by Noir, Stella
I squeeze. I open and I squeeze.
“Can you feel it?” he says. “The blood pumping. The life inside her. Can you feel the power?”
“Fuck”, I say. “Fuck. I can feel it.”
“What does it feel like?”
I feel him at the edge, circling. Insistent. Almost inside me now. Open up to him. Let him take you.
“It feels. Oh fuck, it feels so good.”
She’s choking, but I can’t stop myself.
“Look at her”, he says. “What do you see?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s so, beautiful.”
I gasp, weak at the knees. I watch her pupils dilate, and feel my asshole open fully to him. He’s inside me. All of him at once, adrenaline rushing through me. I can’t stop. Fuck this feels so good. I’m flying and I can’t stop. I can’t come down. I feel it bubbling up through my skin, bursting out across me like electricity. I’m on fire. I’m alive in ways I never thought were possible. I’m taking her life. She’s mine. Oh fuck, she’s mine and I’m his.
His fingers all at once on my tits, on my pussy, on hers. Inside my anus with his cock, brutalizing me. Debasing me. I’m going to. Fuck. I’m going to come. I’m going to kill her.
It happens before I can stop it. It’s all over me, tearing through me, ripping me to shreds. It’s all I can do to hold on. I’m everywhere and nowhere all at once. I’m alive. I’m so alive.
And then when I look up again, when I come to. When he’s come too, there is blood rushing to the floor, swelling into the bed sheets and the sheepskin rug, dripping through the fat slats between the floorboards and I’m sat beside her, watching her eyes go glassy, the bone handled knife in my hand.
Bone is sat next to me, stroking my hair, his cock still hard.
“It’s so beautiful”, I say again. “So beautiful.”
And that’s the moment I know the truth.
Chapter 19
Maude
Clarity is an incredible thing.
I know what you probably think about me. That I’m fucked up, I’m a real freak. That there is no place in society for someone like me. I’m a killer, a murderer, I’m scum, the lowest of the low. I’ve crossed the line no-one should ever cross. I’ve killed someone in cold blood, someone who didn’t ask for it. An innocent girl who could have had her whole life in front of her. Who should have.
I don’t have any answers for you. Any insults you level at me are going to be true. It’s taking me a while to realize what it is I’ve actually done. It still feels strange, unreal, but if I’m being honest with you, the one thing it doesn’t feel is wrong.
I’ve been searching for purpose my whole life and until Christopher came along, I never had anything even remotely close.
I guess you think he’s brainwashed me too. That I wouldn’t have done what I did without him, without Bone. The one thing I can be absolutely certain of is that I wouldn’t have had the opportunity. Bone didn’t make me kill her, I took care of that myself. It’s always been inside me, I just didn’t know where to look before. This obsession that’s been my whole life, this need to surround myself with death and destruction, I’ve just been feeding a hunger, or maybe, what’s really been happening is that I’ve been pretending I’m not really starving at all.
I giggle like a maniac as I watch blood drip from the cut I’ve left in her body, my own still fuzzy and warm where Bone was moments ago.
They were all right.
There is no better feeling than killing, and perhaps I knew that all along.
Chapter 20
Christopher
Maude is an absolute natural. Bone knew she would be and I have to defer to his expertize in these matters. She could have bolted like a frightened rabbit, but she didn’t. She took the knife, she placed it underneath the poor girls armpit, she listened to instruction in the fog of sexual ecstasy and she dragged that sharpened blade so hard across her skin she nearly cut her arm off completely.
She’s still bouncing about the room while I remove the bone from the dead girl’s wrist, questions flying from her mouth like bubbles from a fresh spring.
I wonder if the first was the same for me. I wonder if I was this excited. I envy her a little. The rawness of that emotion, the preciousness of the first time.
When I have the bone I want, I clean the blade of the knife on the blanket and begin to get dressed.
“When are we doing the next one?” Maude asks, before I’ve even had a chance to pull my trousers up.
She’s watching the dead girl, her eyes thick with emotion, the corpse frigid and cold.
I put my hand on her shoulder, squeeze her neck tightly enough that she places her hand on top of mine.
“When we are both ready.”
She’ll go through a range of emotions. It’s like a drug this business. Now she’s experiencing a wave of excitement but later she’ll have the come down. She’ll cry, she’ll deny it, she’ll wonder if it happened at all and then she’ll need to do it again. It’s the cycle of addiction. You get your fix but it only lasts a while.
She can’t take her eyes off the girl.
“Fuck me before we leave”, she asks, her breath heavy and slow. “Fuck me while I look at her. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
Epilogue
One year later…
Maude
After that first time, after I met Bone and he showed me what he wanted from me, we couldn’t stop. I couldn’t pull myself away from it, even if deep down I knew I shouldn’t be doing what I was.
The beauty of the art became the justification for the killing, and it still is. I can’t deny that. I can’t lie to you and tell you it’s not beautiful and it’s not necessary and people don’t have to die, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been involved in and in order for it to continue, there have to be sacrifices.
