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[personal profile] agentorange
Title: Ut Se Mori Sentiat
Rating: R
Words: 2900
Note: Graphic, sexy torture. Prompted by [livejournal.com profile] mykindoftwisted.



"This is kinky, Roman," the hooker dressed as Catwoman exclaimed as Roman chained her to the wall.

He tsked, moving to double check the restraints on the reclined dentist chair, which held the other prostitute dressed in a purple Spoiler costume. While Catwoman could easily see the dentist chair from her vantage point, the other girl faced in the opposite direction.

"You will both refer to me as Black Mask. Try to remain in character or else there's no point. That includes screaming, pleading, and back sass, especially you, Stephie," he patted the blonde's arm, "and screaming. Don't forget to scream like you mean it, girls. I want this fantasy to be true to life."

Roman walked across the chamber to where the video camera was set on a tripod. He adjusted the frame, making sure it covered both girls without requiring any future changes.

"When the camera starts rolling, you better not break character, because then I will break you."

Spoiler giggled.

"Whatever you say, Blackie."

Roman scowled at her briefly and counted silently down to one. He hit the play button and began, his voice echoing in the stone chamber.

"Say hello to the camera, girls, you're gonna be stars."

Catwoman oohed, smiling brightly for the camera.

"We started, you idiot!" Roman hissed, still off screen.

Her face fell and she slumped against the walls convincingly. Roman sauntered into the shot, his shirtsleeves pushed up to his elbows. He stood in the space between the restrained girls, moving his head up and down over-dramatically for the camera to catch his appraisal of their bodies.

"Must be my lucky day. What did I do to deserve a date with my two favorite ladies? Looks like Christmas has come early and Mask has been a very good boy."

He chuckled, walking towards Catwoman.

"Hey, kitty, kitty, kitty..."

She hissed and pulled against the iron fetters, just as they had rehearsed. Roman stroked her cheek, causing her to jerk away.

"Feisty as always, CW, I like that."

He turned away from her to retrieve a pair of rubber gloves and an apron from the workbench. When he had put them on, he returned to the chained girl, screwdriver in hand.

"It's been a while since we've the time for each other, so let's get down to business. But before I start, you gotta tell me: how's your sister? Still off her rocker and dreaming of eyeballs on top of spaghetti?"

Roman was pleased by the woman's improvisational acting.

"Cut the trash talk, Mask. What do you want?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"Just some quality time with you, baby. We never talk anymore. You ignore my calls, change your locks...if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to break up with me. So I got to thinking maybe you're jealous of the special time your sister and I had together, and you know what? It's completely my fault. I'm sorry, Kitty," he told her, a hand on his chest. "But I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

Catwoman spat at him, her eyes narrow.

"Go to hell."

Roman tutted, raising the screwdriver to her face. She tried to turn away, but he grabbed her jaw, holding her steady.

"That's a rude thing to say, honey pie," he remarked, placing the head of the screwdriver to the corner of her eye. "I'm of a mind to make you eat your words."

He pressed the metal tool into her eye socket, wiggling slightly around the curve of her eyeball. She screamed in earnest.

"What are you doing?! I didn't-"

He squeezed her cheeks hard enough to render her terror unintelligible, and continued working the screwdriver until, with a push, he severed the eye stem. Using the tool as a lever, he popped her eye from its socket. He caught it and held it in the same hand as the bloody screwdriver, bringing it before her remaining eye.

"Do you have any idea how many times it took me before I could remove an eye like this? First coupla tries I was so over-zealous that I squished quite a few before they'd even left the socket. Punctured some, too, suckers are kinda like Jell-O...well, not as much as brain matter, of course, but no less fun to smush. The human body is such a pitiful, delicate thing," he ruminated, and added: "And I love it."

He tossed the eyeball into the air and caught it, repeating the motion several times.

"Now open wide for the airplane, little girl. Black Mask has got a special delivery for your tummy!"

Catwoman squealed in panic, unable to close her mouth due to Roman's hold on her. He crammed the eye into her mouth and immediately brought his other hand under his chin, moving her jaw up and down. A thick, gelatinous substance leaked from her lips.

"Hmm, tasty. But you won't get dessert if you don't swallow."

To Roman's delight, the girl didn't require much prodding. He patted her cheek.

"I bet all the boys love you."

A sob escaped her throat. Roman turned his ear toward her, miming intense concentration.

"What's that, darling? You want seconds, just like Maggie?" he snickered cruelly. "You really are a greedy, jealous bitch, ain't you?"

Roman placed the screwdriver at the corner of her other eye. She moaned in abject terror, tears running down one cheek, blood the other.

"No, please..."

He considered and then pulled the screwdriver away and moved swiftly to the workbench.

