Chapter 2

When Satya finally got out, he traveled to his village even though he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to enter his house. That was not his plan anyway. He began stalking his ex-girlfriend like he learnt from one of the convicted rapists. After following her for a week he had learnt her complete routine, where she went, when she went, what was the route she took, when she was alone.

It was easy for him to come at her from behind and place a cloth wet in chloroform on her face. He dragged her unconscious body into a car without anybody seeing him and then took her into an abandoned cabin deep in the forest.

By the time she woke up, he had tied her limbs to bedpost and gagged her.

“Finally awake”, he said sarcastically. She looked at him in horror. He started punching her face. He didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t remove the gag just kept punching her face.

After he was satisfied, he pulled out a knife and placed it on her neck.

“If you scream, I will rip your throat...”, he said and removed her gag.

“I am sorry ... I am so sorry ... please ... I am sorry”, she began pleading with him.

He punched her face and when she screamed he covered her mouth.

“Too fucking late to say fucking sorry! I want to know ... Why!”, he shouted and punched her gut.

So, she told him. She was pregnant. Her aunt guessed it from the morning sickness and had and immediately made her take the pregnancy test.

She couldn’t tell that she had been in a physical relationship before marriage. That would have brought so much shame and dishonour to her and her family. She was scared. Her father was so angry. She thought they would disown her. So she did what she could to protect herself, her honour and her family’s honour in the village.

“So you ruined my life to protect your fucking honour?”, he shouted and spit in her face. She kept begging for forgiveness.

Instead he gagged her again.

He stepped away and looked at her. Unbeknownst to her he had actually recorded her confession. He could actually prove his innocence and redeem himself.

What about the two years he lost? What about his mother’s tears? He remembered his father’s face, the face filled with anger and disgust.

This was not enough.

He unsheathed his knife and brought it close to her as her eyes widened in fear. He enjoyed looking at the fear in her eyes.

He swung the knife swiftly, cutting open her clothes. She seemed relieved at first, and then the realization set in and she started trying her hardest to get free. Tears started rolling out of her eyes.

He stood there letting her tire herself out. He was devouring the fear, the shock she felt.

She must have realized it was futile to try because she stopped trying to get free and started begging him through her eyes.

He grabbed her cut clothes in his fist, looked at face, saw her begging through her eyes, smiled and then pulled them from her body. There were still torn pieces of her clothes which he pulled away as well.

He stopped when she was fully naked. This was not a new sight. He had seen this so many times before. This was his love, his passion. He had dreamt of sleeping next to it. He had imagined waking up with it.

But then, it seemed that was a very distant past. Then, he felt only hate. He wanted to hurt it, scare it and give it more pain than it had given him.

He lifted his hand, as high as he could, waited to relish the pain he saw in her eyes and slammed it as hard as he could on what she claimed was the most sensitive part of her body, her nipple.

Her bound body lifted itself a few centimeters in an arc, and then shook and trembled and he heard her muffled scream. He enjoyed the sight of the red handprint on her breast as much as he enjoyed her desperately trying to free herself.

He lifted his hand again and slammed it down on the same breast again. She screamed into her gag and her body convulsed again.

He was devouring her pain. But still that was not enough.

He took out his belt. He curled it and brushed it against her face to see the horror in her eyes. He smiled, grabbed the buckle and let it uncurl behind his back. He whipped the belt as hard as he could. The belt sliced through the air, made a crackling sound before heating the skin and burning it with its touch.

Her body shaked and trembled as she bit her gag. He devoured the sight. He devoured her pain, her body’s reaction, and the imprint of the belt left behind on her skin.

He lifted his belt again. He saw her beg. He smiled. She started trying desperately, started shaking, to pull her limbs, to free herself. He enjoyed her desperation. He let her tire herself out. He let her try her hardest until he saw the defeat in her eyes. Then he swung the belt once again.

He ate her reaction. He was tempted to pull out the gag but knew it was too risky. He just continued to beat her with the belt, focusing on her nipples.

Then he remembered her actual most sensitive part of the body. He aimed the belt between her legs and hit her clit as hard as he could.

She fainted. He threw a glass of water on her face to wake her up. He examined the searing red belt imprint on her clit. He liked it. He aimed his belt on her clit again.

He kept hitting her between her legs until it had swollen so big it looked like a tennis ball. Then he moved to other parts of the body and continued to hit them with the belt.

He beat her until most of her skin on the front was covered in a searing red imprint of the belt. She fainted multiple times and everytime he woke her with water to her face.

Finally he dropped the belt. His hand was tired. And anyway it was ready. He grabbed the handle and pulled the long hot iron he had left heating on the fire.

He brought the glowing red iron near her face. Her eyes widened in a new horror, she started begging and started pulling her limbs to escape.

He devoured her fear, he relished her struggle. He brought it near skin and saw her struggle more. He started delicately moving it down while keeping the red hot iron a few inches above her skin. He wanted her to feel the heat. He wanted her to keep fighting and begging.

When the rod was just above her pubic area he looked at her and smiled and then slammed it into her skin. Her body rose up like a defibrillator had been used and then it dropped and she had fainted again.

He put the iron in fire again and splashed water on her face again. When she was finally awake he branded her thigh, she fainted again and he repeated the same process again. By the time he was satisfied there were three brandings on her belly, one on the bottom part of each breast, two on each thigh. All of them read one word - LIAR.

Her eyes were blank and she was barely breathing, even after the latest round of water splash. She seemed exhausted and barely alive.

He didn’t like it; he wanted her to feel what he was going to do next. So he prepared a glucose solution, removed the gag and forced it down her throat.

He waited for eyes to focus a little, a life to spring back. He knew it was time, when he saw her trying to beg him.

He pulled out his penis. He brushed penis on her face to let her know of his plan. He devoured her renewed fear.

He walked and aimed her penis in her swollen opening. He waited for her to let her beg, try to get free and then accept defeat. Then suddenly and forcefully shoved his penis inside her dry vagina in one single push.

Her body was twitching in pain. He laughed and slammed his hand on her gut, over one of the brandings, and watched her body shiver in pain and hear her muffled screams. He had never enjoyed sex this much