Dirty Little Secrets
Pairing: WW/Older!CB
YOU MUST BE 18 OR OLDER TO READ THIS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Warning: Part 2 introduces sadist!Willy… Mm medieval torture devices… enjoy
DISCLAIMER: Willy Wonka and his amazing chocolate factory don't belong to me. They belong to Roald Dahl and Warner Bros. I've made absolutely NO profit from this apart from satiating my dark side…
I will admit that this fiction contains slight alterations from the original plot of the 2005 movie, and these deviations are completely intentional. Call it alternate universe if you like.
Charlie pressed his mouth against mine, shoving me up against the wall. My mind was reeling as the intense feeling of revulsion took over me. An alarm went off in my mind and I knew I had to control myself or else things would not be going according to plan. He bit me, and I let out an involuntary yelp of pain. That was unexpected! My lip stung as he deepened the kiss and I had to fight a wave of nausea, though something inside me wondered why this li'l boy would actually find something that gross to be enjoyable.
I decided that I'd play his game. I'd let him think he's won, and when he was about to reach his li'l coup de grace, I'd throw him for a loop. He'd be far too surprised to notice my plans. Or perhaps he's already caught on to them, like on the Tour. He almost called me out with that fat child. How could the Oompa Loompas know…? I'll tell you how, you rotten li'l bas– My train of thought was quickly derailed as I listened to my own voice begging and pleading with him. I cringed internally at how pitiful I sounded. Me, the all-powerful Willy Wonka – begging!
I saw the familiar spark in his eyes that told me he had just gotten in touch with that power-hungry side of himself. I sure hope my mask of fear was reaching my eyes – couldn't have him figure me out now, could I? He smiled in a way that made me feel like I was looking in a mirror; that in itself really creeped me out. Turned out to work to my advantage, though. He seemed satisfied with my reaction. Without warning, and with a great deal more force than was strictly necessary, he threw me against the floor. Mild concussion fogged my senses for a moment and I cried out. This was not good enough - I needed my mind clear if I wasn't to fall foul of this creature's intentions.
I was screaming somewhat liberally now, it seemed to make the boy think he was in total control. Nothing better than that, the bigger the ego, and the harder he falls. I was playing him like a didgeridoo, and he didn't even know it. He smiled again, in that self-satisfied way before he sat on me. I could feel his desire – something that deeply sickened me. I wasn't technically lying when I screamed at him to stop as I had no intention of being invaded in the way I knew he was imagining.
When he whispered that there was nothing I could do to stop him, I had to keep myself in check. No use ruining my plans with a sarcastic smirk… I kept silent and trembled as I tried to suppress the sadist in me. I could hardly wait until I had him in my clutches. Did he honestly think he could get away with this? What a silly boy. Soon he'd be the one screaming and I'd be the one laughing. He dragged me to his room and I had to struggle with him to keep things convincing, but he popped my wrist out of place. Why that no-good little—he'd get his. I just had to be patient. Just a little longer…
His stare was hardly unnerving as he thrust me into his room. Please, Charlie. I've seen much scarier things than that. He cuffed me to his headboard and a fleeting thought ran through my mind as I wondered how on earth a boy his age managed to get his hands on something as kinky as handcuffs. More acting on my part as I struggled against them. Of course I knew there's a catch to those little boogers. Every pair of kinky handcuffs has a way to get out of them, after all. Apparently I was being too quiet. He slapped me. I've felt worse, but I let out a yelp. Might as well give him what he wanted until it was my turn. Then he started taking my clothes off. I wondered why it didn't occur to me that he'd do this and I was thrashing about to keep him off of me a little longer. I didn't exactly want to be raped. Not by a guy, at least…
He got down to my boxers and stopped. I felt slightly relieved. He laughed at me and I let myself go for just a moment, affixing him with a glare. I didn't anticipate the pain of being bitten either, and when he did so I shrieked. As I lay there, seemingly helpless and panting he removed his own clothes. Wow, my Vitawonk works wonders, even for the scrawniest of boys. He looked like he'd been to the gym a few times… I snapped out of my musings when he laughed again and clawed my sides. Ow. A memory surfaced, painted nails raking down my sides... But this wasn't a pleasant evening with them, this was... Charlie! Unbidden, his name escaped my lips. Double-crossing bastards… Repulsed by the idea that he could possibly have reminded my body of that, my mind took control back from the hormones coursing through my veins.
