Bloody Finger Story Novels & Stories

Without warning, Dante grabbed his pinkie finger with the pliers— And ripped the nail clean off. The man’s screech of agony was deafening. Blood gushed from the exposed flesh, but Dante didn’t pause. He grabbed the next finger. Ripped the nail off. Another scream. Another nail gone. And another. And another. By the time he was done, all ten of the man’s fingers were bleeding profusely, his cries nothing but choked breathless sobs. Dante dropped the pliers, his fingers now stained with blood.

He seemed delighted as he walked toward Rafael, trailing his eyes over all the fingers on his hands and feet. “What are you going to do?” he asked nervously. “Ahhhh! Huhoho! Fuck!” he screamed when suddenly his index finger was cut off. He peed himself from the unbearable pain. He felt like he was going to die. “Hahaha… hoooooo! Success!” Deadbeat couldn’t contain his laughter when he saw the captive wet himself from the pain. He felt satisfaction. He quickly caught the severed finger and even bragged about it in front of Blood Claw.

Guess my dirty mind won this time, and I knew he did it on purpose judging by the smirk on his face. Slash! A finger fell off, a scream escaped his lips, and blood gushed out, spilling onto the chair. This would take too long to clean, particularly on my expensive floor. "Tell me who fucking sent you," I said calmly, placing both arms against my chest. He didn't say anything, only glared at me, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Still stubborn..." Zeke scoffed, wiped the blood from the knife across his face, and then sliced his middle finger. "Say it."

I thrashed, chains clanking. Blood spattered the floor. He held the nail up like a trophy. "One gone." Then he brought the clipper to my second finger. “Again,” he said. "Who are you?" My breath shuddered. Sweat drenched my back. My hand throbbed like it had been lit aflame. “No… body,” I hissed. The pain came faster this time. A flash. A scream I couldn’t swallow. I thrashed, blood spurting onto the table. The second nail joined the first.

The pale-looking guy was desperate for money and he didn't think when took those bottles. "Come on, hurry up I have places to be, and people to torture." I gave him my sweetest smile and grabbed his right hand making him let out a pathetic yelp. "Right one it is then," I bit my lip trying not to get too excited over a pinkie as I put his finger in the hole of the cutter. His high-pitched voice sends a shiver down my spine, I pushed his hand flat to the table and sighed in delight when I heard the sweet crunch of the bone-cracking, decapitating his pinkie finger from its knuckle. Blood oozed and the loser quickly gets the kitchen towel to try to stop the bleeding, his body was still trembling

I shrieked as all five severed fingers dropped to the table in a pool of blood. He casually put the bloody dagger back in his pocket. “This will be the last time you lay your filthy hand on my wife.”

Blood now spilles violently where his index finger connected at the knuckle a moment ago. “Michael,” I say as I examine his severed finger, “we are now even.” “Even? You fuckin’ cut my finger off.” I bend down, my eyes now level with his, and shove the finger in his face. His eyes look frozen, mesmerized by the limb. “And you touched my woman. This finger here touched what belongs to me, so I took it, making us even.” “You’re fuckin’ certifiable. I’m gonna go to the cops.”

Wiped my face. “You’re being very brave,” he murmured. “But brave and foolish live next door to each other.” When he stood, I saw blood on his gloves—my blood. Splattered on the floor, down my arm, sticky and red. My fingers looked mutilated. Bare. Wrong. I choked on something, the bile in my throat almost forcing its way up. “Let’s try the right hand.” “No.” My voice was barely there. He didn’t stop. After the fifth nail, I blacked out.

It feels like my finger is being roasted itself! Sadly, there was no tap or source of water in the room. Meanwhile, my finger had already turned red and swollen from that one touch. So, I decided! I don't care about anything, all I need is water! I ran, attempting to walk out of the room, without caring about what Alpha Xander or the Omegas would think. I mean, my finger will obviously explode and burn to ashes if the hot feeling continues. I rushed past Alpha Xander and bumped into him. Hitting his body added to the pain. It was like hitting a pile of blocks. I managed to reach the landing and rush into the kitchen.

"O satanic Lord," Nothing. It was too early to give up, but I already did. My feet were cold, and my left index finger itched for whatever reason. "O satanic Lord," I dug in with my nail and began itching. "O satanic - ouch!" Blood. It was gushing like nothing I'd seen before, dripping on the floor like my finger was a man who'd just been decapitated. Luckily for me, I owned a first aid kit. Frown formed on my face as I grew immediately angry. Hail a satanic Lord, they said, not to maim yourself.