by Melody Adams
"I’m not gonna talk about it, okay? She’ll get better. That little lesson was necessary. It's for her own good if she adapts to her situation."
That's all the explanation I give my cook before I retire to my office. I hear Inez and Maria cleaning the house. They only come for a few hours a day, and after work is done, they go back to the village where they live. Rosa and Pablo are the only ones living on the property. While Rosa is responsible for the kitchen and shopping, Pablo takes care of the house and yard, gardening, repairs and my horses. My two Andalusians, Don and Bianca. Bianca is pregnant and will give birth to her foal in about two months. Does my kitten like horses? I should take her to the stable later. Why didn't I think of it earlier? Maybe the animals will make her trust me a little more. The decision lifts my spirits. Time to get a few things done. First, I'll call Diego. He has an informant inside the FBI. I want to know the status of the investigation into Heather's disappearance.
"Yeah!" Diego answers after the third ring.
"What's the status?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.
"Busy. Running around like ants. But don't panic. They still assume you have the girl somewhere in the States. No one knows you've left the country."
"Good. Let me know if anything changes."
"I will. – Is the girl still alive?"
"Yes. She is. – Not that it's any of your business."
"Just curious. You never took any of the women with you before. You could've fucked and killed her in the safe house. I thought you always killed them the third time. Why go through the trouble of getting her out of the country?"
"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "She is – different."
"Well, she's certainly not blonde like the others. But otherwise? What's so different? Do you want to keep her?"
I run my hand through my hair.
"I’m not sure. Maybe. For now, I like her alive better than dead."
Diego laughs softly.
"Is she such a good fuck, my friend?"
"The best I ever had." I smile as I recall our passionate moments. "She is submissive. The way she responds to me..."
"Shit! You haven't fallen for her, have you?"
"I'm a sociopath, you moron. I can’t fall in love. Not in the way normal people do."
"If you say so," Guido replies, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"Call me when you have something new," I end the conversation that is raising far too many unpleasant questions for me.
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye."
Diego
The sister of Alic's girl is leaving the house. She looks tired. The disappearance of her younger sibling probably won't let her sleep. From their appearance, you wouldn't think the two young women to be sisters. While Alic’s girl has black hair and pale skin like Snow White, Susan has honey-blonde curls and an attractive tan. Her lips are so full that they always look as if they were swollen from kissing. I imagine how these bee-stung lips would look wrapped around my cock and I get hard instantly. Silently cursing, I push my swollen shaft into a more comfortable position. Man, I need to get laid soon. Abstinence isn’t good for me. Fuck! I must suffer from withdrawal, if the mere sight of a few pouty lips distracts me from my work.
Susan gets in her car and I wait until she drives around the corner, before following her at a safe distance. To be honest, it’s unnecessary to shadow her to get news for Alic, because my informant at the bureau gets information much faster and easier. It might have more to do with my fucking dick, that I'm following her. Even though I tell myself that I'm doing it because of the small chance I find out something important. Yeah, man, whom am I kidding? I'm doing it for my fucking dick. Ever since I first saw Susan, I can't get her out of my head. I've found out everything there is to find out about her. I even broke into her house. She's single. She keeps a Pink Rabbit in her nightstand.
No, you idiot!, my inner voice warns. Don't imagine Susan doing it with her vibrator...
Argh, shit! Too late.
I almost miss a Volkswagen coming out of an alley. Cursing, I swerve to avoid a collision. The driver of the VW bus honks the horn and makes an obscene gesture.
Fuck you! You're lucky I don't have time to bash your skull in.
Susan steers her Toyota into the parking lot of a shopping mall. No idea what she's doing here. Comfort shopping? I park one row behind her and wait until she has gotten out, and is on her way to the big building complex, before I get out myself and follow her. She walks purposefully through the center, ignoring all shops left and right, until she turns into Starbucks. I pretend to look at the display of the sports shop across the walkway, while she gets a coffee and cheesecake and sits down at a table. Only then do I turn away and enter the coffee shop as well. I get a double espresso and sit down at a table where she doesn't see me, but I can watch her. My fantasy runs away with me again as I watch her sipping her coffee. Now and then she shoves a piece of cake between those damn full lips. Man, the things I would do to her. Alic and I are both not normal by today's standards of society. We're both dominant, which has absolutely nothing to do with BDSM. BDSM has rules. Alic and I have no rules. Only, I don't kill my women like Alic does. But I like to torture them a little. Women screams get me hard. I am not sorry about it. I gave up trying to figure out why I am this way a long time ago. Alic and I are – old-fashioned in our ideas about women, even if we go about things differently. There are reasons why men are physically stronger. Why we are more rational, while women are more emotional. In my world, women have their place. Beneath me! That's the way it has always been until all this feminist shit got started. A woman should take care of her man. And the kids, if there are any. Not that I expect to ever have kids of my own. But I got friends with families. Friends who think like me, and whose wives take care of the family. Women who go to work all day and leave the children to others disgust me. Unnatural, that kind of thing. Why bring children into the world and then leave them to others? I don't like it when women like Susan have a job that puts them in danger, either. Women shouldn't be running around with a fucking gun, chasing bad guys like me. Look where it got her. If she weren’t with the FBI, she wouldn't have ended up on my radar. And I still can't tell what it will mean for her, that she got my attention. I'm tempted to grab her, make her mine. I don't think she would like that. She would fight me on every turn, and it wouldn't do her any good. Oh, no, Susan might regret someday that I ever noticed she existed.
