The Greatest Pleasure

By: Shagti2

“Now, hatred is by far the longest pleasure.

Men love in haste, but detest at leisure.”

-Lord Byron

Do we have to go over this a third time, Doc? I mean, c’mon, it’s the same thing from before! Fine, fine, fine… this is the last time…

I hate him.

I hate him with a passion and intensity that scares me.

Everyday, every waking moment of my life for the past few years has been filled with nothing but thoughts of him. Thoughts on how I would defeat him and humiliate him in front of his own. I don’t care how I do it, I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I just want revenge on the bastard who’s gone and ruined my life, and my dreams.

After our last confrontation, I knew exactly what must be done. I was thinking too small, too clichéd. I couldn’t confront him in a fashion he’s accustomed too.

Honor is for sentimental fools who should be dead. I am no sentimental fool.

Those months of recovery taught me that.

Oh, those glorious months of recovery. Why, I might even thank that bastard for those months. It just wasn’t time for my face to heal, but it was also time for some personal reflection.

I reflected upon my thoughts and deeds and how I went to achieve my goals. I thought about my past failures in dealing with him, my past small victories. And I wondered: How can I finally break him? Not just in body, but in spirit?

Yeah I know, it borders on obsession, but I have nothing else to live for. My dreams pale in comparison to destroying his.

I began to read up on warfare – psychological and otherwise. I read on every bit strategy and psychology book I could get my hands on. It took months, almost two years of this intense study before I could feel I was ready.

During that time, I pretty much let all of my other ties to anybody else fade away. The only person who I spoke to for more than a few fleeting seconds was my grandpa.

God, what an irritating little man. Sure, I owe him, for giving me a place to crash, and care for my pokemon. But everyday, coming and seeing me, trying to convince me to go back and train better, maybe I would beat Ash if I trained harder… blah, blah, blah blah!

Of course, I had to swallow what anger and irritation I had for the man, smile sweetly and promise him that I would someday. That wasn’t far from the truth. After Ash would be taken care of, then my life would be able to get back on track.

The day finally arrived when all of my study and patience began to show fruition. I left Pallet Town for the first time in 16 months and decided to follow Ash.

Without his, or anyone else’s knowledge of course. Yeah, yeah, not even gramps knew. I had him thinking I went to some far off region of Johto.

Like I’m going back to that dump.

Those were two very entertaining months. By the time they were done, I knew exactly how the man slept, used the bathroom, talked, bathed, and how he jerked-off. I knew all of his strategies in battling pokemon, in handling any situation. Hell I knew them so well, that if I challenged him I would fight just like him.

I also knew who he loved most in the world.

After those two months, a plan began to form in my head. It was a rather simple one really. Take away the most important thing in his life, and he would be nothing.

But there was one pesky thing that kept on getting in the way: lack of opportunity. Despite his pathetic pinnings over his little infatuation, they both didn’t even notice they had feelings for each other. It was just sad.

After many sleepless nights pondering the situation, I finally came up with a solution. I would put them together. It would be just that simple.

After I put them together, oh the glorious joy it would be to tear them away from each other in an orgy of destruction.

Of course I would have to stay in the background, but it would be simple enough to place certain clues in certain places…I mean getting so close to a person when they’re sleeping and observing how they breathe when they sleep, when they go into REM mode, hearing what they call out in breathy whispers, that’s hard, avoiding there blasted pokemon. Flinching a diary to put in a person’s sleeping bag is child’s play.

So, my plan worked perfectly. After reading each other’s heartfelt descriptions in each other’s journals/diaries, they got together. My plan was working perfectly so far.

A few months down the road passed. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day. They even began to sleep in each other’s sleeping bags at night, their arms wrapped around each other. It was sweet, really. I even began to pity the girl a little. After what I had planned for her, for the both of them.. it would take a monster to not feel any sort of mercy, some sort of regret over what they were planning.

But I persevered, mind you. I couldn’t let his destruction be cancelled because of some stupid guilt I was feeling. The show must go on, as the song goes.

So anyway, I waited until they went to Cerulean city to visit his girlfriend’s family. As I had expected, she would be separated from her boyfriend for a good couple of hours. That was all the time I needed.

Of course, being the wannabe water pokemon master, she wanted to stop by the sea in her hometown. Almost like something out of a poorly written story, she had to pick a very secluded spot to frolic around in. It was a simple matter of knocking her out with some chloroform when she had recalled her pokemon to leave.

Part 1 had been accomplished.

I carried her unconscious body out of there to this little shack I had set up near the ocean, not more than five miles away from where she had been playing with her pokemon, and not more than seven from the gym.

The shack was a bit rundown, and there was no electricity, no plumbing. It wasn’t cozy or comfy, but it fit my needs just perfectly. I lay her down on the bed and stripped her clothes off, leaving her naked.

I had to admit, that bastard was a lucky man.

