THE HIGH TABLE

I’d been in Berlin only a week, the new German-built truck gleamin under the streetlights outside the rented buildin. Street-level garage, key only for me. I love the machine…solid, powerful, mine. Then one afternoon I stepped out and saw the long diagonal scratch down the driver’s side, both headlights smashed. A tall, dark-haired figure was already disappearin around the corner and I knew at once who it was. Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson. You’d been hangin around the neighborhood, cocky as hell. I’d locked eyes with ya once. Now this.

A few nights later I was drivin home, windows down, the Berlin night cool. I spotted yer broad-shouldered frame crossin at the light. Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson, work clothes still on, movin with that easy, arrogant stride. The light turned red and I din’t bother to stop. The truck’s bumper clipped ya hard, spinnin ya off yer feet and onto the asphalt. Killin the engine, I hopped out and checked the street was empty, then hauled yer unconscious bulk into the truck bed like a sack of feed. Drivin the short distance back, I rolled the door up on the private garage and dragged yer big body inside.

I din’t wait as I tore yer shirt off, then bound yer wrists tight with rope and hauled em overhead to a ceilin beam. I stepped back lookin at ya hangin there, yer feet just touchin the concrete, chest heavin as ya came to. That thick muscled torso and muscled arms bare and exposed and I could see the outline of that heavy 9-inch cut cock already half-hard in yer pants from the adrenaline. I stood in front of ya, bald head shinin under the fluorescent lights, my ginger beard bristlin, tattoos crawlin over my hairy torso. “You keyed my truck, ya big bastard. Now, yer gonna pay fucker cause I’m gonna fuck ya up and then fuck ya and then yer gonna pay to have my truck fixed, asshole!”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

The only thing I remember is seeing some truck lights, then all went dark until now. Feeling my body stretched out, my feet touching the ground as I come to my senses and see you. "What the fuck are you doing? Let me go bitch!" I shout out as I try to wiggle myself free. The ropes like guitar strings give off a strange sound. They are not new I can tell, with every move I feel tiny parts of rust and rope falling down onto my body.

Dan Freyr

“Let ya go?” I grin wide at ya and answer, “Not even if ya could get down on yer knees and beg me! Yer gonna pay for what ya done to my truck, fucker!” Not waitin, I throw the first punch that cracks across yer jaw. The second one drives hard in yer ribs then the third shot digs hard into yer core as I twist my knuckles in deep. Takin a step back, I smirk, “How’s that for a start, muscle boy? I’m just gettin started here and yer gonna take whatever I give ya til I’m ready to be done!”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

I see your smirk and then the first punch lands on my jaw making my head snap backwards. Then a jab onto my ribs and core. Making me grunt out in pain. I feel blood in my mouth. Hearing your words about what you are going to do to me I try to kick my legs with no success. I spit the blood into your face. "Suit yourself...!!!" I answer. Hoping the old ropes give way soon because I know that you don't want me to get loose. "You're strong now huh? Having me tied up you coward." I taunt you.

Dan Freyr

I ignore the taunts and the threats as yer blood hits my bearded face. I grin up at ya as I use my long tongue to lick the red juice from my stache and beard. “Oh, don’t worry bitch…I’m GONNA suit myself and enjoy myself too!” I snarl as I start workin methodically punchin at yer face, gut, chest and gruntin with pleasure at each impact. Yer skin reddened, then split. Blood already runnin from the corner of yer mouth. I watch as ya snarl and twist, thick arms strainin, but the rope’s holdin as I stop for a second and grab yer hips and ram my shaved head right into yer bulge. Lettin go, I sneer, “How’s that feel big man? Enjoyin that as much as I am?”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

Punches follow one after another. My mind slips from short states of unconscious to fully feeling the impacts of your fists. My body slowly turning red and blue. I am in pain. You add one more as you drive your head into my bulge. I howl out in pain trying to lift my legs up as the pain runs through my core. My weight pulling on the old ropes. I feel them slowly giving way but not enough to set me free yet. I am doing what I can to get free. Watching you with an angry glare.

Dan Freyr

I’m not about to back down as I keep up the barrage. The hot night air makin my hairy tatted body sweat and my cock thickenin in my jeans as I keep up the punishment for markin my truck. Grinnin as my hard right to yer solar plexus knocks the wind outta ya, then another to the cheek opens a cut above yer eye. I take a step back to admire my handiwork as I bring my fists up to my mouth the lick the blood…yer blood…off of em, savorin the taste. I move back in with my fists raised and send out a fast left right left to yer gut just above yer bulge and watch as the impact makes yer big body swing from the rope. I see yer body comin back toward me and I get my fists up again. But just then, a loud SNAP sound echoes out from above yer arms.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

Not able to react to your blows as my whole upper body is in pain from the blows to my face and abs. The last blow makes my body swing and then I suddenly don't feel any more pull on my arms as the rope snaps and I land on my knees on the concrete floor of your garage. Spitting blood on the ground. Looking up at you. "You signed your death note!" I growl out.

