We move to bedroom numbers two and three and repeat the process with the same efficient positive results. All six of them are now tied and gagged. We each get one guy all to ourselves to do whatever we want for however long we want. It’s Friday night after all, so we have all weekend. I had pre-selected the biggest guy. The one who decided my pants needed to come down. The one whose arm I crushed below the elbow. Because of the cast, we had to forego the zip tie and tape down his arm.
We turn on all the lights and my five friends each choose a bed. Really, they’re choosing a victim. I look inside my bag of tricks. It’s loaded with feathers and screwdrivers and dental floss and toothpicks. I choose the fork with the tines bent in different directions. His giant bare feet are primed and waiting for me. My fork meets the arch of his foot and the whole room shakes as he wildly thrashes in ticklish torture. I have hours of fun ahead of me.
He never got the chance to do what he wanted to do to me because my friends interrupted him. But he aimed to. He meant to. Intention is as guilty as action and that alone, I have decided, is a crime. Crimes are followed by punishment and on this occasion, the punishment will be set and exacted by me. No one will save him from me getting his pants down. The punishment must fit the crime. His erection will stand tall and it will be at that moment that I pull the pastry wheel out of my bag of tricks. The one that is sharp and fluted. I’m gonna carve this son of a bitch up. Even his tight gag won’t suppress all of the screaming that is in his future.
Payback is a bitch.
And closure is delightful.