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I feel the cold, sharp steel of the knife against my palm. Drawing out a bit of that sweet, beautiful crimson, watching it go drip drip drip on my mahogany-colored floor. I gasp a bit as the pain rushes through me, filling me with pleasure. Believe me, I've tried other things; the bottle, the pipe, but nothing is as fulfilling, as rewarding, as the blade. I look down at the woman on the floor, barely breathing, her mouth and wrists taped. My first playmate. My little pet.

She sits here, writhing at my feet, a look of fear plastered on her face. Tears begin rolling down her cheeks, and I can tell that her eyes are fixated on my blade. I step closer, holding her by the hair. She squirms a bit more, though my powerful build is no match for her skinny frame. I put my recently-wounded palm up to her lips, encouraging her to suck. As I pull away, a bit of my blood dribbles down her chin as she cries. Beautiful. She is the one. Oh, she is definitely the right one. I take the sharp steel to her shoulders first, cutting nice, even strokes, hearing my toy scream through the tape. Nothing in this world has ever felt so... right. If this was wrong, how could it feel so good? That question has been buzzing around in my brain for quite some time, and I learned to not care. This is what I was put on this Earth to do. To kill. To make this overpopulated planet a little bit safer from overflowing. You see, psychopaths aren't a curse... no, no. They are a gift from God himself. These thoughts whiz through my mind as I take the knife again, slicing it across her throat.

She falls to the floor, her own blood pooling around her. This is the part that always makes me angry. Such... potential, gone in a flash, leaving behind blood. So much blood. Too much blood. I don't like getting messy. I stand, humming to myself silently as I approach the sink. When I arrive, I take a look at the knife, seeing my reflection. And for once, I can say that I am happy in my own skin.

To me, this feels forced, like you're trying really hard to make the reader feel uncomfortable. I would suggest reading Love SICK and taking note of how End's casual prose is much more effective.

The edge is real. There is no plot, no justification, just a string of events designed to shock with neither care, nor art, nor buildup. The killer has all the personality of a Slipknot poster. And the overall tone? All you'd need to do is turn that knife into a shiny blackjack to make this an S&M erotica. You've even broken continuity by having her suck the blood off his hand, but suddenly her mouth is taped when he starts cutting.

Psychopaths who consider people toys don't affectionately, obsessively refer to them as "My toy". A better method would be, you're informed that he's torturing a woman, perhaps with a name, but the first-person narrator only refers to her as "it", when she does things, you would say something like "The toy squirmed" (Emphasis mine) or some shit.

I can find scarier, more shocking things on Deviantart, and quite honestly, things just like this on Deviantart. I see no reason to leave the comfortable convenience of the place where I find all my heathen porn to see things like this.

*Please leave CONSTRUCTIVE feedback. Thank you.

A lot of that feedback was constructive. My advice to you is to try to re-read his post and while you do it, try hard not to be offended. I think you'll find that it's easier than you think. He wasn't particularly nice, but I don't think he was trying to upset you.

If you ever start coding, you'll inevitably find yourself on StackOverflow. You'll find that professional comments there are often more dismissive than Sent's comment above, but the worst thing you can do is take it personally.

I wasn't offended, in fact I laughed at it. I just meant to forward my story, I can't use anything of what he said.

Really? He pointed out that the tone felt more S&M than what you were going for, and he pointed out a continuity error, and also a perceived character flaw in your "psychopath". You can't use any of that?

I re-read it, and yes, I see some of the points he's making. However, these are only three paragraphs to what would be a much larger story.

That's true, but since that's all we have to work with, our criticisms can only pertain to these three paragraphs.

If you'd like to give us a snapshot of the story, you should give us a snapshot of the story. What you've done right now is show us the part that's supposed to be one of the more shocking bits. That's the opposite of what you're supposed to do. If you planned on making a buildup to this, it's now wasted on the fact that we now know what the payoff is going to be. It's not twisted because there's no twist. It is just literary exploitation that sounds strangely like porn at this point.

Feedback on your feedback.

Love, if you want to pretend constructive means positive, thats your lookout. But seems reading and comprehending arent strong skills of yours, so you might need to add some actual books to your browsing history, before putting some defenseless story up for the harsh critique of ...... Actual, positive, constructive feedback. The horror.

