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Offline xenmon2

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Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« on: August 16, 2020, 02:47:13 PM »
I initially posted this story on another website, and I'm reposting it here 'cuz I'm an attention whore.

Follows the adventures of *checks notes* Jason Fischer, a wealthy hedonist whose main hobby is raping and snuffing beautiful women. Feedback is greatly appreciated, although bear in mind that the first five chapters are already written so it may be a while before I actually start to implement your criticism.

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Chapter 1 - Killing the Club Girl 

I leaned against a pole in the back of the club. From here I was divorced enough from the action to avoid drinking to excess, and more importantly I could keep stock of the female flesh. Dozens of beautiful women drunkenly danced around the club, unaware that they were auditioning for a few brutal hours with a sadistic psychopath and then an early, unmarked grave. A tall, tan girl in a red bikini top and jean shorts; a curvy black girl in a crop top; a cute redhead bartender whose pale skin almost glowed in the light. Dozens of lovely women all viable candidates for my attentions, but I'd yet to see the one.

   Around midnight, the one came in. Average height, but a gorgeous face, a killer body hidden under a jean jacket, white blouse, and skirt, and a white cowgirl hat with pink and green lights around the crown. She had platinum blonde hair hanging past her shoulders, almost white in this lighting, which almost matched her milky skin. I knew I'd found my next plaything. A cowgirl hat seemed out of place in an Northwestern club, but hey, it worked - she'd earned herself the intimate encounter of a lifetime, if not the one she wanted.

   She came in with an identically-dressed brunette friend, also drop-dead gorgeous. I found myself seriously considering which of these women I would take; raping both at once would be incredible, but I hadn't come prepared for that kind of fun. Eventually I decided on the blonde. She was the one who had drawn my attention at first, and I decided that the brunette was a slightly lesser beauty. Lucky bitch, I thought.

   I walked up to the blonde and bought her a drink. We hit it off, but all I can remember from the conversation was that her name was Natalie, her friend was Anya, and she had a sexy European accent. Words came out, she probably told me her studies and dreams and family, but none of that mattered. Not anymore.

   Getting Natalie back to my hotel room was a cinch. You might think this risky, taking a woman to my room before I killed her, but when you pay in cash and wear a disguise it's not as bad as you think. Anyways, I decided that as beautiful a woman as this deserved one last fuck before things went south.

   Anyways, that's how I wound up with my head between the legs of a gorgeous European chick. My tongue ran circles around her clit, while two of my fingers pumped her slit. Natalie grabbed my hair and screamed out as I gave her the last orgasm of her life. I smiled and crept back up her body. I nibbled and pulled on her cute silver bellybutton ring, licked her perky tits, then planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her shiny pink lips. She had big blue eyes, so filled with trust and, maybe, love, at least for that moment. It definitely wouldn't be lasting very long.

   I got up and flipped Natalie onto her stomach. She lifted her ass up obligingly and gave it a little wiggle. Yeah, I knew where my dick was going next. But first I pushed into her wet pussy, giving my shaft some lubrication.

   "Oh baby," she purred as I gave her a few good thrusts. I thought I could maybe make her cum again like this but nah, play time was over for her.

   I pulled out of Natalie's snatch and grabbed her hair, burying her face in her pillow and muffling any noises she might make. A muted cry of confusion and dismay confirmed my makeshift gag was in place, but just to be sure I reached for the remote with my free hand and turned the TV on, volume high.

   When everything was ready I shoved my cock in her ass to about halfway. Goddamn she was tight. Natalie screamed in pain, her legs flew out, and her hands flailed around as she tried to force me out.

   "You've had your fun, slut," I laughed. "Now it's time for me to have mine."

   I took her tightest hole with harder and harder thrusts, until eventually I was able to fit it in up to the hilt. My fucktoy's hands were gripping the headboard, clawing bits off the wooden frame. The pillow was getting damp with her tears, and she was grunting in time with my thrusts. I gave her a couple hard smacks on her ass cheeks to keep her on her toes; the red marks looked so good on her skin.

   Finally I felt myself reaching my climax. I cried out as I pumped my cum deep inside my bitch's ass. Her sobs began to quiet down a bit, maybe she thought it was over.

   My orgasm felt so good, I wanted to collapse onto the slut and just lay there, but she could still be dangerous if she was able to scream full-strength. I'd need to get her under control asap.

   I climbed off Natalie, and right on cue she tried to scream out but I put her in a headlock and choked it off. She clawed at my arm, which hurt but not enough to make me let her go. I roughly dragged her like that over to my backpack, and pulled out a handgun. When I let Natalie go she was much more obedient.

   "Oh my god," she said, staring at the gun. "Please don't hurt me. I won't tell anybody."

   I had Natalie dancing to my tune now, and seeing her standing there, arms raised in surrender, hair a mess, makeup running down her face had made me hard again. I ordered her to grab a set of cuffs out of my bag, and she complied. I ordered her to cuff her hands behind her back, but she hesitated. I immediately put her back in the headlock.

   "Disobey me again and I'll break your fucking neck," I hissed as she struggled to breathe. "Do you understand?" Natalie did something that I figured was a nod, so I dropped her to the ground, coughing.

   This time she put the cuffs on. Damn she looked cute like that. I walked over and grabbed her cowgirl hat and stuck it on her head. The look was complete. I laid down in the bed and pointed the gun at her.

   "Ride my cock," I said. "Make any noise and I'll blow your brains out."

   This brought out a new stream of tears, but my blonde girl complied. Arms behind her back, she climbed on top of me and straddled my cock. I helpfully lifted it up and she slid down on it. Reluctantly, she began bouncing up and down, but that was good enough for me. I let her do this for about five minutes until I decided I didn't want her doing all the work, so I began roughly slapping her cute titties. It was adorable, the way she clenched her mouth shut and dutifully stayed silent as her sensitive mounds turned deep red from my attentions.

   Natalie must have sensed when it was time for me to cum because she tried climbing off of me and shook her head violently when I grabbed her hips and forced her to continue.

   "Please don't," she whisped with the most pleading look in her blue eyes. "Not inside me. Please god no."

   I don't negotiate with sluts, though. I poured my hot cum into Natalie's womb, and pulled her down and hugged her sobbing form tight as I stroked her blonde hair under the hat.

   "I bet I got you pregnant, Natalie," I whisped in her ear. "My cock's a sharpshooter."

   The poor girl began sobbing openly, thinking of everything that meant. Unfortunately for her, pregancy was definitely the least of her worries right now. As she lay there I got dressed, then with the gun in hand undid her cuffs and ordered her to get dressed and clean herself up. Soon enough she was every part the slutty cowgirl again. I got close behind her, gun shoved into her spine, and we walked out of the hotel. Anybody who didn't look to closely would see nothing suspicious.

   Ladies: Never let them take you to a second location. They'll kill you.

***********************

   The hotel, and the club, were situated on one of the many islands littering the Great Lakes. To get there most people took a ferry, but the more well-off of us can get there on our own boats.

   My boat is where Natalie found herself that night. It wasn't huge, but the cabin was big enough that you could comfortably have fun with a woman. Perfect for my purposes, in other words.

   Natalie was naked again, and this time sobbing in great loud howls through a gag, probably realizing that if I was planning on letting her go I wouldn't have gone through the hassle of bringing her to the middle of a lake. I'd unlocked her phone with the face scanner and was currently going through it to see if there were any financial assets I might be able to quietly take. She had a few thousand dollars in the bank, and after getting run through a few launderers they'd be nice pocket change for me.

   I had Natalie tied to the cabin ceiling by her arms. One leg was free, and she was desperately trying to keep her balance, while her other leg tied to the ceiling by her ankles, well past 90-degrees. She must have been a gymnist in a past life. Her pussy was wide open, pink and inviting. I'd cleaned her up with a hose and water dripped down her sexy form, making her shiver in the cool night air.

