Blood and Sex
folder
G through L › House of 1000 Corpses
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
4,065
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › House of 1000 Corpses
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
4,065
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own House of 1000 Corpses, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Same Side
Chapter 7 -Same Side
“What the fuck are you doing?” Still laying on top of her, Otis growled in her face. “I am the one in charge here, you aren’t.”
“It’s what you wanted.” Her voice was flat, quiet.
“Oh no sweetheart. I want you . . . but I’m a psychotic killer!” He sat up, pulling himself out, still straddling her waist.
He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “Doesn’t that scare you?”
Ryek shook her head, but her eyes said other wise. “If it’s what you want, then yes . . . ” Her voice started to tremble. “But please let me go.”
“Let you go?” He stood up now, pacing back and forth but never stepping more than a few feet away from her. “Your mine.”
“I’m no ones.” She lay still, her urge to escape gone, her eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“I found you. That makes you mine.” He dropped to his knees over top her. Reaching with his left hand, he grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled her up to him, in a sitting position.
She didn’t struggle. Her eyes stared steadily back into his.
“Finders’ keepers, looser’s weepers!” Otis spurted out in a sing song voice.
“Why can’t I be the looser?” She whispered back.
“I FOUND YOU, YOU’RE MINE!” He screamed, spittle hitting her face.
He gave her head a shove, but she was able to gain control of it before it once more struck the hard floor.
Otis grabbed her by the hand roughly, yanking her to her feet. She stumbled, trying to keep up with his longer strides. With a hard shove, he pushed her down onto the bed again.
He pulled his Colt 1911 from its holster on his hip, pointing it at her as he leaned down and retrieved his knife from where he had dropped it earlier. Never taking his eyes from her, or lowering his gun, he returned it to its home in his boot.
“You stay put.” The warning wasn’t necessary. She was too scared, yet too thrilled to try and leave again.
He turned his back on her, trustingly. She was ready for another fight just yet. In fact she was more and more curious about this man before her. Wanting to stay with him, be with him. And that seemed to scare her more so than he himself did.
Otis stepped over to a cabinet that she hadn’t noticed before. Pulling open one of the doors, he leaned in and retrieved something dark that she couldn’t quite see clearly.
He whirled around quickly, launching whatever it was he had gotten at her. She flinched reflexively, bringing her hands up to protect her face.
A black backpack landed with a muffled thump on the bed next to her. Her hands shaking, she nervously reached for it, and opened it up.
It was clothing, women’s clothing at that, oddly enough.
“My sister’s.” He turned to face her, scratching his head with the gun still in his hand. “Might fit you.”
“Thank you.” She spoke quietly, as she pulled out a pair of dark brown jeans and a dark tank top.
“Fucking stop with the pleasantries, I ain’t here to be your momma.” Otis picked up the over turned chair and sat down in it, backwards.
He curiously watched as she nervously got dressed under his harsh stare.
Thankfully the top had a built in bra, for she hadn’t been able to find one in the bag, and her own had been sliced along with her original shirt.
Finished dressing, she looked at him steadily. “Why didn’t you kill me? Isn’t that what you like to do?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Fuck then kill?”
Otis laughed. “Hell girl, just because you ain’t dead now doesn’t mean I won’t kill you yet.”
The lump returned.
“Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I want some help. Or maybe I just want some cute ass to come back to for a good fuckin’.”
He wants me alive for an accomplice. She wanted to smile but was careful to keep the thought to herself.
She had to be careful still. She had no idea if he was planning on killing her or if he was just trying to keep her from doing anything stupid . . . like escaping.
The thought crossed her mind once more. She glanced at the closed door. His watchful eyes followed her gaze and he smiled wickedly.
“No way in hell am I gonna let you get away.” He laid the .45 down on the table next to him and stood up, returning the chair to its original place. “Now how about some good southern food, huh?”
She swallowed, licking her dry lips. “Yeah sure.” Her stomach growled hungrily at the mention of food.
He stepped back over to the cabinet and pulled out another sack. Except this time, this one was moving. Reaching inside he pulled out a rabbit, in much the same way a magician would out of his top hat.
He smiled, pure evil flashing across his scruffy face. Retrieving his knife again, he turned his back to her, laying the squirming rabbit down on a counter across the room.
The rabbit started screaming. It was an awful sound. Sending chills up her spine. She couldn’t watch him do it. No matter how hungry she was, she would rather starve, or have him attack her again then watch him kill something, anything, even if it was just a rabbit.
Her eyes traveled back to the door, all the while the rabbit still screamed in the background.
This isn’t right. Her mind screamed out at her, trying to get her to come back to her senses.
She turned her head back to the front, watching his still bare back, the muscles tightening as he held the rabbit in one hand, his knife in the other.
Serial killers start out by killing small animals. But it was just an animal.
What was wrong with her? She should be escaping, not sitting here feeling sorry for an animal, or being attracted to a murderer for crying out loud!
Her senses came back to her.
With his back turned, he heard an all to familiar sound.
A gun being cocked. He tilted his head to the side, glaring at her over his shoulder.
The gun was pointing right at him. His gun. No one touched his gun, let alone points it at him.
.
He turned and looked at her steadily. His own rage boiling up. The forgotten rabbit jumped off the counter and hid underneath.
“Do it” He raised his hands, mockingly in a surrender. “You don’t have the guts.”
He knew she wouldn't kill him. Not even for her survival, or escape.
She'd had enough. She was attracted to him, yes, and badly. Somewhere deep inside of her longed to have him inside her once more, but she was wrong, she was delusional. No woman in her right mind would want to be with a killer. Yet she did.
He smiled at her, knowing he had her. That angered her even more.
