Disclaimer: I don't own Youjo Senki or any of its characters.
Discord: A3dTszc
(See A/N at the top of Chapter 1 for context)
I couldn't read what she was carving into me, unfortunately.
Which sucked.
I wanted to read it. I was curious. Morbidly so. But I couldn't actually angle my head to see―didn't have the energy for that―so I could only guess.
It was definitely text of some kind, though, judging by how diligently she was working on it. They certainly weren't just random slices and cuts. Mary was putting in an impressive amount of effort to get it just right.
…However, I would probably never know what it said. Even if I had the ability to sit up and get a decent view of her 'artwork', my entire torso was soaked in blood right now so the text would just be hidden under a coating of crimson anyway.
I imagine that it wasn't very flattering though, whatever she was writing.
Just between you and me, I don't think that Mary likes me very much. It's just a feeling I've had in recent days.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the side as Mary leaned forward―way too close―and screamed in my face as loudly as she could.
"Never forget what you are you hellspawn!"
She absolutely coated my face in her spittle as she raved like the maniac that she was from only a handful of inches away.
"Demon!"
She stabbed me.
"Devil!"
She stabbed me again.
"Go back to hell where you belong, you vile creature!"
She stabbed me a third time.
"Filth!"
...And a fourth.
"Your birth was a crime!"
...And a fifth.
"Dirty woman! I hate you!"
...
Well merry fucking Christmas to you too, Mary.
This is why I hate the holiday season, everyone. Have I mentioned that yet? Christmas sucks. Let the records show that I think that.
I'd almost feel bad for this girl if she weren't currently murdering me. Being X had warped the fuck out of her mind and she was just gone now. Her entire existence had been reduced to frothing at the mouth, spouting extremist religious views and shrieking to the heavens about what a piece of shit I am.
Mary had always been a bit of a psycho, but even by her standards, this was a bit much. If this were a video game, you could say that she had 'levelled up' a few times in that particular department since the last time we had met.
Heh heh.
She had maxed out her 'Crazy Bitch' and 'Insanity' skills.
As a result, one could say that my sympathies were running thin right now where she was concerned.
...In fact, I kinda wanted this girl to suffer a little bit. To experience a little of what I am. To get written on with a knife.
Was that so bad?
Personally, I didn't think it was so bad.
That was actually happening, though, to be fair. A little bit. Not the knife part, the suffering. I could take a good amount of satisfaction from the state I had put Mary into during our forgotten battle. I was proud of my handiwork. It was a job well done even if I couldn't remember it.
It had not been a one-sided battle at all. We had clearly been pretty even and equally ferocious towards each other.
Mary was missing almost half of her face―the entire right side. Her right eye was gone and there was just an empty socket now. Her jaw and cheek had also been torn open and I could see the exposed muscles and tendons flexing as she shrieked obscenities at me.
Most of her hair had burned away so she was nearly bald now, too.
...I actually thought that this was funny. It looked silly and I'd bet she absolutely hated all the cosmetic damage that had been done to her. Young women tended to be pretty superficial like that, so it was probably true here as well. If Mary was not mad about what had been done to her appearance yet, then it was probably only due to the fact that she hadn't seen herself in a mirror.
She was in bad shape. Almost as bad as me, even. The types of injuries she was suffering through were different, but they were just as gruesome.
While I had been filleted like a fish, Mary was a walking 3rd-degree burn. She would never regain her former youthful beauty. Not even the finest plastic surgeons from my old world could fix her now. She was ruined forever.
Most of her upper body was a burned husk and parts of it had blackened. She wasn't wearing anything to cover herself anymore as the upper part of her uniform had been destroyed.
...But you couldn't actually tell that she was half-naked at first glance, such was the extent of her injuries. Her uniform had been destroyed in the battle but her whole torso was in such a horrible state that it looked like she was made out of hardened plastic now. Like she was a doll. Large parts of her clothing had fused to her skin and it had hardened somehow creating what appeared to be some sort of alien-looking exoskeleton. Her torso was black and charred, and completely inhuman and unrecognizable. On top of that, it also looked as though she had jumped into a swimming pool full of red paint.
