by Gavin Graham
I’m two years younger than she is and a virgin of tender age.
I’m built like a tank.
I can use my fists and I’ve put grown men into hospital for not much more than a look.
She knows I have a reputation.
Maybe she wants to see if I can fuck as good as I can scrap.
She knows that I have a brain too, that I’ve read Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Pushkin.
She flinches at my touch and automatically parts her legs, slightly.
My hand soon disappears up her skirt and I caress at her inner thighs and the slight material of her silky underwear. She opens her legs wider and invites my hand to explore some more as I caress her panties and slip my fingers beneath the silken material.
She’s warm and slick.
I know that she’s sexually active and I feel apprehensive about satisfying her, despite all my talents of mind and muscle, I feel scared in my own way that I might be left humiliated. She’s slept with older boys from the school, guys older than her, perhaps she’d even been with grown men too. I’m inexperienced, but, I’m wrong in the head and this could be my calling. Perhaps to avoid my own humiliation I must first humiliate her.
This could be what sets me apart.
A teacher once said that I’m border-line sociopathic.
Maybe, just maybe, I was born to be a destroyer.
Perhaps, I’m a killer as much as a genius, internally.
My neuro-cognitive functioning is wired to something dark, I know, and I’ve suspected for some time now that a certain day would come and it might be like the tripping of a switch.
This is it.
Trip…switch…
I’m trembling with excitement and have this insane energy pumping in my veins.
I’ve tried hard to block out violent images, slashing across my mind’s eye, as I’ve stroked myself in the shower and imagined this very moment.
Do it…do it…do it…
It’s a full moon.
“You’re so beautiful, Lilly, I want you so badly,” I whisper as I kiss her neck on the backseat of my dad’s car. Her groin is heaving now as she moans in response to my lust. I bite her neck, playfully, but hard enough to make her recoil.
She flinches and trembles with breathlessness.
She wants it…
Give it to her…
It’s my first time but I’m starting to feel like I could be a master of the game.
She squirms in the seat and closes her legs to lure my hand deeper into the fleshy enclave at her inner thighs, the feeling of my fingers causing her to swell and trickle, teasing me in. “Shit,” she whispers in pathetic surrender and slams her left palm down upon my hand, only to relax her thighs once again, opening her legs even wider.
I slide a finger into her and she grips onto my shoulders for dear life. She hyperventilates before starting to whimper and moan with dramatic form as I caress the valley of her oily fold and parting lips. I watch her with fascination, the way she responds to my touch, how her face twists into painful little expressions as I control her. I imagine how her face will contort should I kill her here and now right in this most glorious of moments.
Trip…switch…
The feeling is intoxicatingly indescribable.
I’m staring into her soul and dominating with a masterful touch.
Her eyes are closed and she frowns intensely.
Her lips are heavy, pouted, slightly open to make a sensual ‘o’ shape.
She’s murmuring sweet nothings and making horny little sex noises.
I want to end her life.
What is this?
Am I going to have sex tonight, or, what?
Am I going to rape her?
Am I going to really commit murder?
I slam harder against her groin with my closed fist, the finger oiled and sticky, and she gasps for air like a drowning soul. She grabs onto whatever she can find, clutching at the material of the car seat, digging her nails into my muscled shoulders.
My nerves are on fire.
I feel a hot heaviness in my chest.
Knots start to swirl in my stomach.
Her callous tease is turning my senses haywire.
She’s deserving of punishment, I think to myself, because she exploits her sexuality like a brazen whore; a form of vulgar artistry she learned from her sister at such a young age. Something dark is calling upon me to rise up, pulling me to inflict pain on her, to avenge the sins of her whorish misdoings and those, too, of her misguided sister. What kind of woman would she even grow up to be if I let her live? I think God would want her to be dead rather than to live on like this. Her parents should have done more to protect her from this harlotry and if that had happened she wouldn’t even be in this position.
Killing her is the right thing to do, right?
I’m rationalising it in my head and it all makes sense, the act of murder, it seems like the most logical course of action right now.
I want to cut her up and feed her to the dogs.
I’m drunk on cheap wine but I want to be drunk on her screams. She’s poison in my veins. I want to consume her essence and enjoy the feelings of power that I will spend the rest of my life attempting to recreate through my repertoires of torturous crimes. Chemical reactions sizzle and pheromones pump in my blood as I imagine the spill of her blood. Electrification deep inside my centre is occurring and it draws me to an act of severe, vaginal mutilation. The functioning of my brain is like a wild frenzy of sparks. Fireworks are exploding in my cranium as the desire to attack her sex reaches a peak level.
The zest to kill is the only logic that I know in this particular moment.
It’s undeniable.
I’m about to lose control, do a bad thing, the worst thing possible.
I feel good.
I know it will be irrecoverable, that when she takes her last breath there will be consequences, but, somehow, I just don’t care. The prospect of my arrest, the court case, a long jail sentence, it enters my head briefly, but, I make a promise to myself that no matter what happens from this point on I’ll never get caught.