   "Alright babe, time for round two. I hope you're still wet for me," I laughed as I lined my cock up with her slit. I pushed into her, she was dry but quickly moistened up for me. I took her like the meat she was, appreciating the fact that her position would keep her from deriving any pleasure from the penetration. To add to her discomfort I lifted her free leg off the floor, putting most of her weight on her bound limbs. She cried out in pain as I cried out in pleasure, the proper order of things.

   I wasn't ready to cum in her pussy again, though. When I felt myself getting close I took a knife and, after running it over her tits for good measure, cut her arms and leg loose. She collapsed to the floor in a heap, and I promptly pulled her to her knees and pulled the gag out. I pressed my cock against her mouth, which she accepted.

   Natalie was an experienced cock-sucker, it seemed. She tried so hard to make it good, like that would save her, and soon I exploded in her mouth.

   "You'd better swallow every drop of that," I growled. She gulped it all down like a true slut and looked up at me with a look desperately seeking approval and mercy.

   "Please," she said. "I won't tell anybody." I grabbed her hair and pulled her to a bench bolted to the floor. Soon I had her tied to a bench, arms behind her, in such a way that her ass was only barely touching the seat. This was supremely uncomfortable for her, but made her tits stick out beautifully and left her pussy wide open. I foisted her legs over my shoulders, lined myself up with her slit, and then leaned forward so she was practically folded in half. I put the gag back in.

   "Better enjoy this, Natalie," I said as I gazed into her blue, pleading eyes. "This is going to be the last fuck you ever have."

   I pushed into her as deep as I could go - and with a woman folded like this that's pretty damn deep - and fucked her long and slow, milking every ounce of pleasure I could get out of my blonde beauty. God her pussy was tight, her walls gripping my member tight as I thrust in and out of her scared, unwilling body.

   As I came closer and closer to cumming, I began to see her less as an unfortunate, beautiful clubber and more (if that was possible) as a piece of meat born to suffer for my pleasure. I began smashing my fists into her perky titties, bringing screams of pain and an occasional *crunch* from a rib breaking. Her muscles strained, showing her abs off beautifully, and clenching her pussy even tighter around me. Desperate to keep the rush going I reached behind her, grasping her fingers in my hand and snapping them one by one. Natalie howled in agony as I destroyed her body as I fucked it.

   As I reached orgasm I pulled out and sprayed my seed all over Natalie's bruised titties. The pain had put her in a mindless panic, and it took a few minutes for her to calm down. When she did I removed the gag and pulled out a knife.

   "Let me gooooooo pleeeeaaaaase," she cried.

   "I'm bored with you, Natalie," I said. "You know what that means."

   "No, god no," she sobbed. "GOD NOOOOO. Plleeeaaaase."

   Slowly I lowered the knife to her pretty throat. The look in her eyes as she watched her final seconds tick down was glorious.

   "OHMYGODOHMYGODPLEASEOHMYGOD-"

   I slashed her throat open and her blood splattered the cabin and poured over herself. Her mouth was open to scream but all that came out was gurgles. I watched as the body that this woman had been so proud of became drenched in her life's blood, the fluid ran over her breasts and mixed with my jizz then ran down her belly to her pussy and kicking legs. It was a few minutes, she was young and strong, but soon Natalie was nothing more than a twitching corpse.

   It would take a while to clean things up, but oh well. What better place to dispose of a corpse than a huge body of water?

******************************

   The next morning I found her friend, Anya, roaming the island searching for her. I'd changed disguises but I still didn't feel confident approaching her. The brunette was going up to people and showing them her phone, presumably asking if they'd seen the late Natalie.

   The mood to kill had passed, but I could still have fun with the brunette beauty. She did look pretty cute in her jean shorts and black tank top. I followed her around until the opportunity struck.

   I spent the rest of the day fucking a blindfolded and gagged Anya in a variety of exciting positions in between bouts of video editing. Oh, didn't I tell you? Snuffing chicks, and sometimes selling them, is one of my biggest sources of income, and I had video of Natalie's demise every step of the way. And with modern technology it's a piece of cake to swap my face with someone else's. There's always risk with involving other people in my little game, but everything had worked out so far. If you do what you love, you never work a day in your life.

   I dumped another hot load all over Anya's heaving tits and dark hair, got dressed, quickly undid her arm bindings and bolted. She was one of the few women in my life who didn't end up a corpse or a slave. She really was a lucky bitch.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #1 on: August 17, 2020, 06:19:17 PM »
Part 2 - A Tale of Two Sisters 

I was in India on business, which hadn't turned out to be as lucrative as I'd hoped, that I met Devya and Aesha.

   I'd been touring a temple when I noticed there seemed to be a bit of a commotion in the center courtyard. Nosey fellow that I am, I went out to investigate and came across a group of photographers clustered, who upon further inspection worked for a popular American swimsuit magazine, clustered around some statues. This piqued my interest, so I lingered until the group dispersed enough for me to see their subject.

   I'd seen a lot of beautiful women in my life, but even my jaw dropped slightly at what I saw. Apparently a native to these parts, the model had a tall, lean body wonderfully displayed in a white triangle bikini with golden floral patterns on the cups. Her abdominal muscles were beautifully defined, her naval a dark, deep oval. Long brown hair hung down past her shoulders, framing a face with big brown eyes, pouty lips, and high cheekbones. Her caramel-colored skin practically glowed in the hot afternoon sun, and a golden necklace decorated her neck.

   Already I was imagining taking the Indian beauty, imagining her body against mine as I squeezed the life out of her, but with me going to another city in just a couples hours and expected back in the States next week it didn't seem likely, alas, and I was content not to pursue it for now. But I made a mental note to do some research when I had the time; I doubted this magazine did very many shoots in India. I was going to have this woman. I was going to rape her and kill her. The model leaned on a statue and twirled her hair sultrily. She smiled and chatted with the staff. She acted as though this was a normal day, as though the irrevocable decision to end her life hadn't been made. How could she know? Someone told a joke and she laughed, her teeth bright and white in the sun. Her laugh was carefree and musical.

   A week later I was across the country in Mumbai, enjoying my last night before heading home. I'd done my research and found out she was 20-year old Aesha Mahajan, a California model who'd immigrated to the States as a child. What interested me most is that her parents still lived in India, and this was her first job with a major publisher, meaning that her disappearance wouldn't cause a media scandal. All I needed to do was have a guy "vanish" her photos before publication, and nobody would care that she was gone.

   But fate put Aesha in my hands even earlier than expected. I was walking down the street past the bars and restaurants, my plane leaving in only a couple of hours, when I happened to spot the model out of the corner of my eye, sitting at an outdoors bar, wearing a purple tank top and skinny jeans. I approached, barely able to believe my luck.

   She was speaking California-accented English with a man who I assumed to be magazine staff, and she looked bored and a little bit repulsed. It didn't take much effort to peel her away.

   Relieved to finally find someone that spoke English and wasn't a "creepy photographer," Aesha happily told me her story. She had moved to California to pursue her dream of modeling, though so far she could only barely make ends meet. She told me, somewhat dejectedly, that she hadn't been paid for the job and had been flown business class, but the exposure was worth it and she was confident she was on the verge of breaking out. I could tell that she definitely had the potential for a successful modeling career. She was slender, but not rail-thin like many other hopefuls, had a pretty face, and her heritage would make her something of a novelty in the industry.

   I say Aesha had the "potential" because I knew that she was dead. The dark, brutal thoughts that had earlier been but daydreams turned into a barely controllable lust. I felt a twinge of sympathy knowing that the cheerful, outgoing woman in front of me would never see any of her dreams, never see her friends again, but these thoughts only drove my lust. While she told me how lucky she was and how much she loved her career I imagined her naked and in chains, screaming and crying as I slowly took everything from her.