Susan
Every damn hour that Heather is MIA, the chance of us finding her alive, decreases. I can't believe that son of a bitch took her from the Safehouse. He took out three FBI agents. THREE! And he didn't even hurt them. Only stunned them. I wonder what those three idiots were doing on their watch, when a single man can break into the house, unnoticed. When he can take out all three of them and none of the losers fight back. Goddamn rookies. The idiots probably watched porn on their cell phones or played silly games on them, instead of keeping their eyes and ears open. I also wonder how the Gentleman Killer figured out where we've been hiding Heather. He must have been watching and following us the whole time. That son of a bitch is always one step ahead of us. Just like six months ago when one of his victims was acting as bait for us. He'd smelled the trap and still snatched the poor woman from under our noses. She was probably the only victim who didn't die in bliss. The bastard cut her throat and sent her head to the Bureau. A clear warning not to try anything like that again. The whole thing still sits heavy in my stomach, even six months later. It is my fault. I had come up with the idea of using her as bait. Not only did I want to spare her from being killed, but I also wanted to arrest the bastard, so that no more women would be killed. And where did that get her? Instead of going out in ecstasy, she was slaughtered brutally. All, because I wanted to make a name for myself by putting the notorious Gentleman Killer behind bars.
Sighing, I take my laptop out of my bag and open it. Then I turn on my MiFi and get on the Internet. I could use the free WiFi
service from Starbucks, but it’s not secure enough. I sit with my back to the wall. So no one can look at my screen when I connect my laptop to the FBI server. For probably the hundredth time today, I retrieve the video recording from the surveillance camera that is located across from our safe house. I wish we had cameras installed in the safe house, too. Then maybe I'd know what the bastard looks like. The recording from the street camera doesn't give us much. The sly son of a bitch moved in such a way that his face was never facing the camera. I can't run facial recognition software if I don’t have a face to match. All I can see on the video is his tall figure. He's well built, but not as wide as a bodybuilder. He's wearing a baseball cap. His clothes are black. Probably jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He wears gloves, and he's carrying a backpack. I watch him sneak up to the house under the cover of darkness. He looks through one window. A little later he breaks open the door and disappears into the house. For a while I can't follow anything anymore, because now everything happens inside the house. Yeah, fuck! I regret that we didn't have any fucking cameras in the house. I forward the video to about half an hour later, when the bastard comes back out the house. Heather is with him. She seems to go with him willingly, not resisting. I don't see a weapon that her abductor could threaten her with. Why isn't she screaming for help?
"What have you done, sis?" I whisper.
Both the killer and my sister disappear from the camera's field of view. This is all the information I have. No matter how often I look at this crap, I just can't find any helpful clues who the killer is and where he might have taken my sister. He must have parked his car a little way up the road. The next camera is six hundred yards further on and it recorded three cars at the time in question. I've already checked all three cars. All of them belong to people who couldn't have had anything to do with the killer. A single mother. An elderly lady. And a student who doesn't fit our profile at age 19. And he's short and heavy. No, none of the three cars was the getaway car. So where did the bastard go with my sister?
Frustrated, I log off and close the laptop, then put everything back in my bag. As I get up and turn towards the exit, my eyes fall on a man sitting alone at a corner table. He looks at me and for some reason my alarm bells suddenly go off. Is he the Gentleman Killer? No! He doesn’t fit the description given by the elderly lady, and his physique is not the same as the man on the video. But something about the guy gives me an uncomfortable feeling. I don’t like the way he looks at me. I would bet my life on it, that this guy is dangerous. In a hurry, I turn away and make my way out of the café. When I get outside, I turn around again and the guy is still sitting at his table, sipping his coffee. His hard eyes are fixed on me with a predatory hunger. A shiver goes down my spine and I hurriedly continue on my way.
Chapter 8
Heather
After Alic freed me from the dungeon, he gave me three days to recover physically and emotionally. He took care of my abrasions and otherwise left me alone as much as possible. He spent most of his time in his office, but he took the time to show me the two horses in a stable behind the house. I have permission to move around and I go to the stable every day. There I also met Pablo, who takes care of house and yard. I learned, that Pablo's wife Rosa works in the kitchen and that two women come to clean for a few hours every day. The two sisters, Inez and Maria, live in the village where Alic ended my escape. Rosa and Pablo live in a small house on the property. They speak only a little broken English, but we can communicate with some effort. The sisters however don't understand a single word. Alic has warned me not to try to ask his staff for help, and I am sticking to it, because I don't want to endanger anyone. Alic would punish his staff severely, maybe even kill them. In the five weeks I've been here, I've attempted to escape three times. I just can't help myself. Even though Alic punishes me every time. But he didn't put me back in the dungeon. If he punishes me, then either with the flogger, paddle or belt. Or he tortures me for hours with orgasm withdrawal, until I end up completely exhausted and unsatisfied in bed, alone. Otherwise, he never gets tired to introduce me to all the secrets dark pleasures. Sometimes tenderly, sometimes hard, but always with the result that I come again and again and again, until my brain turns to mush. At night he holds me in his arms as if we were a couple. Well, except for the nights after a punishment. Then he leaves me alone in that big bed and even though I hate to admit it, I miss him. What still bothers me the most is the fact that I fall more and more for him, knowing that one day he will kill me. I can't understand how someone like him thinks or feels. How can he be so attentive and tender to me, holding me in his arms at night, and yet plan to kill me? It makes no sense, and I don't know what that says about my own state of mind. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Sometimes I fear him. And yet my body yearns for his dangerous touch. It's stupid, because I can never be sure if today isn't the day I won't survive the pleasure.
