The Book of a Thousand Sins Read online

  Suddenly I understood man’s place in the universe. We were not the favorite children of a “Supreme Being” in whose image we were created, we were just one finite part of an infinite creation. We were grains of sand in a vast beach among countless billions of beaches. All of man’s religions appeared as childish and ridiculous fairy tales and flights of presumptuous vanity compared to the reality of this.

  I don’t remember screaming, but I must have, and the screams must have been terrifying, because Willie came rushing into the room calling my name and looking at me as if he were afraid I was going to drop dead on the spot. I turned to look for him in the doorway, but all I could see was a vast sea of stars. Then the orgasm came thundering through me with the force of an exploding sun and my entire being nearly flew apart.

  My body convulsed so violently that Willie had to grab me and hold me down to keep me from breaking my own back as cataclysmic explosions went off in my head and shook me to my soul. I was abruptly jerked backwards through time and space, back to the filthy little Tijuana whorehouse where I lay weeping atop the withered husk of a two-thousand year old vegetative prostitute whose pussy was the gateway to truth, with my seed running down her inner thigh and my tears running down her cheek.

  I had found God. I had seen the mysteries of the universe revealed. And I wished that I had been smart enough to have left well enough alone.

  I looked about me at the men who still stood in line, holding their ridiculous religious trinkets, and wondered why none of the other men who’d come into this room had been so struck by what they’d seen. Then, when I looked into their vacuous exultant faces, I knew the answer. They’d had their faith to shield them from the truth. They’d gone into that room already knowing what they’d find and no matter what they experienced their answer would always have been the same: “I have seen God!” Their God. The Christian God. There was nothing else they would ever have allowed themselves to see. Faith had blinded them to even this awesome experience. I had gone in unprotected.

  I reached out and took the bible from a man’s hand who stood waiting to enter after me. I kept think about what the philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer had said nearly a century ago—“He who increases knowledge, increases suffering. Man has but two choices, to be a happy animal or a suffering god.” I should have listened. I did not want to know what I now knew. I did not want to suffer. I wanted to believe. I wanted to become one of the mindless sheep, to be a happy animal, unaware of the absolute insignificance of every breath I inhaled.

  I cracked open the bible and began to read as Willie helped me out of the brothel and back into the hatchback. I read passage after passage as we traveled back up the road toward Los Angeles. I read about Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden. I read about Moses and the Ten Commandments. I read about the birth of Christ and the Resurrection, and I began to laugh. All I could see were those planets being ingested into that mindless pitiless mass. I knew now what had sent the old prostitute into that mindless fugue. She had seen the truth. It didn’t even matter if she was really Mary Magdalene or if she was actually two thousand years old or not. I would never be able to believe in anything again. The truth had set me free.

  Don't Scream

  I disappeared inside of her. Thrusting my engorged cock into her puckered anus with all the violence and passion of some erotomaniacal savage bent on the rape and destruction of her, but it was she who was destroying me. I pulled her hair and smacked her ass. She scratched my back and bit my shoulder, met each thrust with her own, growled in my ear and drew the scalpel across my nipple once again. I hated how much I loved it.

  “Oh my god that feels so good! Arrrgh! No! Oh God that hurts!”

  I had become a favorite joke of the emergency room nurses. I no longer tried to explain the bite marks on my cock or why I needed to have my testicles sewn back on twice in three months. The electrical burns on my ass from the cattle prod, the cuts and slashes on my back from the razor-barbed cat o’ nine tails, the cigarette burns around my anus, it wasn’t worth lying about. They knew that I was a sick puppy with one hell of a sadistic playmate. They probably thought I was a male prostitute who specialized in rough trade.

  “Don’t scream.” She said pressing a finger to my lips. I knew she was about to hurt me.

  I turned my back to her, baring it to her whip. She alternated between cracking the cat o’ nine tails across my tight muscular buttocks and jacking me off, bisecting my nipple with the scalpel, and swallowing my cock whole. She pulled me down between her legs and smothered me in her juices. I lapped them up like the last meal of a dying man. When she finally pulled me inside of her, I was broken, defeated. My ego dissolved in the sweet nectar flowing from the lubricious folds of flesh enveloping my swollen member. Each thrust took me deeper into a self-destructive ecstasy of salacious sensations as if I were alone at sea being sucked down into a whirlpool.

