by Lee McGeorge
As he leaned against the wall, he opened his eyes to look in the mirror. As before, he didn’t feel as though he was looking at his reflection, rather he felt he was inside the mirror looking out. He didn’t see his usual physical body, instead he saw himself as the marble skinned killer. He stepped away from the wall to examine his eyes more closely in reflection. Gorgeous ruby red eyes; no pupil or iris, just a ball of ruby red glass to contrast against his impeccable white skin.
This is what I am, Paul thought. It is just part of my mind that has been made solid, made flesh. It isn’t some demonic possession; rather it is a manifestation of what was already inside. It was the killer, the soldier, the warrior. It was the dark side of my male psyche. All men have a capacity for violence, but the largest majority of men keep it suppressed by rational thought, by manners, by social conventions, by the rule of law. All men have it but few are lucky enough to have it supersede all other considerations.
When Ildico returns we shall enjoy her.
----- X -----
The door latch fumbled with the jangling sound of keys. Paul stepped from the bathroom to watch the door open. She’d been gone for almost thirty minutes. Paul was still only wearing shorts.
“Oh,” she looked away but was unable to hide a nervous smile. “You’re not putting on clothes?”
“They have blood on them,” he said. In the time she had been away his voice seemed to have lowered another half octave. Ildico moved to the kitchen looking a little embarrassed and placed a shopping bag on the counter from which she began unloading provisions. It looked like cabbages and what appeared to be strips of pork.
“I am make a traditional Romanian food,” she said as she unpacked the bag. She looked up at Paul hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. He saw her eyes move over him. She looked down to his crotch and paused for a second. She must have been looking at the outline of his penis in the cotton shorts because one second later she snapped back to the food and her face turned bright red.
Paul stepped into the kitchen and was moving to kiss her when she turned her back and felt some of the clothes that were hanging. “These are almost dry now,” she said. It looked like she had tried to change the conversation to cover her embarrassment.
Paul gripped her elbow and turned her back towards him. As she rotated he saw that she was trembling. She was breathing in shallow little gasps and her skin was flushed. Paul wrapped an arm around her slender waist and pulled her into a slow tightening of their bodies. His free hand slid up her side and across her shoulder to cradle the back of her head. He pulled her towards him to kiss. For a moment she resisted, lifting her hands and putting them ahead of her as a barrier, her palms on his chest to push him away, but it was only a gesture.
Paul kissed her deeply, feeling her bending backwards as though to get away. He opened his eyes to see that her eyes were wide open, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. She wasn’t kissing him either, he was doing the kissing, she was just stood frozen.
The instant he broke the kiss she tried to turn to the kitchen counter. “I need to make the food,” she said. Paul turned her back and kissed her harder, his fingers eased into her hair and he carefully but firmly made a fist to hold her.
The kissing was wrong; he was kissing her, she wasn’t kissing him. He turned their bodies so her back was to the kitchen counter and pressed her to it with his crotch. He tried kissing her again, still holding her hair with his right hand, but now that he no longer needed his left hand to encircle her waist he pulled it around and popped open the top button of her jeans with the easiest of moves. Ildico flinched, broke the kiss and both hands darted down to grab at her clothes.
She was trying to say something, struggling for words, making little gasps. The poor thing, she look terrified.
Paul took hold of her wrists and lifted her hands. He hadn’t meant to be rough or to hurt her, but there was a flash of pain across her face and he realised he had squeezed her wrists far too tightly. He didn’t want that, he didn’t want to hurt Ildico. He would never hurt Ildico.
“Put your hands behind your head,” he said as he positioned them for her.
“No... wait, I...” Ildico stammered.
“Behind Your Head!” Paul snarled. With one hand he bent Ildico’s wrist to push it back behind her head and with the other he took hold of the side of her face to gently stroke her chin and cheek with his fingers. He hadn’t meant for it to sound or feel aggressive, but with the sudden speed and his lowering and gravelly voice, it obviously startled her. At least it had the desired effect as Ildico snapped to attention and locked her fingers together behind her head.
With Ildico being correctly subservient, Paul continued with her jeans. She held her breath as he unzipped them, both of them listening to the sound of the zipper pulling lower. That sound, this situation, had such wonderful erotic overtones. Paul pulled at the sides of her jeans, they were tight but they rolled and pulled down off her ass after a few sharp tugs. He looked down momentarily to see she was wearing peach coloured cotton underwear. When he looked back up he saw moistness in her eyes, tears beginning to form, lubricating her eyelids. Paul rested his hand on the gusset of her panties feeling the warmth and humidity of the girl’s sex. She was going to be delicious.
He stepped between her legs pushing her tighter against the kitchen units and used his knees and stance to push her legs as far apart as her loosened jeans would allow.
“Please,” she said as a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. It looked as though she was shaking her head to say ‘No’, but the only word she spoke was ‘please’.
Paul raised his hand from her gusset to push it under the waistband of her panties. He’d imagined her to be clean shaved, instead he discovered hair, silky, almost as though it was oiled. With a delicate massage his hand moved further and found her slit.
