Draining Dennis

Dennis woke up to a piercing headache. The feminine looking 14 year old boy blinked the sleep out of his eyes and groaned past a ball gag. As his vision returned, he slowly moved his head, looking around. It dawned on him that he was upside down, and no longer in his bedroom. Instead, it seemed to be some kind of industrial site, or a warehouse. It was cold too, and as the chilly draft blew over his body, he realized that he wasn't wearing anything except for a pair of boxer briefs. He looked down and saw a plain steel bucket. His heart began to race. This was not ideal.

"So, you've woken up."

A woman's voice, from behind. Dennis tried turning his head, but the restraints prevented him. A warm hand caressed his cheek. "Shhhhh, don't panic." The woman sounded young, and gentle. The hand moved, and grasped his dirty blonde bangs firmly. His head was yanked back, and he finally saw the woman, his kidnapper.

She was a tall, slim woman, dressed in a form fitting T-shirt, dirty blue jeans, and a bloodstained apron. He locked eyes with her, and felt icy fear fill his young heart. Her blue eyes were dull, emotionless. Like a robot.

"MmmmMmMMPH!", he moaned, the ballgag muffling his pleas.

The woman reached behind her and pulled out a long butcher's knife. Dennis's eyes widened. He began to squirm and wriggle, but it was futile. "I said, don't panic."

The knife entered his throat, and Dennis winced, agonizing, searing pain filling his neck. The knife carved open a gash, and hot blood filled the boy's mouth and nostrils. "Guublubbhh", he gurgled pitifully, blood streaming out of the slit in high pressure jets. There was a hiss as he pissed himself, urine dripping down his stomach and chest, mixing with the bright red blood splatter before drizzling into the bucket.

His killer kept her grip on his hair as his heart slowly began to falter. Dennis's eyes opened, although they were now unfocused and wandering. His brain was starving for oxygen, but the knife had severed too many connections. Finally, after several minutes, the boy's heart ceased beating. There was a faint sigh, and his eyelids drooped shut for the final time. The woman noticed his muscles relax in death. The blood flow had stopped, and Dennis's body was noticeably paler than it had been 10 minutes prior.

She let go of his head and began to undo the restraints on his feet. One leg came free, then the other. Dennis fell to the floor with a thump. His killer pulled his underwear off and raised it to her nose. With a deep breath, she inhaled the pungent mixture of urine, blood and sweat that had infused the moistened boxers. Placing the boxers to the side, she turned her concentration to the limp corpse. There was one thing in particular that she needed.

Her hand grasped the handle of the butchers knife once more. The tip of the blade punched through flesh, and she slit open Dennis's firm, hairless chest. The knife was exchanged for a sturdy pair of shears, and his ribs were cracked open, revealing his internals. The woman reached in, unfazed by the greasy mass of guts. She gripped the boy's heart and pulled. It popped out, and she held it in her hand. For the first time, what looked like emotion flitted across her cold face. The heart of a virgin boy, just what her master had ordered. She dropped the stilled organ into a ziploc bag, then gently placed it into a waiting mobile freezer unit.