Erotimaniac

Ethan sat at his desk in his bedroom, staring at the blinking cursor on his

monitor. The insertion cursor mocked him with each blink, as if it were

saying: you'll never finish this book, they'll never like your writing. Black

bags under his bloodshot eyes, the struggling author felt defeated. He was

physically and emotionally drained by the stress.

Dusk had barely arrived, the sun was just falling beyond the horizon, and

he already sat in his gray boxer briefs.

He couldn't be bothered to toss on a shirt or some pants. He was solely

concerned with his work. Words, words, words – he couldn't think of the

words to start his new story. He needed to capture his audience's attention

with a hook, but his punches were weaker than a toddler's jabs. The page

remained blank.

Sunken-eyed, Ethan glanced at the door to his left. He could hear

Emiko's persistent screaming. The shouts were faint, the screaming could

not be heard from outside, but they were still bothersome. He held his hands

over his ears, stomped his feet, and screamed – frustrated.

He muttered, "Why won't she shut up? I've treated her right. I've shown

her respect. Why won't she let me work, damn it?!"

His chair fell back to the floor as he quickly stood from his seat. He

marched out of the bedroom, then he paced back-and-forth – walking

between the kitchen and living room.

"Ethan," a man's voice said. "What's going on, champ? Come over here

and talk to me."

Ethan whimpered as he dropped his arms to his side. He approached the

mirror on the wall. His reflection was talking to him again.

Ethan said, "I'm losing it, man. I can't write my book, Emiko won't stop

screaming... It just doesn't feel right. None of this feels right."

"That's because it's not right, Ethan," his reflection responded. "You

have a big problem on your hands and you know it. You just can't admit it."

"I–I have a... problem?"

"Yes. You have to keep Emiko quiet. If she keeps screaming, someone

will find out about her and you'll lose her forever. If that happens... well, it's over. You can say goodbye to your career, your lover, and your future. You

won't be able to focus on yourself until you can really 'fix' her – until you

can trust her. That's your problem."

Ethan nodded, convinced and determined. He was reassured by his own

reflection – a creation of his deranged mind.

He stared at himself and whispered, "You're right. She's still not fixed."

He glanced over at the basement door and said, "Some discipline and a little

scare should fix her, though. Yeah..."

In her room, Emiko shouted, "Help! Somebody help me!"

The young woman stared down at her crotch. The skin was rosy and

itchy due to the boiling water. Thick, watery blisters also formed around her

vagina. She was afraid to burst the blisters, though. Yet, she couldn't stop

scratching. The pain was insufferable.

She screamed, "Call 911! Call someone! Oh, God, I need help!"

Ethan marched down the stairs. He flicked a switch on the wall, which

caused the light bulb at the center of the room to illuminate. He tugged on

his hair and gritted his teeth as he glared at the door. Emiko's yelling was

clearer than ever before – and it infuriated him.

He shoved the door open and barked, "Shut up! Shut your damn mouth!"

From the corner of the room, Emiko sniveled and shouted, "Let me go,

bastard! Let me go!"

"Shut up, Emiko! Please... be quiet. I've told you several times already:

I'll let you go when you're ready. You just–"

"No! Fuck you, you sick bastard! I'm tired of this shit! I'm... I'm tired of

everything! I won't stop screaming until you let me go. You hear me, you

dirty asshole?! Huh? I won't stop screaming until you let me go!"

Ethan tightly closed his eyes and held his hands over his ears. Emiko's

screeching drilled into his ears, like the sound of nails scratching a

chalkboard – shrill and unnerving.

Emiko glanced up at the ceiling and yelled, "Help! Somebody help me!

I'm down here! Please, somebody help me! He's crazy!"

Crazy – the word steamrolled over Ethan. The word was blasphemous in

his household. The pain caused by the word was amplified since it came

from the woman he loved. A knife was jammed into his back and twisted in

his spine, paralyzing him.

Through his gritted teeth, Ethan sternly said, "Don't ever call me that

again, you filthy cunt."

Emiko stopped screaming and squirmed closer to the wall as Ethan

entered the room.

Towering over his captive, Ethan struck down at Emiko with all of his

might – left, right, left, right. He repeatedly punched her, landing blows on

her head and face – hooks, jabs, uppercuts. Consumed by his rage, he

couldn't control himself. He grunted and groaned with each punch. Tears

even trickled from his eyes and landed on the back of Emiko's head.

Ethan grabbed a fistful of her hair, then he pulled Emiko's head back –

placing the back of her head against the concrete wall behind her. He pulled

his leg back, as if he were preparing to punt a football, then he hit Emiko's

face with his knee. Emiko was knocked unconscious by the blow to the

face. Her head fell to the side.

Ethan stepped in reverse, awed by his own savage attack. He examined

his captive's condition as he caught his breath. Emiko's cheeks were red and

swollen. A bruise would surely materialize on her left cheek in a day or

two. Blood leaked from her nostrils and swollen lips, painting her chin red.

