The ropes bind me to the chair again. I used to like bondage and all that crap as much as Dru, but it’s lost its appeal. Now, if someone would add a little torture and stop that wanker on the sofa-bed wiggling his sorry arse in my face...
“I’m moist AND delicious.” He states self-confidently, glancing over disdainfully at me, his hand groping for the light clumsily.
He still fears me, hiding behind sad attempts at humour. Don’t know why though. Can’t bloody bite anything, let alone hurt anyone, but I can watch them. Sitting and staring at someone is great. Make people feel all uneasy and nervous. It was always so bloody funny when they used to try and run. Run from us.
Although there were sometimes tough blokes who thought they could take you and tried to smash your face in as a sign of toughness. Not like the dozy pillock tossing and turning on the bed in front of me. I actually want him to try and beat me. I want to look more pathetic that I already am. I know its possible. If he battered the shit out of me, I think that would prove it.
Maybe one day, someone will do that for me again cos I know he won’t. I want to be beaten to within an inch of my unlife, perhaps even further. I’m a disgrace. I’m less than that. I’m nothing at all. I can’t even goad the twat into hitting me, no matter how I try. Can’t give up on my only source of fun though, can I?
Only I’d prefer it was a stake he would hit me with, instead of the soddin’ fist I always get from the bitch. I’m nothing more than an annoying punchbag to that stupid little bint and apparently, I’m lucky the Watcher hasn’t let her kill me.
Fucking hell.
I’m pathetic.
Can’t kill and can’t fight. The two bloody things I want to do most.
Although there are other things I have in mind for innocent little pricks like Mr Harris or the bitch’s new boytoy. And surprisingly, by my standards, its not at all violent...or at least not in the conventional way, which means my brain won’t fry if I do it. And it works just as well for every chit I’ve met to date too, but its far more fun with blokes like those two, the wholesome, all-American boys.
I could start now, but it would be no fun at all. And they still suspect that I’m up to something, all of the Slayer’s little gang of groupies. Now just isn’t the time. But...but when they least suspect, they’re both going to fall and fall hard.
No one ever told Buffy why Angelus chose me. Why he hunted me down and watched my every move for days on end before turning me, when I was at my peak. How he sent me out to find both men and women to lure back to our various homes, using the skill he had chosen me for.
I have a talent like no other. And, up until now, it’s been hidden, ever since I came to Sunnyhell the first time. I didn’t need distractions, but I want to see her face, when she sees what I can reduce her precious man to. What I can reduce all her friends to.
Hell, I could even go right on and do the Watcher too. None of them suspect. None of them have a clue. They think I’m a looker – I mean, who doesn’t? Leather, bleached hair – not many can resist the bad-boy thing, but the underestimate me cos of the soddin’ thing in my head.
They don’t know I don’t need to be able to hurt people physically to torture them. That’s what they don’t seem to realise. I can torture people in so many different ways. I haven't spent a hundred and twenty years just killing and twidling my thumbs.
Everyone has to have a hobby and those mortals are going to learn the hard way just what mine was. The 'hard way' being the operative term.
One of these days, when the ropes are finally undone, when their guards finally drop and they think I won’t do anything to possibly harm them – when I start acting like Soulboy, they’re going to fall.
Straight into my bed, no matter how straight and wonderful they claim to be. They won’t be able to resist. No one ever could. Ever. In my bed, they’ll be. Then they’ll see just what torture is. They’ll be begging for death before I get through with them.
Can’t fight, can’t bite, but I can still shag a person to death.
You see if I can’t.
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