He got off of me and I was about to free myself when he came back holding something. Oh my goodness. I was definitely not expecting this by any stretch of the imagination. He had acquired one of his razors—the ones he used to create the scars that I could see easily against the pale skin of his inner arms. I felt a pang of true fear as he came towards me with the blade—not because I was scared, but because I knew the masochistic side of me would enjoy this far too much, regardless of Charlie's being a man. I was not looking forward to his misunderstanding my reaction.
He sliced his own wrist and shoved it into my lips. Reflex took over and I flinched away from his blood. Not your blood, Charlie… I don't want it. He forced me to drink it by yanking me by the hair and again, I was reminded of an evening from several years past… The flashback was stunted as he removed his arm and began cutting into the skin of my chest. I had to struggle to bite back the moans that would have been elicited as he did this. No, this wasn't like that time… this was Charlie. I desperately tried to force the unwanted memories of that experience away. Baseball, cold showers… Trust me, Charlie. You don't want my love. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into if you're delusional enough to think that. I don't want your love, that's for damn sure.
Aside from anticipating the sounds of your screams as I… but that's neither here nor there. Not yet, anyhow. And you'll soon see what I've got in store for you, dear boy. A wave of disgust came over me when he began licking my chest. EW, didn't he realize how many bacteria were in his mouth! I watched in disgust as he threw the blade away and kissed me again, reopening the wound in my mouth. Charlie, you are so asking for it.
A surprised squeak dropped from my lips as his hand touched me there. No, no… I don't want that from you… He was still kissing me, his hand working on my unwanted erection. I shot him a contemptuous glare and he returned it with a scarily familiar smirk. Then he went too far. He took my boxers off. I said it nicely, sternly, forcefully. I even pleaded for him so stop, despite my aversion to sounding so utterly pathetic. Charlie slapped me again. In my mind, I laughed. He thought he was showing me who was boss, didn't he? Oh, dear Charlie… you've got it all wrong.
Being the splendiferous actor that I am, I managed to shed a tear—which in turn made Charlie laugh in a way that can only be described as wicked. He focused on my chest again – my nipple to be exact. I groaned slightly, another wave of nostalgia washing over me. I remembered her red painted nails… the boots that laced up to the thigh… corsets and whips… my memories were disrupted as he bit me, hard. I yelled, of course. Charlie, you have no idea what you're doing when it comes to kinky sex, believe me. I told him it hurt, he replied with a sneer and some drabble about me not knowing what real pain was. Pfft.
Charlie, until you've lived as long as I have, don't presume to tell me that you've known more pain than I have. Too bad, though. I don't think you'll ever know that small fact. I trembled as my darker side resurfaced, trying to hold it back. This was the side that took no interest in pleasures of the flesh. The side that was always only slightly sated by the fantasies acted out in private, but which gorged on the blood of those stupid enough to cross me in the past. The side that lusted, not for sex, but for power. My erection faded. A few whimpers escaped me, but they weren't directed towards Charlie, but rather, to the manifestation of all my dark thoughts. Charlie laughed at me again, but it was quickly silenced. I stared up at him and I knew he had seen my eyes change.
Charlie, you didn't think you could get away with this scot-free, did you? Oh, no, dear boy… You're going to meet your maker. Just like those other li'l bastards. I can't let you escape now. Not after you've seen the wonders of my factory. Especially not you, because the Oompa Loompa elders told me that the voices they hear are saying that one Charlie Jeremy Bucket is going to be my demise. What do you know, that's your name! I smiled at him, and he stared at me. When he least expected it, I extended my leg quickly, kicking him in the groin. He screamed in pain and fell over, huddling into a fetal position. I let out a cruel bark of laughter and released the catch on the handcuffs.
