No Place I'd Rather Be...

The man named Keith Ballard backed away finally from Nathan, who was sobbing and whimpering. Tears filled his eyes, but he had survived...for now. The villain turned the steaming stick-like object off. He tapped it against his gloved hand and stalked about the room, like a cocky bastard.

“You’re mighty strong and brave for a hockey player!” Keith sneered, flashing a smirk.

Nathan continued to cry. He had red marks on his nipples, where the man had clamped the curling iron’s metal clamps. Plus he had various burns on his breasts and abs. Keith had made him scream. But that wasn’t what had gotten him. No, what had driven him over the edge was the fact he had basically been raped.

After Keith had finished burning him with the iron, it was plenty hot enough and the man had a brilliantly disturbing idea. He’d teased Nathan and then yanked the Colorado Avalanche’s pants and boxers down to his knees. With him exposed, Keith jammed the wand into his entrance and made him squirm and squeal. He kept it there for a millenium. It hurt the poor forward and deeply scarred him.

Keith finally set the iron down, putting it back into his bag of items. He returned to Nathan and gently returned the boxers and pants back to his waist, but the material was uncomfortable and it made the poor centre squirm even more.

“Life’s about being uncomfortable, sweet MacKinnon.”

Nathan shook his head, moaning and whimpering. He wanted this to stop, but it was only beginning. Keith reached up and brushed his sweaty blond hair locks back once more.

“Don’t worry, Dearie...I’ll try to speed things up, but you’re my guinea pig after all. I want to see...how...long...it takes...you to...crack.” Keith tapped Nathan’s nose.

“Mmmese,” Nathan whimpered behind the tape.

Keith showed fake concern. He slid his hand down the right side of his hostage’s face. The blond struggled and watched as the evil man withdrew and reached to the side and snatched up another weapon. This time, it was a knife.

“Now, let’s make a pretty picture shall we?”

Nathan struggled again, bursting out in more tears. He wiggled in place, unable to really go anywhere.

“The more you move, the worse it will be and I really want to get a real, true assessment of this experiment.” Keith bent down and carved a scar into Nathan’s forehead, dragging the blade in a swift rapid motion down to the tip of his cheek, barely grazing his eye. Blood spurted from the line and mixed with the blond’s tears.

“Mmmese,” Nathan begged again.

Keith slapped his cheek with his free hand and then move down and made several quick, precise cuts. One at his collar bone. One at his side. One at his waist. One on the other side and other side of his waist. One right across his chest and then several small scars applied to his arms.

Then he wiped the blood off of the knife and put it back in his bag. Now he began to assault Nathan with punches and slaps, beating him senseless.

This was the same routine for two days straight. It would always end with a beating and be pretty much the same type of torture.

When he was done on the second day, he backed off and this time, finally ripped the tape off of Nathan’s mouth. The forward’s head lolled to the side and he spat out blood, coughing and gagging. Nathan eyed the man, as he walked off, heading away from the bed and his victim.

“What’s your problem, man?”

“My problem sweetie, is that you haven’t died yet...but that’s great news for me. I’m beginning to see how I can torment hockey players...I thought just blondies with blue eyes were fun to kill, but that’s not necessarily true. It’s much more fun to do hockey playing blondies with blue eyes!”

“Why do you have to do this?”

Keith stormed back to the bed, snatching up a handkerchief in the process. He halted to the side of the bed and bent down, sticking his face in front of Nathan’s. The forward spat at the serial killer.

“You really wanna fuck with me, MacKinnon!?”

The handkerchief was applied to Nathan’s head now, muting him. Nathan wasn’t pleased. He tossed his head around, trying to get it off, but he couldn’t, part of the material was wadded up and stuffed into his mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll go get your little Captain too. Landeskog right?”

Nathan shook his head, his eyes wide. He muffled a “no.”

“Nah, he’s not worth it. Ooh, I got a good idea, wanna watch a hockey game, while I slowly kill you?”

Nathan shook his head vertically. But it didn’t do much good. Keith put the TV on anyway and turned it to a Blackhawks’ game, which was actually a rebroadcast of an earlier match being aired in the time slot, since the NHL was on hiatus.

The camera went to a close up of Patrick Kane, who removed his helmet and shook his head, whiping his sweaty hair locks about. Keith sat on the bed, stroking Nathan’s hair, calmly. It was freaking the forward out, but the evil man didn’t care.

“Patrick Kane, huh...well...I think he’s the one I want. Do you think that I should get Kane, MacKinnon?”

Nathan again shook his head back and forth and muffled a whimpering noise.

“I should, you’re right Nathan, I should.”

Notes

POOR KINNY!!!! Sorry, Nathan...I really, really, really am...
Is this too short? I feel like it is...if it is, please let me know and I can change it. But I don't know, I just don't feel like torturing poor Kinny anymore. Maybe if there are spots that need more description.
Just let me know what you think. Feedback is awesome! And as always, thanks for reading.
It's almost halfway through this horrible tale.
So, this chapter and all of the Kinny torture scenes puts it a day ahead. So by the end of this, it should be a day ahead of where Kazer is.


Next up: More Kazer and a mysterious person...