She, too, was soaked in blood. Not as much as me―and a lot of it was mine, actually―but still a respectable amount.
Sheets of her skin were peeling and flaking off. She was missing her right arm at the elbow. Her skull was shrivelled and looked like a wrinkled prune. You could see her veins and vasculature throbbing under her skin from her infinite rage.
She had to be in a tremendous amount of pain. But because she was a cheater who didn't have to obey the laws of physics since she was Being X's slave, this pain didn't register to her and so she could keep on keeping on without any trouble.
The point was, she was a wreck. So even though I couldn't remember it, I had given as good as I had gotten and that made me grin.
It made me happy to know that even though I wouldn't survive this ordeal, Mary was not unscathed either and had been permanently disfigured. It was one last middle finger telling her to 'get fucked' before I go.
No one but me had ever managed to hurt the Bloody Valkyrie. Most of her enemies were instantly vaporized by her in battle. It was said that she was immortal on the battlefield due to her vast reserves of energy and unstoppable power.
...Well, the people that said shit like that can get fucked now too, if you asked me. Immortal my ass. Because hurt her I had. She had Tanya's name written on her too, now, and everyone that ever saw her in the future will think: 'Damn. That Devil she fought against was actually pretty strong after all.'
I wasn't the only one who had been mutilated.
In my opinion, I was actually better off than she in that regard. I was probably in worse shape objectively speaking, but I was going to die here, and dying was better than living the rest of my life as a walking freakshow like her.
People wouldn't remember me that way if my life ended now. They'd remember me as the cold, hardened, ruthless war veteran that had been innovative and revolutionary enough to build up the 203rd mage battalion from scratch.
While I did not consider myself to be pretty, I was not ugly enough to be remembered as a freakshow. In other words, I would not live long enough for all my wounds to become scars and for others to associate those scars with me and my appearance.
Tanya Degurechaff would not be remembered as a walking half-butchered animal barely clinging to life. She'd be remembered as the noble leader of the legendary 203rd who, admittedly, had met a pretty violent end.
Mary on the other hand, if she survived, would have her reputation tarnished every time she went outside. Everyone would treat her as: 'that freaky girl that scared all the children whenever she was nearby'. And that's how she would be remembered when she finally passes on.
As the freak.
Her psychotic personality wouldn't help her whatsoever in that respect. She was even uglier on the inside than on the outside.
Dying right now was a far more romantic, tragic, and noble fate for someone like me than surviving with such ugly wounds. People would look at what happened to me and see it in an almost positive light. I'd be treated like a hero, complete with statues and portraits and everything.
The Symbol of the Reich had died a brutal death after a legendary battle against one of the strongest mages of our time.
People remembered shit like that.
I'd probably even win another Silver Wings posthumously. The first to ever win it twice.
That'd be cool.
I could only imagine the nicknames I'd get after something like that. It'd be even more over-the-top than the already ridiculously long line of titles that I have now.
Tanya Degurechaff, the Silveriest of Silvers.
The Ace of all Aces of Aces.
...I was already the Ace of Aces, so they'd have to go one step up.
But hopefully, they would be a bit more creative than that. I wasn't really a fan of most of the nicknames and titles I had been given over the years and so I hoped to receive a couple of new and more interesting ones.
'The Queen Fucking Bitch', for example, would be pretty decent for a title. QFB for short.
Tanya von Degurechaff, the QFB. That one would be cool. Dispenses with all the nonsense and the political correctness, too.
'The Final Fucking Boss' is another one that I could get behind. FFB.
The Goddess of Magic.
...I mean, that was pretty much just a fact at this point. No one else was even in the same league as me in that area. I was probably the most powerful mage in the entire history of this world. Certainly the strongest in the last thousand years, anyway.
