None More Black

by Williams, Brett

  Derek said, “Feel free to slip your meat up my tailpipe, if you like.”

  “I thought you'd never ask.”

  Except it wasn't a cock in the ass Derek received. It was the blade of a ceremonial dagger dragged across the throat. His convulsing, blood-spurting body dropped to the floor like a bag of wet cement. Brant then caught the sick bitch bumping uglies with the beast in the ribs and buried the blade to the hilt.

  A little awkward but Brant managed to simultaneously drag the kicking, screaming woman out from under the donkey while wrenching free his weapon. He couldn't be sure that he'd nicked a lung but judging by the blood spraying from her screaming mouth assumed he had. Luckily, with her trying to scrawl away, blood, for the most part, seemed to spray away from him. He finished her off in a similar fashion and left her to bleed out beside her bestiality buddy.

  Leaving the dagger outside he re-entered the dungeon. Tara sat straddling her sex kitten's mouth, forcing her to lick pussy. Tara said, “Ready and raring for another go?”

  “You know it.”

  If she noticed blood it didn't faze her. Besides, Brant mused, in the aroused and heightened state everyone was in, who would bat an eyelash at a few blood splatters? Pain and pleasure rules in Kasas' game.

  He found his pregnant daughter being gang-fucked on the sofa in the great room, pornography of a similar variety playing out on the flat-screen television screen mounted to the wall, industrial music thumping from stereo speakers. By the look of it Katie had earned the nut of at least two guys thus far. She appeared disheveled, stoned, fucked hard, and hungry for more.

  “Fuck me, goddamn it,” she said. “Gimme your fucking cocks.”

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” one of Lancaster's men said with a slap across swollen breasts. He was banging her pussy, legs high in the air, as she sat astride Lancaster's lap, his cock was buried in her shit-hole. The older of the trio stood, one foot on a cushion, another on the couch back, slapping her face with his cock for attention.

  “Daddy, make them fuck me harder. I've been a nasty li'l girl. A nasty bitch.”

  “Gag her with your cock, old man,” Brant urged. “She's earned it.” He nearly tripped over a passed-out and possibly drowned-in-her-own-vomit Jenna as he edged closer, hand inconspicuous as possible to his far side. He came up behind the hired help, the one fucking his daughter's pussy. Blood spurted through the air as Brant pulled his head back by the hair and slashed his fucking throat.

  Katie screamed, the old man tripped and fell to the floor, but it was Lancaster himself, pinned beneath a hysterical gang-fucked pregnant bitch, who Brant went for next. Lancaster, attempting to shove Katie aside while fending off his homicidal employer, suffered many slashes across hands and arms.

  “Motherfucker!” he protested. “What the fuck?”

  In a fair fight Brant wouldn't have stood a chance again the ex-con. However, nothing about this attack was fair. The blade plunged into his chest, Brant struggled not to lose the dagger to the body cavity trap. He took several blows to the face but Lancaster, pinned to the bed by both Katie and now an attacking Brant, lacked sufficient leverage to fend him off or escape.

  He lay gasping for breath, blood sputtering from his mouth, when Brant, after dispatching the older man and offering Katie the opportunity first, finished off Lancaster.

  “Ohmigod, Daddy! Why did you do that? Why? Why? They were fucking me so g—”

  A slap to the face prevented hysterics before they could start.

  Then Brant, blade against Katie's throat, forced her down atop Lancaster's bloody corpse and slid his steeled cock into her gaping cunt.

  “Oh, god...” Katie struggled to say. “Don't kill me too.”

  “My little girl wasn't finished being fucked. What sort of father would leave his daughter unfulfilled?”

  “Daddy... You're... the best.”

  “And you're wet. Or perhaps I'm getting sloppy seconds.”

  Katie grinned. She grimaced as the blade pressed harder against her neck and he drove his cock in long, hard, and fast. When her pussy gushed fluid he couldn't take it any longer. He busted a nut inside her and dismounted.

  “Ohmigod, Daddy, that was amaz—”

  “Shut the fuck up and listen to daddy. Here, take the dagger. Can you walk?”