   I introduced myself, using a fake name, as a bigshot at a well-known modeling firm. This wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely a lie either - I've kickstarted the careers of (and banged) several supermodels whose names you'd probably recognize and have plenty of contacts in the industry, and I was able to furbish the expected credentials. Her eyes lit up when I showed her a photo of me with multiple women who made more money standing around looking hot than she'd probably seen in her life. I told her I was from California as well, that we were probably going to the same airport, and how a ride of my private jet would be far nicer than the uncomfortable coach seats on the cramped airliner the magazine had provided. All truthful and easily proven, and to say Aesha was giddy was an understatement.

   Her cellphone rang. She sighed and answered.

   "Devya?... No, I'm fine... I'm with a guy, American. . . he's worked with Lera! This could be my big break!...  Jesus, stop worrying... fine, whatever, see you soon."

   Aesha hung up and rolled her eyes. "My sister thinks I can't take care of myself, I guess. She's coming to pick me up."

   None of the info on Aesha had said she had a sister, but this wasn't too unusual; agencies know that good genes run in families, and if she wasn't interested in a modeling career she might prefer to remain hidden to avoid harassment. I only half listened as Aesha told me about her. The sister, Devya, was apparently the smarter of the two, starting her sophomore year at Harvard in the fall, and it didn't sound like she thought very highly of modeling or of Aesha's chances of becoming a millionaire doing it. Still, she supported Aesha's efforts and flown out with her, though she was apparently staying a few extra days to visit family.

   It was about thirty minutes before Devya showed up, and I had to stop my jaw from dropping. Twins! She was a dead ringer for Aesha, sharing her sister's supermodel face and even had an identical hairstyle. Her body was somewhat covered in a modest dress, but I guessed it was every bit as sexy as Aesha's. The possibilities flashed across my mind, but I pushed them away - Devya was staying in-country longer than Aesha, I doubted that I could tempt her away, and frankly I didn't feel like putting in the extra effort when I was going to have pretty much the same thing anyways. Plus, I thought, it might be nice to have the option later on - raping and killing a woman and then dating her identical twin sister was pretty much the definition of having your cake and eating it too. I was in disguise, as I always am when away from home, so there wasn't any risk of her identifying me.

   She flashed a smile at me and put a hand on Aesha's shoulder. "It's time to go, Aesha," she said.

   "But sis!" Aesha exclaimed, "Wait until you find out who this is!"

   I introduced myself and gave Devya the same line I gave her sister, but I could already tell it was a lost cause. She was respectful and didn't openly voice her doubts, but I could tell she knew that something was up. Even after seeing my credentials and the photos, Devya remained skeptical. Maybe as a college girl she was more world-weary and and suspicious of male intentions. Maybe she was just a good judge of character. But she was trying to keep my dick out of her sister, and I don't like that. I not-so-subtly suggested that she was envious of her sister's success, and could tell immediately that I'd made a mistake.

   "We'll be happy to discuss this back in California," Devya said icily. "But we have to go. Aesha."

   "But Devya!"

   "We're going."

   Aesha looked at me apologetically and slipped me her number, and the twins strode off to Devya's car. My eyes were glued to their tight asses as new thoughts ran through my head. I saw the twins sobbing as I took turns fucking them. I saw me whipping the flesh off Devya's ass, punishment for meddling in my plans.

   The truth was that Aesha was a dead woman the moment our paths crossed. Her life had ended the moment I saw her showing off her tight body in that bikini, and anything more was just borrowed time. But if Devya hadn't tried to protect her sister, hadn't tried to change her fate, I wouldn't even know she existed. I smiled at the irony and ordered a drink. Devya would know how futile her efforts were soon enough.

**************

   My California home consisted of the top six floors of a new, quite massive skyscraper hotel, The Breakers Resort, that I owned and had built at considerable personal expense. From it I had a view of the beaches, the city, casinos, all the places that made this town run. When I looked down at the teeming masses of people I imagined I owned them, and frankly the truth wasn't far off. I was a killer, and I could snuff out any of their lives whenever I wanted.

   Me and Aesha arrived in California the same day, so it wasn't hard to find her. I "coincidentally" ran into her at the airport. Why, how delightful! Of course I was going to call you! Within thirty minutes I had set her up with a phony modeling job and gotten her a VIP room at The Breakers (a room I deliberately leave vacant for my most very special "guests"). I even got her to call Devya and beg her to come stay with her for a few days - she was careful not to mention me or modeling, of course.

   Aesha and I were currently in what I affectionately called the movie room. The room took up its own floor and had Hollywood-quality lighting, hidding cameras covering every possible angle, a one-way glass windows giving a gorgeous view of the city on one side and the beaches on the other. There was a bed, a closet full of useful implements, a bathroom with a shower, and a hot tub, among various other amenities.

   Aesha was currently tied spreadeagled to the bed. Romantic that I am, I'd dressed her in the same white bikini she'd been in when she first got my attention and given her a matching white ballgag. I rubbed her tummy as I spoke on the phone to a guy I know who specializes in making evidence disappear. If the magazine printed Aesha's photos it might boost her celebrity enough to make people wonder what happened to her, so I wanted to make sure that didn't happen.

   When I was finished I hung up and smiled at her. "Those photos the magazine took? They're never going to reach publication, sorry." I slid my hand between her legs and rubbed her sex, feeling the warmth emanating from the fabric. She squeezed her eyes shut and banged her head on the pillow. "I guess your modeling career isn't going anywhere, babe. Should've gone to school."

   Carefully I removed her bikini top and bottom, admiring Aesha's naked body. God she was gorgeous. Cute, shapely tits topped by light brown nipples, and a pretty waxed pussy just waiting to take my cock. I ran my tongue over her left breast and gently kneaded the other with my hand, and then kissed my way down her torso. I stopped at her navel, running my tongue around and into the exquisitely-shaped indentation, then continued down her belly down to her sex. She was lubing up nicely.

   "It would've been easier if you accepted my plane ride, Aesha. Could have made it so the records never even showed you leaving India." I moved back up her body and bit her nipple, hard, and she screamed into the gag. "But I'm still not really concerned. I'm pretty good at this."

   I removed my finger from her pussy and wiped it on her face. "I want to know your opinions on this," I said as I removed her gag.

   "OHGODPLEASEWHYAREYOUDOINGTHIS?!" she screamed. I slapped her across the face and grabbed a knife, which shut her up. I put it to her sex and poked it gently with the blade.

   "Nobody can hear you, babe. So all screaming will do will annoy me."

   "Why are you doing this?" Aesha sobbed. Those big brown eyes looked so lovely filled with tears, and I was ready to fuck. I began sawing at the ropes binding her legs. "I trusted you..."

   "Your fault, not mine." When her legs were free she kicked at me weakly, but I easily controlled her. I admired her stems for a moment - they were long and sculpted, I love tall women - then pushed them up as far as they would go, practically folding the poor model in two. Her pussy was facing straight up, beckoning me, and I gave it a couple loving pats before lining my cock up and easing the head in.

   "NOOOOOO!" Aesha howled, banging her head against the pillow. "NO! NONONONO!"

   I smiled and shoved it in to its full length. This girl was tight. I thrusted in and out, in and out while she screeched and struggled, her legs flailing around uselessly. As my thrusts got harder her squeling took on a matching rhythm, incredibly sexy.

   I felt myself close to climax, and Aesha must have noticed too. "PLEASE PULL OUT!" she howled. "PLEASE!"

   I decided to let her have this one, so I pulled out and came on her titties. My cum provided a nice contrast to her brown skin.

   I undid the ropes binding her arms. She didn't fight or try and run, she just lay there, her breasts heaving as she quietly sobbed, makeup running down her face. I pulled her to her feet and shoved her into the shower room. "Clean yourself off, you whore."

   She staggered into the shower and turned the water on. She initially just stood there, but when I threatened to knock some teeth out she slowly began soaping herself off. Her back was turned to me, I guess it was a small gesture of defiance, but the view was pretty nice so I allowed it. I watched the water run off her brown hair, down the soft, dark curves of her back, onto her firm ass. My cock hardened at the sight; already I was ready for round two.