Except for Mary. But I didn't consider her to be a real person so she didn't count. Being X himself was probably piloting her body around like a mech suit.
Or perhaps my most favourite nickname of all, the one I held closest and dearest to my heart―don't tell anyone else about it though it's a secret―would make a resurgence.
Mad Dog Tanya.
...
Dare I dream to be called that wonderful name again?
The first time someone did that to me years ago I fell in love.
That one was objectively the best name I had no matter how you looked at it and it was a real shame that so few used it on me these days. It beat the hell out of all that flowery 'Argent Silver' BS.
Nothing would make me happier than if everyone called me that all the time.
"Oh, jeez, back the fuck up, everyone. Mad Dog Tanya is comin' through. Give her some space!"
"Can I get you anything else Mad Dog?"
"Let me get the door for you Mad Dog."
"Don't you worry about that, Mad Dog. Me and my men will handle it right away."
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Uwaaaaah~!
So cool!
I was fangirling just imagining it!
...
I better fucking get a cool nickname like that after all this. And everyone better use it. It has to be at least as cool as Mad Dog. That is my decree!
Devil of the Rhine is just way too generic and unoriginal.
I want something cool like 'Mad Dog Tanya' to appear in all the history books next to my picture and on my gravestone too.
Here lies Mad Dog Tanya. The Maddest Dog and the baddest bitch that ever lived.
...Unfortunately, I couldn't just give myself a nickname like that and have it be official. I'd have done so long ago if I could have. But it defeats the purpose. For a nickname to be legitimate, someone else has to come up with it and give it to you and it has to get popular on its own. So it'd be pretty weird if I tried encouraging people to use any one specific name in particular. I'd look weak and insecure like that. I just had to hope that others would do it without my prompting.
I really hoped that the General Staff would let my enemies name me, though. Just this once. Enemy nations had way better ideas than the guys on my team. The Francois in particular held a great hatred for me and named me all kinds of things. Most of them were shit, but every now and then something super cool like Mad Dog would come about and make the rounds in the newspapers over there and those were always good days.
...But in any case, all of this was to say that after my death, I'd almost certainly get deified. I'd become a legend, and no one would be more silver than me when that happened.
In contrast, everything Mary had achieved in the war and throughout her life would forever come second to her new appearance.
No one would want to look at her. And since so much of a woman's life in this day and age was determined by attractiveness, Mary would find herself struggling in the future.
So it is as I said before.
Merry fucking Christmas Mary.
That is my gift to you.
Do you like it?
I may be dead but I am not ruined. My reputation will endure. If anything, it'll grow even stronger.
And that made me at least a little happy.
...Expressing this limited amount of joy proved to be a bit of a mistake, though, and I didn't really think it through.
Mary saw the signs of amusement on my face almost immediately.
Saying that it irritated her would be like saying that the sun is a cozy place to be.
Mary went fucking ballistic.
"Stop smiling, you she-devil!" she screamed right in my ear. "You're not fucking allowed to be happy! Any cheer or goodness or happiness or satisfaction you experience on this Earth, in any amount, and for any reason, is a slight against God himself you greedy harlot! How dare you insult His Holiness like that by feeling any level of joy! That emotion is off-limits to you and that filthy soul of yours! No matter how much you yearn for it you will forever be denied!"
'...W-What the fuck?!'
This bitch was screwed in the head! You can't gatekeep happiness like that! That's not fair!
I want to be happy, too!
"You're lower than a fucking dog! The only acceptable state of the world is the one where you suffer through every possible indignity, torture and humiliation possible, every waking moment of your miserable existence!"
'S-So rude!'
Openly wishing that the whole fucking universe had been designed to maximize the suffering of me specifically was definitely a little disrespectful if you asked me, not gonna lie. I'd even go so far as to call it impolite.