  My body went wild as electric tendrils of ecstasy radiated upward from my cock and fired through my nervous system. Her nails rent the skin on my back, shoulders, and throat to cheesecloth. Her teeth finished the job the scalpel had done on my nipples as she bit one of them off, masticated and swallowed it. She smiled, her teeth stained crimson. I screamed and died inside of her.

  “Don’t scream.” She repeated breathlessly, silencing me with a kiss before biting down hard on my lip and tongue and lapping tenderly at the resultant blood.

  Every night went like this. She took and I gave. Then she walked back out into the yard and dug her way back into the grave where I’d left her.

  Our sex life had never been this adventurous when she was alive. Going to hell has a way of loosening a woman’s inhibitions. Maria had always been such a self-righteous cunt before the thirty-six stab wounds I put in her chest and stomach on our seven-year anniversary when she’d refused to perform oral sex for the 365th time that year. I got head anyway, gagging her with my cock as she drowned in her own blood and eventually my cum.

  Her eyes bulged in their sockets as I raped her esophagus, rolling around in her head as if seeking an exit from the nightmare she’d suddenly found herself in. The whole mess of semen and gore came bubbling up out of her mouth as she gargled and coughed, trying desperately to give voice to her horror, as she squealed out her last strangled breath.

  “Shhh,” I said, “ Don’t scream.” Then I covered her mouth and pinched her nostrils closed, watching as she suffocated and drowned in her own blood.

  I dragged Maria’s corpse out into the yard and started to dig. I didn’t want her to have a shallow grave. I didn’t want anyone to ever find her. I didn’t want Maria coming back to haunt me. I wanted her gone and forgotten. I dug through hard soil and sedimentary rock using a shovel, a pick, and a sledgehammer at times. I eventually dug a hole six-feet long, three-feet wide, and six-feet deep. Then I dug deeper.

  There was another layer of rock and I had to take the pick and finally the sledgehammer to it to break through. I hit a pocket in the earth, an underground cave or something. Suddenly all the dirt began to collapse down into it as the hole grew wider and deeper, an avalanche of earth falling into some vast underground void. I could feel myself being pulled down into it as well, as if there was a great vortex beneath me sucking me down into a vacuum. Dirt and rubble cascaded over me in a great wave, knocking me back and nearly sending me careening down into the abyss below. I cried out for help as if Maria would suddenly reawaken just to save her murderous husband. I screamed as I found myself drowning in a whirlpool of free flowing earth. My mouth filled with soil and rock and for a moment I lost consciousness.

  I was only out for a brief second but when I regained consciousness I was completely buried, entombed in the ground and sliding deeper and deeper into the hollow pocket of earth at the bottom of Maria’s makeshift grave. I couldn’t breathe. I clawed at the earth trying to climb my way out of the ground, but the loose dirt slipped between my fingers and dropped me further into the ever-widening hole beneath me. Then, just shy of tum
bling headlong into the vast aperture beneath me, my fingers found purchase in the earth and I pulled myself out of the hole, barely escaping living internment. I scrambled free as more dirt fell away and my little hole became a great chasm in the earth.

  There was a smell of decay that wafted up from that hole like the putrescence of a thousand corpses. I staggered from the assault and covered my face with my t-shirt. That’s when I heard the screams. Cries of pain and terror more horrible than anything I’d ever heard echoed from within that hole. I leapt backwards away from the pit, my entire body trembling, urine dribbling down my thigh, hair standing on end. There were people down there in the earth somewhere and they were in agony and I’d nearly joined them.

  I listened to the screams for a long moment wondering what to do. I knew that I had done something far worse than killing the frigid bitch I’d made the mistake of wedding. I had dug something far more than a simple grave. As the screams seemed to grow nearer, louder, more terse and shrill, swirling around my head like a maelstrom, I began trying to fill the hole again. At first the dirt just fell and kept falling before I started tossing some of the larger rocks back into the grave to plug the mouth of that underground cave. Finally I blocked the hole enough to where I could pile some of the dirt back on top of it. Then I went to throw in Maria.

