Pure Punishment

by T. L Smith

  Pure Punishment

  T.L Smith

  Copyright 2014 TL Smith

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organisations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  WARNING

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Cover - http://www.covertocoverdesigns.com

  Formatting - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angels-Indie-formatting

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofread – KMS Editing

  Cover image Copyright 2014

  ISBN: 978-0-9925397-5-7

  Dedication

  To all woman who feel like they are broken and not good enough. Remember being ‘normal’ is over-rated.

  When you feel like, life is dark remember you are a light for someone else. When life gets tough remember you are loved and have so much to live for.

  Never give up, keep on keeping on.

  P.S. Kristy you are as strong as you are beautiful.

  Note from the Author: Please remember this book is a work of fiction.

  One, Two.

  Who to kill?

  Three, four.

  You better open your door.

  Five, six.

  Cut or nick?

  Seven, eight.

  Don’t party too late.

  Nine, ten.

  Watch your gate.

  My name is Kayla. Would you like to play a game with me? I promise to only make you bleed and possibly scream.

  Are you ready for some fun?

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue-Kirsty

  Epilogue-Kai

  I watch as the blood drips from his hands. I take joy in it, it’s hypnotizing. I want to sit here and watch as it creates its own puddle. Watch the beauty of the blood slowly trickle, while each drop falls. The sound is soothing and it calms my erratic heartbeat as I listen to it.

  “Why are you doing this Kayla?”

  Why, he asks? What a silly man he is.

  “You’re scum. You think it’s fun to treat girls like a piece of meat?” I ask raising my eyebrows as a smirk appears across my face.

  He notices and cringes while I play with one of the shooting stars in my hand, spinning it in my palm. He continues to watch me, waiting for what is to come because there is more and he knows it.

  “You don’t know what you are talking about, you crazy bitch. Now let me go.” He winces as he struggles from the pain now shooting through his hands. There is a star embedded in each one. He’s like my own human dartboard. My heart does a jump while I watch him struggle and more blood oozes from his wounds.

  The sick things I crave, I fucking love it!

  “I could let you go,” I say as I tap my finger to my chin, like I’m contemplating the option, “but where would the fun be in that, pretty boy?” I throw the last star in my hand straight into his eye.

  He screams and it’s like music to my ears.

  The brain is the center of the human nervous system, controlling our thoughts, movements, memories and decisions.

  The sounds of blades being sharpened brings my attention to the right. It’s such a sharp, distinct sound that can make some peoples blood run cold. Me, on the other hand, I love it. As I step into the secluded building, I see the man that directs me to what jobs I have for the night. You see, I do the jobs that no others want to do. I clean up the mess that murderers, rapists, degenerates, and the scum of the earth make. Men that are high and mighty that can get away with their crimes so easily, because they have the money to make their problems disappear. But what most of them don’t expect... is me.

  My boss, Tyke, is a quiet man. Not one to talk unless it involves work. He sends me texts messages about where to meet or to give me my next assignment details. I have tried to seduce him, on more than one occasion, but he just isn’t interested. That gets on my nerves because you always want what you can’t have and I always get what I want.

  I step into a private room that has no furniture, though is littered with blades, shooting stars and guns. You name it, it’s in here. Out of all these weapons, there’s only one that tickles my fancy. The shine and brightness of the stars with a skull embedded in the center. My signature blades.

  Tyke’s back is turned to me and I take pleasure in looking at his fine physique. He doesn’t have the extreme muscles of a bodybuilder, but he does have the definition of one. His dark hair is tied back to keep it from falling into his face while he pulls the blade back to sharpen it, giving me a perfect view of his flexing muscles. I can just see a glimpse of the tattoo on his neckline that disappears underneath his shirt, on his perfectly toned back. He’s dressed in all black, the only thing I ever see him wear. It matches him. He’s dark and twisted like me. We’re two peas in a pod that have come together for a reason. One day though, I will have him.

  I am a girl who gets what she wants, and I want him.

  I will have him one day, and he won’t say no!

  Not if I have anything to do with this!

  “Where to?” I ask, hoping to take him by surprise. He knows all my moves and is always one step ahead of me.

  “Law firm. I will text you the address,” he replies while keeping his eyes focused on the blade he’s sharpening. I want to ask him to come with me, but we both know I work better alone. I don’t need the distraction, especially one with his gorgeous body.

  I walk out into the brisk night air and feel the cold starting to settle in. I look down at what I’m wearing and realize I can’t wear clothes like this for much longer, such a pity though because the men love it.