I swear youve posted this before. If you havent, thats even worse, cause it highlights how similar this is to half a dozen other stories.
Blah blah, affectionate dimunutive for a victim. Blah blah, humanity is a sickness. Blah blah, stabbing. Read it all before. It sounds like a person monologuing at a typewriter, writing their thoughts of what a torturer would think/say/do, not like something thats alive, struggling to breath through blood-filled nostrils, straining against the bonds. Its just passively lying there while you beat it with a keyboard.

Work the senses, work the mind, not just the mouth and hands. Use language thats appropriate to the scene. Here eyes fixated on the blade, sounds like she's shopping for a dress. Her eyes are pierced by the glitter shining in the hurricane lamp, transfixed as surely as if it was already plunged into the socket. See the difference?

This comes off with a strong sense of overwriting. The author is essentially trying too hard to convey something, which ironically only serves to hinder the intended effect.

Is this the opening scene? If so, the reader doesn't have any emotional connection to the the woman, so there is no reason to care about what happens to her. And it's pretty much impossible to relate with the killer, who I assume is the main character. And he's just not interesting enough to bother rooting against. So readers aren't really left with a reason to care about future events.

On a realism note, I don't think sociopaths consider themselves to be sociopaths. Research into tendencies of actual sociopaths may help in your plotting and choreography.

But unless your story is either humorous (LOVE SICK) or you have a really engaging and interesting character (Hannibal Lector) writing about serial killers as the main protagonist is gong to be a tough sell. And even in "Silence of the Lambs" Clarice Starling is the protagonist, not Hannibal.

Honestly, it seems to be more a scene from a misogynists's gore-thread than anything else. Like, I get the message that the protagonist or whoever is supposed to be a sexually repressed woman-hating psychopath, but he seems pretty bland. I mean, his attempts at a deep philosophical musing, akin to some truly great villains, are stupid. Other than that he's not interesting, and not good for much other to, as Sent said, a shock, at which he's not even that good compared to other's. I can't tell if you're trying to go for the sick and twisted approach, with in a world with Autumn Underground or Human Centipede or Serbian Film you're falling far behind at. If not, the violence seems fetishized to an unnerving degree, and if that's what you're going for I'd question who you're appealing to and for any long length of time this protagonist would just be stupid, so it could hardly fit in the niche of things like Hannibal or Dexter or similar things.

http://chooseyourstory.com/forums/writing-workshop/message/19507

Bucky had some good advice the last time you posted this.

Lots of good advice here already from others too (particularly the bit about psychos not really thinking of themselves as such) so I won't go into too much detail, but my first impression of this is that you may be trying too hard. Psychopaths and serial killers are one of those subjects that've been done to death in fiction, and you really need a fresh angle on them to make them effective.  

Oh, and phrases like this 'though my powerful build is no match for her skinny frame.' do kind of read a little like porn, lol. Also I'm pretty sure you meant that line to go the other way around.

 

Ffs. I knew it was familiar. Two paragraphs in 4 months, and it needs more showtime? Seeing as you didnt put the slightest attention to feedback last time, why will it be different now? Or will you be releasing the story paragraph by paragraph, demanding CONSTRUCTIVE feedback each time? Cause hey, once is fine, twice is eyerolling, thrice is ignored, precisely when you will need feedback again.

WARNING: Content Advisory Text
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lol - your thread reminded me of this. Slasher, this also has ungodly story flaws, so don't take this as a model of something that should ever be repeated. It's a product of Relapse on Repeat and unhealthy amounts of vodka with a side of boredom.



The Dame and Her Game (Oh, dear, it has a title!)


“Oh great, you’re awake.”

A woman hovers above me in a dark room.

“How you feelin’, hun? I promise we’re going to have so much fun.”

I try and sit up, but I can’t. My arms and legs are bound, and my clothes are missing. “What the hell is this?”

“Don’t be scared. You’re already ensnared.” The woman holds something in her hands.

“Kick back, relax and enjoy the ride. Time will fly by if you just embrace the moment and take it in stride.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Taken aback by the whole kidnappin’ thing? Let be clear, it’s nothing personal, dear. If you’re a good little boy I might even let you be king.” My eyes adjust to the dark. The thing in her hands is a knife. “Of who? All the other honey boos I’ve stashed away out back, but for now, the two of us will have to make due.”

I thrash and lurch in a vain attempt to break free.