   I got into the shower and nuzzled my cock up against her butt, cupping her tits with my hands as I ran my nose through her hair and kissed her neck. She froze and I could tell she was trying not to break down from my touch.

   I turned her around and her pleading eyes met mine, looking for some sign of mercy I guess, and finding none she lowered her head and stared at the floor as I ran my hands over her wet body. I grabbed her soaking hair and pushed her down to her knees. I pushed my member at her mouth and she reluctantly accepted it.

   Aesha knew how to suck a cock. She did it without her hands, gripping my legs as she slid her mouth over my manhood. The crying only made it better, I only wished the shower didn't disguise her tears.    "Use your tongue, babe," I ordered. "I want to feel it."

   She obeyed, licking my cock as she sucked it and her eyes briefly met mine. She was seeking my approval, making sure I was satisfied with her performance. How quickly, how easily she'd gone from being a proud model to an obedient sex slave. It made me want to hurt her.

   I grabbed her dark brown locks and violently shoved my cock down her throat. Her eyes bulged as she choked and gagged. I pulled out, letting her take a quick breath before shoving my manhood back in up to the hilt. I developed a brutal rhythm, barely giving her time to breathe. She tried to slap at me and push me away, but I wasn't going to be stopped. She was barely conscious by the time I shot my cum down her throat.

   Aesha looked so cute sitting there on the shower floor, coughing up my jizz and gasping for air as the water poured over her. When she'd recovered enough I told her she had ten minutes to clean herself off, again, and meet me outside.

   She came out of the shower on time, and looked nervously at the device I had put up in the meantime. It was a wooden construct shaped like an upside-down Y, and she could probably guess its use. I told her not to worry about that yet and walked her over to the hot tub. We relaxed for a bit, her just sitting there silently, until I was ready to go to bed.

   I fed her a military MRE, can't have my girl going hungry, and had her put her white bikini back on and I presented her with a gift, the same golden necklace she'd been wearing during that fateful shoot. When she clasped it on the floodgates opened and she collapsed to the floor sobbing, probably thinking back to that day and finally fully understanding that those days were behind her.

   I escorted her to the Y-frame and bound her to it with soft white ropes that matched her outfit. When I was done her legs were splayed open and her arms were tied straight above her. A board jutted out a bit into the small of her back, arching her body a bit and emphasizing her breasts and abs. I finished the look by gagging her with a white cloth. She shifted about uncomfortably as a punched a code into the keypad by the door.
   "Have a good night, Aesha," I said as I walked out. "Hey, you told Devya to meet you a nine AM, right?"

   Aesha's eyes went wide and she howled as she realized what she'd done. I was glad that I'd been able to renew her spirits as I turned the lights out and shut the door behind me.

*****************

   The Breakers boasted a rooftop pool and that's where Aesha had been planning on meeting her sister (swimsuit aficianado that I am, I'd insisted that Aesha meet her somewhere with swimming). I was up there by 9AM, lounging in a pool chair with my cell phone plugged into a special wall outlet. This hooked it up to my camera system, allowing me to invade my guests' privacy from the comfort of the pool.

   I watched Devya enter the hotel at 9:15AM dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. There were two elevators in the lobby; ordinarily they didn't stop at my more special floors, which weren't numbered, but there was a keypad that would allow access if the right code was entered.

   Devya checked in with the front desk clerk, and looked bit confused when she was told that her name wasn't in the system. I half expected her to leave, which would have been an inconvenience, but she told the clerk that she was meeting someone and they let her through. She got into an elevator, assuring that today was her last day as a free woman.

   Devya stepped onto the roof shortly. She looked around for Aesha, didn't see her, shrugged, and stripped off her clothes until she was in a blue bikini. All the men around gawked and I couldn't blame them. Devya had a killer body, every bit as good as her sister's.

   It took every ounce of self control to not stroke myself in anticipation as Devya claimed a pool chair and stretched out. I hoped she enjoyed every second of her last few minutes in the sun. As 10AM came and passed she got up and surveyed the crowd again. When she pulled out her phone and called her sister my heart pounded, my erection growing. I'd "accidentally" left Aesha's cellphone in the room with her, because hope is such a wonderful thing. I swiped to the feed of Aesha and watched the poor woman pull at her binds with renewed ferocity, screaming in frustration as her phone vibrated on a table not ten feet from her.

   Devya called, waited, and hung up, frowning. She stared into the distance, thinking, then jumped in the pool and started doing laps. At 10:30 she got back out, water dripping down that sweet, sweet body, got dressed, tried her sister again and moved to the elevator. She got on, alone, and I rushed to get on with her. She was visibly uncomfortable with the sudden entry of a man dressed only in a bathing suit, but was too polite to get off. I stared at her tits, no point treating her like a human at this point, and she smiled nervously.

   As the elevator started to move I quickly flipped open the panel concealing the keypad and punched in the code that would bring us to my floors.

   "Is something wrong with it?" she asked, watching me. When the elevator lurched to a stop her expression turned worried and she reached for her phone, lowering it and looking relieved when the doors opened. I step out and motioned for her to follow, which she did nervously. I pressed a button above a keypad on the wall and the elevator doors closed as the lift resumed normal operation. It would not come back without the code.

   Me and Devya were standing in a hall. On one side was a set of doors which opened into Aesha's prison. On the other was a set of doors that led to my other private floors. The walls of the prison were soundproofed, but these other ones weren't. Still, Devya was a bit overdressed for her reunion and I wanted to fix that. I reached into a drawer and produced a knife.

   "Ohmygod," was all Devya got out before the blade was at her throat. Her brown eyes were wide, her bosom heaving.

   "You scream and I'll cut your throat wide open, understand?"

   Devya nodded, her mouth clamped shut.

   I took the knife from her neck. "Undress," I said.

   Devya hesitated, but she knew the score. Slowly, reluctantly she pulled her T-shirt off, followed by the jeans. She stood there in her blue bikini, hugging herself and glancing nervously at the erection that was visible under my trunks. She had a wonderfully fuckable body, and those pouty, cocksucking lips, mmm. I considered demanding a blowjob, but there was a look about her eyes that said it would be a bad idea to put my member between her teeth. Well, we'd see how defiant she was with twin sister on the line.

   I slugged Devya in the gut and ziptied her wrists together behind her back, shoved a ballgag in her mouth, then pulled her to her feet and pulled her behind me by the hair. I opened the lock on the doors and yanked the college girl into her new home.

   Aesha's look when she saw her sister bound and half naked was priceless, and her shapely breasts heaved with despaired sobs. It was a lovely sight, but I had work to do.

   I dragged Devya over to her sister and forced her on her knees, then undid the ballgag.

   "Who are you?" she blurted out before I slapped her across the face.

   "Don't speak unless spoken to, Devya," I said harshly. I decided to get straight to business. "Now. I want you to eat Aesha's pussy."

   Her eyes snapped open and she recoiled back. "No! I won't!" 

   I gave her another gut punch and she flopped over, coughing and sucking in air. I turned to Aesha and shrugged.

   "Sorry babe, she said no and that means pain for you. That's how things are going to work from now on."

   While Devya hacked and gasped for breath on the floor, I went through my extensive selection of toys - I didn't want to permanently disfigure my model's body (not yet, at least), so that limited my selection. I eventually settled on an ornate box I'd got from a friend on China.

   I dragged Devya to her knees and opened the box, making sure both she and Aesha could see the thin, sharp needles inside. Aesha howled and twisted in her binds. Her abs and muscles stood out beautifully as she struggled and tensed against the ropes.

   "Don't hurt her! Please!" Devya begged. I paid her no heed as I decided where into Aesha I should put the first needle. I decided her cute little navel, devoid of decoration, was as good a place as any. I rubbed the tip around the crevace, letting my Indian beauty savor the moment and admiring her cute efforts to suck her tummy in away from the needle, before slowly pushing it in up to the head. Blood trickled out, and I quickly dabbed it up with a napkin so as to not get it on her bikini bottom.