  I pull up outside the law firm. It’s quiet, only one light is on. Just what I was hoping for.
I check my message from Tyke and confirm that I have the right address. My clients don’t want people to know they’ve called a prostitute. They usually try to keep things on the down low, which is great for my line of work.

  I knock three times to let him know I’m here. I push my boobs up even higher in the scarlet red dress I’m wearing. My knee-high hooker boots suit the outfit perfectly and are ideal to hide my weapons. My long hair is tied in a knot hidden under my blonde wig, which is flowing down my back, and my blue eyes are shining with happiness of what is to come. As I pull my hands free from my breasts, the door swings open. I’m met with a man that’s in his fifties and reeks of alcohol. I give him my best fuck me smile and he steps back so I can enter the building, his eyes never leaving my body. His hunger for me is clear, because he doesn’t even bother to lock the door. He follows after me to what I presume is his office. His hand reaches out and he taps my ass. I pretend to squeak in excitement, which he laps up like a dog.

  “I can’t wait to bury myself in you, sweetheart,” he says whispering in my ear.

  I want to throw up in my mouth; this man is repulsive. “Few things to sort out first handsome,” I reply, putting on a thick accent that I know men love.

  “I have your money. I don’t want to talk. I need it hard and fast. Your boss said you were fine with rough sex?” He looks me up and down and I contain the shiver of disgust creeping all over my skin. Trust Tyke to throw me to the wolves and tell this repulsive man he can have his way with me. I may just have to smack Tyke for this. I look at this man and try not to spew. He reeks and it’s revolting. He’s wearing a suit that’s seen better days and his office looks like he’s been living in it.

  “Rough isn’t a problem, handsome. I like it rough, even a little bit of blood is good,” I say referring to what is to come.

  Lust is written all over his face, but I’m not talking about what he likes, more along the lines of what I like. I’m not talking about him hurting me and breaking my skin, neither of which will ever happen. I gaze up at him under my long eyelashes and give him my best seductive smile. He thinks he is getting lucky. I grab a strand of my fake blonde hair and twirl it in my finger and then run it through my lips, his eyes never leave my mouth.

  “Money first, handsome,” I warn as he steps closer with a look of lust in his eyes. He reluctantly pulls out a few thousand dollars that are required to spend the night with me and places it in my awaiting hand. I pocket the money in my breasts without even counting it. I pull my dress down slowly dropping it to the floor, revealing my toned body and plump breasts. His eyes bulge at the sight of me standing before him in nothing but a red lace bra, racy G-string, and hooker heels.

  “How about we play a game?” I ask trailing my hands down my breasts to my stomach. He’s now fully undressed and standing in front of me naked. His body is disgusting and I can feel the bile rising up in my mouth. He nods his head in encouragement and I place my palm on his chest, pushing him back into the chair behind him. I push my breasts into his face and reach down to get his belt and tie that are on the floor. They are perfect.

  Once his hands and legs are tied, I stand tall in front of him and then sink down onto his lap. He’s hard, but his cock is so small I have the feeling that even if I did fuck him, it would do nothing for me.

  “You like to fuck naughty women?” I whisper close to his ear to which he happily nods his head at me. Stupid fucker!

  “You like to hurt women, don’t you? You like to beat them within an inch of their life?” he nods to my first question then clicks with the second one. He leans back and takes a good long look at me. My gig is almost up. I climb off his lap and pull my dress back on while watching his shocked expression start to register what I’ve just said.

  “Why are you here?” he asks struggling to get free. I don’t answer him, and sing him a song. He stares at me like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I’m already there.

  “To help you. I’m here to help you, Larry,” I say, walking around him with a smile on my face. He struggles some more, but it’s no use. Tyke taught me how to tie knots that no one can escape from. And I’m that fucking good.

  “I don’t need your help. If you let me go now, I won’t come after you,” he says, trying to threaten me.

  It won’t work.

  “That’s nice and all, Larry, but I’m afraid you won’t be walking out of here tonight.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. He starts to struggle, but it’s no use.

  I make the final cut to the throat. It’s all it takes, and blood starts oozing down his neck. Pride swells in my chest when I look at the scum in front of me now wearing my signature mark

  Larry’s a bad man. He has raped and murdered three girls, all at the ripe old age of eighteen. Being a well-known, sought-after attorney has let him fly under the radar and get away with his heinous crimes. Scum is the only word I can use to describe him.

  There are no pain receptors in the brain, so the brain can feel no pain.