The switch was about to trip.
Chapter 44
You will reap what you sow & the world shall know
“Your smell makes me crazy,” I speak of her succulent juices as she’s stopped short of orgasm.
“Hmm,” she purrs and moans with frustration, my words cause a chill thrill in her bones, making her want the real thing; she quietly begs me for death.
Her legs part to the sides causing the skimpy dress to crawl further up the sun-kissed curvature of her thighs. I look down at her crotch and I know she can sense my predatory need. Her buttocks twitch visibly as she revels in sensations that fuse in her labia and she wills me to take what now rightfully belongs to me.
In the act of murder, I will set her free, setting myself free in the process.
My fingers touch upon the coldness of her knee yet I know her insides will be warm. My fingers caress but all the while they long to be around her neck and squeezing the life out of her.
I should have brought a blade.
I have an aching inside, too, my own pain.
She teases me, inviting me to her, but the more she teases me the more viciously I will strangle her.
Squeeze…
Squeeze…
Squeeze…
I want to see her eyes flicker for the last time and watch as she fades to the nothingness of a sweet death.
This is what I want – a ‘death show’.
She allows me to remove the dress and lift it over her head. The sight of her bare flesh and lux underwear garments has me stricken to hardness. She unclips her bra and that is thrown to the side also. I look down approvingly to her slight breasts; they are pert, hard and firm. She feels the coldness of my gaze on her stiff nipples and she smiles as she relaxes into the seat. I get down on my knees and feel the softness of her skin as I push her legs further apart. I see a thong that i
s nothing more than a string wedged into the crease of her perfect fold. The garment is stained by the secretion of a whitish discharge. I put my mouth between her legs and I kiss and lick and bite at the insides of her thighs before moving to her sex and inhaling the pungency of her salts. I allow my lower lip to brush at the wetness of her fold and she trembles in the seat and squeals with excitement. She bucks and lifts herself to my mouth and as she raises her legs I reach up to grab onto her hips. She squirms and moans as I pull her sex onto my lips. I place my mouth around her crease and ease my tongue into her warm body. Her legs give way and erupt into a trembling mess as I savagely penetrate her with my tongue. I take enormous gratification in the powers that I feel – to be the master of a woman’s pleasure whilst knowing that in the next heartbeat I can also take her life.
“Shit! Fuck me!” she screams, her yelling sounds so loud in the strict confines of the vehicle, the intensity of it makes the hairs on my arms prickle. She’s never been had like this before. I relentlessly continue to flick and dart with my tongue. Her legs close-in tighter and feel like a vice against the sides of my head. I take my hands and attempt to force her legs hard to the sides to spread them open wider but she fights and squirms. “Oh my God, Spector, please…” she pleads, fighting to catch her breath, shutting her eyes tightly, not knowing what to do.
I smile and leer up at her with a demonic frown. She is so vulnerable in this wretched state of unrelenting pleasure. Her beautiful face is a perfect mix of delicious confusion, telling me to stop but wanting more, saying ‘no’ when she means ‘yes’. I caress as I lick, touching her knees with trailing fingertips, my hands like tarantulas that crawl up her thighs and I bite her sex like I’m biting into an apple.
“Agggghhhhhhhh!” her high-pitched scream makes my ears ring.
I taste a weird mix of her fluids in my mouth and feel what I know to be fresh blood trickling from my lips and dripping from my chin.
She growls in severe shock and sudden pain, comes bolt upright in the seat gasping for air, and she launches herself to the door handle on her left side. She desperately tries to escape and run off naked into the dark night, but, I do not allow her to do that.
I take her by the shoulders and forcefully push her back onto the seat.
I spread her legs once again and this time she doesn’t fight back. She just closes her eyes now and surrenders to me, sobbing for her whore of a mother, tears running down her rosy cheeks as she painfully listens to me unbuckling my jeans. My penis aches with hardness. She refuses to look at it.
I slap her hard across the face. “Look at this python,” I take my thick phallus in hand and show it to her.
The shock of the slap soon wakes her to sobriety and she looks down at my large piece.
“Do you like it? Big enough?”
She starts to sob and weep. “I’m scared to look, please let me go….”
“Are you a fucking virgin, Lilly?”
“Yes…please let me go…”
“So, why do you spread stories, that you go around sleeping with all sorts of older guys and grown men?”
“I just want the other girls at school to like me, I want guys to show interest in me like they do with my sister, I wanted them to chase me. You know?” she blurts out her confession like it’s a huge relief.
“So, you’re just a dirty little liar, huh? Nothing more, nothing less, is that it?”
She nods and sobs some more, looking now at the door on the other side of the car, her brain trying so desperately to plot her escape.
“We’re out in the middle of nowhere, Lilly, there’s nobody for miles out here in the woods. It’s just us,” I smile at her and enjoy the way she cries. “Nobody can here you scream for help and if you do escape, I’ll catch you, and I’ll have my way with you.”
