Chapter 5

John looked at his door. For his life, he couldn’t remember how he arrived there from the fuckstop. With trembling hands, he tried to put the key on the keyhole. Damn! he thought, when his fingers let the key slip and it clanked on the floor. He picked it up and tried again. This time, he opened the door and entered the apartment.

I’ve killed -snuffed- two women. He looked at his hands. He could see a small stain of blood in one of his fingers, from the guillotine, no doubt. He felt the vomit rising up his gullet and ran to the bathroom. He didn’t reach it on time, and very soon he was on his knees, splattering vomit all over the floor.

Jenny had been asleep on her spot when she was woken up by the sound of the door. Opening her eyes, she saw this man, John, entering the place. She couldn’t help to see his trembling legs and pale face, and wondered what had happened to him to return in such a sorry state. A few seconds later she saw him retching and scrambling to the bathroom, but he fell to the floor and started vomiting.

What’s wrong with him? She wondered. Perhaps his snuff slut wasn’t a good fuck? Doubtful, she thought. If that girl, Sonia, had been a bad fuck, there were always other snuff sluts to satisfy him. Her instinct told her to get up and try to help him, but her brain told her she was already dead and therefore should remain still.

Indifferent to his own vomit drenching his clothes, John sat on the floor and started to cry.

Jenny had never seen a man cry. Her instincts won, and she crawled -she didn’t dare to stand up- to him.

John was almost unresponsive. This world ... these killings ... It was simply too much. His brain had started to shut down, when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned his head and saw the discarded secretary talking to him. He saw her lips moving, but his brain couldn’t process the words. Finally, everything went black.

...

John woke up with a start. He felt the hard floor underneath, and his bones protested when he turned on his back. He looked around and saw he was on the living room, apparently having slept on the floor. His hand went to his chest just to discover that he was covered by a thin blanket. Upon further inspection, he found that he was naked.

The last thing I remember was... and then everything came to him. He tried to control the retching, barely succeeding. He sat slowly, mindful of not going too fast lest losing it again.

Strange, he thought. I remember puking my guts out and then, nothing. A slight cough made him turn his head, and he saw her. It was Jenny. The girl was on her knees, apparently having crawled from the kitchen. She was pushing a rolling cart carrying what looked like coffee.

“Here, master,” she said. “Please drink this, you will feel better.” She pushed the cart next to him and then withdrew a few paces, always on her knees.

“Thank you,” John said, his voice tired and emotionless. “Why are you crawling like that?

Jenny lowered her eyes. “This slut is dead, Master. Dead sluts cannot stand up.”

God, John thought. Crazy world, crazy people, crazy girl. He took the cup and drank slowly. He didn’t feel like arguing.

“Why am I naked?” he asked.

The girl kept looking at the floor. “This slut saw you fainting over your own vomit and had to help you,” she explained. “This slut mopped the vomit, took your dirty clothes off and cleaned you with a washcloth, but this slut couldn’t lift you to your bed so this slut put a pillow under your head and covered you with a blanket instead.”

“This slut,” John thought. Looks like a character of a bad blue movie. “Why are you talking in third person?” he asked.

“This slut is dead, and her name died with her. Therefore, it’s not appropriate to call this slut by her former name.”

Yes, a bad movie indeed. He decided to indulge her. “Thanks, again,” John gingerly stood up. At least his legs were not trembling now. Jenny went back to her original spot and laid down. She even tried to recreate her previous posture.

“What are you doing?” he asked, although he was almost sure of what the answer would be.

“You don’t need this slut’s help anymore, so this slut is back to being dead.” She closed her eyes and went still.

Seriously!? I don’t think so. Exasperated, John raised his voice. “Who are you to decide that I don’t need your help? Stand up, SLUT!”

For a few seconds Jenny didn’t move, but she finally opened her eyes and kneeled.

“I said STAND UP!” he growled.

Jenny hesitantly stood up. Her eyes, however, kept looking at the floor.

Again, John remembered those BDSM stories. “Look at me, WHORE!” he barked. She raised her head and looked at him.

“I got you from the trash, you are MY trash now, understood?” Jenny looked like she was trying to speak, but remained silent.

“I asked if you understand, you useless tramp!” Come on, girl. Can’t you see I want you to live?

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ve recycled you. Do you know about recycling, or are you too stupid to understand the concept?” John wasn’t used to treat women like this, but it seemed this was the only way to reach this “dead girl”.

Jenny thought it over. “Yes, Master. This slut knows what’s recycling. To turn old things into new things, to give used up things a new life.”

“Exactly! Maybe you’re not so stupid after all. So, what does it mean when I say that I’ve recycled you?”

“It means that you have given this slut a new life.”

Bingo! “Correct. Therefore, now your life is not yours. It’s mine. And I will be the one who decides when to end it, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” At this moment her belly chose to growl. John couldn’t help but to smile.

“Ok. Now go and prepare something to eat for both of us, then you will take a shower. You will eat, right?

“Yes, Master. This slut will eat.”

“Stop calling yourself ‘this slut.’ A new life comes with a new name” -John thought quickly- “And your new name is Jenna.” It was similar enough to her old name, but at the same time different enough as to symbolize her new life. Besides, she looked a bit like a young Jenna Jameson.

“Thank you, Master. I like my new name,” Jenna smiled.

“Go, then.” John dismissed her.

After a simple dinner of sandwiches and juice, Jenna went to the bathroom and John to his home office.

Jenna felt the water refreshing her body. She tried to find flaws in her Master’s logic, but she couldn’t find one. He was right: She had been recycled, and now she belonged to him. Yesterday I was discarded, now I have a new Master, a new name and a new life. She briefly thought about the other discarded secretary. If she hadn’t died a few minutes before John’s arrival, perhaps she would have been recycled, too. Anyway, her duty now was to be a good snuff slut for her Master. He would know when to snuff her, and she hoped he would be creative about it.

Meanwhile, John took stock of his situation. He had been only two days in this a strange world, had snuffed two women, slaved a third one, and had no idea of what to do now. Sonia mentioned a library, he thought. Remembering Sonia was almost overwhelming, but he told himself that “this” Sonia wasn’t “his” Sonia. “His” Sonia was alive and well, and she certainly had moved on after “his” execution.

His eyes went to the dining room. There was a wallet there, his wallet. He opened it and checked its contents. Some money and credit cards. Evidently he had money, this apartment was nice and the furniture modern. I need to survive in this terra incognita, his brain told him. For this, he needed information and a strategy Until now he had just reacted to the events, but it was time to be proactive.

Turning on his PC, he was greeted by a picture of a beautiful naked blonde on the floor, her eyes looking at the camera, a peaceful smile in her face. There were also several knives buried in her body. He recognized the place; this world’s John had obviously snuffed this girl in his own living room. His doppelganger’s preferences were clear. He instinctively right-clicked the mouse and changed the picture to a sterile blue background. Then he checked the unfamiliar shortcuts. An obvious browser, professional software, a “Documents” folder. He would check the latter later.

He opened the browser and typed “bank.” The browser autocompleted the address, and a bank’s website was opened. Fortunately the previous owner had saved the user and password so he logged in without problem. He checked his bank balance and, assuming that money had the same value here as in his world, it was clear that he would have no money problems. Utilities were paid automatically, as well as taxes. Death and taxes, he thought somberly. Never better said. The inbox revealed a few pending jobs, but nothing urgent. Then he found a list of websites and passwords and printed it out. Finally, he opened the former owner’s social media. They were used mainly for business, very few personal info. In his world he had no siblings, and it was the same here. No mom present -already snuffed, surely- and his dad lived in another city.