“Oh quit struggling, those chains are too strong. Isn’t this what you wanted all along?”

“Let me go you crazy bitch!”

“My first friend was a sweet lad. He tried to console me after the death of my dad. Before he came over, I was a horrid mess. He stopped by, mixed a couple of drinks and helped relieve the stress. By the end of the night, his fingers were slippin’ inside my dress.

“Oh fuck…” The restrains won’t budge.

“He led me back into the bedroom. Had me give him head before he gave me the big kaboom. Somewhere in the midst I started to scream, prayin’ it was just a bad dream, but he didn’t stop ‘til he blew his steam. After his fun, he flicked on the TV and watched an old rerun of Sanford and Son.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, while I lay there and weep, he eventually passed out, fast asleep. And I thought ‘why should I play the part of the ramrod sheep?’ I trussed him up with a couple of belts and some spare duct tape. Too bad Daddy always taught me not to scream rape. I hung foil on the walls and down the hall, just like Daddy as I recall.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Please,” I whimper, “let me go.”

“At first when he awoke, he thought it a joke, but then a lump swelled in his throat and he started to choke. He looked a clown, thrashin’ round all tied up and bound. I started stroking his prick. I even gave it a little lick. It popped up, how should I say, lickity split. Then I grabbed the scissors and gave his twig a persnickety snip-snip, nope it wasn’t quick.”

She runs the flat of the blade across my chest.

“Afterwards I realized, I found my new career. It’s actually easier than you think, dear. Call it a knack, I don’t even wear a mask to launch my attack. All my friends just want to smack my ass and sometimes slide their tongue down my crack. I’m weak and helpless you know, just another ragtag hoe.

“I met the next one on the street on my way to the coffee shop. He hopped in my car after I flashed him a peak beneath my top. I swear, he never wanted to stop, even as we blew by that cop. Unwittingly, he let me tie him up willingly. I toyed with him whimsically and impishly wickedly, fulfilling me swimmingly with good grace of the great trinity, Mother Mary, St. Joan, and of course Brittany.”

“I swear I’m not like that! Don’t kill me!”

“If I was going to kill you don’t you think I would have done it by now? No dear, you’re here to learn fear and bow. Win the game, and I’ll let you loose and call truce. Lame and in shame, but that’s better than hangin’ limp in a noose.”

“How do I win?” I ask. The woman fondles my manhood and sets the tip of the blade on the head.

“Admit your sin, wear it and bare it and grin. You pressed the start button, Muttonchop. Every wrong move after this and I begin to lop.”

“What the fuck does that mean? I told you, I didn’t do anything!”

The woman slashes my chest with the knife. A thin line of blood trickles. I flop around and scream.

“Stop, please! Damnit I’m sorry.”

The woman completes an ‘X’ on my chest.

“Two free blunders, no more. After this we move to those jewels you adore. I wonder, did you think I was plunder you could split asunder with your heavy metal thunder, an easy score on a deplorable whore?

I don’t speak, heart hammering, mind racing and knowing I’m not going to win this twisted cunt’s stunt.

“Nothing to say? Sweetness I have all night and every single day.”

I think I remember reading that before.
On a side note...Slashy, should I be worried about my daughter in law? XD

Mizal said I hid it in one of the books in Allegedly a Dragon Story.

Oh! That's where!

Hilarious(ly bad, on multiple levels), and yes, that's the real prize of thoroughly reading the dragon story.

Between this and Slasher's this might be pushing the forum limits though.

I know you put a warning in your title at least, but little kids apparently can't be kept out of these threads either way.

I believe all it needs is a little re-wording. It seems to be pushing it a little. Adding a more (nonchalant? Aloof? Something like that) tone to it would make it a perfect scene to add into a story. Implications, and subtle wording seem to be an area you need a bit of work on.
I like the way you've been starting out the sentences with different words each time, and not reusing any over much - it adds a bit of variety and allows no room for a monotonous tone to find it's way in. And like all things, you seem to know the exceptions to the rule, where it adds effect rather then subtract, which is even more rare.
You've managed to use first person perspective quite well, considering it's a very hard one to convey just enough emotion, in just the right way, without over doing it. 
For both of the things mentioned above, I applaud you. Well done.
I've made some changes, which I believe makes the scene flow easier. Subtracted the hyphen, turned 'I' into 'I've', and rearranged things to have the subtle wording and implications I talked about earlier as an example of what I mean by it.

