She Died... Terrified

Warning: this story contains graphic rape and murder. Don't read it if this isn't your cup of tea.

Conversely, if this is your cup of tea, so much so that you think you should try hurting someone in real life, please reconsider, as you are too stupid to get away with it and too soft for prison, where you will be raped more savagely than even my twisted mind could imagine.

If, however, you are somewhere in the middle, then please enjoy...

SHE DIED… TERRIFIED

I’ve been trying to cut down on the number of girls I kill. For one thing, it’s dangerous; more bodies mean more police attention. But also I’ve become increasingly worried that I’m growing addicted, and I never want to lose control like that. So over the past few years I’ve been cutting back pretty drastically. At my most prolific, I averaged probably one a month for a solid two year span. I killed three girls in three weeks once. Now I’m down to one every six months or so. You could say I’m on a diet, I suppose. That being said, it has never been my intention to stop cold turkey. Every once in a while, after I’ve been especially good, I’ll treat myself to some young pussy.

Halloween night turned out to be just such an occasion. I got into my car without a predatory thought in my head –I was just going to have some fun. The party was full of college (and I suspect high school) age people, and the girls, of course, used Halloween as an excuse to dress in skimpy costumes. I, on the other hand, was dressed as one of the orgy characters in “Eyes Wide Shut”: hooded cloak with an aristocratic half-mask. I took off the mask almost immediately, as it was uncomfortable, but it would prove useful later that night.

I spent most of the night chatting absently with a friendly group of drunken strangers while sneaking sidelong glances at a gorgeous young thing –she couldn’t have been more than 18- who kept wandering into my field of sight. She was wearing a short skirt and a midriff top that left her slender waist bare. Although she was fairly short, she had long, shapely legs. Her breasts were not too big, but very perky. As she spoke with her friends and hopeful suitors, she had the bewitching habit of absently twirling her hair with a finger.

I want to say she was dressed as a sexy nurse… or possibly a sexy schoolgirl. Despite the fact that as I write this I am looking at the remains of her costume, I can’t for the life of me remember what it was meant to represent. The mementos I took –the midriff, the skirt, the heels, the panties- while they still fill my brain with delicious memories, were torn to shreds in the heat of my lust.

I’m getting ahead of myself. At any rate, I began to feel the familiar hunger, painful yet sweet, creeping into my bloodstream. What a shame, I thought, that my diet kept me from enjoying such tender prey. I admired her delicate neck, and tried not to image what it would feel like with my hands wrapped around it, strangling her to death. Like the glutton yearning for that last piece of cake, I kept telling myself that I didn’t need it. To be clear, it wasn’t my conscience that I was fighting. The girl’s life meant nothing to me; I knew I could kill her without a second thought. To me, after all, she was just meat. I just didn’t want to be a slave to my passions.

Finally I decided to leave, rather than tempt myself. I went to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, and then headed for the door. Fatefully, I overheard a snippet of conversation between my little doe and another partygoer:

“Do you know where I could get some weed?” she asked.

I walked out the front door and started toward my car, but stopped mid-driveway. I stood there for a moment, my breath steaming in the crisp fall air, Suddenly I could see with crystal clarity exactly how I was going to kidnap, rape, and kill the girl.

I continued to my car and opened the trunk. I unzipped the gym bag within and found a small resealable plastic bag full of dried marijuana. I removed a small nugget and placed it in my pocket. Because I didn’t want anyone to be able to place me talking to the girl, I put my mask back on. It and the hood concealed most of my face. Then I headed back to the party.

“Excuse me, miss,” I said, discreetly tapping the girl on the shoulder. I had to lean in close to her in order to be heard over the party. “Did I hear you say something about weed?”

She smiled slyly. “Maaaaybe… How do I know you’re not a cop?”

I showed her the nugget. “I’m definitely not a cop. And I’ve got more in my car.”

“You are seriously my hero right now. Let me just go tell my girlfriend where I’m off too.”

“No!” I said, too loudly. “I mean, I have to be careful. I already have drug charges on me. We’ll be quick, I promise.”

She shrugged agreeably. “You’re the boss.”

Once outside, she started shivering almost immediately. Her small frame and minimal clothing didn’t keep her well insulated from the cold. She hugged her arms close to her chest, unintentionally pushing her supple breasts forward. “Brrrrrr!,” she exclaimed.

“Don’t worry,” I replied, opening my trunk, “this’ll warm you up.”