   "All the sluts get their belly buttons pierced these days," I laughed. Aesha's screams were music to my ears.

   "What's wrong with you?" Devya wailed, getting to her feet. "Leave her alone!"

   "Are you going to do as I say?" I asked. Devya stared up at me - she stood almost six feet tall, but I was still bigger - uncertainly. I let go and pulled out another needle. "Now, where should I put this one?"

   "Wait!" she cried, taking a few steps toward Aesha. "I'll do it!"

   "Do what?"

   "I'll... do what you tell me to."

   I smiled. "Tell me you want to eat Aesha's pussy."

   Devya had managed to hold the tears back so far, but I could see them filling her eyes now. "I want... to eat... Aesha's... p..." but she could not finish the words. I pushed the second needle into Aesha's naval, then a third. The poor model's screams were deafening even through the gag and her sister had to yell to be heard over her, "IWANTTOEATAESHA'SPUSSY!"

   With the words out the floodgates opened and she collapsed to the floor, a sobbing wreck. Devya was an ambitious girl at an Ivy League school, a woman with dreams of leadership and being someone, and now she'd been reduced to fucking her sister like a cheap crack whore - the mental strain was probably worse than anything I could do to her physically. I lived for these moments.

   I let her lie there and cry for a few moments before I'd decided she'd gotten enough tears on my floor and pulled her back to her knees and shoved her face into her sister's crotch. "Eat her," I ordered.

   Balancing on her knees, Devya gave the bikini bottom a hesitant lick. I chuckled and apologized, undoing the fabric and tossing it aside. I gave her tanned ass a hard slap and with a squeal she shoved her tongue into Aesha's pussy and began doing something that at least resembled eating her out. Points for effort, at least.

   I figured it was time for me to have some fun here, too. I stripped out of my clothes and poked Devya in the crotch with my dick, eliciting a surprised squeal. She tried to turn her head, but I grabbed her hair and shoved her face into her sister's sex.

   "Don't you dare stop, let me see that tongue working," I hissed as I undid the strings of her bottom, letting the blue fabric fall to the floor. Her pussy was waxed as well, a matching set. "You ever been fucked before, Devya?"

   "PLLEEEAAAASE," she cried into her sister's sex. I grabbed her bound hands and pushed them up into the air, forcing her face further forward, and then slid my cock into her pussy and began to thrust.

   Devya wasn't a virgin, but she was tight. It didn't take long for her pussy to lubricate involuntarily, and soon I was fucking her at a good pace. I could hear her gasping for breath as her face was ground against her sister's pussy lips by my pumping, and Aesha's sobs were occasionally broken up by a stifled moan - Devya's tongue was evidently hitting its target here and there.

   As I felt myself reaching my climax, I reached forward and yanked the pins out of Aesha's cute naval. The model's pained, muffled cries, the small streams of blood running down her belly into her sobbing sister's face - it was all too much for me. With a triumphant cry I pumped my cum deep into Devya's pussy where it belonged.

   Devya slumped to the floor as I pulled out of her; she looked a mess, covered in makeup and her sister's juices. I undid her bikini top and flipped her onto her back, admiring her tight, curvy body and firm tits. I removed Aesha's top as well and gave her breasts some playful slaps.

   "Don't go anywhere, babe," I chuckled. Prodding Devya with my foot and indicating the cum dripping out of her pussy, I said "I want that cleaned up when I come back. And your sister's blood, too." She didn't respond so I added a threat to cut off Aesha's tits if she didn't comply. With that, I punched a code in by the door and took the elevator to the floor up.

******

   I checked my cellphone messages after pouring myself some wine. There was a message from my contact in the FBI said some agents were nosing around - it happened, and wasn't usually anything to worry about. Here was one from the chick I was currently banging (consensually), Irina Slate, a semi-successful actress with minimal acting skills whose career was built entirely around looking hot, asking what I was doing tomorrow.

   The third one put a damper on my mood - Rex Clifton calling to demand money I owed him. Clifton was the local casino and property magnate, and I owed him something in the high six digits. He was also a notorious hedonist, though, and while I don't usually believe in letting my girls go, I was thinking that I might give one of them up to Clifton to get him off my back for a bit.

   I finished my wine and turned back to the feed of the girls. The cameras were virtually everywhere, capturing their lives from any angle you could desire. The Indian beauties' suffering would certainly turn me a profit after some video editing.

   Devya had been a busy girl, cleaning up my mess. After all, it isn't easy when your wrists are behind your back and your legs are tied at the ankles. Still, she'd managed to get a towel and mop most of it off the floor and from between her legs, and wisely (though annoyingly, now I'd have to clean it) she'd dipped herself in the hot tub for a rinse. Cleaning up Aesha's blood had been trickier; towel clutched behind her back, she'd had to shimmy up her sister's body and use it to support herself to get the towel high enough to get the blood on her body. It looked almost like she was grinding against Aesha.

   Now Devya lay on the floor, working at her binds and trying to comfort her sister, who was sobbing uncontrollably into the gag. It was clear she possessed the big-sister instincts of the two.

   Not likely to do her any good, I thought.

************

   I was already hard as a rock when I walked back in the room, pondering the decision I was going to have to make. I had decided I'd give up one of my girls to get Clifton off my back.

   I'd moved Devya and Aesha to the bed. They were lying on top of each other, breasts squishing together sexily, both sets of arms tied to the bed posts. They were both gagged since I doubted they had anything interesting to say.

   "You sluts ever try a three way?" I asked as I joined them on the bed. I grabbed Aesha's feet and lined her up with her sister, putting a strain on Devya's breathing and giving me easy access to the twin pussies. I slid between their legs and grabbed Aesha's ass cheeks. They were firm and muscled, testament to years of hard work at the gym. I pushed my cock up against her slit and she gripped Devya's hands in her own, trying to prepare herself. I slid inside her, groaning in pleasure.

   "Fuck yeah, babe," I moaned. "That's right, get nice and wet for me. Tell yourself you aren't enjoying this." I reared back and began thrusting hard.

   "MMMM-MMMM-MMMM-MMMM!" she cried through the gag in time with my thrusts. Below her Devya groaned in discomfort as Aesha slammed into her from above, crushing her under the combined weight of two adults.

   I pulled out of Aesha and slid into Devya's pussy and renewed my thrusts. Now it was Devya's turn to cry out as Aesha fell silent; I think the model preferred it when her sister was getting raped. Not wanting her to get too comfortable I leaned forward on her back, putting my full weight on her and sandwiching her between me and her twin.

   I fucked them both back and forth for what seemed like ages. Fucking two identical supermodel-sexy twins was maybe the best idea I'd had. My hands moved between their chests, roughly squeezing and groping the four identical, shapely flesh mounds. I squeezed Aesha's firm ass and moved my hand under the pile to grip Devya's equally firm ass at the same time. I kissed Aesha's curvy back and licked the tears from Devya's beautiful eyes. Whenever I got tired of one tight pussy I just pushed into another hot, wet slit. At the same time my divided attention and their uncomfortable position meant that neither woman was able to derive much pleasure from it. It was incredible.

   After nearly an hour of this I felt my climax building. "Which of you bitches wants this?" I grunted. Two cries of dismay came back to me. Well, as the saying goes, why not both?

   I pulled out of Aesha and pushed into Devya, whose eyes went wide as she realized she'd probably lost the coin flip - was that a sigh of relief I heard from Aesha? I closed my eyes and opened the floodgates inside my Harvard student, pumping my cum deep inside her womb where it belonged. I firmly believe that the moment you cum inside a bitch is the moment she realizes she's not walking away, which is why I try not to do it too soon - gotta give them that hope - and it spurred a new wave of tears and muffled "No"s from the poor girl.

   But I wasn't done yet. With Herculean effort I stopped the flow of sperm and pulled out, then shoved inside Aesha. She squealed in surprise and a scream as she felt my warmth spilling inside her.