For the first time in a long time, I began to wonder about the pleasures of the flesh, but I tried to expel such thoughts from my mind. I worked as stoically as possible, blind-folding her, and gagging her, chaining her, spread eagled to too my bed, and finishing that off by tying her down with thick rope. There was no way she was getting out of there.

Not until I was ready.

I gathered up her clothes, and inserted a type written note in her pants. Then making sure I left no fingerprints, no from of identification whatsoever, I took out a pidgey that no one, not even my grandfather, knew about.

As I had planned, it took the straightest route to the Cerulean Gym where it would drop its cargo off. That would leave me with at least two hours of free time with my new prisoner.

I rolled up a chair, and sat down and flipped on my brand new camcorder positioned on the tripod to be focused on her. It recorded her even breathing while she was sleeping, and her futile struggling when she awoke. The blindfold did nothing to hide her tears as she realized she was naked and totally vulnerable. All this time, I just sat there, silently, watching her, trying to ignore the lump in my pants.

I looked down at my watch. Only five minutes had passed since I had let my Pidgey go. The tension was unbearable, as I readjusted my black leather gloves. She heard the sound of the leather adjusting and she froze.

She jerked her head in the general direction of the sound. It was night outside now, and I got up to light a few candles. The inside of the shack was barely illuminated by the soft orange glow.

The camcorder kept playing.

Now Part 2 of my plan began.

I slowly, heavily, walked over to the bed, making sure she heard my footsteps. I purposely put all of my weight on the boards so she would know I was coming up, so she would know something good wasn’t going to happen. I readjusted the mask on my face, making sure it hid my face appropriately.

I gently, ever so gently placed a finger on her cheek. She tensed up immediately. I let it run down her cheek, and down her neck. Her breathing began to get more shallow. I allowed myself a slight smile. My finger continued its journey, as it circled her collar bone, and straight down in between her ample bosom. Her back arched as she started to moan something that sounded oddly like “stop, stop, please!”. She continued that little mantra even as it continued down her taught belly, right in between her slight six-pack.

As it got lower, ever teasingly lower, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. That provided an even bigger thrill for me, so help me! As my finger stopped right down to where it would be inappropriate, I ran it back up the same path it had taken down. I did it again, and again, until, finally I saw my hard work coming into fruition. She was fighting it, I could tell, but she was becoming a little… turned on by this.

My small smirk became a much bigger grin.

The camcorder kept playing.

I took the camcorder off of the tripod and let it zoom over her naked body, hot and sweaty in anticipation. I took in a few good shots as it zoomed over her taut form, her erect nipples, her already wet entrance. Then I set it back down on the tripod and continued with my little game.

Her breathing was still shallow, and I was afraid that breathing through her nose wouldn’t be enough. See, I didn’t want the girl dead, not yet anyway. So I was really still looking out for her welfare.

I took out my pocket knife and cut a little hole in the duct tape so she could breathe a little easier. The air entered her mouth in whistles, and she sucked in as much precious air as possible. Her chest rose and fell as she did this, providing the camera with plenty of great shots.

I walked back over to her head, knelt down and brushed my lips by her ear, almost nuzzling her. Then, in the deepest, throatiest whisper I could muster I said: “This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for your boyfriend.”

The camcorder kept rolling.

The finger went back on her body, teasing her in ways she never knew she could be teased. It went all over, circling, prodding, rubbing. The pressure differed from the lightest touch that could barely be felt, to the hardest touch that left dark bruises. Not once did it cross the border of her orange-strawberry patch.

Every muscle in her impressive body was taught, and her back was arching in ways I thought only porn models could be able to do without causing paralysis. Then, slowly, gently, I peeled off the duct tape of her lips.

“Now, this teasing must be unbearable, huh?” I asked patronizingly, sardonically.

She gasped in as much air as she could, as she nodded. I slid my finger down the center of her body, but this time, I left it right near her entrance.

“Would you like me to go further?” I asked.

“Go to hell,” she hissed through clenched teeth. Then, I removed the finger from where it was, and put the duct tape back on. She struggled as hard as she could, her pitiful moanings “stop, stop, please!” getting louder and louder.

The camcorder kept on playing.

I looked at my watch as I got a cloth and my bottle of chloroform ready. It had been approximately 45 minutes since my Pidgey had left. They would be on their way here in about an hour. A little too much time was spent playing my game, but I always allowed myself extra time, just in case.

I drugged her unconscious again, untied her and wrapped a thick blanket over her. Then, I carried her down to the place where everything would consummate.

The last and final act of my plan would finish here.

The place was once again secluded. But then again, it was around 8 o’clock at night and most folks leave the ocean side around 6. No one was around. The spot I had planned for my little meeting place was a quiet part of the beach hidden in palm trees. It was totally cut off from an aerial view, and there were only so many ways to get in. The most unique part of it though, was where two palm trees that crossed over into an “X”.

That was where Ash would find his “beloved”. It took some doing, but I managed to string her up in between the trees by her hands. It was a pretty comical sight actually. There she was, naked as a jaybird, swaying with every slight breeze.