Ildico made a sob and tears rushed from both of her eyes. She still had her hands locked together behind her head as Paul slowly massaged her cunt, but her face twisted into such ugly dimensions as she cried that he found it hard to believe she could make such faces.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, almost growling as his voice registered so deeply.
“I don’t want to,” She said.
“Yes you do want to. I can feel how wet you are.” It was true, she really was wet, she must be wanting it. Paul hooked his finger and pushed it deeper inside her. Ildico cried a little and brought her elbows forward, covering her ears with her forearms.
Paul removed his hand and ran his fingers through his lips to taste her. Ildico seemed to ease off her tears as she unclasped her hands but cried another big sob when he took hold of her wrists again.
It was too uncomfortable in the kitchen. The heat was making him feel sick. The bedroom would be better. Paul walked Ildico backwards, coaxing her along the way by squeezing her wrists. At one point she tried to sit down to stop moving but Paul found that inflicting a small amount of pain from bending her wrist kept her following his lead.
It was strange to see her so contorted through emotion. She stood staring down at the bed as though she were being led to the gas chambers or something, but Paul found it difficult to read the signs. She wailed when he led her to the bedroom, yet just sniffled as he pulled her jeans down and made her step out of them. She sobbed huge buckets of tears when he spread her legs apart so he could examine her pussy, but then just got on with the job of sucking his cock. He sat on the edge of the bed and made her kneel on the floor between his legs and even brought his fantasy to life by making her play with her own nipples and look him in the eyes as she sucked him. When she did that, she didn’t cry. It must have been her secret fetish because every time he touched her he found her pussy was so moist with sexual excitement. Despite her tears and pleadings, she was really enjoying the game.
Penetration was a slightly different affair as this was when Ildico actively fought back. She was naked, was kissing him, was laying on her back with Paul over her, but fo
r some reason she was trying to lock her legs together and lift her knees. For a minute or so it was frustrating for Paul. He hadn’t intended to choke her, but with one hand gripped around her throat he had used the other to try and separate her legs. It turned out that subservience came easy to Ildico with a hand around her windpipe and her protests became eager acceptance. She opened her legs and moaned like a porn star as Paul entered her. He didn’t want to fuck her too hard, didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted it to be special, romantic and that meant there was something loving in the softness of their lovemaking. He held her face in both hands and kissed away her tears. They tasted so fresh and light. Her cries were soft whines in time with the motion.
Never before had sex been this way, this is what love-making meant. It wasn’t sex, it was love and as Paul built to a climax, he whispered it. He knew it was somehow corny, but he wanted to say it, he wanted her to know how special she was.
“I love you, Ildico,” he said as he climaxed. He felt every surge and spasm in his genitals as he pumped seed into her. She obviously felt the same way and felt his climax as it made her squeeze her eyes together tightly and grit her teeth. Tears rolled from her eyes and it made her look so beautiful, so wonderful. Tears of joy.
----- X -----
Paul kept Ildico in the bed beside him to make love twice more that afternoon. She quickly learned to comply with the lovemaking but wasn’t very good at hugging. She was distant and withdrawn. Paul lay beside her with his arms encircling her, pulling her towards him and she either behaved like a statue or as though she wanted to be left alone.
It was three in the afternoon when the bedtime play seemed to have petered out. Paul stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror flexing his muscles that seemed to have swollen even more. He noticed it was tight under his arms and his neck was looking fatter. Examining closer he could see his pupils were widely dilated more than he had ever seen. The irises were barely visible, his eyes had become wide dark pupils and little else.
Ildico mumbled something. It sounded like a question.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I said, what if I’m pregnant?”
Paul went back to the mirror without answering. Although he was done with Ildico for the time being, he could feel a build-up of energy within his body, a sense that he needed to go for a run or perform some other physical activity. It felt as though he’d overdosed on espresso.
“Do you not care?” Ildico asked. Then mumbling to herself she said. “No, you don’t care,” followed by some soft but bitter lament in Romanian.
Paul walked to her side of the little bed and squat down to look at her.
“What if I’m pregnant?” she asked again.
Paul shrugged then smiled. “Then you have a baby.”
At this she clenched her eyes and her face pulled into an ugly contortion again. “I don’t want... I don’t...”
“You told me you wanted children,” Paul said quizzically but with a hint of contempt.
“Not now! I don’t want now. I want I am married first and...” Her face transitioned from tearful to barely contained rage as the words built up inside her. “I was waiting for my wedding. I want I am virgin for my wedding.” With this bit of rage Ildico found strength to get out from the covers. She tossed the sheet aside and stood naked as she looked about the floor to find her clothes.
“You look very beautiful,” Paul said truthfully. Ildico threw back a look of scorn that fixed for a few seconds then threw her hands in the air and went back to looking for her clothes. It was true, she did look beautiful. Everything about her, her tiny slender waist, her small undernourished breasts. She pulled on her peach underwear and sat on the bed struggling to put her socks on. She didn’t care about being naked now but when she looked at him she shook her head and fought back tears.
“Are you not wearing clothes today?” she asked.