   "Thought I forgot about you, bitch?" I moaned and smacked her ass as my orgasm continued inside her. This was truly a mind-altering experience, and when it was finally over I collapsed on Aesha's back. We lay there in a big sweaty pile, my panting mingling with two sets of crying and sniffling.

   When I caught my breath I pulled out and took a quick shower. I stepped out a few minutes later and looked and the twins. They were so lovely, fingers interlaced crying into each others' faces, breasts smashed together and legs intertwined, my sperm leaking from their slits. Something was missing though, so I climbed back onto the bed with them and began rubbing my dick in front of their faces, telling them I'd skin them alive if the looked away. It didn't take long before I sprayed another stream of cum onto their tear-streaked faces. Now the image was complete.

   This was all being recorded anyways, but I still grabbed a camera and snapped some shots of them. Everything they'd done, all their hard work, it had all led up to this. This moment was what the Indian twins had been born for, and they'd been fools to think their lives could have amounted to anything more.

   I undid the cuffs binding their arms and told them to clean up. Aesha climbed up and obediently crawled into the shower room, but Devya swung at me, the bitch. I restrained her easily but she growled through the gag defiantly, in contrast to her sister her just stood there with a blank expression. I chuckled and squeezed a tit affectionately, Devya was my kind of woman. I still couldn't have that kind of attitude though.

   "Come on, Devya. Do I have to remind you what happens when you annoy me?" I said as I cuffed her back to the bed. Aesha, who I guess was actually the smarter of the two, tried to run, realizing what was coming. I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the shower room.

   "Please don't, I've done everything you said" she whispered when I undid her gag. I gripped her right breast with one hand and twisted hard, drawing a piercing scream from the model. It wouldn't cause permanent damage and likely didn't hurt nearly as bad as what I could have done, but her screams put on a show for Devya in the other room and that's what mattered. I did this for about five minutes before I pushed her into the shower.

   Devya didn't fight this time when I undid her restraints. I slapped her ass and told her to clean up, and she slowly walked to the shower room. Everybody can be controlled.

   I locked them in and went up to my room to get dressed. I had business to attend to.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #2 on: August 17, 2020, 06:19:51 PM »
Part 2 (continued) 
 Ever the class act, Rex Clifton asked me to meet him in one of the cities higher-end strip clubs. A blonde with tits so big I honestly don't know how she functioned escorted me to his usual spot, a private sound-proofed room in the back. Clifton was sitting there getting a lapdance from a redhead stripper. His secretary and advisor, a mid-20s half-Asian albino woman named Eria, sat next to him in a black suit and sunglasses looking all the world like a CIA spook. Rumor had it that she was a former terrorist-for-higher with an impressive bodycount; nobody quite knowed how Clifton had convinced her to become a paperwork jockey.
   Clifton smiled at me. "So you know why we're here, right?"

   "Of course. I owe you money, and I'll have it. But I have something else that might interest you." I pulled out my phone and swiped to pictures of Aesha; my buddy had sent me the modeling shots he found.

   Clifton looked interested, he knew what I was talking about, but his expression turned firm again after Eria whispered something in his ear.

   "Fischer, listen," he said. "Money's what I need, not wom-"

   He stopped when he saw the first shot, Aesha posing in the same courtyard I first saw her in, in the white bikini. I could tell he was as enamoured as I was. Here was a photo of her kneeling in a purple and yellow swimsuit. Here she was, laying on her side and smiling.

   "The money," Eria hissed.

   I grinned at her. "This is money. You can easily sell her when you're done with her. Knock the profits off my debt."

   "Well, that seems reasonable," Clifton said. "I don't see why we have to take cash."

   I smiled and stood up. "I'll drop her off in, say, two days?"

   Clifton shook my hand. Eria's eye twitched. Overall a succesful day, I think.

**************************

   That evening I stroked myself as I watched Aesha and Devya through the cameras. Aesha had spent her free time curled up in a ball on her bed, while Devya had tried banging on the walls and yelling. Now she stood at the window and stared out at the teaming crowds below. So close, yet so far; nobody could see them through the mirrored glass.

   I'd decided Aesha would be Clifton's lucky girl. It had taken some deliberation - after all, she was the one who'd drawn my attention, it was so unfair that she was getting a way out - by Clifton liked his women submissive. Aesha was already pretty much broken and would only be weaker without her twin around, whereas I knew that Aesha was the only thing keeping Devya in line and she'd only be more defiant alone. If I gave her to Clifton one of them would be dead pretty soon, and I'd probably be next.

   I had to begin treating Aesha a bit better since she was now a financial asset. For dinner I took her up to my dining room and gave her real food to eat. I gave her access to a few amenities and dressed her in lingerie and jewelry, which I doubted she considered ideal but she probably preferred it to being naked. She was dull and listless but she made a nice ornament at least, and I hoped she was learning the lesson: Obedience gets rewarded, or at least not punished. Before I was through with her for the night I ordered her to suck me off. She obeyed, using her tongue and not using her hands, just the way I liked it, and she dutifully swallowed my seed when I came in her mouth.

   Cuffing her arms in front of her at the wrists, I escorted her back down to the prison and attached her cuffs to a ring hanging down from the ceiling by a rope. She could stand comfortably and not much else. She looked so pretty in lacy white lingerie and high heels, and I'd adorned her with gold jewelry I had laying around. My princess. It was time for her to see what happens to less obedient women.

   I'd tied Devya backwards over a large wooden spool, legs spread out and bound to her wrists by the ankles. Her head lay on the other side, her dark mane fanned beneath her. Her skin stretched arousingly over her arched torso, the tight bondage giving her breasts a pleasing upward lift. She was ungagged but hadn't said a word, even when she saw me grab the box with the needles.

   I ran my finger down the soft, tought skin of her navel and then fingered her pussy a bit until she was good and wet. I lined my cock up with the struggling, unwilling slit and shoved my cock in up to the hilt. She grunted and I could tell she was about to say something, probably scream at me, but she looked at Aesha tied up and thought better of it. I figured I could liven her up a bit though.

   I reached for the needle box and pulled one out. They were skinny things, about an inch long, and you could probably stick a hundred in a person without causing serious harm. As I fucked Devya I poked the tip into her right tit, just above the areola. She yelped in surprise, then clamped her mouth shut. I pushed the needle in up to the head, drawing a drop of blood, but she didn't make a peep. So this was how it was going to be.

   About fifteen minutes later her right breast looked like a pincushion, but still she wasn't screaming. I couldn't help but admire her; the Indian woman was a worthy opponent, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I grabbed the dark brown nipple of her tortured, quivering breast and gently ran my finger around it, nursing it until it was tantalizingly erect.

   Devya knew what was coming. Her breath coming out in hoarse pants, she thrashed and struggled trying to buck me off of her, but I only laughed as I continued to pump in and out of her. She looked at me pleadingly as I poked the crown of her nipple with a needle. I shoved it in, and she screamed.

   "AAAAAAGHHOOWWWWW!"

   It was all over from there. She howled and cried and pleaded nonstop as I worked over her other breast. By the time I was reaching my climax, both her tits were filled with glimmering metal. I had a few left over so I began pushing them into the dark oval of her naval, just like I'd done with her sister.

   "AESHA HEEELLP MEEEEE!" she howled as the metal penetrated her stretched skin. I looked at Aesha and grinned; she wasn't even trying to escape, just standing there with a sexy, frightened look. I knew that if she was free she wouldn't dare fight me. Devya had essentially sacrificed herself trying to protect her sister, a woman who now wouldn't lift a hand to protect her from me. The thought brought me to climax and Devya once again found her pussy getting pumped full of my cum.

   I pulled out and released Aesha from her bonds. I ordered her to clean my cock and she complained, drinking her sister's juices. Devya had quieted down and begun holding her breath; the mere act of breathing jostled the needles around, bringing her excruciating pain.