  “I think so. My knees are still a little w—”

  “Listen. Be quiet and follow me.”

  Brant stepped over Jenna's body and went to his desk at the cubical farm in the sun room. From a desk drawer, deep in back under a legal pad, he found what he was looking for. A .38 pistol. He checked the clip, found it full, then traded weapons with Katie.

  “What do I do w—”

  “Nothing. Just follow me. And whatever you do, don't point the goddamn thing at me.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  The watchful eyes of Kasas and Suvos could be felt as Brant stalked the house. Kasas wouldn't dare smote him down until he saw how this played out. First he amped up the music blasting from the stereo, then he went the library, where he found Fat Witch riding Denny's cock on the bearskin run in front of the fireplace. Goth Witch sat on the black man's face as he lapped at her sex. The two young women kissed and fondled each other. They were all too preoccupied to pay much mind to Brant and Katie's approach. Only when Brant shoved Goth Witch off Denny did anyone protest.

  “What the hell?” Denny said.

  “Fucking asshole,” Fatty said.

  “Oops, my bad,” Brant said as he plunged the blade two-handed into the heart of Denzel Watkins.

  The wiccans began to scream and curse. Katie, beginning to hyperventilate, tried to explain, “He k-killed the men... that were f-f-fucking me... And-and-and... Jenna is dead... And-and-and... I believe he killed some others.”

  “Chill the fuck out,” Brant said. “All of you. The coven is safe... I need you.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Fat Witch said.

  “A heads-up would've been nice,” Goth said.

  “Coulda, woulda, shoulda...” Brant quipped. “Hindsight is 20-fucking-20. Now come on, we have to get the others.”

  The room seemed to pulsate to Brant's rapid heartbeat as he moved. Watchful eyes followed and Shadow Man darted past the door. He anticipated Brant's next move and undoubtedly wanted a front-row seat.

  “Blood is such an aphrodisiac,” Goth Witch said.

  “I know, right?” commented Fat Witch.

  “Makes my li'l pussy wet,” Katie agreed.

  Brant doubted he had gotten much blood on him despite all he had done. However, the thought of all he had spilled certainly put starch in his shorts. Not that he wore any shorts. Neither did any of them. They marched (though limped seemed more accurate regarding the women, Brant mused) to the guest bedroom. The couple who had occupied the room had since been joined with another couple. They had traded partners. The women kissed tenderly while men drove erections into them. Brant murdered one man without much trouble. The two witches struggled to subdue the other until Brant could deal with him. Meanwhile Katie held the women at gunpoint. After a few nicks and bruises Brant and his women left the bodies to bleed out.

  His erection still raged and he caught the women occasionally touching themselves. At the top of the stairs Brant traded weapons with Katie.

  “If anyone tries to escape, slash them. You two stay with Katie. This will only take a moment. Be right back.”

  He found an amorous couple from before still in the shower. This time, though, municipal water rained down on them both from the shower head. Brant cut through a cloud of steam and pulled back the shower curtain in a quick, rattling motion.

  A couple of squeezes to the trigger dropped bodies into the tub as blood and gray matter washed down tile.

  “It's always nice to get ahead at work,” Brant quipped to himself for his own amusement. Though ringing in the ears drowned out his voice, the statement rang loud and clear in his mind.

  Brainy and Skinny met him in the hall. A quick glance K
atie's direction alerted him to a bewildered and aggravated head of sales and an stampeding orgy of others headed for the door.

  A flurry of slashing blade and wrestling coven worked to slow the escape of the remaining staff. Brant took clear shots when made available. Working together they stopped everyone from reaching the front door, although convulsing and wounded bodies littered the stairs and foyer.

  “Give me the dagger,” Brant said.

  He unceremoniously slashed the throat of each and every one, just to be sure. Each time he did, he ceremoniously shouted, “For you, Kasas! For you, Suvos! For all you cocksuckers! I am my own man! And it is I who shall determine my own goddamned fate!”

  “Fuck, I'm so horny now,” a stoned Katie stated.

  “Great,” Brant said, trying to catch his breath. “Bring me the ropes from your toy box. Brainy, bring me the journal from Suvos. Skinny and Goth, candles. And one of you turn off that goddamn music.”