...I also did not appreciate how loud she was being. Not at all. It was totally obnoxious the way she was screaming all of this vitriol directly into my right eardrum.
It was so annoying.
"You don't fucking deserve the tiniest ounce of pleasure in any facet of your life! Because everyone who ever existed, everyone on Earth, everyone in heaven, everyone in hell, everyone who ever was or will ever be, and even God himself―especially God himself―hates your fucking guts and hopes you die in agony, writhing and screaming you fucking dumb bitch! No one likes you and you deserve absolutely everything that's happening to you right now and so much worse!"
Her hatred for me was understandable. I had killed her father. Even though it was self-defence and he had attacked me first when he could have easily run away instead and it happened in the middle of a war and there was nothing personal about it―on my end, anyway―it had still happened.
...But I personally believed that Mary was taking it a step or two too far here.
Though to be fair I probably am a bit biased about that, being the recipient and all. So who knows? Maybe I deserved it. But in my opinion, praying that God would ruin my life and force me to suffer through humiliation and misery every waking moment of my life didn't sound like something a devout believer should do. No matter what I had done. It shouldn't be a thing that's allowed by the church if you asked me.
…But I was just some heathen atheist. So who the fuck even cared what I thought, I guess.
Knowing that asshole, though, it was probably the only prayer that he was ever going to answer.
Because God hates Tanya. That was a well-known fact by now. So of course he'd ruin my life for his own sick pleasure―he didn't even need to be asked. He'd do it for sport. I wouldn't even be surprised if he got off on it.
That sick fuck.
He hates my guts and everything I stand for.
...Which was okay, I supposed. Because the feeling was very much mutual.
Fucking Being X.
I hate that asshole so much for putting me through this.
"That is the highest heights that God ever intended you to reach―being everyone's bitch and their punching bag! That's what you fucking get for being born a worthless devil! And you are forbidden from climbing any higher! Your hideous mind must be corrected both immediately and violently for so much as dreaming about living a better life than that! You are only allowed to desire more suffering!"
'Jesus fucking Christ, this has to be the longest monologue ever told. We get it. You don't like me. Pretty sure we can move on now, can't we?'
"Know your fucking place!"
'...Apparently not.'
I wanted to roll my eyes.
"How dare you try to make something of yourself! You are God's singular mistake and deserve nothing more than hellfire you Devil's whore! You have the fucking audacity to violate the mortal plane with your filthy presence?! Unacceptable! You are only allowed to be here at all by God's infinite grace! And your only purpose here is to experience pain and humiliation so that I may take pleasure in it! That is God's gift to me!"
'For the love of God, please stop shouting. Just fucking kill me already. Please. I'm begging you, here. Anything is better than this torture.'
Every single word of this fucking...extended monologue was being beamed directly into my skull by Megaphone Mary.
She certainly had a set of lungs on her, that was for sure. Mary was being so loud that it was rattling my brain.
I had already received the main message she was trying to convey, though. I didn't need to hear anything more. She hated my guts and hoped I would suffer even more than I already had. That was the summary. The main takeaway. She could have just said as much and been done with this whole rehearsed speech in one sentence. In terms of time efficiency, that was the best way to go about it, too.
But she didn't.
She had probably been practicing this speech in front of the bathroom mirror every morning for the past couple of months and wasn't about to let the opportunity to give it to the target of all her hate, slip by.
...But she was going to blow my eardrums out with it long before she ever got to the end at this rate. Or I was going to blow my brains out for having to listen to it. I wasn't really sure which one of those two things was going to happen first, but in either case, I wouldn't be in a position to listen to what she was saying anymore if it happened.
Didn't she want me to hear the rest of her speech? Why was she trying to burst my eardrums?
"Your suffering makes me happy and my happiness is worth more than your life! Because your life has no worth, Devil! Do you understand now?! You exist for my personal utilization, however I choose to make use of you! That is the meaning of your life!"
