were out of the ordinary. Her outfit was the same shade of red as the walls and the furniture, but the way it molded to every curve and fold of her body gave the illusion that she had covered herself in blood and let herself dry. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“What games do you play, woman?” He growled his discomfort and pulled at the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles. He jerked so hard that he lifted himself from the bed momentarily.

Alkeryn let out a shrill, girlish laugh. “I do not play with you…yet.”

Chilsrik continued his fruitless struggle. “Unbind me, damnit.”

“I will let you go after I collect my payment from you; but until then, you will be good and do what I say. That sound fair?” She slid her hands down the front of her body, attracting his eyes to wherever her hands roamed. She began a little dance that visibly aroused him. “I want from you what only you can give to me.”

“Please me again and I will give you whatever it is you desire.” Chilsrik bit his lower lip and cursed beneath his breath. Had she not tied him up like so he would have taken her, ripped off the unnecessary outfit she was wearing, and given her the brunt of his lust.

She kept dancing, swaying her hips from side to side and arousing him to his full height. “I will please neither one of us until I receive my payment.”

“What is it you want? Take whatever you want, just leave me some to survive.”

“I want a very rare delicacy.”

Chilsrik’s heart faltered and skipped a few beats when he saw her dance a jagged knife from behind her back and raise it in the space above her head, swinging it to and fro in the rhythm of her hips. When she lunged at him with the knife coming straight at his face, his pulse returned and his heart threatened to jackhammer its way out of his chest. He struggled as best he could, but she had bound him tightly and the ropes only rubbed his skin off. There were shouts and screams coming from his throat, but they were nothing like the agonized wails that issued from him when she took her knife to his most sensitive flesh beneath his manhood. As it cut through the flesh, removing his life, he felt his vision dim, his hearing fade, and his blood flow onto the sheets that would not indicate its presence. His shock could do nothing to mute the physical suffering that his body was enduring and would endure until he died.

Through clouded eyes and an agonized stupor, he watched Alkeryn emerge from atop him carrying his two most precious jewels. The smile that graced her face and the sparkle in her eyes only served to make his pain worse. She skipped over to her wardrobe and pulled out a chest that she unlocked with a key that had been hidden beneath her red leather outfit. When she opened the chest and heaped his removed, bloody body parts into the growing pile of other prizes, he felt vomit rising in his esophagus and had to turn as best as he could on his side so that he would not drown in his own vomit, though he would have welcomed death at that moment, knowing that forever he would have to walk in the world less a man than everyone else.