  “What about me?” Fat Witch asked.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch. Down on your knees, make yourself useful until they return.”

  Within minutes everyone returned, including Shadow Man who stood in witness for Kasas, watching from the foyer.

  “On your knees.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Hands behind your back.”

  “Yes, Daddy. Tie me. Hurt me, please.”

  She smiled when he slapped her, causing blood to trickle from the corner of her mouth. Her bloody smile looked so beautiful. She looked beautiful. He'd never been so proud of anyone, never loved anyone the way he loved his daughter – in both a paternal and lustful way.

  He lashed rope around wrists and ankles, and bound them together, including a length of rope looped around her neck should she struggle. Another piece of rope he cinched around her waist and left its end spooled on the floor. Only when he had finished did he realize the chanting of the coven.

  His balls had swelled with Fat Witch's lips around his cock. Now his cock, throbbing and hard, went in Katie's mouth.

  “Hand me the journal.”

  He began to recite Latin from the section specifically intended for tonight's ceremony, a ritual Suvos had undoubtedly intended for him to use.

  “Felia... Angus... Mater...” Daughter, whore, mother... “Et salvum me fac...” You make me whole. “Be my fucking whore,” Brant said as he raped her mouth deep. Electricity surged and went out, leaving only candlelight. Tears streamed from his daughter’s eyes as he thrust into her mouth, with fistfulls of hair. It seemed a miracle to climax again but something about virgin blood wine seemed to help. She swallowed down a thick load of sperm as he continued reading...

  He read about a life thoroughly lived. A life worth keeping forever. About binding himself to this plane of existence, to a very specific object. Life granted life. And with perverse life one could twist and pervert life beyond death. To do so required sacrifice.

  “Hand me the dagger.”

  He traded for the journal. With a tender kiss to Katie's lips he told her, “I love you. And I love that you fucked up and got pregnant. You always knew what I needed.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” Tears of joy sprang from her eyes. “I love you so much.”

  “C-section time,” Brant announced. The coven winced and groaned as blood pooled around the dagger tip as it entered at the top of Katie's pregnant belly. Her body tensed against the rope binding her... Face grew red as it pulled tight around her neck.

  Brant did not hesitate to drag the sharp blade down, using both hands, to part the flesh in a wash of amniotic fluid. Though he met some resistance which required Goth and Fatty to hold Katie still, he eventually butchered open her body cavity.

  “I think I might puke, Mr. B,” Brainy said.

  “No, you won't,” Brant said.

  He reached in and pulled out a nearly full-term infant. After clearing its mouth, it began to scream. A quick cut severed the umbilical cord, and Brant rose to hold aloft his (hopefully) offspring.

  The women let loose of a fainted Katie and let her keel over, blood and gore spilling from her belly.

  “It's a girl,” one of them said. Brant didn't care one way or the other, only that it belonged to him, his blood offspring, not the bastard child of an affair with some young dude.

  A pounding on the door startled him.

  “Open up! Police!”

  The voice sounded familiar but, yet again, names elluded Brant.

  “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Time for a paternity test.”

  He began to recite the final lines of Latin which he had memorized earlier. From death comes life, from life a living death. From father to offspring, from offspring to parent.

  The door burst open and an officer shouted, “Police! We have a warr— The fuck...?”

  “I killed them! I killed them all!” Brant laughed maniacally as he felt a surge of energy coursing through his body.

  “Don't anybody move!” an officer ordered.

  Naked, bloodied and unarmed, Brant – so close to his destiny – held palms high and moved slowly. Nothing could stop him now.

  “I said nobody move!”

  “Kiss my ass,” Brant replied. He looped a length of rope around his neck and knotted it tight.

  “Don't do anything stupid pal.”

  “This isn't stupid,” Brainy said. “It's genius.”

  “Fuck you, Kasas,” Brant said. “Fuck you all!”

  He leaped over the banister as shots rang out. The last thing he felt was a jerk of the rope as he reached its end, the remaining length tied to his loving assistant.

  47

  “I don't know why we needed to park so far away,” she complained as they walked along the sidewalk.