Dan Freyr

Just about to attack again when that damn rope snaps and day drop to yer knees on the floor spittin out blood and growlin at me. I smirk at yer words and laugh back, “Ooh, I’m SO scared!” Takin a step back, I come at ya again, this time swingin my booted right foot up and around aimed right for yer skull as I yell out, “Not today, ya punk ass muscle bitch!”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

I raise my head. "You should have killed me when you could!" I say with a monotone cold voice gritting my teeth. You step back and mock me not being phased by me getting free. I sense you are not feeling fear. You step forward and swing your foot aiming the side of my head. I leap up a bit and raise my arm, letting your kick be driven into my side while I grunt out and close ma arm, holding your leg in my armpit. Looking into your eyes I raise my other arm, lean back a bit to stretch out your leg and then swing my wrist into your knee, putting all the juice that my upper body can build into this, making you feel some real pain.

Dan Freyr

That wrist-snap into my knee lights up my whole goddamn leg like a fuse. Pain shoots straight up into my thigh and I snarl, teeth bared, as ya clamp my boot tight under yer arm. “Fuckin’ hell!!” I don’t try to yank free cause that’d just give ya more leverage. Instead I try to drive forward hard, usin the trapped leg like a pivot, and drop my full weight down on top of ya. My hairy chest smashes into yer bloody face as I reach around with both hands, grab a fistful of yer dark hair and the back of your neck, and wrench yer head sideways. “Ya want pain, muscle bitch?” I growl right against yer ear, spit and yer own blood still wet on my beard. “I’ll give ya pain.”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

See your face showing a grin of pain as my wrist slams into your knee. But you keep on pushing towards me as your weight does help you to land your chest into my face. "You...eh...fucker!" I say before my face is deep in your pecs while your arms wrap around my head and neck then turning my head to the side as I land on my back. I grunt out hard feeling the tension on my neck. My arms building fists and swinging into your ribs as my desperation rises feeling trapped under you. I try to swing another time crushing your ribs. My feet planted to the concrete floor as I want to flip us over.

Dan Freyr

Them hard punches into my ribs knock the wind half outta me and I grunt loud against yer ear, but I ain’t lettin go. My grip on yer hair and neck tightens as I feel yer feet diggin into the concrete, tryin to bridge and roll us. “Oh no ya fuckin’ don’t…” I shift my weight hard to the side yer tryin to flip toward, drivin my hips down and usin that trapped boot still locked under yer arm like an anchor. At the same time I yank yer head further sideways and grind my sweaty, hairy chest harder into yer face, smotherin whatever curse is tryin to come out. But that fist of yers comes around and slams into my ribs bringin a yell of pain outta me as I feel a sharp pain shoot up and down my side from that even as I try to keep ya from flippin us over. The toes of my boots planted on the concrete but in this position I cain’t use my legs to attack.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

Your heavy body is pressing against me. The previous strikes to my body have taken their toll. I want to roar but my mouth is partially covered in your hairy pecs. I growl instead. Planting both my feet onto the ground and quickly shooting my hips up into a bridge while my left arm swings again into your ribs. My neck getting stretched as you keep holding your arms around it I do spend my remaining strength on getting you off me.

Dan Freyr

That second shot into my ribs lights me up again and I bark out a roar of pain, but I feel yer hips shoot upward at the same time, bridgin hard. The concrete scrapes under my boots as my weight shifts. “Shit!!!” I try to ride the bridge, but that left arm comes in hard and fast again strikin my ribs as I feel a sharp pain blast inside me…that’s a cracked rib and I cain’t hold it as yer bridge up sends me off of ya and down on my side to the concrete with a loud crash! I know yer not about to stop and gimme time to get up as I manage to roll over on my back and look up seein ya already up and comin in fast! I try and swing one boot up to strike anywhere I can but the pain in my side keeps me from kickin at full strength.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

My bridge and fist to your ribs do their job sending you off to the side as I feel free again not wasting precious time and roll over as I get up. My body still hurting in some places but the adrenaline in my veins keeps me on my feet and out for a revenge. I close to you and you swing your foot at me hitting the side of my hips. I see red....catch your foot and twist it inwards as I step onto your other leg to keep you down.

