“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.