Giving Head

Giving Head.
By Stephen A Abell - Thursday 18th March 2021

Number Of Words - 300

This is a mistake, I thought, looking at the dilapidated building. Why did he want to meet here? The property's windows were missing or smashed. Years of neglect had ingrained dirt into its skin, and graffiti taggers had painted their tattoos. Misspelt names and expletives punctuated the desolation with insidious despair.

At least the sun was high. I'd've hated exploring this place after sunset. Mine was the sole vehicle in the car park. Where was he? Had he left? Looking at my phones' display, I noted I was ten minutes late. He'd have waited.

Walking around the building, I inspected the open apertures. The ground floor was gloomy, empty, and devoid of life. He wasn't here. After struggling through the undergrowth and rubble surrounding the building, I made for my car.

The scream halted me.

Even though it was high-pitched, I knew it was a man. He was here. Another shrill shriek shredded the quietness. Sprinting through the primary doorway, I ascended the lobby staircase. My gut took me to the topmost story.

Forcing the door open. I observed his exposed body, prone in the middle of the floor. A dark stain spread over the filthy carpet. He was alone. Cautiously, I approached. In his hand, the knife's blade ran red. In his other fist, he held his severed manhood.

"What the hell have you done?"

"It wasn't me," he protested. "I didn't molest anyone." His voice grew weaker, "I told you, I wasn't in control detective?"

"Then, why this?"

He indicated to his fist with a nod. That effort killed him. His grip relaxed, and I froze. My brain couldn't justify my vision. The deflated penis wriggled free and slithered to the wall. Breaking my numbness, I gave chase, but it had fled.

Three weeks later, the rapes resumed.

For the "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"   by Arakun the Twisted Raccoon