  It’s Friday night and my dorm is quiet. Everyone is out partying, starting his or her celebrations for the long weekend. No one else is as stupid or desperate as me to pass all of their exams. I’m what some may call an over-achiever. I need the best grades to graduate, so I can move far away from the hellhole I call home. I had no parents growing up. My grandmother raised me as best she could after my parents both died in a car accident. I was only ten years old. My father was an only child and my grandmother adored him. He was a smart man and was the CEO for multiple banks. My mother was, ‘off her rocker,’ as my grandmother so eloquently puts it – I just say ‘looney.’ She would often say she never understood why my father fell for my mother because they were such polar opposites. I was staying at her house the night of my parents’ accident and I’ve never left. And my grandmother never left the bottom of her bourbon bottle. Death does crazy things to people.

  So here I am, cooped up in my dorm room with a textbook almost the size of Texas. I slam my head on the desk, ready to give up on this impossible equation I’m working on when there’s a knock at my door. I look up. I’m hoping the person on the other side is just drunk and has the wrong room, but when the knocking continues I know that’s not the case. I groan as I push myself up from my cramped desk that’s situated at the end of my single bed. I should really look into finding a job and getting a bigger room somewhere more private. So on nights like this I’m not disturbed.

  I look down at what I’m wearing. My old yoga pants have seen better days and my shirt is from my high school track team. I shrug my shoulders. It doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing. I don’t dress to impress. The person at the door is more than likely my blonde, busty roommate who can’t keep her legs closed.

  As I pull the door open I’m met with a breathtakingly stunning man standing in front of me. Some might say he looks like a rock star. His long hair is dark and tied back. His black jeans are tight and fit him like a glove. His fitted shirt shows his defined body for my viewing pleasure. He is quite a sight, but something I’m not interested in and don’t intend to be interested in for a very long time. I have priorities and those do not include gorgeous rock star men with amazing bodies, who stare at you like they can see through your façade. The one you try so hard to keep in place. You know the strong façade, the one where you think ‘I got this,’ when really you’re crumbling inside and screaming to break free. Yep, whoever said life was like a box of chocolates needs those chocolates stuffed up their ass.

  “Oh sorry, I was looking for Kayla,” dark rocker boy states. I have no idea who he’s referring to. My roommate’s name is Leanne. So I do the only thing my brain has the functioning power to do and I slam the door in his deadly, gorgeous face.

  I sit back down at my desk and open up my textbook, the one the size of Texas, and push my glasses back up my nose. My hair is an absolute mess, with my long dark locks falling down onto my shoulders. I start on the next question and the knocking starts again. I choose to ignore it for a good portion o
f time until I can’t handle it anymore. I slam my book shut and stomp over to the door like a nutter on crack. As soon as I rip it open, I come face to face with Mr. Rock Star smiling at me.

  “I’m very busy, what do you want?” I say folding my arms across my chest. He looks me up and down like he’s trying to work something out in his mind before he decides to answer me.

  “What’s your name?” I want to laugh in his face. He just asked for another girl and now he’s here trying to ask for my name. What’s with that?

  “That’s none of your business. Now, I have studying to do and you’re interrupting me, so please leave,” I say and start to shut the door in his face again, but he places his foot in the way of the door, preventing me from shutting it.

  “You’re seriously studying on a Friday night?” he asks, sounding shocked.

  “Yes! I seriously am. Now please leave.”

  He looks at me again, his eyes serious, removes his foot and nods his head before walking away. I’m standing in the doorway watching his retreating form when Bianca steps out of her room directly across from me. For some strange reason, she’s made it her mission to torture me. This is for reasons I just don’t understand. It isn’t out of jealousy because my body is grim compared to hers. She’s what guys fantasize about. She looks to where the dark rocker guy is retreating and then looks back to me. I shiver knowing something awful is about to come from her mouth.

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that, country. Go and crawl back into your box before I put you back in there,” she says sneering at me while she walks past me, sashaying her hips. I close the door and lock it. I do not need Bianca trouble tonight.

  I give up studying and crawl into bed. I take my glasses off and see my hazel eyes in the reflection of the mirror hanging from my roommate’s bed. I cringe when I see myself and can’t help think what rocker boy must of thought. I wonder what it would be like to just stop caring for at least a night and have fun. Maybe get laid instead of reading about it in trashy romance novels that are far from real. I want the feel of a man suffocating me with his body, taking things from me that I don’t usually give. I want to hit that big O. I think I need that O before I go insane.