  Maria had always been a stunning beauty. Half Puerto-Rican and half Filipino. She was slight of limb but with a large, round, voluptuous ass and huge breasts. A body like a porn star. Her hair swirled down her back in long curly black locks like strands of liquid night. Her skin was a natural tan like fresh pastry. Her dark smoky eyes were fanned by long luxurious eyelashes giving her a sultry appearance as if she’d just had an orgasm or smoked some really good weed. Unfortunately she had been raised by strict Catholic parents who’d taught her that sex was a sin. I’d admired that at first. She had wanted to wait until marriage to have sex. So we did. Seven years later it felt like I was still waiting.

  She’d never warmed to the idea of sex with me. Anything other than missionary position was completely out of the picture and even then it was a rare treat that she merely tolerated rather than enjoyed. I grew to resent and eventually to hate her for her frigidity. I would seethe in rage as I lay beside her at night masturbating to fantasies of raping my own wife all while trying to be quiet enough not to wake her. It was pathetic. But now it was over. I’d finally done it.

  Before I threw Maria into the ground, I rolled her over, removed the rest of her blood-soaked clothing, and anally raped her, something else she’d never let me do in life. I punched my cock up into her lower intestines, tearing through her rectum, until blood ran out of both ends. Then I threw her in and watched her fall all the way to hell.

  I guess she thought she’d go to heaven after such a righteous life. I mean, she was such a good Christian, suppressing all carnal desires and forsaking all earthly rewards for the promise of paradise. It must have been quite a shock when her vain, pious, judgmental ass wound up careening through inferno.

  I’d always suspected that The New Testament and the Old Testaments were two entirely separate and unique documents referring to two entirely separate and unique gods. There’s Elohim who was the destroyer of Sodom and Gomorrah, the god who drowned the earth and saved only a boat full of his creations, who killed the first born sons of Egypt, who relished the idea of sending those who did not love and obey him to suffer eternal torment at the hands of the first of his creations to betray him. Then there was Yahweh who sacrificed his only begotten son so that man would not die but would know eternal life so long as they believed in him. No way these were the same cats. Of course you couldn’t have told Maria that. She found out though. When hell spread it’s fiery wings and embraced her, and her soul sizzled and burned as she screamed for that merciful god she’d always read about, the one who was supposed to forgive her petty sins. The myth. And found only the fiery wrath of Elohim.

  She had been proud of her own piety. A sin. She had been judgmental of those less Christian than her. A sin. She had refused the love of her husband. A sin. And Elohim did not forgive. She had cried out for Yahweh and found that he had no power in hell. She had cried out for Jesus only to see him burning beside her. So in the end she had cried out to the only god that would listen.

  She was unwilling to suffer like a good Christian and so she forsook God and clawed her way out of hell in defiance of God’s justice. She didn’t talk about it but I imagined that Satan himself had helped boost her out of that pit, happy to see the love of God die in the eyes of one so pious. He had helped lift her out of hell and back into my bed.

  That first night, when I felt the blistering heat of her flesh slide up against me as I lay alone in my cold bed, I leapt up and nearly killed myself tripping over my own shoes in the dark. Maria followed me out from beneath the covers, a voluptuous silhouette shimmering like a ghost in the half-light of the moon and stars, casting its luminescence between the sheer window coverings. I turned on the light by the side of the bed as she rose with the sheets spilling off her body like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam. She was filthy, covered in grave dirt. Her hair and nails had grown long from the year she’d spent in the ground. But her body had lost none of its luster. She still looked like a wet dream with proportions like those pubescent teens drew on bathroom walls.

  She was completely nude. Her large breasts, with the large dark nipples like Hershey’s kisses, pointed straight at me. She was breathing hard and she ran her hands slowly over her opulent bosom, squeezing her over-ripe mammaries and pinching and pulling on her nipples. My erection leapt to life even as the fear shook me to my soul. She reached out for my rapidly solidifying flesh and I stepped away from her even as I thrust my hips forward into her grasp, fear and lust competing within me. My legs trembled.

