Fictitious Stories and Where to Find Them

Beauty and her Beasts

DISCLAIMER: This is a slightly (okay, very) disturbing short story so read it at your own peril. You may be scarred for life, as I was after writing it.

Adriana walked the streets, hurrying to keep her appointment at the spa. She had been eagerly awaiting it all week, her skin felt dry as dust, her hands were wrinkling like an old woman’s and when she glanced at her reflection in the morning, she genuinely saw a warthog peering back. Despite horrifying thoughts of aged hags with spidery hands and imminent death she garnered a small amount of satisfaction when heads turned in the street, to watch her progress. It didn’t excite her as it used to, during her highly turbulent years of adolescence; now it just gave her an added confidence that allowed her to make it through the day. Her almond coloured skin, literally shone because of the strict regime she maintained, that of scrubbing, preening and polishing it every day till her face glowed. The exercise of walking half a mile made her perspire slightly which added to that healthy sheen and not a few passers-by thought she had rolled directly out of bed after a night of making love; others wondered how it would be like to join her there. Her short, translucent dress sashayed to-and-forth as she jauntily walked across the road in heels that could skewer a beast. But she gave thought to none of this, only shivered in anticipation of the pleasurable ordeal that lay ahead.

She reached the spa, but instead of making for the front door, she suddenly darted in the alleyway behind it and knocked thrice on what seemed like a disused and dirty back entrance. The cogs on the door turned and a slight incision was made. The person on the other side made no attempts at communication; he simply waited. Adriana produced a small ribbon of fur and held it out to the attendant. Immediately he opened the door wide and whisked her in, bowing deferentially for he saw that this was a Gold Class member who deserved first class treatment. She walked onto the much traversed path and reached the room they specially reserved for her.

More attendants flocked around her, asking if she would like something to eat or drink but Adriana had been waiting for this for over a week and she had no time left for niceties or small talk. She immediately ordered her bathwater to be turned on and that she be left alone to attend to her business. The attendants acquiesced at once and the bathroom was filled with the strong scent of bathwater oils and the perfumes she so loved, which turned her skin into glorious putty. The water glowed a luminescent red, throwing eerie shadows upon the walls and she delicately removed her barely-there floral prints and got in.

The red coloured fluid flowed over her silken body and she moaned. She called out the attendants to make it a little thicker and the water changed to a slightly more sluggish consistency, turgidly settling onto her thighs and scrubbing her back. The smell of sulphur immediately pervaded the room as she knew it would indubitably have done and she screamed for the bath perfumes to be released. “God, these imbeciles,” she thought to herself, “Never can they get it to the correct consistency.”

“Miro!” she wailed. Immediately a highly strung man entered through a hidden entrance ensconced within the marble, and bowed before her. She demanded her usual. He carefully opened the box had been carrying with him and out poured a flood of a material that wriggled when he touched it. She picked it up and rubbed it all over her body, groaning slightly with the pleasure that simple mass of intestinal organs gave her. He inquired whether she required anything more and she snapped back at him to get lost as soon as possible. He withdrew with another sprightly bow, accustomed to her abusive manner when she was in her element.

Adriana couldn’t believe people thought this ritual as disgusting and frankly, appalling. She couldn’t imagine why people might judge her for immersing herself in blood, a pleasure in itself that she did not feel at any point in her career, not with her sex-and-drug experimentation, not falling in love, nada. People in the olden days hunted for sport, and this was not even an endangered animal. No, she had been very firm on that stance. The blood of no silky sifaka lemur or the Tibetan antelope would be used. She wasn’t going to contribute to the extinction of a species; after all she was a part of the World Wide Fund for Nature and simply adored those beautiful creatures.

She had discovered this little closeted space, the undercover modus operandi the spa ran below ground, when her mother had imparted the secret to her beauty; blood was the only fluid that could keep the skin glowing for ages and provide a sort of immortality to oneself, and she had proved it by not looking a day over 30 when she actually was well into her seventies. What her mother had disregarded to mention was the intense orgasmic effect this had on her; she was lost in her own world while immersed in the fluid. The intestinal organs were just a bonus. Just thinking about those creatures being severed from the neck upwards, as their lifeblood slowly ebbed into the tank, their intestines would be removed immediately and preserved to stop them from reeking horrendously. She could just imagine beady eyed rats, wriggling in Miro’s powerful hands as he slowly squeezed them to death, just the way she liked it. You see, blood had different consistencies, depending on how the creature was killed. Slashing its neck would give you a torrent of watery blood whilst suffocating them would expel the air bubbles and make the blood thicker. There were other methods too, but it was the latter that she particularly liked, it satisfied her instincts to dominate and didn’t get her clothes dirty.

She got up, took a nice, long shower and got dressed. It was time to get back or her husband would start wondering where she had disappeared off to. Her mother had sworn her to secrecy about the place and she meant to take it to her grave. She had no desire for a divorce with someone whom she had selected for his successful career, undisputed charm and a bank balance which she could spend without question. While on her way out she stopped at Miro’s desk and said, “Miro, it was slightly different today. Not unpleasant but altogether different. Whose did you use?”

Miro smilingly replied, “Did you not hear of the abduction of that millionaire’s son yesterday? Only the best, and the most expensive for you, darling.”
Adriana clucked her approval and left the establishment feeling satisfied and akin to a goddess.

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4 thoughts on “Beauty and her Beasts

  1. This is horror incarnated. Loved your narration. I can definitely compare it to some of the stories I’ve read in the Pan Book of Horror Stories.

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