  “Shh... Not so loud. We don't know the area. There could be a neighborhood watch here.”

  “At 2:00 AM? I don't think so. Besides, last I checked walking along a sidewalk wasn't a crime.”

  “Ritzy place like this, they won't take kindly to strangers. Especially loudmouth strangers out for a 2:00 AM stroll. Heck, this is Texas, after all. They shoot first, ask questions next week.”

  “Just saying we could have parked closer. Or stayed at the hotel. You could be fucking me in our room right now. Or we could've went to another party. Plenty of parties back at the convention hotel, you know. How much vodka did you drink anyway?”

  “The alcohol is mostly out of my system. We can drink and screw anytime. How often do we get a chance like this? Almost never.”

  “About once a year, I'd say. Remember last summer when we went to that place in Kansas? I think it was haunted.”

  “Hell yeah it was haunted. But this place will make that look like a trip to Disneyland.”

  “Speaking of Disneyland...”

  “Fine. You pick our next travel destination. But remember, you wanted to come here too. We agreed it would be awesome.”

  She stopped under a streetlight at the corner. He stopped walking as she turned to him. She looked slightly peeved, incredibly beautiful with her long black hair and heavy eye makeup. Evil and exotic – sexy as hell.

  “Gar...,” she said, “I love you dearly and I wanted to come, but, damn, bitch, I didn't know we'd be hiking so far. It's hot as hell out here, even after dark.”

  “True that, Becky, baby. There's sweat trickling down my butt crack.”

  “Thanks for the visual.”

  “I'm so sorry but we're almost there.” Gary glanced at the screen of his smart phone. “One more block. People have been trying to break in since it happened. There's no way we'd make it during daylight. Any strange cars, especially a rental, would set off alarms to nosy neighbors, of which I'm sure are plentiful nowadays.”

  Becky resumed walking. “This place better be haunted, that's all I've got to say.”

  “Wait.” Gary grabbed his girlfriend's arm. “This is important to me. You are important to me. I wouldn't have asked you to move in with me if you weren't.”

  “You're lucky you're grea
t in bed,” Becky said with a grin.

  They kissed. Then, hand-in-hand, they resumed their midnight trek.

  “I still cannot believe some guy offed himself because you sicced the law on him,” Becky said.

  “What I did may have been a factor, but that guy—”

  “What was his name again?”

  “Brant Wilson. Anyway, as I was saying, that guy was way screwed up. Into all sorts of kinky stuff. Drugs, the occult, black magic. There's much more to it than you saw in the media.”

  “I heard he knocked up his own daughter.”

  “Oh, you should read what's being said on message boards.”

  “Are you trolling message boards again?”

  “What do you mean again?”

  “We met on a message board.”

  “That was a dating site – totally different. This is a message board I found linked to from KaosKansas.com. I'm pretty sure it's hosted by the Internet company Wilson built for some guy named Kasas.”

  “What kind of name is Kasas? Sounds Russian.”

  “I don't know, but from what I read on message boards this Kasas person isn't a person at all, but some sort of demon or devil from hell.”

  “Oh, give me a break. Now you're making shit up.”

  “No, seriously, that's what's being said.”

  “Well, if someone on an Internet message board says the devil is running a computer company somewhere, then it must be true.”

  “Exactly, Miss Skeptical.”

  Gary halted, squeezed Becky's hand. He gestured in the distance and said, “There it is, McMurder Mansion.”

  “Doesn't look so creepy.”

  “We'll see if you change your tune once we get inside. We'll duck behind the hedgerow, see if there's a way in round back.”

  “This is your rodeo, Mr. White Hat Internet Cowboy.”

  From a distance the house looked no different than any of the other McMansions in the subdivision. But as they passed the neighboring house and drew closer Gary noticed the red spray paint across the realtor's For Sale sign out front which read McMurder Mansion, a term coined by the media.

  Apparently there had been some backlash against cheap, large houses, McMansions, in the area. Now, with the murder-suicide that took place here, the media was having a field day making connections between rich eccentrics and their questionable lifestyles. Gary found it all very interesting and had been following the case since it made headlines.