'Shut the fuck up already for fuck's sake! How long are you gonna scream at me from two inches away?! I can hear you just fine even if you back up a little!'
Mary leaned in even closer and screamed even louder.
...One inch away, now.
Her breath smelled like burnt cow manure. It was almost impressive. How the hell did she make it smell so bad? Was she snacking on literal dog shit before this?
It wouldn't surprise me.
"That is how the world works! That is how the world should work! Demons like you are only allowed to live a life full of misery that they hate everything about and you will thank God every moment of every day for allowing a fucking despicable creature like you even that much! It's way more than you deserve, witch!"
Mary then took a moment to churn up all the saliva she could from her mouth and the back of her throat before proceeding to spit it all over me in a concentrated shotgun blast.
Splat!
'...'
…It was an impressive amount, actually. Probably in the neighbourhood of 5 millilitres or so. A teaspoon. All of that came out in one go.
How could I tell? Simple, really.
Her entire fucking loogie had hit me right in the eye and splattered, covering what felt like half of my face.
…You needed a pretty large amount of fluid to do that.
As you might expect, though, I certainly hadn't appreciated the gesture too much.
It was absolutely revolting, in fact.
I wanted to puke.
If I had known that a simple grin was going to cause all of this, I wouldn't have done it. Even though grinning was the only thing I could do in my current state to fight back and resist and piss Mary off, I would have preferred the silence to all this racket and would have kept my lips happily unflexed had I known what would happen as a consequence.
That would have been the better play.
Being spat on wasn't very fun at all. It was disgusting. I could feel the foreign fluid running down my cheek like a teardrop.
Not pleasant whatsoever.
...But it was too late now to change anything. All I could do now was regret my decision and endeavour to act differently next time.
...
Suddenly and without warning, Mary yanked her mage blade out of my body and slit my throat with it.
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It was just as jarring for me as it was for you. I had not expected it at all and it had come out of nowhere.
Needless to say, however, I stopped smiling after that. Because unfortunately for me, my nerve endings in that area were fully functional. So I had felt everything.
And let me tell you.
Holy fuck does getting your throat slit hurt.
When people in the movies get their throats slit, the only reason why they aren't hollering and shrieking in profound agony is that they physically can't. Blood fills their airway so nothing can get in or out.
But they would scream if they could, let me tell you.
Oh boy, would they ever.
It was probably one of the most painful sensations that it is possible to feel. There was so much 'vulnerability' for lack of a better term, in the neck. So many nerve endings and delicate parts.
If my lungs were functional and my throat was clear I would have screamed. No amount of playing the 'tough guy' would have stopped that. But since I couldn't physically do it, all I did instead is suffer in silence, choke on all the blood, and writhe in agony.
My blood sprayed out of my new wound and went everywhere.
"Witch!"
"Harpy!"
"Heathen!"
By total chance, a splatter of my blood hit Mary in the face, causing her to immediately cease her incessant screaming and look down at me, awestruck.
Then she smiled cheerfully.
It was the single brightest, most cheerful smile I had ever seen grace the face of another human being. She was in utter bliss at the state she had reduced me to.
...What she did next scared the actual fuck out of me, though. It completely halted any thoughts I had because I had zero explanation for it.
Mary, like the absolute psychopath that she was―while still sporting her rapturous smile no less―immediately leaned down and started aggressively lapping and licking at the wound she had just made on my neck.
Like a fucking dog.
...A thirsty one, too. She started desperately consuming my blood as though it were the only source of sustenance she had seen in weeks. She just drove straight in face first without the slightest hesitation. Like a wild animal.
"...Is this what the blood of demons tastes like?" she asked between slurps as she gobbled up my blood like a vampire as it gushed out of me.
"It tastes divine. Give me more of it at once."
She then looked me right in the eye and graciously informed me of the following:
"I'm going to milk you now like a fucking dairy cow, devil, and squeeze all of that delicious demon essence out of your filthy body. Only then can God finally purify your twisted, dirty, poisoned mind."