 

 

I feel the cold, sharp steel of the knife against my palm. Drawing out a bit of that beautiful crimson, watching it go drip drip drip on my mahogany-colored floor. Pain rushing through me, such a pleasant feeling. Oh, I've tried other things; the bottle, the pipe, but nothing is as enlightening, as blissful, as the blade. I look down at the woman on the floor, barely breathing, taped and bloody. My first playmate. My little pet.

She sits here, writhing at my feet, a look of fear plastered on her face. Tears begin rolling down her cheeks, eyes wide with terror of seeing my lovely blade. I step closer, holding her by the hair. She squirms a bit more, though her delicate, petit frame is nothing compared to my powerful build. I put my palm up to her lips, encouraging her to take in the sweet liquid. As I pull away, a bit of scarlet dribbles down her chin as she cries. Beautiful. I whisper it in her ear, and lean in to lick it clean. I take the sharp steel to her shoulders first, cutting nice, even strokes, hearing my toy's muffled shrieks and whimpers through the tape. Nothing in this world has ever felt so... right. If this was wrong, how could it feel so right? That question has been buzzing around in my brain for quite some time, and I've learned to not care. This is my purpose. This is what I was put on this Earth to do. To kill. To make this overpopulated planet a little bit safer from overflowing. You see, psychopaths aren't a curse... no, no. They are a gift from God himself. These thoughts whiz through my mind as I take the knife again, slicing it across her throat, and watching the blood run free.

She falls to the floor with a wet thud. This is the part that always makes me angry. Such... potential, gone in a flash, leaving behind blood. So much blood. Too much blood. A messy pool instead of neat little rivers. I don't like getting messy. I stand, humming to myself silently as I approach the sink. When I arrive, I take a look at the knife, seeing my reflection. And for once, I can say that I am happy in my own skin.

When I see the word throat mentioned I couldn't help but laugh. Sorry.

Anywho, I agree with 3J. I can tell that you forced, or rather, rushed this small piece. It's rather thoughtless in nature with no real purpose other than to disgust. The words pool together like watercolors and I can tell you it's not a very pleasant color. Some words are....sticky and don't really fit the overall mood of the writing which really irks me since you seem like you have a lot of potential stored in there (no pun intended). I'd much rather see you rewrite and edit this and put a real purpose in mind. This is like a train derailing--an idea in mind and then it all goes to shit. 

Here's my way of writing a masochistic, psychopathic story such as this one:

The beat of the red drum circulates under my thumb, a single press giving it a sweet and quick silence. Struggle is futile, I'd told her, and boy, was it true. The warmth of it all is right under my fingers, ready to drop in a moment's notice. Nothing is as satisfying--as fulfilling to me as drawing the blood of others; some people say I'm a vampire. But I also love the feeling of the cold, chilling caress of the blade that lay before me, held in my free hand and pressed to her throat. Blood would taste like copper pennies to most but to me it's sweet, sweeter than even honey could be. Her eyes, now devoid of emotion, gaze up at me, dark as the summer night sky as she gives no attention to the knife--the weapon at her throat, ready to slice and end it all in one stroke.

But I know that the only way that I can be satisfied is to kill her. I need no witnesses to my insanity--the thing that strings me together loosely at the seams, ready to burst like a water balloon overfilled with liquid. Ready to fall apart like an old piece of wood. I know I have to do it but the small part of my head is screaming no. No, it says, don't do it. But have I ever listened? I flick the knife sharply, and the drumbeat goes quiet, its concert over and the red curtain closing--and the audience leaves, only to return next season for the next drumbeat.

Music is red.

Pretty sure the dude shut down in response to criticism, AYT, so bit of a waste of effort.

Can we keep the warning in the title when posting in here please?

 

AYT, I see what you're doing there with the 'musical' theme but the problem with this is the same as with the other examples posted in this thread. They're all being presented as if the subject itself is supposed to wow us, when psychos and sadists killing people is such a tired and overused scenario.

 

No matter how competent the prose is, there's just nothing there to catch the interest in an out of context scene of one faceless character killing/torturing another. The pointlessness of the torture porn for its own sake and transparent desire to be edgy in the OP example was more of a problem than the actual writing was. You don't need prose at a high polish to tell an interesting story, and it won't do any good if the other elements aren't there.