“Please, Spector, you’re a nice boy. Why did you bite me like that? I’m bleeding! Please, don’t hurt me…”
“I wanted my taste of your blood,” I tell her, my own breath staggered, and I chuckle to myself at the surreal nature of the situation.
“Look, Lilly, are you going to let me fuck you now? Let’s just do what we came here to do. Yeah? Can we? Can we stop playing these stupid games? I’ll make it nice, I promise…” I tell her sweet lies.
She nods. “Yes, but, please be gentle…” she whimpers, bravely, and wipes the tears from her face. Her beauty is like a ray of light that permeates from the pearly gates of false heavens above down to the glorious reality of a dark Hell on earth, searching for my twisted agenda and seeking participation in these graphic games that I play, looking for provocation and the true awakening of The Beast 666. This murder will illuminate my grand occult destiny and secure her own beautiful fate in death. “So, you like to tell stories?” I tease her. “You like to play hard-to-get and make the boys chase you? You wanted Spector, the little virgin boy to fight for what he deserves, is that it? Well, don’t tease me anymore, you’ve already gotten yourself into enough trouble,” I inform her with maturity and dominance in my young voice. “This belongs to me,” I tell her and touch her legs. My spider hands continue to crawl back towards the bitten fruit that bleeds. “You will reap what you sow and the world shall know…you will reap what you sow and the world shall know…you will reap what you sow and the world shall know…” I don’t even know where the words come from, but, I repeat them as though it is her sickening mantra of death.
She clenches her eyes shut again and cannot hold back the tears. “Please, Spector, don’t hurt me…”
I look down at her bleeding wound, still warm and open, her fold there to be taken for the very first time. I take the head of my cobra and slowly slide it down into her bloody crease. She gasps as I push deep into her and begins to thrash and twist madly with pleasure. I lower my body onto her now, holding her firmly, so that she can neither move nor escape.
“Oh, God, that feels so good,” she whispers and her tears stop flowing. She holds onto me with an urgency and tenderness that only lovers can know. “Oh, yes, yes. Fuck me, Spector, fuck me…”
“I’m not just going to fuck you,” I whisper. “I’m going to kill you…”
Her eyes open wide with shock and fear and I feel her buttocks quiver beneath my crotch. I push into her deeper as she processes what I said. I told her I was going to kill her but she just yelps and moans and begs me to fuck her harder. She digs her nails into my naked back and I hear her cry once again, not tears of pain or misery, no, tears of orgasmic bliss as she experiences her first real sexual climax.
In that moment, I couldn’t resist, I strangled her to death.
The switch was tripped.
Chapter 45
The man with silver hair
The girl called Silvia had called Mac directly on his mobile.
“I’m an artist.”
“Are you now, dear, and when you say art you refer to the art of having your arse spanked? Is that it?”
“Are you drunk, Inspector?”
“Just a few beers.”
“I’m sending you an SMS. I drew a picture of a man I think could be him. That last night at the club I was watching her in the room. She liked it when I watched.”
“Were you lovers?”
“Yes, that’s why I want to help, but you have to keep this ultra-quiet as there is a vow of secrecy and silence that is taken at the club.”
“Even if it is related to a murder enquiry?”
“Yes, especially so…”
“Why?”
“You think senior police officers don’t attend the club? Some of them are the kinkiest going…”
“How could you see the man if he was wearing a mask? How can you recreate a visual profile?”
“The only thing I saw was his hair, silver, a freakish sheen to it.”
“Still, how can you…?”
“He was at another club, in the audience, watching her there also do a Japanese bondage routine that culminated in her simulated murder.”
“Tha
t’s how he knew she’d take the bait, it was his confirmation, the assurance that he needed.”
“I’m sure he’s the one, Inspector, have you got the image?”
“I’ve got it, thanks, very nicely done…”
“Thanks.”
“Silvia, why the heck didn’t you say anything before, eh?”
“I was scared.”
“Well, you’ve done the right thing, you could have just saved the lives of more innocent women…”
“Inspector, I hope somebody catches this guy and gives him a taste of his own medicine,” the artist spoke with a stuffy nose; she’d been crying her eyes out all day.
Chapter 46
The return of a Jezebel
He’d made mistakes and he knew it. The prostitute who escaped was one of those mistakes and this bitch was another.
He saw her the other day.
That scab.
That waste of oxygen.
That wasted cum stain of a runt.
He didn’t see her in person…no…he saw her in a newspaper.
He was looking for news reports on his missing girls as he’d taken the show into his own hands by sending body parts and bones to one of the big newspapers, a neat little package, signed with a note that said: YOU WON’T FIND THEM. THEY’RE DEAD. IT WASN’T PRETTY. WHY DO THE POLICE NOT WANT YOU TO KNOW ABOUT ME? IS THE REQUIREMENT TO SUBDUE FEAR SO GREAT? I THOUGHT THIS CITY WAS MADE OF STERNER STUFF. THE CANDY MAN.
He was now a point of sensationalism and McGreavy would need to up his game.
But it was another article that caught his attention.
Her.