I was in the mood to torture. But, when am I not? At the café, some little brat was alternating between pouting, yelling, and crying. I wanted to fucking slap the good-for-nothing piece of shit since her mom wouldn’t. Finally, I told the mother, “Hey, I’m a governess; I’m really good with little ones and I could help you control your daughter more effectively.” The dumb cunt believed me! Maybe she was just as tired of the brat as I was; well, I’d make sure that we’d both be rid of her soon.
Along with my coffee, I bought the disgusting munchkin a doughnut just to shut her trap until we got to my house. When we entered, she tried to take in the entire decadent, dark mystique that pervaded my house. “Do you know what happens to bad girls?” I asked her, without really waiting for an answer.
I pinned her small body down on the leather couch, wrapping small pieces of leather to keep her limbs in place. Then, I picked up a torch; I was going to give her something to scream about! The fire erupted and began to sear her flesh. Yummy. She began moaning in her throat because she couldn’t move her lips.
And, then, I did what I wanted to do ever sense I laid eyes on her: I laced some of the leather through a needle; starting at the corner of her mouth, I sewed the little piece of shit’s mouth shut. I had to look at my artistry for several minutes as I watched her eyes roll back in her head. I threw some water on her so she would revive. It was time: I took the sharp end of the fireplace poker and started pounding her skull. I loved the sound when it cracked and spilled out blood…her brains lying on the floor at my feet.
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