Gethsemanie had always been fascinated with pain. Not her own, but the pain she could inflicted upon others. It gave her a buzz far better than sex, drugs or alcohol ever did. When they bled upon her and cried out for mercy she experienced orgasmic pleasure. Yes pain was her true lover and she was most loyal to it.
She had discovered her true love when she had been very young. Her first victim had been the family dog, which she had tied up in the cellar. Over the period of several hours she had cut him into little bits. First had come off the toes, then the legs. Finally, before the dog had bled to death she had removed its eyes with a sharpened spoon. The eyes were her trophies. She collected them from all who came under her special ministry. She had a vast collection of eyes in a series of jars which she kept on a shelf in her loft.
But her talents had not blossomed to their fullest potential until he came into her life. Yes under him she had become a veritable artist of pain. Branlaven was the teacher that Gethsemanie had always longed for. She had proven herself to be the most adapt of student to him. Through him she had learned the varied arts of physical torture.
How to slice away the flesh from a body yet leave the victim alive for later entertainment. The pressure points of the human form which could bring about the most exquisite of agonies. How much pressure to use in breaking a persons bones. Oh yes, under Branlaven, Gethsemanie had learned much. And then she had moved far beyond anything she could ever have dreamt of as a mortal.
Branlaven had used his powers to turn her into a vampire. It was in this new state of being that she became known as his 'Daughter of Darkness.' She soon surpassed her teacher in the arts of torture, bringing what she saw as a gift to the world. The pleasures of pain were her paint and the mortals her canvas upon which she built her great art.
Gethsemanie collected her victims once a week from bars and coffee-houses throughout Portland. She would sit alone at first and be all dressed up like some Goth chick looking for a bit of action. It wasn't long before someone made a move on her. Be it a man or woman mattered not. Gethsemanie found that both sexes held something special for her. She would flirt around for a time and then in the end invite them back to her place. Of course these people where never seen again after going through Gethsemanie's unique pleasures. She had the bodies disposed of by dumping them into the out going tides of the Pacific. All except for the eyes of course.
Tonight was no different. Her latest victim was quite literally nailed to a wall in her loft. He was young, somewhere between eighteen or twenty. Nude with pale skin that now had a series of cuts along his body. The flesh of his right arms had all but been peeled away. Much like the layers of an onion. In some places gore covered bone shown through. He had a number of steel pins stabled through his ears. An infectious yellow fluid oozed up around the pins. The skin of his chest had been peeled back to reveal the mussel tissue beneath. Gethsemanie was rubbing her hands over the exposed mussels. Blood and other bits of gore covered her hands and arms. Like her victim she was nude. She stepped back for a moment and looked at her hands. Then she rubbed them over her naked breasts and down between her legs before finally licking them clean.
"Please " the victim moaned. "Please. No more "
"Are you still awake my dear?" Gethsemanie asked looking up at his ragged, blood covered face. "And here I though you had passed out again. How lucky for me that's not the case." Gethsemanie smiled and picked up a surgical knife. She stepped up close to him so her body was pressed up next to his. His blood ran over her and dripped down her legs. Gethsemanie felt a shudder of sexual climax pass through her as the blood dripped down to her toes. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure for a moment before opening them again and looked into his face.
"Kiss me lover." She said planting a big wet kiss on his blood covered lips. She sucked back pulling his tongue from his mouth. She bite into it with her teeth and pulled back further. Then with the knife she cut the tongue from his mouth. Blood poured forth from his mouth and he thrashed his head back in forth in great pain. All he could make was a gurgling noise as he opened his mouth to cry. Gethsemanie stepped back and spit the tongue from her mouth into her hand. She began to rub the tongue across her breasts and belly. Then she let it drop to the floor where it came to rest in a large pool mixed with blood and chunks of skin. Gethsemanie reached up and cupped her victims face in her hands. She stroked his face like a mother might a small child who had woken from a nightmare.
"There, there." She cooed. "It's almost over now. You're almost done." The victim thrashed about more violently, his eyes full off horror as Gethsemanie reached down and pulled up a sliver spoon. It was the same spoon she had used all those years ago on the family dog. The same one she used on everyone who came under her art. She rubbed the spoon against the side of his cheek working her way up to his eyes. Then in a quick, violent thrust she stabbed the spoon into his eye socket and plucked the eye from his head. She quickly did the same to the second eye. Blood was flowing down his head now like a gusher. Gethsemanie carefully placed the two eyes in a nearby jar and then turned back to her latest piece of work. She pulled the thrashing head back and sank her fangs into his neck and fed upon his blood. In the end, just like all the others she brought here, he died.
Gethsemanie stepped back from the corpse and looked down at her blood soaked self. "Need a shower." She said. Then she picked up the jar with the eyes in it and walked towards a wall were her other jars were. She placed it along with them then she opened a large wooden door that lead to the rest of the loft and stepped through to her wash room. She would get her servants to dispose of the body and clean the room in the morning. Right now she just wanted to clean up and see what was on TV.
A half hour later Gethsemanie stepped into her living room in a bathrobe with her hair tied up in a towel. It was a richly decorated room. Full of fine works of art from around the world. There were a number of chairs and a plush couch which she let herself collapse on. She reached over and picked up the TV remote and switched on a set that took up one whole side of the wall. She lay back to watch it.
It was then that the phone rang. Gethsemanie looked at it for a moment and thought about letting the answering machine get it. Then she noticed that 'Survivor: The Antarctic Experience' was a repeat tonight and not one of the better episodes. She picked the phone up, "Hello." She said in a soft voice. "Branlaven. Its wonderful to her from you father. I trust you're well?" she said with a smile. Her smiled broadened as she heard what Branlaven had to tell her, "Oh really?" She asked in almost pure excitement.
"Of course I would love to!" Gethsemanie said, "I'll make Jason Kaine's visit quite interesting," She said with a brief pause to find the right word. "So father tell me more about my new piece of art. And don't leave out any details. I need to make this very, very special."