Tears were streaming from his eyes as I yanked him up by the hair. How do you like it, sweet Charlie? Whatsamatta? You can dish it out, but you can't take it? Oh dear, that's just too bad. I smiled evilly at him and he cowered. Nice to know I still had it. I pulled him after me, not bothering to grab any clothes. It's not like anyone else would see me, and the Oompa Loompas don't care. I stalked down to the elevator with the sniveling boy in tow. I'll show you some real pain, kiddo. You think you're so tough, eh? We'll see about that.
Once inside the glass enclosure, I scanned the many buttons as I pushed the one I was looking for—Lair. The elevator took off and I sneered down at Charlie. I let him know that he was in for the worst pain of his life, and that he was going to get exactly what he deserved. He stared at me with that deer-in-the-headlights expression, as if he couldn't believe I'd want revenge. Of course I wanted revenge. I now had a splitting headache thanks to his throwing me against the floor. The verbal abuse continued as I told him he was useless at being kinky as well. Even if I was into guys, (which I'm not) Charlie, you still suck at sex. Major big-time.
He hunched over. Oh the angst. I rolled my eyes. Bitch, please. I kicked him in the chest and the elevator lurched to left, and then veered right. The back of his skull smacked against the tempered glass of the back wall and he gasped from the combined force of the kick to his lungs and the pain of the impact. My smile got wider. How do you like them apples? Let's see what else can make you scream… The elevator emitted a cheerful ding! and I stepped off, dragging useless Charlie behind me. The Lair was a dark room with blue walls—somewhat like the entrance hall in its industrial appearance. There were large fans near the ceiling for ventilation, filling the room with cooler air and a quiet whirring noise.
Along the walls were various medieval torture devices, including (but not limited to) thumbscrews, an iron maiden, a rack, and an interrogation chair. Charlie gasped when he noticed something out of the corners of his vision. I cackled and announced that he was right. Those were Augustus flavored chocolate covered Gloops. I motioned to the iron maiden and commanded him to peer inside. Reluctantly, he did so and promptly vomited on the floor. Of course, he would. It was a wonder Mrs. Gloop fit in there at all. I'll tell you what; it was a hassle getting that woman in there. She sure did squirm a lot. But I wasn't about to let her leave my factory—don't think I didn't see her stuffing truffles into her purse!
I snapped the cuffs of my latex gloves. I asked Charlie why he thought I wore gloves. His answer was somewhat better than the usual 'because you're spermatophobic(1).' He actually thought it was due to sanitation regulations inside the factory. I'd have to give him points for originality… I sneered and told him he was wrong. I wear gloves because it's much harder for the police to figure out that I'm the reason random, mutilated body parts end up in the Thames. No fingerprints, dig? He gaped at me and I smiled. That's right, Charlie. I'm a murderer. I enjoy causing death. Guess who's next, li'l boy… but I'd torture him some first—for shits and giggles.
I yanked him by the arm, hard enough to dislocate his shoulder. A bone pop for a bone pop. He winced, and I dragged him towards the rack. He caught a glimpse of a miniature Mike impaled on a thumbscrew. I laughed at him, and explained that he had had no idea what he was getting himself into when he attacked me today. I was going to let him live a little longer, but he royally fucked up his chances of that. I said as much and he frowned. He asked me why I wanted him to win if I was just going to kill him like the other ticket winners. I smiled brightly.
"Why, because you're the li'l booger who's destined to bring down my candy empire." I replied. He stared at me, disbelief written all over his features.
"Why not kill me during the tour? You could have—I don't know—given me some Fizzy Lifting drinks and made me fly into one of your industrial fans(2)."
"Oh, no dear boy! That wouldn't be any fun, now would it? I might have missed out on cutting you up myself." I punctuated the statement with a grin. He gaped at me. Clearly, he was still in denial about my true nature. I watched as something dawned on Charlie. He, of course, had been schooled in conservative Christian beliefs. I knew this when he asked me how I could possibly avoid disaster by killing him—if I was destined to fall by his hands, wouldn't some supreme being make it so that I could not succeed by simply killing him off? Again, I laughed at his naïveté.