  “Shhh,” she whispered through a lascivious grin, “Don’t scream.”

  The irony of having the last words I’d ever spoken to her thrown back at me as an introduction was not lost on me. It was proof positive that she still remembered that I was her murderer. I screamed despite her warning.

  Maria grabbed my cock and I froze. I could not remember the last time she’d even acknowledge its existence let alone caressed it so lovingly. She dropped to her knees and my body tensed as she opened her mouth and slurped on my engorged penis, sliding its entire length down her throat past her epiglottis and into her esophagus. She grabbed my ass and pulled me deeper into her mouth until her lips were buried in my pubic hair. I thrust slowly three or four times as her tongue swirled around my throbbing erection then I sped up my rhythm and aggressively fucked her beautiful mouth. She did not gag once. She didn’t even appear to be breathing. Her teeth scraped my tender foreskin and there was a brief moment when I feared that she would bite down and castrate me, a fitting revenge for what I had done to her. Then I ejaculated in wild jerks and fits and I was past caring. If I had to die than this was certainly the way I wanted to go.

  What felt like half my bodily fluids erupted into her throat and she hungrily devoured the warm deluge of semen, lapping up every ounce. She gripped my diminishing erection in her hand and licked the last drops from its wilting head. In seconds she’d stroked me back to full erection.

  Maria looked up into my eyes and smiled with her lips glistening with saliva and semen. A predatorial rictus ripped across her face that turned my blood to Kool-Aid, then she sank her teeth into my shaft and tore off my foreskin. I screamed but my erection never waned. She raked her fingernails over my ass, down my thighs, and across my scrotum, tearing into my wrinkled nutsack. I screamed over and over again. My genitals were a bloody ruin when she dragged me to the floor and mounted me. She rode my abused manhood hard, hammering out orgasm after orgasm while slapping me hard across the face and clawing at my throat with her overgrown nails.

  She began to strangle me as the rhythm of her hips increased. Spots danced before my eyes from the blood loss and oxygen deprivation. Then an orgasm that resembled an
epileptic seizure racked my body and emptied me. I passed out and woke up alone again but with obvious evidence that this had been no dream. I dragged my ass to the ER to get my cock stitched up and anesthetized before the wounds got infected and they had to amputate.

  The next night she was back, carrying the shovel I’d used to bury her. I rushed to embrace her and she beat me to the floor with the wooden handle. Cracking it across my head and back until I crumpled at her feet and curled up into a fetal position, whimpering and crying. She slid down to the floor with me and wrapped her warm flesh around me, kissing and caressing the bruises and contusions she’d left all over my skull and on down my neck and spine. I responded to the sensuous wet heat of her mouth as it slid over my wounds soothing each injury with her probing tongue, lapping at the blood that flowed from the welts and abrasions. My manhood swelled urgently and I felt ashamed, like a ridiculously loyal dog that licks the hand that smacks it. She left trails of hot saliva down between my shoulder blade as she kissed sucked and licked her way down my back. My entire body tensed and vibrated with want. When I felt that slick serpentine tongue squirm its way into my anus I had to concentrate to keep from ejaculating right there. Then she kissed her way back up my spine to my neck. I could feel her hot breath in my ear and then the handle of the shovel wedged beneath my chin.

  She pulled tight until the handle bit into my throat and choked off my windpipe. She continued to kiss and suckle my ear even as she strangled me. I clawed the air and tried to scramble free of her but she held on tight and I couldn’t throw her off. I stood up and she wrapped her legs around my waist and clung tight to my back still tugging on the shovel handle. I gasped once more before I fell over and nearly passed out. I woke up to the most excruciating invasion. Maria was stretching my anus wide with the shovel handle; ramming it in so hard and fast that splinters lodged in the soft tissue of my rectum and it partially prolapsed. My stomach cramped and I felt my organs shift as she put her shoulder into it. I felt something give and the shovel slid in deeper and lodged there. Blood sprayed from my mouth and drooled down my chin and I knew that she’d done some serious internal damage.