Mary then wrapped her one remaining hand around my neck and squeezed, trying to wring out all the remaining blood left in my body like the last little bit of toothpaste in a bottle.
"God put you on this Earth to be my livestock!"
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...Now, you might be wondering about a few things at this point.
The first thing that I should probably clear up is that I'd rather she didn't do that, actually. Mary. In case that wasn't already obvious.
It may come as a bit of a shock, but I didn't actually want any of my bodily fluids milked out of me by my sworn enemy. Or by anyone else for that matter. Call me crazy but I would actually prefer it if all my blood remained where it was. All my other liquids, too.
I liked where they were right now. Very much. They were in a good place and I wanted them to remain there―inside my body's pipes and tubes. Not inside Mary Sioux's digestive tract.
With that out of the way, I'm sure you have a couple of other questions, too. I know I do. I certainly have a couple of those myself.
'What the fuck is wrong with this bitch?' appears near the top of my list, I don't know about you.
...But I don't actually know the answer to that one so I have no choice but to just shrug my shoulders and say: 'who the fuck knows?'
What isn't wrong with this bitch? Being X had brainwashed the hell out of her.
But perhaps the more pressing question at hand is: 'Tanya, how the hell are you still alive? Your current list of injuries is catastrophic.'
...And it's a pretty valid question, honestly. My body has been absolutely ruined.
If I were to be suddenly teleported, right now, into the most sophisticated operating room in the world, run by the most experienced trauma surgeon in the world, he'd look me over for a moment or two, give an appreciative whistle, and then he'd say: "Wow, you're fucked."
...And then he'd just walk away as there'd be nothing he can do.
Even before my throat had been slit open I was a goner.
So how am I still alive you ask?
That's the interesting bit.
I'm not.
I was dead.
I mean...my heart was still trying its best and so were my lungs, but I was still dead. Dead in the same way that a man that had just leaped off a 30 story building was dead. Even though he jumped, it still took some time to actually close the distance to the pavement.
That's what was happening to me. I was in the air. Falling. And there was no escaping from the inevitable impact ahead.
…But I still had to wait a little while to get there.
It was a bit strange, really.
As it turns out, even when you suffer this much bodily harm, you don't slip away immediately. When your body is broken to the extent that mine is and when you lose this much blood, it still takes a little bit of time for the brain to actually shut down. A much longer amount of time than you might expect. The destroyed human body likes to linger and overstay its welcome, it would seem.
I had heard stories back in my old world of people who had even tried to conduct experiments on this idea.
Back during the French Revolution for example, when the guillotine was being used to lop off heads left and right, there were countless reports of severed heads remaining conscious for a short time afterwards. Some people would even pick up these freshly severed heads and speak to them to see how long it would take for the consciousness inside them to dissipate. They'd watch the eye twitches and mouth movements to see if the head was trying to speak to them or focus on anything.
Some said that it could take as long as 30 seconds.
…It was a morbid tale to be sure, but it had captured my imagination back when I had come across it in my old world and it had stuck with me ever since.
That's pretty much what was happening to me right now. My body was destroyed and had been left in an unrecoverable state. Nobody could save me right now. Not even a team of the finest magical healers.
...But I still had some time before my time in the world of the living would truly come to an end. My body was dead. Not my mind. Not yet, anyway. It still had to wind down and we had to wait a little bit longer for that.
So that's what I'd do. There was nothing else I could do.
Just wait.
And wait.
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And wait.
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...And try to ignore the fact that Mary is still wringing my neck and feasting on my blood like it's the main dish in an all-you-can-eat buffet.
But the pain from that was fading fast.
Everything was fading fast.
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And wait.
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Just a little longer.
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You know, I'm not actually sure what I should be doing with this extra time I've been given. I mean, what do you even do when you're told: 'Yeah, you've still got, like, 30 seconds left before the end. Just wait a bit more.'?