A cut formed on the bridge of her nose, too. The black bruise on her temple,

which was caused during the night of the kidnapping, appeared to be

worsening.

Emiko slowly opened her eyes, as if she were awakening after a peaceful

slumber. She frowned as her blurred vision began to focus – she could see

Ethan standing over her.

Through her sliced lips, flecked with blood, Emiko weakly said, "You...

You're crazy. You're confused... lost... pathetic. You don't even know what

you're doing. This... This isn't love, it's torture." She giggled deliriously as

she shook her head. She said, "You're probably like this because you have

a... a little dick. A lot of you are like this because of that... Insecure

bastards."

On the verge of breaking down, Ethan nervously chuckled and said,

"Little dick... It's always about the cock for you, isn't it? Let me show you

something."

Ethan continued laughing as he walked out of the room. Emiko leaned

towards her right and stared out of the doorway. She followed the man's

every step, watching him with the eyes of a hawk. He reached into the

washing machine in the basement. As he glanced back at the room, Emiko

returned to the corner – terrified.

Ethan stood in the doorway, his right hand hidden behind his back. With

a devilish grin on his face, he said, "Let me introduce you to someone.

Now, don't get jealous, okay? She's my ex-girlfriend and I don't love her. I

just use her to... to relieve some stress. Meet Karen, Emiko."

Ethan lifted his right arm and revealed a decapitated head – Karen's

head. The head was already decomposed. The decomposing head had been

reduced to mostly gray skin and bone, although some hair lingered.

Maggots and semen filled the head's mouth – Ethan never stopped using it

as a fleshlight. Perhaps it was more of a bone-light, though. It emitted an

atrocious aroma of death, too.

Eyes wide with fear, Emiko stared at the severed head, then at Ethan.

She held her hands over her mouth and retched. She struggled to breathe as

a lump of anxiety formed in her throat. She was shocked by the revelation.

Ethan walked to the center of the room and shouted, "This is what

happens to succubi! Do you want the same thing to happen to you? Do

you?!"

Sobbing and wheezing, Emiko shook her head and said, "Please don't

kill me. I don't want to die. Not like this. Please, don't..."

"You have to prove you're not fake, Emiko. You have to show me you're

not a succubus. If you are one of them, you'll end up just like Karen. You'll

still be with me, but you won't be alive to hurt anyone else. No, you'll only

be able to pleasure people. You'll be like her... a real fleshlight – but maybe

without the flesh. You have to prove yourself."

The room became quiet. Ethan watched his captive with glimmering

eyes. Despite the blood and bruises, he was still captivated by her beauty.

Emiko kept her head down and eyes low, trying to avoid the decapitated

head. She was ready to appease her captor, but she wasn't willing to accept

the blood and gore.

Recomposed, Ethan sighed, then he said, "Listen, I'm sorry for hurting

you. I'm still frustrated about my book and I couldn't work with your

screaming. I couldn't focus without knowing if you were... one of them."

Pretending to apologize, Emiko said, "I'm sorry, too. I didn't know I was

bothering you so much. Can you..." She paused to recompose herself, then

she asked, "Can you get rid of that thing? Please?"

Ethan stared down at the decapitated head, amazed. It worked, he

thought, I scared some sense into her. Like a toy in a child's room, he carelessly tossed the severed head back into the basement. The head

bounced on the concrete until it stopped near the cardboard boxes.

Emiko took a deep breath, then she said, "Listen, I'm... I'm not like the

other girls, but I just can't stay here. I'm begging you. Let's go outside. Let's

go on a normal date. You don't have to keep me chained up like this. We

can be like everyone else. We can be a normal couple."

"I can't let you go like this. It would be like... like releasing a feral

animal into the public. We have to wait until you're ready. This is for you as

much as it's for me. If I let you go and you're one of those things, you'll still

end up like Karen. I'm not the only succubus hunter out there, you know?

When your love is proven, we'll be free from all of this. I promise."

Emiko's breathing intensified as she fought the urge to cry. She tried to

breathe through her nose, but her nostrils were crushed – a snorting sound

emerged with each breath. She wiped the tears from her eyes and

reluctantly nodded – okay. She didn't want to aggravate the situation by

challenging him.

Ethan smiled and said, "Good, good. I have a test we can take to... well,

to test your love."

"A–A test?"

"Yes. It will help me relieve stress and I think it will please you. Hell,

we'll even make some money off of it. I need to fill my bank anyway. I

haven't published anything in months, so my funds are running a bit low.

Don't worry, though. I have savings. I can take care of–"

"What are you going to do to me?" Emiko asked, interrupting Ethan's

rambling.

"Well, I'm not going to hurt you or anything like that. We're doing this

together, okay? Let me just get you something a little more comfortable and

sexy to wear. I hope it fits."

As Ethan rushed out of the room, excited like a child on Christmas Eve,

Emiko said, "Wait. Talk to me. What are you going to do?"

The sound of locks clicking and clanking echoed through the basement.

Emiko was left in the room with a storm of wicked thoughts brewing in her

mind.