Pizzle Diablo

Tom faces the whip.

"Bring more amsec," said Tabood, flipping coin before his buggered strumpets, fard like clowns. Heels of hire clicked as dutiful castanets. He sat his chair like a debauched king, a play of light dancing between legs flesh and paid, between mechanicals diabolically tainted by minds made rich in the perverted commerce, and gulped the sweet fruit to drown what could not be drowned.

"Sir, we have the coordinates."

"Set course and notify command. Open channel."

"Yes sir."

_______

Back on Kulmyk:

Like an airborne snake, the whip uncurled, uncoiled, releasing energy like a devil's finger, furrowing the living flesh as blood tasted dank air; and the pale stone wall appeared as crimson speckled egg, cold in sweat, unspeaking, sentient as the unborn. Tom ground his teeth in the echo of snapping pizzle.

"Shame of the matter . . ." Whip cracked above his head, as if a token of mercy. " . . . Tabood has spoken, without the first lick of leather. Imagine that."

Tom's face tightened as if words were knobs, each a twist to stretch skin over bone as a drummer might in tune.

"We have the coordinates. And, we have you. So, you might ask yourself, what is the measure of your pride?"

Tom spit blood upon the blurry floor. His mind swimming in pain both sharp and dull, his back aflame as his chest throbbed, seeking release where no release would be quartered.

"All men break Tom. You will break too. Not because you can offer us anything we don't already have. Do you understand?"

Tom defecated his reply, the floor a mixture foul of sight as of smell, his breathing labored as a horse chained before the carnifex, nostrils steaming in the dark cold.

"The question, Tom, is do you want to suffer, break and die; or do you want to break and die quickly. You see, you will break. You know that Tom. You know all men break. All men Tom. And you will break too."

"F**k you."

"Tom, you know, I really didn't want to do this and I can't say I will take any pleasure from it either, but I don't have all day. You ain't the only business needing attention."

The door opened and Tom's jaded eyes, once crusted slits, became wide. "Enough!"

The door closed and the young boy removed. "Thank you Tom. Now tell me what you know and we'll avoid anymore unpleasantness. For the record Tom. For the children. The children must know the truth."

Tom spoke. Then he spoke no more as the walls turned their red eyes closed.

Reviews

[AutumnStorm]

Powerful and gripping, reading was like standing on the edge of a great cliff, suspended, not daring to look, looking all the same, fear clutching, knowing at the same time that fear is pointless, changing nothing. Sitting here with these last three chapters, I'm tempted to take a day at least for each from now on, so complete and so staggeringly intense is the experience of reading them. For content, for the writing. Reading your work is a full-body experience, as addictive as it is grand. There aren't words for this kind of marvellous.

[T]

Incredible as always, compelling. Your work always amazes me. Each time I read I find another nuance of your abilities and you.