There is no-one that understands that more than Christopher. I have come to understand that Bone isn’t so much a completely different personality as an artistic creation devised by Christopher as a way to justify what it is he does. Bone and Christopher are the same person and I love both of them equally.
We are working hard to complete the project that Bone has set for us. After tonight, if all goes to plan, we will have both entire arms finished and the police still have no fucking clue. They think these are copycat killings because they differ in style to the original twenty seven. Garimund, as a result, is still on death row.
I can’t begin to tell you how incredible the sensation of being involved in something like this is. I feel like I’m creating history, that in years to come they’ll talk about the genius of the work we’ve done with the kind of reverence that’s usually reserved for absolute masters of their art. And to have someone to share that all with makes it even more worthwhile. It makes me understand why Bone brought me along in the first place. The police and the public only know so much of what goes on. The killer sees the real beauty in the work first hand, and now that I’ve seen what he does, I know that he really is a true genius.
Tonight we are doing one of mine. Bone lets me pick from time to time, and this one I’ve been looking forward to for a while. It’s just a shame we only get to do them once.
Christopher
I’m in love. Bone’s in love. Maude is a sensation. With her, we’ve increased our production rate exponentially. She’s a natural with the blade, an incredible fuck, knowledgeable, eager to learn more, patient, not in the least bit squeamish and genuinely, one hundred percent excited about the project. I hate the term, but she really is a natural born serial killer.
I was a little skeptical initially, especially with her being a virgin, but after that first time, she really hasn’t looked back once. Maude is exactly what Bone and I needed. Aside from having someone to share our work with, she is someone we can share our live with.
It’s not all killing, although it’s the killing we enjoy and look forward to the most. Apart from that, we are actually a fairly
normal couple. I maintain a public presence, we continue with our serial killers tour project, we go out and eat, we stay home and fuck, and we enjoy each others company.
The fact that every once in awhile we find a young virgin, fuck her and each other, kill her and then cut a bone from her body for our collection is just one way we have of expressing our artistic needs and fulfilling our addictions.
Bone won’t go away, I’ve always known that and I’ve never wanted him to anyway. Bone is as much a part of me as any other part of my body. Finding someone to accept that, and I have done in Maude, makes me happier than I can even begin to explain.
There was never anyone else. Maude was the only virgin I didn’t kill. We joke about that sometimes, right before she plunges the knife into one of our chosen victims, or I plunge my cock into one of her holes, or sometimes we do both.
Bone, myself and Maude, we’re a perfect team and soon our project will be complete. For a long time I thought I wasn’t capable of love, now I know I don’t have to live without it. I can carry on killing and feeding Bone without having to sacrifice a loving and understanding relationship.
I can’t begin to find the words to describe how important that is for me.
I’ll think about it tonight when Bone has been fed and satisfied, he leaves us both alone.
###
Exhibit
Copyright © 2016 by Stella Noir & Aria Frost
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
About This Book:
Everyone has a secret…
New York’s top earning city trader, Bain Power, receives a special present in his annual bonus this year - access to exclusive members only bar ‘Kings’, where color coded rooms provide each of their exclusive guests with tailor made fantasies.
Violet, a struggling au pair for a rich family, finds herself unexpectedly taken along for the ride, when their paths cross on Christmas Eve, and Bain can’t resist her.
When they enter the red room together, what secrets will they find inside?
Chapter 1
Bain
The office floor is on fire when I get there. Phones buzzing off tables, desk jockeys jumping off seats. A pack of lions in a world of chaos and a hundred hungry eyes all over me.
“Here he is, the man of the moment. It’s about fucking time.”
Jack puts his arm around me and kind of chaperones me to my desk, massaging my shoulders as he does so. Massaging my ego. Sycophant.
His breath smells of whiskey, and judging by the bags under his eyes and the creases that match them across the apex of his suit, it’s from this morning not the night before. He probably hasn’t even been home yet.
“Where have you been?” he asks, agitated, eyes jerking across mine to read them.
I don’t get a chance to answer before Mark is upon me.
“You seen this?”
He thrusts a copy of this morning’s newspaper towards me. I’ve seen it already, but I don’t let on. “They could have got a more flattering picture”, he goes on. “You aren’t even wearing a suit.”
I get nods and smiles from people I don’t even know, and as soon as I’ve sat down at my desk, Craig calls me out of it and into his office.
There is a red envelope on the table in front of him, the corners embossed with gold tinting. Craig offers me a drink, but I don’t take it. He pours himself a fat slug of some kind of exclusive bourbon and eases back into his chair. Snowflakes stick to the window, and I can see the Christmas tree of Times Square behind him. There is a darkness over the city that hasn’t yet lifted, snow piled up at the edge of the sidewalks, shovelled there by dime a day store owners. Another fucking Christmas with nothing to show for it. It makes me sick.
