"And then there were five." The echo that billowed up my throat poured out of my aperture during a moment of inspiration not five minutes before I returned to the bleeding and injured. They remained motionless in a line with a pool of their crimson splashing at their feet while tears washed down their cheeks. I detected each drop of blood as it joined the growing puddle in a dripping sound from the confines of the artillery chamber.
It was as if I had stumbled into heaven unexpectedly, the assortments of antique rifles and pistols ranging from a 19th century side hammer revolver to an 18th century silver mounted flintlock pistol and an 18th century Enfield P58 percussion musket adorned the walls with many other fine relics including an Iron age bearded axe wielded by King John II of France in the Battle of Poitiers in the 14th century to an 11th century Fauchard that resembled that of a sickle or a scythe. My attention was drawn to the array of mallets, some with rough jagged edges for the purposes of meat and others were old, rawhide mallets. I had slipped into the chamber to return the blade I had used for knife-throwing and was suddenly struck with an idea, one that would provide me with an afternoon of fun.
The art of Croquet requires patience; Pale-maille is a game wherein a round box ball is struck with a mallet through a high arch of iron, the first to successfully complete the course, wins. Unfortunately there was no iron for me to use but I had five lustrous maidens at my beck and call and the need was most definitely urgent.
I strolled in a pacing motion, appraising each mallet with enthralling intent before selecting a great deal of weaponry and a group of swords that would easily take the place of croquet stakes. Once I had taken hold of a copper mallet used for tenderizing meat - the jagged edge provided ease when delivering grunt inducing taps evenly – I collected one lone black ball from a small chest and practically sauntered out with my loot under my arms. As hard as I tried I couldn't mask the enthusiasm that was evident in the hurried sprint back to the drawing room and the broad motivated smirk that staked its claim on my features wasn't waning. I freed my ill-gotten gains and they hit the marble with a clang and a clatter before I addressed the frozen flightless with an debauched beam donning the edges of dirtied brims, still tainted with the dried remnants of the hopeless statue I had released with a fitting death.
Their eyes were filled with fear, glazed hues bore into my flesh with hatred behind inflamed orbs, their disgust and contempt for me only spurred me on. I would be the devil they prayed to god about, the dark one they flinched at. I would bring suffering upon them in my own special way. It had been a century since I had the opportunity to explore life; to express love and enjoyment the way I desired. If I were to remain in this lacklustre town then I would gorge on the humanity and taint the light that refused to dim. I would bask in the blood and dream of the screams that perforated my eardrums and ignited my hunger.
Picking up five blades perfect for knife-throwing, I secured them between the lips of the five who stood before me. The sharp edge sliced against the connecting edges of the mouth and as each tried to move, the blade carved and blood poured down and filled their mouths at a slow pace.
"Good girls. Now -" I rubbed my palms together in anticipation as my shoulders rocked side to side through an eager laugh. "- I thoroughly enjoyed our game of darts however the additional wounds would only bring about an end for the majority of you so I have surrendered to the endless possibilities before us and Croquet seemed a perfect fit. The elegance and patience required would cement each of yours survival for at least a little while longer."
I slithered along the line reaching out ungenerously to slide my palm across the taut stomach of a nerve-wracked blonde with mossy green orbs. She flinched and whimpered which regrettably jostled the blade between her brims and a pained outcry strained against her teeth.
"Uh-uh, I wouldn't do /that/ if I were you." I lifted my brows and locked eyes with her as the taunt slipped out. "Let us play before the sun disperses and the moon takes its place."
I collected the carefully chosen contents of the armoury and marched insistently toward the gardens, with my five following behind "The mere notion of Croquet in the dark is ludicrous. How would I see the wicket?"
Without iron arches or even plastic wickets I had to improvise with the assistance of five delectable dames. They were instructed to disrobe and take their places on the recently mowed grassland that stretched across the grounds. It took little time at all to arrange the course to specific memory; hammering the swords into the ground to outline the boundaries before directing each delight to where a wicket would be. I required another wicket or another woman; that realization resulted in a sharp snort as it dawned on me.
"I should have preserved the sixth for this precise reason. Hmm in that case, Blondie - " I address the Blonde who stood in the spot considered first wicket and she turned her head slowly to meet my keen gaze. "- you are going to have to double; try not to forget. I've heard rumours about how stupid blondes can be. Don't perpetuate the myth." I gestured with my hand to a stretch across the course. "Nod if you understand."
The silence was a gift but also a chore; although I didn't particularly care to hear the objections and begs for survival. The pleading had lasted for hours before I insisted on silence with administered compulsion.
As the sun downed and a zephyr rolled in, I inhaled in an attempt to soothe the boil that I could feel rise from the dark depths of my stomach; remaining idle sparked a need to act out and in the most heinous of ways. Villages pillaged, families slaughtered, battles were won and wars were lost all because I required something to occupy the dulling boredom.
