Page 43 of Darkest Descent

“Better wake the man up, then,” I said, cricking my neck and climbing onto the bed so I was straddling the sickly looking asshole. “Ninety four minutes to make him endure a lifetime’s worth of pain.”

Hunter and Asher both nodded, and we shared a moment of calm, a quiet second before the storm we were about to rage. I slapped Dad across the face, and he woke with a gasping scream.

Hunter covered his mouth, and grinned down, wicked and feral, as our father realized who was above him. I pulled a knife from my pocket and got to work.

Twenty minutes later, we were all coated in blood.

We’d made short work of slicing off each of the monster’s fingers and toes, and they sat in a disgusting little pile on his bedside table. We had further plans for them. Each of us relished his pain and anguish, and he was too weak to fight back, only take it. The boys told me he would drug them. Hunter said it started happening when he got big enough to defend himself, so this denial of a chance for him to escape was satisfying as fuck. Three on one felt like a fair fight when the monster used to use all his power on fucking teenagers.

“You… damned…” he tried to curse at us, but Hunter punched him across the face with a loud thwack, sending a few teeth flying.

“Ah, more for the pile,” Hunter teased, plucking the teeth up and putting them in the finger and toe mountain. It was fast growing more grotesque - especially when we forced Dad to look at it and he vomited.

Asher wasn’t involved in the torture itself, but watched from the sidelines with a grim expression on his face. Hunter and I reveled in it. I worried we were scaring our younger brother, making him wish he wasn’t with us, but when I looked at him, that grim expression shifted to love. Acceptance.

My heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline as I sliced Dad’s ears off, plopping them in the pile before carving into his face, digging the knife into the bone as I dug slivers of skin from him. He cried, groaned, attempted to fight, and tried to faint. I slapped him back awake each time.

His groaning was incoherent, making me laugh. I wondered if the darkness Hunter had found in me would have appeared sooner if Dad had a thing for his daughter, too? Because we shared it. Bathed in it.

“You’re a monster,” I told the weak man beneath me. “Now you look like one, too. What do you think your investors will do when they see this face?” I grabbed his cheeks and squeezed, my eyes alight as blood oozed from his many, many wounds. “Your sniveling lackeys?”

He attempted to speak, and I sliced off his tongue, slapping it into the mound of his flesh with glee. But when I tried to cut off his nose, I wasn’t strong enough, my knife snagging on bone or cartilage or whatever the fuck.

“Hunter, help,” I asked, sliding off the bed and straightening up. Hunter had been watching, his cock hard and his eyelids hooded as I took over the torture. But it was his turn again, having paused after the digit removal to enjoy my show.

Asher came up behind me, holding me tight, his chin on my shoulder, as our big brother ripped the nose from our father’s face. My stomach roiled a little as Hunter used a spoon to pry out the asshole’s eyes next, and I couldn’t look at them as they joined the gore. Hunter’s face splattered with blood, and his expression remained focused, raving mad, his eyes wide and electric. I found it impossible to look away as he worked. He was so fucking sexy.

I was twisted, lost to the madness, because my belly tightened at the sight of him torturing the man we hated, and the feel of Asher, warm at my back.

“Time for the big guns…” Hunter cooed at Dad as he ran his blade up the old man’s leg, stopping just short of his disgusting groin. I wanted to tear my gaze away, but didn’t, despite the bile in my throat.

Dad cried and screamed and chucked up the last of tonight’s dinner when Hunter sliced the knife through his dick, yanking the little thing up with a vicious pull before cutting clean through it.

“You know where this is going?” Hunter asked, waving the appendage around like Dad could see it with his eyeless sockets. He slapped it across Dad’s cheek instead, laughing when he cried and whimpered. “Up your ass.”

I raced to the bed to help my brother turn him over and position the monster on his stomach with his legs spread. He moved like he was a doll or puppet, devoid of life or fight. “Asher, will you record this?” Hunter asked. “Just get in close so our faces aren’t visible. We’re dead, after all.” He laughed. “Well, you’re dead. I never existed in the first place.”

A sight I never wanted to see was my dad’s asshole, stretched wide and waiting. It was unclean, clenched and so foul that my eyes refused the image. But Asher was right there with the camera while Hunter did the dirty work.

The sliced off, limp dick was a challenge to force inside his ass. It was so squishy and fucking slippery that Hunter kept swearing and almost dropping it. “Gonna need to stab a bigger hole, I think.” He positioned the knife’s tip and pushed. “Or make some natural lube.”

And he did. My heart continued to beat as normal as he stabbed the knife into Dad’s asshole, slicking it with blood and widening it. The old man must have passed out, maybe even had a heart attack, but we carried on.

His dick shoved inside, and one by one, every finger, every toe, both ears, eyes and even his nose followed. Shoved and pushed and forced into his ass by his eldest son. His biggest disappointment. It was the least we could do for the suffering he’d inflicted on his boys. On all the other people we would never know.

Finally, we turned him back over. At this point, it felt utilitarian for us. No emotion. Just a job to get done.

“We only have twenty minutes,” Asher whispered, covering the phone microphone. We had to be out of here by then.

Hunter held up one finger with a grim expression. One thing left to do.

Asher and I watched him cut Dad’s balls off and force them into his sliced up mouth. Dad groaned and cried, gagging. Ah, still awake. Good. He needed to know how much he’d lost. How far he’d fallen.

“Kiss me,” I said, turning to Asher. He stopped the recording and tilted his head in surprise. “Kiss me,” I repeated. “Let’s show him all he’s achieved.” I looked at Hunter. “Come here too.”

Hunter grinned and came around the bed, cleaning his hands with antiseptic wipes, before yanking the two of us into him. “You want Daddy to hear how much his children love each other?” he asked.

“Mm, yes,” I moaned. “Can’t wait for you to fuck me again, big brother,” I said, just for our dad’s ears. They kissed me then, both of them, our tongues twirling and massaging as we all groaned and moaned together. We wanted him to hear every moment of it.

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