She whistled with appreciation at my stash. “You are sooo awesome, I’m not even kidding.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said, grabbing the tire iron that I also keep in my trunk. I stood looking at her for a moment, and something in my expression must have given me away, because her smile faded as if she had just stepped in dog shit.

“Oh, fuck!” she started to say, but the tire iron connected with the side of her head before she could get it all out. She immediately collapsed to the pavement. I calmly bent down and picked her up, then laid her gently in the trunk. I took a moment to caress her naked thigh, which was prickling with goose bumps.

“I’ll warm you up, alright,” I murmured.

----------------------

By the time I pulled into my garage, twenty minutes later, I was ready to feast. I opened the trunk and stared at her for a moment. She had regained consciousness, and was squinting in the suddenly bright light. Her hair was tousled and she looked dazed, but the knock on the head hadn’t damaged her beauty at all.

Before I could fuck my prize, I knew I would have to secure it. Over the years the process had become a drill, and I performed it now automatically. First I soaked a rag with chloroform and forced it over the girl’s mouth. She protested strongly, grabbing my arm with both hands. This only lasted a few seconds, though, before the drug kicked in. Soon her eyelids fluttered and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Now I could handle her without prematurely damaging her. I connected her wrists behind her back and secured them with handcuffs. I thought of gagging her, but there was really no need to. I lived far enough from other houses to give me plenty of privacy.

I lifted her gingerly out of the trunk and carried her downstairs to my basement. It’s a perfectly comfortable room, equipped with a nice sofa, television. computer, and mini-fridge. There were no torture devices and no sex toys. It wasn’t soundproofed. But although it didn’t look particularly sinister, if you were an attractive young woman and you saw it, that meant you were about to die.

       I laid the girl on the sofa so that her hips rested on the arm and her legs hung off the end. She had lost a shoe on the trip down the staircase. I pressed her tiny foot between my hands, rubbing her soft soles. She had almost no calluses. I unzipped my fly and pulled my pants and boxers down, then pressed her foot into my groin, enjoying the sensation of her small toes rubbing against my scrotum and shaft.

       This soon grew boring, though. I pushed her skirt up above her stomach and admired her full, womanly hips. Pressing my index finger against her panties, I traced the outline of her sex beneath the cotton. It felt like naked skin under there. I pulled the crotch of the panties to one side and, sure enough, was greeted by a perfectly bald, tight young pussy.

       As I slid my middle finger into her vagina, I brought my face close to hers. She looked so young and innocent asleep like that. I inhaled the scent of her –of her perfume and her body- with satisfaction. I buried my nose in her hair, which appeared to have been professionally styled just for that night. It gave me a curious pleasure to know that all the pains she had taken to groom herself would only serve to enhance her killer’s enjoyment.

       As I continued to finger-fuck her, I brought my lips close to hers and kissed her deeply. Like Sleeping Beauty, she began to awaken. I walked to the mini-fridge and retrieved the butcher knife I kept on top of it. Then I returned to the couch and sat on the girl’s stomach. Holding the knife in front of her face, I waited for her to wake up.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, the knife had its intended affect. She screamed something unintelligible. I pulled her head back by the hair and pressed the edge of the knife against her throat.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” she screamed.

“Shhhhhhhh,” I whispered

She stared at me in absolute terror, her beautiful brown eyes wide as saucers. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Yes,” I replied simply, “but not with this,” indicating the knife.

What happened next is the only part of that evening I have ever regretted. I used the knife to cut away her clothes, leaving them in ruins. Had I thought ahead I would have treated them more carefully, as they have continued to bring me pleasure long after the girl was disposed of.

First I sliced open her top right down the middle. At the sight of her naked breasts, bouncing from side to side as she tried to avoid me, my excitement grew quickly and I recklessly tore away the rest of the garment, leaving it in three pieces.

Her breasts were a pleasant surprise. Although on the smallish side, they were very round and firm. They were big enough to get a good grip on, so I put the knife down on her stomach and began to knead them roughly. My fingers dug into her soft flesh as I pushed and pulled on her succulent tits.

Her panties got the same treatment. Sliding the knife under the inseam, I easily sliced through the delicate fabric. The girl was screaming and bucking hysterically through all of this, but there was little she could do to stop it.

“You’re going to cut me!” she cried, her eyes streaming with tears, “you’re hurting me!”