Paul couldn’t quite comprehend her mood or understand why she had said that. Perhaps she wanted to go out or something. Paul wandered to the kitchen and found his clothes to be dry but the kitchen felt insanely hot. He took jeans and a thin cotton shirt off the hangers and slipped them on. He turned off the oven and opened the kitchen window to try and let the heat out before heading back to the bedroom.
Ildico pushed by him and grabbed her coat at the door.
“Are you going out?” he asked.
At first Ildico looked dumbfounded then answered, “Yes, I’m going out.” She didn’t even have her coat on properly as she opened the door. Paul snatched at her coat and caught her clothing in his fist. He pulled her closer and pecked a kiss on her lips. She was lovely. It was going to be so nice to have her as a girlfriend.
“You’re coming back soon though, right?”
Ildico stared at her shoes for a second then made a big fake smile. “Goodbye, Paul,” she said as she slammed the door behind her.
For a moment her being hovered in the air like a fragrance. Paul loved it, felt intoxicated by it. She was gorgeous, wonderful. But as the seconds ticked by her existence seemed to fade. He walked to the bedroom to try and recapture it. Her scent was all over the room. The bedcovers were strewn over the floor, the bed looked like it had seen some harsh sex action; creased sheets pulled loose, pubic hairs stuck to the linen with pussy juice and cum stains. Nice. It was a shame she had cried so much though. It sort of made sense now that she’d explained she was waiting for her wedding night, but it wasn’t any real sort of sense, silly girl-logic.
Paul smelt his hand to try and recapture the moment further. He could scent her pussy on his hands and had the stronger more musky scent of her ass on his thumb. That had turned into a nice surprise; whilst fucking her from behind he had pushed his thumb into her asshole at which she shrieked at first then just collapsed into the pillow to take it. It was nice that she enjoyed it; perhaps it was her secret fetish. Paul had felt what turned her on the most was when he treated her like a whore; when he was gentle she just lay there passively, but when he got dirty with her, those were the times when she cried out the most and became truly animated. He would have to think up some interesting things to do to her.
He left the bedroom feeling contented and walked to the kitchen. Even with the window open the heat still lingered in the air. Even the tiles of the floor felt warm to his bare feet and he sensed that as well as feeling as though his muscles were pumped, he was also becoming very sensitive to heat. Cool was better, the colder the more comfortable. With that in mind he leaned far out the window to try and inhale some icy cold air. Even as he did he felt the warmth on his back from the kitchen. Then he burned and boiled. It wasn’t the heat, it was what he could see.
In the courtyard below, Nealla and Big Man were confronting Ildico.
“Don’t you dare,” Paul said to himself. “Don’t you fucking dare touch my girl.”
But six floors below him, Nealla dared. He had hold of Ildico’s coat, she was trying to walk away, Nealla pulled and she slipped on the snow and ice to land on her back.
Paul didn’t see anything else. He was pulling his shoes onto his feet at top speed, struggling with the laces, too eager, trying too hard to fasten them. He wore no socks, no underwear, there was no time or need to grab his coat. All he needed was the big kitchen knife.
He grabbed it as he ran out the door and found himself leaping down the stairs three at a time. Pre-programmed. Rehearsed and prepared. A cruise missile targeted on Nealla, a smart bullet primed to explode between his eyes. He was going to inflict the most gruesome education on Nealla for what he had done to Ildico and he had a big fucking knife in his fist to teach him with.
----- X -----
Paul spun out of the big metal front doors and for a second couldn’t decide which way around the building got to the courtyard fastest. The decision seemed to be made without thinking, the momentum alone was carrying him. It was a mistake, he had gone the slightly longer way around. The longer way was probably no further than ten yards extra but
that ten yards served only to make him burn with more anger.
When he made it to the courtyard he saw Ildico walking away. She was twenty or thirty yards further; if he called out her name she would hear. Heading away at ninety degrees was Nealla and Big Man.
There was an instant where Paul couldn’t decide what he wanted more. Ildico’s intoxication was still in his bloodstream and he craved her time and affection, but Nealla was leaving. Nealla first, or Ildico?
He felt her name rise in his mouth as he prepared to shout, but the call never came. He remained mute and watched her heading away for a few seconds, then turned his head to watch the bad men instead.
Nealla.
Follow him. Ildico later. Nealla first.
As he followed he made sure to keep the knife concealed. His hand was by his side, but the long nine inch blade was tucked behind his leg, hidden from view.
Nealla and Big Man looked as though they were heading towards the bus stand.
From above, the sky seemed to darken as though on a dimmer, in the space of two or three seconds it went from azure blue to misty grey and with it came cotton balls of snow. Ahead of him Big Man pulled up his jacket lapels, looked up to the sky and casually glanced over his shoulder. He clocked Paul immediately and visibly jolted; he’d been seen. Big Man tapped Nealla’s arm and spoke. They were perhaps sixty or seventy yards ahead and for a moment they both looked back across their shoulders to watch him, then both looked ahead and changed direction slightly. They walked with a little more purpose now, it wasn’t as casual; they looked as though they were pretending to walk casual and doing a lousy job of the pretending.
“What are you doing?” Paul whispered. They’d seen him, they must have recognised that he was coming for them. They probably recognised that he was walking with some determination. Where were they going?