Dan Freyr

That twist on my ankle sends a white-hot spike straight up my leg and I bellow thru gritted teeth, “Fuckin bastard!!!” Yer boot stompin down on my other leg pins me good for a second, keepin me flat on the concrete while my cracked rib screams every time I try to twist. My hands shoot up fast as one locks around the calf of the leg twistin my foot, the other grabs a fistful of yer work pants at the thigh and yanks hard, tryin to pull ya off-balance toward me. I thrash my free upper body, swingin a short, vicious punch aimed straight at the side of yer knee that’s plantin weight on me. “Get the fuck off!” I snarl, face twisted, sweat and blood mixed in my ginger beard.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

As your fist comes for my knee, I yank my leg free and catch your wrist. I twist hard and pull you toward me, then drive my shoulder straight into your chest. “Fuck you!” I slam you onto the concrete and get on top of you, grabbing your arm and driving a hard punch into your ribs before shoving you flat. “Try that shit again!” I growl out.

Dan Freyr

That shoulder drive knocks the air clean outta me and the concrete smacks the back of my bald head hard enough to make my vision flash white for a second. The punch that follows lands square on the same cracked rib and I roar through clenched teeth, the sound raw and furious. “Ghh…fuck!” Yer weight’s heavy on top of me, one of my arms twisted and controlled, but I ain’t done. I shoot my free hand and lock it on the side of yer neck, fingers diggin in hard just under the jaw while I buck my hips up sharp and sudden, tryin to throw yer balance. Twistin my trapped arm against yer grip I drive my forehead up toward yer face, tryin for a short, mean headbutt. “Ya ain’t keepin me down that easy, tall boy,” I snarl, voice thick, blood and spit fleckin my ginger beard. My chest heaves under ya, every breath stabbin that rib, but the fire in my eyes is pure mean. “Punch all ya want… I’m still gonna make ya pay for that truck.”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

Your forehead crashes into my face, snapping my head back and sending a sharp burst of pain through my nose. Blood runs over my lips, but I stay firmly on top of you. “Wrong fucking move.” I grab the back of your neck and drive you hard against the concrete, using my weight to keep you pinned. When you buck your hips, I drop my chest onto yours and smother the movement. One of your arms is trapped beneath you, but I deliberately leave your other arm free. You swing it toward me, and I catch your wrist before it can connect, shoving it back against the ground beside your head. “You still want to fight?” I lean my weight into you, keeping your shoulders down while holding your free wrist in place. Blood drips from my nose as I stare down at you. “Then come on.”

Dan Freyr

Blood from yer nose drips onto my face as ya lean in and I taste the coppery tang of it on my lips. My free wrist is pinned tight beside my head and that cracked rib is screamin every time yer chest drops on mine, but I still manage a bloody, defiant grin up at ya. “Yeah… I still wanna fight, ya tall piece of shit.” I don’t waste the free arm ya left me earlier, since it’s trapped under my own body I dig the knuckles hard into the concrete and use the leverage to twist my whole torso, tryin to create just enough space. I try to bring a knee up hard, aimin it either for yer bulge or the soft spot just under yer ribs, tryin to break the pin from below. My voice comes out rough and low, almost a growl against the pressure of yer weight. “Ya can hold my wrist and sit on my chest all night if it makes ya feel big… but the second that grip slips even a little, I’m puttin ya on this floor. And when I do, that truck ain’t the only thing yer gonna pay for.”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

You smile and I know that you are not going to give up so easily. Your torso twists and I feel your knee digging under my ribs very effectively. I hiss out as this area has been under attack before I lean over you and raise my head up. Just in the proximity of my reach lays a hammer. A tool that could help me out as I am in a disadvantage here. I risk the move and lean over your face with my chest. Then sitting up as I spread my legs to keep my position. I look down at you, smile to distract your eyes and mind and then swing the iron part of the hammer into the already damaged ribs. My face expression changes to a nasty grin. Following this I roll off of you to the side. Holding the hammer in my left hand.

Dan Freyr

The iron head of that hammer cracks into my already busted ribs and the world goes white-hot for a second. A raw, broken roar rips outta my throat as the pain explodes through my whole left side, sharp enough to make my vision swim. I curl instinctively, one arm clutchin at the damage while I suck air through clenched teeth. “Ghhhaaah…FUCK!!!”