I thought I had already explained my intentions, but perhaps she had misunderstood.

“Yeah… Like I said, I’m going to kill you. You’ll be my first in many months. I’m actually proud of how long I went this time. But I’m going to indulge myself tonight. You’re nothing but a little treat.”

“Jesus,” she whimpered. “Please let me go!”

“I really can’t now,” I replied. “First of all, you would go to the police…”

“I won’t! I swear to God I won’t!”

“And second, I’m too excited. I’ll never get to sleep tonight until I fuck and kill you.”

The time had come. I pulled my pants down to my waist and began to stroke myself hard. The girl instinctively drew her legs together at the knees, protecting her loins.

“Nah, that won’t work,” I said, grabbing her by her narrow ankles and pulling her toward me. “You’re going to end up what I like to call ‘Spread Dead.’ That just means you’re going to die with your legs spread.”

Pushing my hands between her tightly clenched knees, I slowly forced her legs apart. She had the remarkable flexibility that only comes with youth, and I was able to force both knees completely down to the sofa, so that her legs were at 90-degree angles to her body. My balls were aching by this time, so I positioned myself between her legs so that the head of my cock pressed against her crevice.

I looked to the heavens and made a promise out loud: “This’ll be the last one of the year.”

With that, I thrust my cock deep into her young pussy. It always feels so good after a long absence, like returning home. The sensation of her cunt hugging my dick, of my balls slapping against her perineum … it was made all the sweeter by the fear in her eyes and the knowledge of her impending death.

As if on cue, she began to plead for her life again.

“You don’t need to kill me, really! I won’t say anything to anyone!”

I continued to fuck her, lost in pleasure. Finally I responded: “What is your name, sweetie?”

“Cammy,” she replied. “And I won’t talk to anyone!”

“Cammy,” I said, wrapping my hands around her throat, “you won’t tell anyone anything, ever again.”

The expression on her face as I began to strangle her will remain with me forever. Her eyes expressed not just terror, but also the inescapable certainty that she was about to die.

I have mastered, over the years, the art of fucking a girl while strangling her to death. It’s not as easy as it sounds, and even a veteran like me wouldn’t be able to do it with an unbound victim. But with her arms secured behind her back, there was nothing she could do to protect herself, and I continued to pump away at her as my fingers pressed mercilessly into her throat.

She really was a great piece of ass. I probably should have thanked her for that, but I was lost in pleasure. She might not have understood me anyway, as she began to fade in and out of consciousness. Her gaze became unfocused, looking at me, then at nothing, then darting back to me in a panic. I wanted to draw her death out as long as possible, so I would occasionally say something to her.

“You are being murdered, young one. What does it feel like?”

She never replied. I didn’t give her enough air to make much noise, and the only sounds in the room were the slapping of flesh on flesh and my occasional comments. Her mouth hung slightly agape, her lower lip glistening with a bead of saliva, but very little sound escaped. I bit her lip and kissed her deeply, my tongue exploring the row of her teeth. She tasted slightly like chewing gum.

I continued thrusting into her pussy, of course, picking up speed as I neared orgasm. I was pushing her farther back into the couch with each thrust, and I actually had to pull her back toward me to continue fucking her.

By this time I was choking her with all my strength. Her was red, her eyes were glazed, and I knew that if she wasn’t technically dead yet, she would be within less than a minute. I didn’t let the pressure off of her throat for even a second. My cock became increasingly tingly until, after another thirty seconds, I knew I couldn’t delay release for even a moment longer. I felt the cum rising up out of my balls, through my shaft, and out into the now dead girl’s pussy. There must have been a dozen wet thrusts as I coated her womb with my seed. Another two dozen cool down thrusts after that, and I extracted myself from her, very satisfied.

She was sexy as hell, even in death. Although her eyes now had the unfocused stare of a corpse, her face never completely lost its initial expression of horror, and that turned me on. It would have been easy for someone, even if they knew nothing of how she died, to see that she had died in terror. I left her legs spread, knowing that I would come back for seconds later that evening.

I left for a moment to relieve my bladder, and when I came back I discovered that she had done the same, all over my couch. I couldn’t be mad, of course. It was my own fault for not moving her onto the floor. Years later, the stain has never fully come out, and when I have friends over, I tell them that it was a neighbor’s poorly trained dog. I like to imagine, from time to time, what their reaction would be if they knew the truth. Some of them, I think, would rather enjoy it.