I took to the starting point and lifted the mallet forward; the sight before me was a vision. My prey were standing in their naked forms, the sunlight glistened against their svelte array of figures and the splendid statuesque sensations were each more appealing with the flurry of marks, bruises and bleeding gashes that adorned and smothered their fine frames.
A moment passed and a smile decorated the lips that spoke a command. "Get down on your knees, peasants."
In unison their knees pushed into the dirt and brushed against the grass, segregated thighs were perfect for makeshift wickets or iron arches and the exhibition made my mouth water; a parade of pussy, who could ask for better afternoons? Their thighs were adorned in tender bites made by my mouth upon acquiring their company; the honeyed groans that tore from their glistening gobs were music to my ears and were produced when the blades had all jostled during the quick obedient movement.
My lips compressed and a smug moan of delight rang out followed by a quaking chuckle seconds before I began my game. Successful in my bid to clear the thighs of the Blonde I accumulated a bonus stroke; one to aid me through the thighs of a voluptuous brunette with a colourful tattoo of an eagle on her shoulder blade. I stood inches in front of her and detected the intake of breath as the mallet was swung and collided with her abdomen prompting her bosom to heave and the blade to slice once again. I couldn't contain the swell that went straight to my groin; the discomfort on display as well as tarnished forms incited a desire to build as I passed the shapely brunette with ink and swerved following the course to be met with a lissom beaut with luminous locks and a firm derrière. I took a short detour from my mallet and ball and advanced toward the high arched rear; standing behind a nameless girl I permitted my hands to roam her form freely, skimming across her bare chest in a fleeting fondle.
"It seems luck has found you today little dove. You've become the apple of my eye." The contempt that was so freely shown in return whenever I approached or touched one of the maidens had the opposite effect. I relished in their disgust and often enough my actions were purposeful in drawing the desired antiphon. Willing participants proved to be uninspired, power and dominance can only be displayed when the object of one's affections realizes that fleeing is not an option; to find oneself defenceless, stripped of hope and resilience because their prayers fall on deaf ears.
It is the most satisfying feeling when you have the power and their lives in your hands. Fate becomes irrelevant thus God and his power become obsolete. The course was nearing its end and as I tapped the ball with the flat edge of my mallet I watched with anticipation as it rolled across the six feet stretch between the slender sensation and the Blonde. Victory would be mine and as a grin took to my lips my eyes were overcome with rage while I watched in disbelief as the ball collided with the blondes' thigh and stalled until motionless. The silence was screaming and I could hear everything around me; the sudden intakes of breath, the increased heart beats that drummed and pulsated, I could smell the perspiration as beads rolled down this girls face.
Her knees were trembling and the blade chattered between her teeth, that sound quickly drowned out all the rest, it was like a relentless drill screeching against my ear. Before she could blink I stood before her, towering over her stature with an alarming expression accompanying the blackened rage that filled my optics. Dark sculpted brows narrowed and a frenzied return bore into her eyes which were overflowing with tears.
I crouched down on bended knee and leaned my lips to the shell of her ear as the tense unnerving tone to my voice laced my irritation in composure. "Do not fret, you couldn't help it. I don't blame you so much as I blame those thunder thighs."
In a moment overcome I pounded the mallet against them; the jagged imprint in flesh incited a painful scream to drag itself from the thick skinned girls' mouth.
"I mean, did you /really/ have to reach for the second serving? Would it have /killed/ you to go hungry just once?" I could feel it, the rage, it boiled deep inside and resumed its rise through my body; scouring my insides in an acidic cruelty that would see this girl pulverized. I lifted the handle to the mallet and the squelching sound it made when it reconnected with her flesh was revoltingly repulsive yet I yearned to hear it again.
"You ruined my game and for that you will be punished." I moved upright in an instant and yanked the blade from her mouth causing a slash to open on her brims which bled and coated my hand once I seized her jaw, running the pad of my thumb over her complexion I wasn't able to view her expression, hindered by the downing sun which shadowed the course.
"This is for your own good. You'll be unable to eat and the issue of your dense thighs won't be a problem." I smashed into her jaw with the mallet and the echo that sprang back elicited a grunt from my mouth.
The scent of fresh blood enticed me and prompted deep inhalations to occur while I retracted my arm and released another welt to her surface. Tenderizing her face, the skin and bone that provided structure began to cave. Her jaw dropped in an unhinged fashion, while teeth were spat over the grass along with strips of flesh and a crumbling mandible. Battering the skull until its shape was no longer and the skin had been minced.
I stepped away suddenly breathless, dripping in her blood before conveying a deranged yet optimistic visage. "Take note. Failure is not an option."
Fluctuating mood shifts were exhausting and as I stepped away from the motionless beauts that stared up at me with trepidation sweeping through their eyes as soon as a capricious whistle carried to their ears; a familiar tune with escorting lyrics.
"Five green bottles sitting on the wall, five green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be four green bottles sitting on the wall."