"No, you're absolutely right, babe. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn't give you an experience different to your sister's. Shit, I love the way you always gotta up the ante. Keeps me on my toes, I'll tell ya," he chatted, returning to Catwoman. He held up a spoon caked with rust colored stains, yanking down her bottom eyelid. "Now this'll really make your eyes pop."

He paused, grimacing.

"God, that was awful. I apologize."

Her screams were so convincing that the hooker dressed as Spoiler, unable to see what was occurring, shifted uncomfortably against the leather restraints of the dentist chair.

"Hang tight, pretty pretty, Daddy'll be with you in a moment," he called, pushing down on the spoon's handle.

The eyeball popped loose with a squelch, albeit still attached to the eye stem. Roman took the organ in his hand and tugged, snapping the stem. Catwoman howled incoherently while he talked.

"Now, it's entirely plausible that you could survive your little ordeal here, and in your line of work, that's probably a bonus, am I right? I know I'm right. But it's been a while, oh, say, almost 24 hours since I knocked someone off, and I've been feelin' real antsy lately, so I think, for my sake, it's better if I get the release I paid you for. The only real positive in this turns of events for you is I'm not gonna make you eat your other eye because, quite frankly, I'm getting tired of you, especially with Stephie over there tied up like some kind of obscene Christmas ham."

He held the eyeball to her ear and squeezed it in his hand, making certain she heard it pop. Then he brutally jammed the spoon into her eye socket, rupturing the dura mater and puncturing her brain. With a quick twist, he stirred her lobes, her screams soon fading to silence. Pulling out the spoon, he held a finger to her carotid, and finding a pulse, he threw the spoon to the floor with a clatter. He grabbed her neck, squeezing her windpipe with his thumbs.

"Die, damn you! Die!" he hissed, his heartbeat increasing as her pulse stopped.

His hands slowly dropped away and he caught his breath. He wiped his bloody palms on the now dead Catwoman impersonator, and strolled over to the reclined dentist chair. He sat on the arm, leaning over the girl.

"And now onto the main event. I saved the best for last, Stephie girl," he told her, stroking her arm with the back of his hand. "I've waited a long time since our last chance encounter. I got a taste for you, baby, and I can't get you out of my head."

Spoiler had a dreamy look on her face. Roman pinched her arm savagely and she quickly got the hint, biting her lip in what was meant to be a pout. Roman sighed, not wanting to stop the camera.

"Sometimes I think I should torture you to determine why I like you so much, Stephie. But mostly I just want to finish what we started."

He stood and retrieved a battery powered drill. He pressed the trigger, watching her flinch at the whirring noise.

"Now, cable TV has given me some wacky torture techniques, especially those Jap shows, but there's a limit to what the censors can show, and quite frankly, my dear, they can't show shit. If you wanna get to the juicy stuff, and I know you do, you gotta dig back in the history books where cruelty towards your fellow man was not only tolerated but enthusiastically endorsed by the governing institution. Barring select parts of the world, the kind of civil rights violations that most interest me aren't really appreciated these days, and for good reason- if they let every power drill happy maniac like me get away with shit, then...you get the idea. I get shivers of glee imagining what a guy like Caligula would do if he'd had a drill like this."

He held the drill dangerously close to her exposed hair.

"You know, he used to say 'ita feri ut se mori sentiat'- 'Strike so that he may feel he is dying.' Or in this case, 'she'. Guy was a fucking connoisseur. You could probably say he's my idol."

He released the trigger and poked her side with the still bit, tickling her ribs as he moved down her body.

"Used to eat lunch during executions too," he stated, jabbing her abdomen about where her appendix would be, were it the right side. "And I know for a fact he'd approve of this."

Roman squeezed the trigger and pressed the spinning bit into her soft flesh, quickly tearing through the costume and the tissue of her abdomen. Blood bubbled out of the wound as she screamed and thrashed impotently against the leather straps. He pulled the drill out after barely an inch and inserted a finger.

"Want to keep from perforating your intestines, sweetheart," he explained over her shrieks, moving the finger around and stretching the wound. "That'd make my plans real shitty, if you know what I'm saying."

Satisfied with the hole, he set the power drill down and took off the apron, bending to put his face close to Spoiler's. His tongue snaked from between his teeth and licked her mouth.

"This part's gonna get a little- ok, a lot- messy, but think of it like period sex."

She didn't process his words until she heard the clink of his belt buckle.

"No, please! You can't do this!" she shrieked, shaking in the restraints.

Roman unzipped his pants, leering at her.

"I can, and I am, Stephie," he smirked, taking out his already rigid cock. "The only thing I want you to do is lie back and scream for Daddy. Can you do that for me, baby?"