By the time the worst of the flash clears, ya’ve already rolled off me and yer standin there with that hammer in yer left hand, that nasty grin still on yer bloody face. I stay on the concrete a beat longer than I want, breathin hard, then shove myself up on one elbow, eyes locked on the tool in yer grip. “Ya brought a hammer into this?” I spit blood onto the floor, ginger beard wet and dark with it. My voice comes out low and ragged, pure venom. “A’ight then… now it’s personal.” I push the rest of the way up, one hand still pressed to my screamin ribs, the other already reachin toward a heavy length of chain hangin near the workbench. My legs feel unsteady but the look I give ya is pure murder. “Drop it or use it. Either way I’m takin it from ya… and then I’m gonna make ya regret every swing.”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

"Oh no he has a chain...I am soooo scared." I shout out with a higher pitched voice. totally making fun of the fact. I step back a few steps and feel the bumper of the truck you are so proud about. I swing my arm out and throw the hammer into the windshield as a crack spreads wide like a spider web across it. Then my eyes spot a metal water pipe next to me. I grab it. It’s about 30 inches long and fits good into my hand. "And please stop playing...it’s merely a scratch on that rib. Be a man for gods sakes." I shout towards you while taking on a position between two of the trucks, making sure the pipe scratches both of them. My eyes then look at you "Oh my...did I do that?" grin on my face as I know you love those trucks so much.

Dan Freyr

The sound of that hammer punchin thru the windshield is like a gunshot in my ears. The spider-web crack spreads and I feel somethin snap inside me that ain’t just the rib. Then I see ya drag that pipe across the paint of both trucks. The chain is already in my hand before I even realize I’ve closed the distance. I don’t shout right away. I just stare at the fresh scratches, breathin hard through my nose, blood still wet in my beard. When I finally speak, my voice low and flat and meaner than it’s been all night. “You just signed a whole new bill, tall boy.” I let the heavy chain uncoil a little, the links clinkin soft against the concrete. My left side is on fire, every breath a knife, but none of that matters now. I start movin toward ya slow, eyes locked on the pipe in yer hand and the smug look on yer bloody face. “Ya think scrapin my trucks is funny? Ya think breakin that windshield is a joke?” I spit another mouthful of blood to the side without lookin away. “I’m gonna take that pipe from ya… and then I’m gonna use it on ya the same way ya used that hammer on my ribs. Only I ain’t stoppin at one swing.” I keep comin, chain ready, the pain in my side only feedin the rage.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

I watch you closing on me and I grab the pipe with both hands on its ends and pull it before me as a bar just for the possibility that you swing that chain to wrap it around it. I know that my theory has some holes but I am ready to prove it. I stop backing away and stand still. My already bruised body pumped with adrenaline.

Dan Freyr

I see ya stop and plant yer feet, both hands on that pipe held out in front of ya like a bar. Yer hopin I’ll be dumb enough to wrap the chain around it so ya can yank it outta my hands, but I don’t give ya the satisfaction. Instead of a big loopin swing I snap the chain forward low and hard, aimin for yer lead leg just below the knee. I keep closin the last few feet, left arm still pressed against my screamin ribs, eyes never leavin yers. “Ya think that pipe’s gonna save ya?” I growl, voice raw. “All it’s gonna do is give me somethin else to take from ya.”

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

What I didn't know is that you had other plans. The moment I see you snap the chain it's too late for me to move out of the way. Feel the cold steel of the chain wrapping above my ankle. I exhale in panic because I know what follows and I am caught by surprise in your dirty game.

Dan Freyr

The second those cold links bite above yer ankle I feel it lock and a mean, satisfied snarl rips outta me. “Gotcha.” I don’t give ya even half a second to react. Both hands clamp down on the chain and I yank with everythin I got left, throwin my weight forward. The heavy links tighten hard around yer leg and I drag that foot out from under ya with a brutal pull, tryin to dump ya straight onto the concrete. The pipe in yer hands won’t mean shit if you’re on yer back with one leg controlled.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

My eyes wide open as my view of the world around me shifts from vertical to horizontal in a second. I feel the concrete saying hello as my back hits hard against it. I grunt out and try to bridge my back. The pipe falling out of my grip next to my head which also hit the concrete floor. My vision blurs for a bit. The chain still biting deep into my leg.