Thirty seconds is a long time.
All I can do right now is watch my vision fade more and more and think about stuff.
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...I guess I could keep complaining about things. I'm pretty good at that.
I was pretty cold, after all. I should speak to a manager about that. Let someone know.
It felt like all the heat had left my body. Or rather, like all the heat that had been in my body a moment ago was now being systematically coaxed out of a slash-wound in my neck and licked up by a primitive fucking primate who thought it was edible and that it tasted good.
It was a rather...unique feeling, one could say. Very specific. I couldn't imagine that too many other people knew what it felt like. I was probably among the first in all of human history to have that privilege.
You just had to be there in the moment to know.
...
Unpleasant, though.
It was definitely an unpleasant feeling.
I wouldn't recommend it to anyone thinking: 'Hm? Maybe I should try that.'
Don't.
Take it from someone who's been there.
As someone who's experienced this first-hand, I definitely would have preferred living in an alternate reality in which this sequence of events had not occurred.
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My neck hurts.
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It really hurts.
Mary was squeezing like a vice. You'll probably be able to make out her individual fingerprints on the bruising on my neck after this.
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She was also running her tongue up and down it.
Up and down my neck.
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Why was she running her tongue up and down my neck, you might ask?
This was a very good question indeed. I wanted to know the answer, too. Let me know if you figure it out, please.
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It was fucking disgusting!
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She had grabbed my face and was using that grip to roughly manipulate my head around to give herself better access to the open wound on my neck and so that she could lick all the way from my collarbone, up to the tip of my chin in long, sloppy strokes.
It was nauseating.
Any resistance I tried to put up was pitiful at best. I tried leaning my head side-to-side to try and get away but I was so weak that all my best efforts were casually brushed aside and my head was yanked back into optimal tongue-receiving position each time I tried.
Perhaps the worst part of it all was her breath, though. I could smell it all throughout this ordeal. Though perhaps 'smell' wasn't a strong enough word to describe what was happening. I fucking experienced her breath since she was so close to me that it permeated all of my senses.
It still smelt like shit, by the way. Remember earlier when I thought that she must have eaten a chunk of literal dogshit to get it to smell like that?
I still thought that.
And now her dogshit-breath was clinging to my neck and face, and it was even inside my body now because her tongue was running across my open wounds and digging into them.
Shit-particles from the insides of her mouth were now running through my veins and it gave me the fucking willies just thinking about it. If I were not paralyzed, I'd be shuddering in disgust and probably even throwing up right now.
It was completely unsanitary.
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Animals.
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Fucking animals did shit like this.
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It felt like being licked by a fucking walrus.
This was no clean affair. Her spit was everywhere and so was her tongue and there was no escaping.
And every time she finished 'cleaning' away all the blood, she'd wring my neck a little more and jerk it around, and twist it, and knead it, and scrunch it up to get more to come out and then she would immediately start lapping it up again.
She was treating my neck as though it were a wet sponge that needed all that absorbed water squeezed out. She didn't put the slightest bit of effort into holding herself back to keep me alive.
She wanted that blood now and she was gonna get it one way or another. And if that devil that everyone hates dies as a result then who the fuck even cares? Nobody likes Tanya anyway.
It was absolutely brutal. My only saving grace was that Mary only had one hand to do it with. That made it hard for her to get a good grip and prevented her from generating enough force to snap my neck.
But the unrestrained savagery completely scrambled my thoughts―so much so that even though the life was being squeezed out of me pretty much as violently and as ruthlessly as is possible, I could only really think about how fitting my previous analogy of Mary being like a walrus was.
Because she looked like one, too.
Mary. She actually looked like a walrus and it made me want to giggle. With all her burn wounds, lack of hair, and discoloured skin, she looked exactly like that. A super skinny walrus that had been deflated like a punctured balloon and who had also been severely injured and was missing pieces of her face.
She was just missing the tusks.