He pumped himself a few times before climbing atop her and pressing the head of his cock to the seeping wound in her abdomen. She howled in pain.

"That's it, scream for me," he encouraged, pushing himself into the hole with a groan. "You're so tight and hot, Stephie..."

Spurred on by her screams, Roman wasted no time finding a vigorous rhythm, tearing the wound wider. With every thrust, Spoiler cried out, sobbing unintelligibly.

"Better than I imagined," Roman grunted, his hands scrabbling to tear the cheap costume's fabric from her breasts.

He took a nipple between his teeth, biting until he tasted blood. He lapped at it and then licked his teeth, leering down at her. She bounced against the straps in sync with his pumping hips.

"Don't tell me you didn't dream about this every night after I tortured you half to death. Do you remember all the intimate details, how my knife thrust into your yielding flesh? I know I do, Stephie," he panted, moving his hands to her throat when he felt his balls clench. "Is this everything you fantasized it to be?"

"No, you filthy pig," she managed to choke out before his hands tightened around her neck.

He choked her, pounding his cock into the wound as fast and hard as he could. With a gasp, he came, blood and semen mixing among her organs. He loosed his grip on her throat, collapsing on top of her, sighing.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

He listened to his heart slow, realizing it was in time with Spoiler's. He jerked his head up, frowning at the unconscious girl. Grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, he lifted her head and slammed it against the chair. She awoke with a scream of pain.

"That's more like it, Stephie," Roman said, pleased.

He pulled his limp dick from the hole in her abdomen, a froth of blood and semen oozing out after it. He used the cowl of the purple costume to clean himself up and, having buckled his pants, he donned the rubber apron again. While Spoiler whimpered, Roman drummed his fingers on the workbench.

"The times have changed, darling, and all the things I could have tortured from you before, well, you're not in a position to them, as it were, and honestly, there's nothing you could tell me about anything that I care to know, so as usual, it looks like you're going to fall short of your true potential, this time as fodder for my creativity cannon. But what to do? There are so many options..."

He stopped rifling through the instruments, resting a gloved hand atop a curved hook. He picked it up and started to walk back to the frightened girl when he stopped, returning for another metal tool, one with teeth and screws.

"Chest spreader," he explained. "You have something that belongs to me and me alone, Stephie. When I let you go, I spent many a long, cold, lonely night thinking of you cheating on me with some hero type and baby, I'm a jealous guy."

Roman used the hook to rip open the Spoiler costume, exposing her bare chest. He placed the tip of the hook below her left clavicle and paused, laughing to himself.

"Ok, that's total bullshit, but it'd make a great movie line, right?"

The girl sobbed, her chest heaving.

"Please, don't do this, I don't want to die."

Roman clucked his tongue.

"Do I look like a guy who changes his mind easily?"

He pierced her skin with the hook and in a smooth motion, he ripped a line between her breasts, down to the end of her ribcage. He then sliced two perpendicular lines at either end of the original, at right angles. While blood welled up from the incisions, Roman set down the hook and gripped the flap of skin and fat in his hands, chatting over her screams as he peeled it back over her left breast.

"It could be much worse, girlie. I initially planned on scaphism, but eventually discarded that fantasy. You're too special for me not to get intimate and use my hands on you. Not to mention the irritating logistics and the smell. Good god, the smell. I love you, Stephie girl, but I don't want to smell you rotting in honey and your own shit, as satisfying a sight that would be."

The hook in hand once more, he sliced her pectoral muscles. Then he inserted the chest spreader, inciting new screams as he spread her ribs so far as to crack them. With the spreader in place, he used the hook to puncture the pericardium. He carefully tore an opening in the membrane, revealing her pumping heart. Then he set the hook down and admired the view, stroking her face with a bloody hand.

"There was this one guy at Arkham, a real psycho, what was his name...Stork something. Anyway, he used to rave about how tasty hearts were. He'd terrorize people, get their heart rates up, claimed norepinepherine marinated the tickers and made 'em tender and tasty as hell. Fascinating theory, but goddamn, what a whacko."

He ran a bloody finger lightly over her exposed heart and lowered his head to sniff the beating organ.

"Never did check to see if what he said was true, but there's a first time for everything," he snickered, raising his head to look at her pale, shocked face. "I'm just kiddin' you. Probably."

Roman plunged his hands into her chest cavity, gripping her heart. Then, with one great tug, he pulled it, still beating, from her body. Her screams died on her lips, glassy eyes staring up at him in horror. Blood pumped out of the severed arteries, spraying his apron. He held the heart contemplatively until long after it had ceased beating. Finally, he tossed it carelessly aside, moving towards the camera.

"Sic transit gloria meretricis..." he muttered, shaking his head and shutting off the camera.
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