Dan Freyr

Ya hit the concrete hard and the pipe clatters away useless beside yer head. I keep the chain tight, not givin ya a chance to recover or bridge free. “Stay down.” I step in fast while yer still dazed, one boot plantin heavy near yer hip as I grab the free end of the chain with my hand. My left side is burnin like fire from the cracked rib, but the sight of ya flat on yer back after scratchin my trucks only feeds the mean in me. I drop down hard, knees against both sides of yer torso, and drive a short, vicious right hand straight into yer already bloody face.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

I hear a noise and some movement. Then I feel the heat of your body all over me. My vision clears for a moment and then I feel my face being hit hard. That impact makes my head snap to the side. In that move I see a shiny blurry object at my side. My body is fighting for survival. My arm reaches the shiny object. It's metal "It’s the pipe." I tell myself as I grab it and swing it into the blurry shadow that sits all over me. Gritting my teeth. Breathing heavily. Feeling a bit of resistance before the pipe slides further. Not very sure where. Trying to get my vision clear.

Dan Freyr

I’m still cocked for the next punch when something hard and cold smashes…no…what th…STABS into my left side right into my already cracked ribs. The pipe sinks in with a sick rippin sound and a white-hot bolt of pain rips thru me so sharp I nearly black out. “Ghhhaaah…fuck!!!!” The impaled pipe knocks the air outta me and I lurch sideways, one knee slippin off yer torso as I instinctively clutch at the fuckin metal pipe stickin outta my side and feel the jagged ends of the broken ribs have torn thru my flesh. I drop the chain as I howl out in agony and shock. Blood and spit fly from my mouth as I snarl through the pain, eyes wild. I don’t let go completely. Even half-doubled over I manage to latch one hand around yer throat as blood pours outta the hole in my side now, sprayin onto you and the concrete. My voice ragged and mean, face twisted in pain and pure hate. “First my trucks… now ya fuckin stab me with that pipe while I’m on top of ya? Ya murderous fuckin bastard!” I snarl out even as vision starts to cloud.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

"Die you bastard!" I growl out pulling the pipe out a bit and then flexing my upper body while driving the pipe in for the second time. Your warm blood now spilling over me. My vision clears and I see the mess. Not smiling anymore. My face expressing no emotions at all.

Dan Freyr

The second thrust of that pipe tears deeper into my side and a wet, chokin scream rips outta me. Hot blood pumps hard around the metal, soakin my jeans, yer chest, the concrete. I don’t hafta look down to know that parts of my fuckin intestines are torn and hangin out. The mind-numbin pain lets me know. My vision tunnels hard at the edges but pure hate keeps me locked on yer face. “Ya… don’t… get to… end me…” My hand is still clamped around yer throat. Even with the pipe buried in me I squeeze with everythin left, thumb diggin into the side of yer neck while my other hand, slick with my own blood, grabs the pipe shaft. Blood sprays from my mouth when I snarl down at ya, voice wet and broken but still full of venom. “Ya stabbed me… over a fuckin’ truck… ya murderous piece of shit… I’m…I’m…”. But my strength is failin fast and my vision starts to go dark as my hand falls off yer throat and I start to slump down on top of ya.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

More blood gushing out of your body, the concrete turned crimson red. Your grip is tightly crushing my windpipe as I struggle to draw a breath while knowing that one of us is not leaving this garage tonight. My vision is blurry again, I feel my mind slipping away. I pass out quietly with the feeling of your fingers digging deep into my throat.

Dan Freyr

My hand slips off yer throat just as yer body goes limp under me. The last thing I feel is the wet heat of my own blood still pumpin out around that pipe and yer body beneath me. I try to speak one more time but nothin comes out except a wet, broken sound. My vision is almost gone now. A shrinkin circle of the garage lights and the red-smeared concrete. I collapse fully on top of ya, the pipe still buried deep in my side, my face pressed into the crook of yer neck. The coppery smell of blood is everywhere. My fingers twitch once against the floor, then go still. The rage is still there, somewhere far away, but the darkness is faster. Everything goes black.

Daniel Schmidt-Johnsson

After a few minutes I regain my consciousness and feel your stiff body on top of me. "It’s...done!" I tell myself. I push your body aside. Looking at the dreadful face expression. I am all covered in blood. My body hurting. It takes me an eternity and a half to get to my feet again. But once standing I see a 1000 litre tank full of gasoline. "Think I will light your way bitch." I say as I get to the tank, open it's tap and watch as the fluid that gives life to your trucks will be the fluid that hides all tracks. I lean into one of the cars and press the cigarette lighter in. The moment it pops out I grab it and run to the garage door switch. "Auf Wiedersehen Herr Freyr." I say as I throw the lighter in and press the switch. Running away, in a stumbling manner I start to head home. Just feeling the heat in my back. I never turn my head. "What is in the past will stay behind." I think. Leaving the scene.

Published: 2026-08-22, viewed 114 times.