I imagined Mary with tusks a moment later and the mental image made me want to smile.
Upon noticing me trying to find some microscopic kernel of happiness despite my horrible circumstances, however, God himself made sure to quickly stamp it all out of me as swiftly as he could―delivering justice upon my unworthy body through his puppet Mary Sioux for even daring to try and do that.
"Stop being a greedy whore you fucking bitch! Your body and everything inside it belong to me! I demand more blood! Give it to me this instant!"
Frustrated at being denied such a tasty treat, Mary bitch-slapped me as hard as she could.
Then she did it again.
And again.
Then she gave up all pretense and just started punching me in the face.
"Fucking give it to me, Demon!"
She pummeled me into the dirt.
After screaming at me and rearranging my face for a little while, she grabbed my neck again. But rather than simply squeezing the life out of me like she had been doing earlier, she elected to begin violently shaking me back and forth, wringing my neck and bashing my skull into the ground.
Over and over again.
Repeatedly.
As fast as she could.
She fucking throttled me.
"Your sinful, sullied body needs to be punished and taught a fucking lesson about disobedience! I own you! I am your master now and you will do! As! I! Fucking! Say!"
Each word at the end there was emphasized with another violent collision between my skull and the ground.
After beating me into the ground for a few moments longer, Mary abruptly stopped what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, she had spotted something and she turned her gaze to take a closer look.
Seeing her smile sadistically at whatever it was, I did my best to follow her gaze.
'W-What is it now?'
Around 2 meters away was a pool of extremely soft, squishy, disgusting-looking mud.
That's what Mary was looking at right now with rapt attention.
She looked back at me a moment later.
Her sadistic grin grew.
'Y-You are fucking kidding me right now. There is no way.'
I was pretty sure I could guess her intentions. But they were so over-the-top that I couldn't be sure. No one was that insane, surely.
There was no way.
"Are you hungry?" she asked me with a deranged tone of voice.
I wasn't. But something told me that she didn't actually care if I was or not. The question was rhetorical.
Mary immediately grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me over towards the mud pool.
I left a bloody trail behind me.
The situation brought back memories of my fight with her in Tiegenhoff all those years ago. She had dragged me around back then by my hair, too.
I didn't like it when she did that.
I fucking hated her so much. Words couldn't even describe it.
We arrived at the mud pool a moment later.
"It's dinner time you fucking Devil."
'Fuck you.'
She flipped me over onto my side and leveraged her entire body weight to drive my skull as deeply into the filth as she possibly could and held me in there, seemingly in an attempt to drown me in it.
"Eat up you fucking bitch!"
My whole head right down to my shoulders vanished into the mud pool and my vision was plunged into darkness.
There was literally nothing I could do about it. I couldn't even flail around in an adrenaline-induced panic as my air supply was cut off because my limbs didn't work.
I could do nothing but lie there face-first in the mud and wait for the end.
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How had this whole situation come about, again? Someone might need to remind me. When I had started the day today, I had not been prepared for something like this to happen.
How had it turned into this? Where had it all gone wrong?
I did not enjoy being the star of Mary Sioux's sick, torture-porn fantasies.
She had probably been planning this shit out for years, now―imagining all the things she'd do to me if she could. And now it was happening for real. The sheer, unbridled, sadistic glee she must be experiencing right now had to be out of this world. This was without a doubt her greatest fantasy―having a powerless Devil of the Rhine, her greatest and most hated enemy, at her absolute mercy. And she clearly intended to make the most of it and drag the affair out as much as she could.
It still didn't make any sense to me, though. I didn't get it. If our positions were exchanged I'd have just shot her in the back of the head by now and been done with it.
I didn't understand why she wasn't doing that.
Was humiliating me like this really necessary?
It sure wouldn't last very long if it was, that was for sure. My injuries were so extensive that it was a miracle I wasn't dead already.
Every second, I lost more and more blood.
I was not going to last at this rate.
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