"Are you unwell, kitten?" Alec's voice tears me from my thoughts.
I look up from my plate, where I have been poking around in the noodles for a while.
"Or don't you like noodles?"
"I... I'm just not hungry."
"Are you ill or is it your mind that's keeping you from eating?"
"What do you think?" I snap.
"Careful, kitten!" Alic warns me sharply.
"Oh, everything is just peachy, Master," I say sweetly. "I don't mind that you tore me from my family and keep me prisoner. And I don't mind that I never know if I'll survive today. I am so grateful to you, O great Master."
The pulse at Alic’s temple ticks as he studies me with unfathomable eyes. For a while, we stare at each other in silence.
"You think I will kill you?" He asks after a while in a dangerously calm tone.
"Oh, I don't know, Master," I reply, unable to control the biting sarcasm. "Isn't that what you do with women?"
"Yes. That is true. But I haven't fucked the other women more than three times either, kitten," he explains calmly, holding my gaze. "And I never brought any of them here. I have never held another woman in my arms before at night. I have never allowed them to see my face. And I never bothered to understand their feelings or cared what they needed. I fuck my victims three times before I kill them. Otherwise I fuck whores who will let me do anything I want to do with them for money! I can assure you, I don't cuddle with them after sex, either!"
My pulse hammers on my temple as I listen to Alic, trying to grasp what he reveals to me means for me. For him. For us.
"Well? No comeback, kitten? Cat got your tongue?"
"Does that mean... does that mean you won't kill me?" I ask cautiously.
"Yes, kitten. I do not want to kill you, and I will not kill you. I'm not..." He runs his hand through his hair. "I could never really hurt you, kitten."
"What... what are you gonna do with me?"
"I will never let you go," Alic replies with a growl. "If that is your hope!"
"So I am your prisoner!"
Alic sighs. He reaches over the table and takes my hand in his.
"I hope that you can be more than my prisoner."
"More? What? What do you want from me, Alic?"
"I want you by my side, kitten. For the rest of my life. I hope that – someday – you want that, too. But if not, I'll force you. I can't let you go. – NEVER!"
I begin to tremble, and my breath comes heavy and painful as I try to put all the facts in order. Alic is not going to kill me. That's reassuring, but I'm his prisoner. For some reason, he has decided to keep me. – Forever! Panic sets in when I realize the hopelessness of my situation. Susan. Dad. I will never see then again. They'll think I'm dead by now.
Oh, my God!
Alic
I can imagine the questions going through her head. I know she's attracted to me. There's clearly something between us. But she knows what I am. No normal woman wants to be tied to a murderer. I do not have the emotional capacity to regret my actions, but I do regret that my past stands between my kitte
n and me. And that I'm not ready to let her go is a problem for her, too. She is a prisoner. Either with or against her will, because I give her no choice whether or not she wants to stay. My only trump card is the explosive chemistry between us, and I will use it. I get out of my chair without letting go of her hand. Holding her gaze, I pull her off her chair and into my arms. I bed her head on my shoulder, knowing what my scent will do to her. I feel her calm at once. Soft and yielding in my arms. Soothingly, I stroke her back.
"You are mine, kitten. You were mine from the first moment I saw you. Until now, I just didn't know what it would mean for me – for us."
"I... I am not sure if I can live like this, Alic," she stammers.
I move away from her a little and take her face in my hands, looking at her. Tears shimmer in her eyes and she seems so lost. My poor lost kitten.
"How to live? Here with me? Or with what I have done?"
"Everything. I... I miss Susan, my sister. And I..." She sobs softly, and I lower my head to press my lips against hers. I swallow her sobs and drink her salty tears. She trembles, and as I push my tongue between her trembling lips, a sigh escapes her. Her hands claw into my shirt as she returns my kiss. With a groan, I push her against the table. My hands go to her middle and I lift her onto the table. With one movement, I sweep everything from the table that is in the way and press her down on the now free tabletop without interrupting the kiss. Then I let my hands slide to her thighs; push up the hem of her summer dress. I spread her legs further before releasing the kiss and looking down at my sweet kitten. Dark red lace covers what is mine. With a jerk, I have removed the offending garment. I growl at the sight of her rosy, swollen pussy, glistening from her honey.