The sea air was refreshing, and the gentle lap of the waves against the beach was relaxing to say the least. I was perched on nearby, hidden in the thick green palm leaves, keeping watch over the poor girl and looking out for hat-boy, and I began to feel a little sleepy. It was relaxing setting to say the least, but I had to keep myself awake, keep myself alert.

After a bit, I finally heard that shrill cry of “MISTY” pierce the calm night air. I knew that voice perfectly well.

And as per instructions, he came alone, though I knew he probably had backup somewhere down the beach. As he began to climb one of the tree branches to cut her down, I finally made my appearance.

I jumped down from my perch and whipped out my gun, a Colt 1911. It was an old model, true, but still, a very trusty one. I cocked the hammer back loudly, so I could get his attention.

He froze, and looked over at me. Of course, he couldn’t recognize me, what with me dressed head to toe in black, and a very stylish ski-mask on my face. The only thing he could make out clearly was the silvery finish of the barrel of the gun.

With the gun barrel, I motioned for him to jump down. He did, and raised his hands high in the air.

“Who are you?” he asked. Even though he couldn’t see it, I smirked. Then I shot him in the shoulder.

He screamed in agony as the bullet tore through the muscle, and gripped his shoulder hard.

“You shall speak only when spoken too, Mr. Ketchum,” I said in a high, nasally British accent. His eyes re-affirmed what was true. I meant business.

“I hate you with a passion, hat-boy. I really do. You’re the only person on earth who I want to see dead, and so help me, one of these days I will see you dead. But not tonight,” I said, but unfortunately, with the emotion I said it with, I dropped the accent, revealing my true voice.

“Gary?” he whispered incredulously. I almost give my self away, but I smoothly replied, “Who?”

He got up, still tightly holding on to his bleeding shoulder. “Why? Why, did you involve…” he began but I cut him off by shooting him in the kneecap. Blood was flowing everywhere. His screams where like music to me. I never realized how much pleasure I could derive from seeing him suffer.

“What did I say, before, dumbass?” I hissed. I barely withhold the impulse to start laughing and kicking him in his knee. He said nothing, but whimper and threaten me underneath his breath.

Now, time for the end.

“Drag yourself into the sea,” I ordered. He looked to me, with fear in his eyes. I readjust my aim and shot at Misty. The bullet whizzed by her head, making her stir.

“Need I say more?”

Ash complied readily, and limped as fast as he could into the ocean. He hesitated for a second, and then stumbled in. He began to scream for bloody murder as the salt water intermingled with both of his bloody wounds. Through strength of will alone, he kept himself in. He was screaming, but he stayed in.

Then, when he turned back around, I placed the tape right underneath Misty’s still swinging body. Then I shot Misty down. She landed with a heavy thump and she stirred awake.

I ripped off the duct tape off of her mouth, and asked her again: “Do you want me to go further?” Despite the heavy fall, despite all she had been through, she tried to crawl away. Of course, I just straddled her and held her down. Tears were streaming down her face afresh as she pathetically began to call out Ash’s name, as she tried to throw me off. Of course, she was weak, and she was still groggy from the chloroform.

“Fuck you!” she yelled hysterically, loud enough for me to hear, and loud enough for Ash to hear. I looked over to where Ash was. Apparently, with a nasty shoulder and knee wound, it was hard as hell just keeping a float, and damn near IMPOSSIBLE to swim. He stopped screaming in pain, and started screaming in unbearable anguish.

I leaned over to her face, so close, my nose almost touched her soft cheek, covered in wet tears and hardening sand.

“What was that you said?” I asked her throatily.

“Fuck YOU!” she screamed one more time, as defiantly as she could muster. Then she broke down into ragged sobs as I decided to take upon her kind and heartfelt offer. I gave it to the little bitch, better than anyone could or ever would in her life. I knew she wanted it, I knew she NEEDED it! I don’t care what you people say, despite the fact she said no, screamed she didn’t want it… oh, I knew better. Everything, from the way she moved, from the way she screamed… she wanted to scream my name if she knew who the fuck I was.

By the time I was done making her scream in ecstasy (or was it agony? I can’t remember the little details these days), I knew I had finally broken him, broken my worst enemy. Of course, nothing is for free, and I was too busy still giving it to Misty that I never realized that his backup was arriving in the form of Brock and a whole cartload of Officer Jennys.

So, here I am, Doc. Is that all you wanted to know? Anyway, I have to go, can’t miss my favorite show.

You know, Digimon? Great show…

“He’s been pushed over the edge, man! His social reasoning skills have been completely lost and the necessary interaction that would ordinarily take place is no longer possible!” the middle aged doctor said, looking through the one-way window towards the now empty interrogation room.

His fellow psychiatrist nodded his head in equal amounts of pity and disgust. “Yeah, I know… Digimon? C’mon…” The ot