Charlie, did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe there is no God? Or perhaps there is one, but he simply doesn't care about you. I'd have imagined you'd come to this conclusion with your rather hopeless history. It would seem this is not the case. I began securing him to the rack while he was distracted in arguing religion with me. Perfect. Before he even realized it, he was strapped in to my personal favorite device of torture. It had, of course, the nickname of Taffy Puller among me and my Oompa Loompas.
I began cranking the wheel on the rack when Charlie interrupted me again. I rolled my eyes and snapped at him.
"What is it now?" I wanted to get on with it, my internal beast roaring at this delay. Don't worry, internal beast—I'll be extra cruel and unusual to him because he won't shut up.
"You were going to do this all along…" I looked at him like he was the dullest boy I've ever met. Oh wait, he kinda was. Another eye-roll ensued, and I responded.
"Yeah, duh." I motioned to crank the rack again, but was again stopped. Exasperated, I turned to look at the boy. What now!
"So… why did you let me get so far…? I mean, I thought I was in control or you. Why'd you—"
"Because, Charlie, it does way more psychological damage this way. It crumbles your ego and it provided me with a window of opportunity." I flashed him a wicked grin. He gulped and continued on, relentless. I sighed. Bad idea, not gagging this li'l jerk wad.
"Yeah, but you're going to kill me, aren't you?"
"Yes, Captain Obvious." I sneered. "You're gonna die. Like the others—which reminds me… do you have any last words? That is, other than the agonized screaming you'll be doing for, oh, I'd say until you die." I emphasized the point with vivid hand motions while he fell speechless. Yay, no more interruptions! "Guess not!" I replied in a chirpy sort of way and began cranking the rack some more. Charlie grimaced and tried to bite back the screams I knew he must be aching to emit. I laughed and told him that it would probably hurt less if he'd just scream like the little wimp he was. Of course, his pride wouldn't let him scream out until the pain was practically unbearable. Let's see how long it took me to reach that…
Within moments he was screaming at me to stop, that it hurt, and all manner of mindless screeching one does when being stretched to breaking point. I sent him an overly sugary smile and stopped my cranking. Today wasn't a stretch-them-until-their-limbs-pop-off kinda day, anyways. His chest was heaving from overexertion and his face was stained with tears. He looked at me, truly afraid for the first time in his life. I flashed a grin. Didn't think you'd be dying today, did you? Didn't think it'd hurt this much? Ah, well. I walked over to a small room where I kept some spare clothing. No need to get my immaculate skin covered in nasty child blood.
I donned a black lab coat (white's just not my color, y'see) and pulled on a pair of matching gloves. Affixing a mask to cover my mouth, I called some Oompa Loompas into the room to assist me. They marched in silently, and one brought me my scalpel set. I grinned behind my mask. This was gonna be good. I chose my sharpest scalpel and approached trembling little… well, a 15 year old with a 30-year-old's body isn't exactly little… but you get the idea. I approached him, my weapon brandished. This would be revenge for the newly forming scars on my own chest.
A sharp intake of breath accompanied my first slice. He gasped again as I made consecutive cuts across his chest. The blood welled up quickly, dark. He squirmed slightly, and I let out a shrill giggle as I began cutting little W's into his flesh. He wasn't exactly screaming, but I could tell he was in pain—an idea that made my power-hungry self smile with an evil sort of glee. He let out a small sound of surprised agony as I pushed down harder on the knife, cutting deeper, into his muscles. As I did this, I got a wonderfully evil, wicked idea. I called one of my faithful servants and explained what I needed in excited whispers. He crossed his arms and bowed, leaving the Lair to find the objects I needed.
Charlie stared at me as I flashed him a secretive grin. He seemed to ask me what was going to happen next with his eyes. All in good time, Charlie. All in good time… The Oompa Loompa returned with help, of course. They brought in a large, wooden cross, several spikes, and some rope. Just like I asked… I turned my head slowly towards Charlie and smiled.
1 Spermatophobia / Spermophobia refers to an abnormal and persistent fear of germs.
2 Yes, a reference to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971).
A/n the experiment continues. Might write an ALL-NEW chapter in Charlie's POV (those of you who've read this on LJ will know that I've only completed 3 chapters; Chaz-Will-Will) just a thought. I think I will. We'll see.