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The tall figure glided smoothly alongside the table, hand outstretched, barely grazing the surface tracing almost tenderly over the instruments and tools lying there, a sound almost like a purr escaping his lips. His gaze drifted towards the second table in the room, similar to a hospital operating table with a few modifications he'd added, a smile spreading across his face as he met the terrified eyes of the man strapped to the cold table.
The man was smaller than him, stout and muscular, a fact emphasized by his arms straining against the leather straps binding him to the table. He was bound to the table by four leather straps, two at his ankles spread shoulder width apart, and two binding his wrists over his head, elbows bent slightly so he wasn't completely stretched out. He'd stripped his captive of the majority of his clothes save for his underwear, the lad's bare skin a canvas for him to work. He was rather on the cute side the tall man had to admit, and if he wasn't about to do many terrible things to this man he would take him out for a coffee and maybe a cookie. The smaller man's chest heaved with how hard and fast he was breathing, fear etched across his face and muscles tense. If it weren't for the duct tape wrapped around his lower face he'd probably be screaming and begging, something the tall man had quickly grown bored of when dealing with his victims.
"You look frightened," he said casually, his voice smooth and deep. He leaned closer, hovering over the lad and placing a hand on his bare chest. "You should be."
The younger man's eyes widened and he whimpered, much to the pleasure of his captor, shaking his head and wriggling uselessly causing the tall man to chuckle darkly.
"You might as well give up, you're not getting out of those bindings. Not until I let you out," he said.
The smaller man looked up at him with something akin to hope flickering across his face, making him more adorable, like a lost puppy who thinks he's found his owner. The tall man chuckled and pat his captive's chest before backing away.
"I never said I would let you out," he grinned and the smaller man made some sort of strangled sobbing noise as he struggled more.
"Let's see, Jeremy Dooley. Nice name," the tall man said as he held up Jeremy's wallet and read the driver's license. Jeremy froze, eyes wide as he stared at the man who'd kidnapped him and was now staring at him like some sort of hungry predator.
"Well, guess I should introduce myself, it's only polite. Ryan Haywood, some people call me a Vagabond, some a King, others just cower in fear whenever I step into the room. I wonder which you are Dooley," he spoke nonchalantly, as if he were placing an order at a restaurant.
Jeremy grumbled something, words lost behind the tape and Ryan grinned at the sound. He turned to the table behind him and traced his fingers over the instruments there, choosing carefully which one to begin with. He could hear the lad behind him whimpering and struggling but it didn't matter. This small meat bag was just another kill, another toy to temporarily spark happiness within him, as all the ones before him did; he'd be no different than the rest.
Ryan gently picked up a small, curved blade with a serrated edge, sharpened with the utmost care and affection. He slowly turned, grinning when he saw Jeremy's eyes widen and fill with tears, the lad crying out muffled protests as he approached.
"This would be used to saw through bone and tough tissue and muscle, making jagged, torn cuts instead of smooth edged ones. I'll use this on your hands and feet," he spoke lowly.
Jeremy screamed into his gag and instinctively curled up his hands and feet as if that would protect them. Ryan laughed, a loud, deep sound that if the circumstances were different might actually be pleasant. The gent reached back and pulled out a medium sized knife with a smooth edge and slowly traced it with his finger.
"I'll use this to open you up, get a good look inside you. First I'll make small cuts and incisions, because I'm a sick fuck," he explained, hearing a pitiful sob come from his victim.
Ryan laughed again and approached Jeremy, leaning over the lad, almost laying on top of him, one elbow on the table propping up his cheek while softly tracing along the lad's bare chest with the knife, playing with him. Jeremy didn't dare move in case the movement caused the knife to cut or stab him, instead he glanced nervously between the man, Ryan, and the blade.
"Nervous? Don't be, it'll only hurt...okay it'll hurt a lot," Ryan shrugged as he continued tracing Jeremy's chest and shoulders. Jeremy growled something and glared up at the man. "Feisty one ain't ya? If I weren't about to dissect you I'd probably like you a lot."
Jeremy gave him a confused and bewildered look before narrowing his eyes and growling again, Ryan smiling. The gent stood and pressed a hand against the lad's chest right under his throat, lowering the knife to a spot between and above Jeremy's pecks. Jeremy screamed and shook his head, whimpering and crying.
"Don't make this harder on yourself, the more you struggle the more pain you'll feel," Ryan snarled.
The lad's muffled screams were the only sound to be heard as Ryan began his craft, as he'd done a hundred times before.