   I told Aesha to pull the needles out of Devya, clean her up, and feed her. While she did that I went upstairs, ate a hearty meal, and watched Casablanca. When I was done I went back downstairs; Aesha was curled up into a ball on the bed. I noted with amusement that she hadn't untied her sister.

   I chained Aesha up to the bed, only the best for my special girl, and chained Devya to the other side of the room, where she could sleep on the floor. This wasn't cruelty so much as pragmatism, I didn't need the two ladies getting into it and lowering Aesha's resell value. I switched the lights off and went upstairs to sleep.

****************************

   It was Aesha's big day. I showered her up, had her do her hair and makeup, and dressed her in her special white bikini and golden neckless, with added white stilettos. She looked elegant and graceful, every bit the supermodel she had wanted to be.

   She stood in stark contrast to Devya, sitting up against her wall. Her hair was a mess, her face was covered in tears, and her once flawless skin was covered in puncture marks and dried blood. She looked at Aesha, so comparatively well treated, with visible hatred. I wondered if Devya would still try and rescue her sister from strange men at the bar.

   I hooked my arm around her waist and led her to the elevator. I punched in a code that would bring us to another normally inaccessible area, this time my private garage.

   I'd wanted to hand her over to Clifton here, but he'd put Eria in charge of it and she'd insisted on doing it in public at one of Clifton's casinos, probably out of concern for her own safety. Well, fair enough.

   I pulled out some zipties and put Aesha in a nice, tight hogtie and then gagged her. I carried her over to a soundproof chest and squeezed her inside. She cried softly as I closed the lid, realizing she was being traded away like an object. I carried the box over to a white SUV and stuck it in the back.

   I managed to get to Clifton's casino without issue. I parked and left the air conditioning running as I went inside. I was supposed to meet a guy named Ralph, but I saw a familiar, more visually pleasing face by the pool.

   Eria was laying in a lounge chair under the shade an umbrella with a margerita, sunglasses on and torso covered with a black towel. Her pale skin and white hair, cropped at her shoulders, seemed to shimmer in the light.

   "I didn't think you were one for sun," I said as I sat in the chair next to her. "I bet you sear like a tuna stick."

   She turned her head back to the sky. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. "Are you lost?"

   "I couldn't find, uh, Ralph, sorry."

   "Whatever. At least try and spend some money while you're here, see if you can pay off the credit card companies with your women."

   "Come on now," I said. "It's not that bad a deal. And don't tell me you're above this, I know about your hobbies."

   She pursed her lips, probably preparing some outburst, then calmed down. "Whatever," was all she said.

   I shrugged. "If he's okay with this I don't see why you aren't." She didn't respond.

   I reached over and opened her towel. She was wearing a black bikini that showed off her slender, ivory-white body. Eria was an attractive woman, in a slightly creepy way. I could see her thugs around, but she wouldn't want to make a scene in public; I decided to push my luck and began tracing my fingers over her toned midriff. If it  annoyed her she didn't show it, she just raised the margharita and drank through the straw.

   "The feds have got your number, you know," she finally continued. "You're getting sloppy. You should probably take care of that, or we'll take care of you.

   "I know what I'm doing."

   "Sure." She brushed my hand off her leg and got up, wrapping herself back up in her towel. "Let's go see the whore you brought us."

   I pulled the car into a garage in back of the casino. Clifton and Eria were waiting with a crew of body guards. I popped the trunk and pulled Aesha out of her box. She stood there nervously, head down. Clifton whistled softly.

   "Now if that isn't a fine piece of ass, I don't know what is. Yeah, we'll take her." His men wrestled Aesha back into her box and carried her into the building. Clifton winked as he and his secratary walked off, leaving me alone.

   That was anticlimactic, I thought. No suitcase of money, no gangrape? Such was life. I got back in my car. I still had one Indian beauty to play with.

   *************************

   Devya was laying by her wall when I came back. Well, what choice did she have? She sat up when she noticed I was alone.

   "You're going to kill me," she muttered.

   "I am," I said honestly. "Truth be told though, I think you're getting the better deal here. Your sister's going to be fucked so much she'll wish she was dead before long."

   I pulled a tranquilizer gun out of my pocket. Devya was a tough woman with nothing to lose and a whole lot of reasons to hate me. I didn't need to deal with that. She tensed up as I aimed it at her, and then slumped over as the needle pierced her left tit. In a couple seconds she was out.

   When she woke up she was tied spread-eagle on the bed, and I was eating her out. Maybe it was a gift for being such a good sport, maybe it was a final humiliation. Either way, I didn't push my cock in her until I was certain she was about to cum. I was rewarded almost instantly with the tell-tale signs - involuntary moaning, a sudden refusal to meet my eyes, quickened breath, and flushed cheeks. It wasn't long until she let loose a long, screaming orgasm. A woman cumming while getting raped is a wonderful thing, and as a reward I sprayed my jizz all over her lovely tits, still covered in tiny dots from the needles.

   I climbed up and grabbed the last tool I would need for this as she lay there, panting and sobbing. It was a simple ziptie, but it would do. She was looking away from me, and didn't realize what was happening until the tie was around her neck.

   "No-*gack*" were the final sounds Devya made in this life. I stood next to her, stroking my already-hard-again cock as she bucked and arched wildly against her binds. The muscles in her long legs and toned arms clenched, her abs glistened with sweat, her tits jutted out as she lifted almost her entire body off the bed and rocked back and forth as she tried to grab at the tie to no avail.

   Soon she collapsed back down, her legs kicking out aimlessly and her hands flopping uselessly at her sides as she slowly lost control of her body. She was still conscious, her agony clear in her eyes. It was so beautiful, and I soon found myself pumping another batch of my cum across her face and into her gaping mouth. I took pleasure knowing that my seed would be the last thing she felt and tasted in this world.

   Eventually, though, all good things must end. Within five minutes Devya's brown eyes glazed over and her head dropped to the side as she lost consciousness. Her body spasmed occasionally over the next few minutes in an involuntarily, last-ditch effort to hold onto life, but soon fell still completely. Devya was gone. I felt a twinge of sympathy knowing that I'd removed one of the great beauty's from the world, an educated woman who'd done nothing to deserve this - but then, that was half the fun, right?

   Now the question was how to dispose of her. Normally I'd just dump her in the ocean, but Eria and my FBI contact had both given me warning about feds so that might not work, especially if either of the sisters had told someone where they were going.

   I did some snooping of my hotel and the surrounding area, and sure enough there was cause for alarm. Hordes of scantily-clad babes and shirtless men roamed the streets, so one woman stood out like a sore thumb. A tough-looking dark-skinned woman with curly hair dressed way too hot for the weather in dark jeans and a leather jacket. She walked with that stilted gait that is a definite sign that she was packing heat. Yes, just dumping Devya in some bay would be pretty frisky right now, I would need a paper trail to lead her away.

   Luckily I had an acquantaince I could call on for this. A helicopter pilot named Buddy Morales with extremely loose morals, he only too willingly agreed to dump her body in the middle of the Pacific for some cash. In secret I broke into his office at night and forged papers to make it look like the Mahajan sisters had chartered a ride with him, and sent out texts on Devya's phone (apparently face-scanning technology still works on jizz-covered corpses) telling her friends about her upcoming helicopter trip. Then it was just a simple matter of sabotaging Buddy's chopper so that it crashed in the middle of the ocean, tying up all my loose ends. When Devya and Buddy washed up a few weeks later, nobody suspected that it was anything more than a tragic accident. Don't do dirty work for bad people, is the lesson here.

   On the bright side, Aesha finally achieved her dream of being a model, in a way. Last I saw her she was in one of Clifton's brothels, stripping and dancing in front of an extremely private, trusted group of men and women. I rented her out, fucked all her holes until dawn, then the next day gave her to a group of guys looking for a gang bang. When they were done I took some pictures of her as she lie in her bed, exhausted and defeated. Almost every inch of her dark hair and caramel-colored skin was covered in white jizz. It oozed down her tits and thighs, out of her pussy, her ass, her mouth, the deep cleft of her naval. The only way she could be more miserable is if I told her about her twin - but no, I didn't want to risk undermining her submission. Maybe one day.