“Go on”, he says, feet already up on the desk. “Open the fucker up.”
I open it up. Inside is a black credit card sized slab of polished platinum with a gold K trapped inside it.
“Kings”, I say.
“Too fucking right”, Craig says, his Scottish accent too thick to disguise. Ten years out of the country of his birth and it’s still stamped all over him like a watermark. “I’ve taken the liberty of loading it with a little bit of pocket money, just to get you through the first night.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Well fucking enjoy it”, Craig says, the bourbon in his hands ready to warm his belly. “You’ve earned it.”
“I will”, I say, turning the cold metal over in my hands. “Thank you, Craig.”
“Right, now fuck off”, Craig says. “Before your head gets so big you can’t fit through the door.”
There is a place round the corner from the office where we go to eat.
Snow has begun to fall more heavily around us and everything stinks of Christmas so much it’s making my head spin. Dazzling lights, platitudes from passers-by, the shallowness of virtue hiding sin so obvious it hardly makes it worth it.
When we’re settled into our usual booth, I take out the card, just to show it around.
“Mother fucker”, Mark says, snatching for it.
I move my hand away quickly and then let him take it. “Real gold”, he says, trying to run his fingers over the K, his eyes lighting up like the chinese lanterns on the street outside. “How the fuck do they do that?”
“I’ve never seen one of these”, Jack says, taking it from Mark and investigating the veracity himself. “I thought it was a legend.”
“You haven’t ever earned enough money”, I say.
“Fuck you”, Jack says, and I smile at him just to show there are no hard feelings. “You got lucky.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of luck”, Carter says, taking the card before it comes back to me. “You get a plus one?”
“I don’t think it works like that”, I say, holding my hands up. “Sorry boys.”
“Well, fuck it”, Mark says. “You’re still coming with us aren’t you?”
A round of drinks come to the table, which the waitress begins to hand out to us. I can see Jack’s got his eyes all over her, and I watch him just to see how he plays it. He’s as predictable as the fucking tide. As old as well. I almost laugh when his wallet comes out, and a hundred dollar bill goes onto the tray where the drinks started off. The waitress looks at the money and then looks at him. This isn’t the first time he’s done this to her, but he does it so often he’s probably forgotten.
“You pay at the end”, she says, coldly. I think she’s Italian, but I could be wrong. Her dark skin places her anywhere in the mediterranean, but the way she carries herself makes me think she’s been away from home awhile. Maybe second generation, maybe neutralized, maybe just here for kicks. She’s pretty, there’s no doubt about that, but Jack lacks style so much I’ve seen him get turned down by a hooker. The rest of us sip on our drinks and watch him fuck it up.
“It’s a tip”, he says. “What’s your name?”
“Claudia”, Claudia says.
“Claudia”, Jack repeats. “I like that.”
“You fucking dick”, Mark says under his breath, and the rest of us laugh.
Claudia scratches her arm and laughs nervously. Twenty, maybe twenty one. Out of her depth around a group of men.
“You want to join us?” Jack asks.
“She’s working, man”, Carter butts in, defending her, pulling her over to him.
“I can see that”, Jack says.
“So why did you ask her then?”
“I’ve got to work”, Claudia says, excusing herself politely. “M
aybe another time.”
She’s already walked away before Jack has a chance to call her back. Another missed opportunity to go with a lifetime of them.
“Fuck, she was beautiful”, Jack says, wistfully.
“Why didn’t you tell her how much you earn?” Mark says.
“Fuck you, why didn’t you?” Jack retorts.
“Easy man, you’ll get yours later on”, Carter says.
“I’ll tell her when she comes back.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m still on a better base than all of you mother fuckers”, Jack adds.
“That’s because you’ve been here for so long”, I say, “and anyway, base doesn’t mean shit. Base was ten percent of my take home this year.”
“Ten percent?” Mark says, astonished.
“Beginners fucking luck”, Jack says.
“Don’t be bitter, Jack”, I say. “You know how fickle this industry is.”
He swigs his beer and ignores me, eyes scanning the room again, looking for Claudia.
“You coming tonight?” Mark says again.
“Where?”
“Where else?” Carter asks, his face cut into a smile.
The food comes a little while later and Jack’s disappointed to see that Claudia doesn’t bring it. It’s a sort of Asian, western fusion and pretty much the most expensive you can get around here without going up into midtown. When you earn what we do, it isn’t about what you eat, it’s about where you eat it. If it doesn’t even have a menu, you’re on the right track.
After we’ve eaten, and Carter’s got Claudia’s number, we head back to the office. It’s the 24 December, but the stock market never fucking closes, so we’re here today and some of us again tomorrow.
I escaped that privilege for the work I did over the year, but Mark and Jack are back in. Perhaps Jack can try and earn some of that money he’s spent the whole year avoiding like an illness. That joker has been here almost ten years and he’s never once got a bonus higher than his base. No wonder he’s still wearing the same fucking shoes and suit.