She screamed with rage and confusion, her mind racing with confusing, disturbing thoughts.
Ryek then pulled the trigger.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Still laying on top of her, Otis growled in her face. “I am the one in charge here, you aren’t.”
“It’s what you wanted.” Her voice was flat, quiet.
“Oh no sweetheart. I want you . . . but I’m a psychotic killer!” He sat up, pulling himself out, still straddling her waist.
He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “Doesn’t that scare you?”
Ryek shook her head, but her eyes said other wise. “If it’s what you want, then yes . . . ” Her voice started to tremble. “But please let me go.”
“Let you go?” He stood up now, pacing back and forth but never stepping more than a few feet away from her. “Your mine.”
“I’m no ones.” She lay still, her urge to escape gone, her eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“I found you. That makes you mine.” He dropped to his knees over top her. Reaching with his left hand, he grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled her up to him, in a sitting position.
She didn’t struggle. Her eyes stared steadily back into his.
“Finders’ keepers, looser’s weepers!” Otis spurted out in a sing song voice.
“Why can’t I be the looser?” She whispered back.
“I FOUND YOU, YOU’RE MINE!” He screamed, spittle hitting her face.
He gave her head a shove, but she was able to gain control of it before it once more struck the hard floor.
Otis grabbed her by the hand roughly, yanking her to her feet. She stumbled, trying to keep up with his longer strides. With a hard shove, he pushed her down onto the bed again.
He pulled his Colt 1911 from its holster on his hip, pointing it at her as he leaned down and retrieved his knife from where he had dropped it earlier. Never taking his eyes from her, or lowering his gun, he returned it to its home in his boot.
“You stay put.” The warning wasn’t necessary. She was too scared, yet too thrilled to try and leave again.
He turned his back on her, trustingly. She was ready for another fight just yet. In fact she was more and more curious about this man before her. Wanting to stay with him, be with him. And that seemed to scare her more so than he himself did.
Otis stepped over to a cabinet that she hadn’t noticed before. Pulling open one of the doors, he leaned in and retrieved something dark that she couldn’t quite see clearly.
He whirled around quickly, launching whatever it was he had gotten at her. She flinched reflexively, bringing her hands up to protect her face.
A black backpack landed with a muffled thump on the bed next to her. Her hands shaking, she nervously reached for it, and opened it up.
It was clothing, women’s clothing at that, oddly enough.
“My sister’s.” He turned to face her, scratching his head with the gun still in his hand. “Might fit you.”
“Thank you.” She spoke quietly, as she pulled out a pair of dark brown jeans and a dark tank top.
“Fucking stop with the pleasantries, I ain’t here to be your momma.” Otis picked up the over turned chair and sat down in it, backwards.
He curiously watched as she nervously got dressed under his harsh stare.
Thankfully the top had a built in bra, for she hadn’t been able to find one in the bag, and her own had been sliced along with her original shirt.
Finished dressing, she looked at him steadily. “Why didn’t you kill me? Isn’t that what you like to do?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Fuck then kill?”
Otis laughed. “Hell girl, just because you ain’t dead now doesn’t mean I won’t kill you yet.”
The lump returned.
“Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I want some help. Or maybe I just want some cute ass to come back to for a good fuckin’.”
He wants me alive for an accomplice. She wanted to smile but was careful to keep the thought to herself.
She had to be careful still. She had no idea if he was planning on killing her or if he was just trying to keep her from doing anything stupid . . . like escaping.
The thought crossed her mind once more. She glanced at the closed door. His watchful eyes followed her gaze and he smiled wickedly.
“No way in hell am I gonna let you get away.” He laid the .45 down on the table next to him and stood up, returning the chair to its original place. “Now how about some good southern food, huh?”
She swallowed, licking her dry lips. “Yeah sure.” Her stomach growled hungrily at the mention of food.
He stepped back over to the cabinet and pulled out another sack. Except this time, this one was moving. Reaching inside he pulled out a rabbit, in much the same way a magician would out of his top hat.
He smiled, pure evil flashing across his scruffy face. Retrieving his knife again, he turned his back to her, laying the squirming rabbit down on a counter across the room.
The rabbit started screaming. It was an awful sound. Sending chills up her spine. She couldn’t watch him do it. No matter how hungry she was, she would rather starve, or have him attack her again then watch him kill something, anything, even if it was just a rabbit.
Her eyes traveled back to the door, all the while the rabbit still screamed in the background.
This isn’t right. Her mind screamed out at her, trying to get her to come back to her senses.
She turned her head back to the front, watching his still bare back, the muscles tightening as he held the rabbit in one hand, his knife in the other.
Serial killers start out by killing small animals. But it was just an animal.
What was wrong with her? She should be escaping, not sitting here feeling sorry for an animal, or being attracted to a murderer for crying out loud!
Her senses came back to her.
With his back turned, he heard an all to familiar sound.
A gun being cocked. He tilted his head to the side, glaring at her over his shoulder.
The gun was pointing right at him. His gun. No one touched his gun, let alone points it at him.
.
He turned and looked at her steadily. His own rage boiling up. The forgotten rabbit jumped off the counter and hid underneath.
“Do it” He raised his hands, mockingly in a surrender. “You don’t have the guts.”
He knew she wouldn't kill him. Not even for her survival, or escape.
She'd had enough. She was attracted to him, yes, and badly. Somewhere deep inside of her longed to have him inside her once more, but she was wrong, she was delusional. No woman in her right mind would want to be with a killer. Yet she did.
He smiled at her, knowing he had her. That angered her even more.
She screamed with rage and confusion, her mind racing with confusing, disturbing thoughts.
Ryek then pulled the trigger.