   At any rate, I was actually kind of glad I'd sold her. Killing a bitch and then fucking her twin sister really was the definition of having your cake and eating it too.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #3 on: August 30, 2020, 01:25:11 AM »
Part 3 - Buffed and Snuffed

The FBI snooping around was enough to convince me to lay low for a while. I figured I could handle it if things got too far, but I had a pretty nice setup here and didn't care to lose it. Oh well, they'd lose interest eventually.

   I was walking in the park, innocent as can be, with my girlfriend Irina. I've mentioned her, right? Hot blonde, mediocre actress, naive enough to believe I couldn't hurt a fly? She's not a particularly interesting woman, but every powerful man needs a trophy slut and Irina was adequate for the job, if only because every time something better came along I killed her.

   So we were walking along, not a thought of rape or murder in my mind, when down the path runs a woman. Half-naked in her skintight grey sports bra and blue spandex shorts, chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, a pretty but tough-looking face. But what really grabbed my attention was her body; nicely tanned with muscled arms, long, shapely legs, and some of the most toned washboard abs you've ever seen. Her breasts had somehow managed to survive what was obviously a rigorous workout routine (or maybe they were enhanced a bit, I didn't care much) and while I didn't dare risk a glance at her ass with Irina right there I just knew it would be perfect.

   The woman was in my sight for maybe five seconds before she ran past, but it was enough. Fuck the FBI, fuck laying low, I was going to have her.

   Bodybuilder types are slaves to routine, so the next day at around the same time I went back to the park and waited at the same path, close enough to the parking lot that if she drove I could see what car she used. No luck. I left after an hour and came back the next day, with the same results. My heart sank. I couldn't wait there literally all day when she might not show up at all. Could it be that I saw her the only day she ever went to this park? She might not even be in the city anymore.

   I was beginning to worry that she'd become The One Who Got Away, but I wasn't out of options yet. This woman certainly went to the gym, and if she did live in the area then there were only a few options. I figured her rock-hard physique wasn't earned at Planet Fitness, so I took out a membership at a local CrossFit gym one afternoon and went in for a look around.

   Sure enough there she was, doing deadlifts with a guy I figured to be her boyfriend or husband. I took a moment to file that away for future reference - I'm a pretty tough guy myself, but a fistfight with a bodybuilder babe and her ripped boyfriend probably wouldn't go my way - admired her ass for a moment (it was every bit as good as I imagined) and worked out myself until I figured I could leave without seeming suspicious.

   The next day I went back (it would be a hell of a coincidence if that too was her only day there) and when the couple showed up I followed the man into the locker room and took note of which locker he used. I saw too my delight that he hadn't actually bothered to memorize his lock's code and was still using the the sticker on the back. Too easy. When he went to work out I rifled through his stuff until I found his ID and house key. I snapped a photo of both sides of the key, then stashed everything back the way I found it and walked out. As I was leaving I passed my woman running on a treadmill, drenched in sweat. Getting nice and ready for her own murder.

   I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say it wasn't long before I had the guy's address and a key to his house. The woman's name was Miranda, she was in her early '30s and she worked as a personal trainer. Her husband was an MMA fighter, and today he was home alone in the nice, isolated ocean house they lived in. Isolated enough that nobody heard the suppressed gunshot and nobody would find his body weighed down and tossed into the ocean with 9mm Parabellum in his skull. That taken care of, I sat in the bedroom and waited for Miranda to come home. I hid in the closet when I heard the garage door open.

   "Mike?" she called out. "Hello?" Silence, of course. I heard footsteps up the stairs and then the shower.

   I crept out of my hiding place, taser in one hand and cuffs in the other, and made my way to the shower. I imagined her naked, soap and water running down that sexy body. I wanted more than anything to just fuck her in there, but she was tough enough that if she put up a fight I'd probably have to hurt her. That part comes later.

   I threw open the door and pointed the taser at her. She looked at me and froze, hands in her soapy hair, eyes wide, jaw open. I pulled the trigger and the wires buried themselves into her left tit. She screamed - thankfully drowned out partially by the shower - and collapsed onto the floor, shuddering. Acting quickly, I drug her out of the shower and cuffed her hands behind her back.

   Already Miranda was beginning to fight back, legs kicking and arms straining against the cuffs, but I was perched on her ass so there wasn't much she could do.

   "GET OFF ME!" she howled. "HEEEEELLP!"

   "Help's not coming, babe," I said. I pulled out a syringe and stuck it in her arm, pumping her full of tranquilizers. Miranda was out in seconds. I admired my prey briefly. Her tanned body glistened with water, and it took every ounce of being to not fuck her right there. I had a job to do.

   I wrapped her up in a carpet I'd brought along for the job, carried her out to where I'd hidden my car, and tossed her in the trunk. Miranda's new life was just beginning.

*****************************
   I was relaxing in my hot tub when Miranda finally woke back up. She was tied in a strappado position, arms pulled straight back and bound to the ceiling and legs separated with a spreader bar. I'd put her in a pair of high heels I'd found in her closet, they do so much for the female form, but besides that she was as naked as she was when I took her.

   "W-where am I?" she groaned groggily. She turned her head towards me, naked and climbing out of the tub. I could see her muscles flex as she tried to move but couldn't. Realizing her predicament, she sobered up pretty much instantly. "What the FUCK?!" she screamed as she began struggling.

   "I wouldn't move too much, Miranda," I said. I ran my hand down her muscled back, rock-hard ass, and firm thighs. I felt goosebumps and her body tensing as I stroked her skin, god I loved this job. "If you fall over you might break your arms."

   She got the idea and stopped moving, but wasn't ready to submit yet. "I'll fucking kill you," she growled. "My husband will kill you."

   "Who, Mike? He's fucking dead, sweetheart. Nobody even knows you're missing." I pushed a finger into her pussy as I rubbed lube on my cock, I didn't feel like chaffing today.

   "No," she said flatly, I guess unsure whether I was telling the truth. She regained some energy when my shaft pressed against her slit. "NO! FUCK YOU!"

   "That's the spirit," I laughed as I shoved my member in. She howled in rage and humiliation as I took her slit, fucking her like the piece of meat she was. She wasn't the tightest fuck I've had, but she was up there. I imagined her spending hours every day at the gym pumping iron, unknowingly working to give me the tightest hole she could manage. I grabbed her long brown hair and pulled back hard, enjoying her delicious screams as I railed her sex.

   I was getting kind of tired of her threats, so I decided to give herself something else to say. "Alright, babe," I said as I slapped her ass hard enough to leave a mark, "Where do you want me to cum. Pussy, ass, or face?"

   "Fuck... you..." she hissed through clenched teeth.

   "Ass it is then," I said as I pulled out and pushed my cock against her tightest hole.

   "NO!" she yelled.

   "Oh?"

   "My f-face," she said. Her face was flush with humiliation.

   "What about it? Don't forget to say 'please.'"

   "P-please... cum..." Frustrated tears were dripping down her face as she forced the words out. "Cum... on my face."

   "As you wish, Miranda." I retrieved an O-gag - I didn't need her getting bitey - and forced it into her mouth, followed by my cock. Her eyes bulged out as I shoved into her up to the hilt, deepthroating her. She screamed, choked, and slobbered all over my manhood as I fucked her throat like an improvised vagina, it felt so good. I decided to abandon my original plans of giving her a facial and just came inside her, spewing my jizz down her throat.

   Miranda's face was turning a bit blue at this point so I pulled out of her before she could pass out. She sputtered, coughing up cum and saliva and maybe a bit of blood, oops.

   She didn't look like she had much fight in her, so it seemed like an opportune moment to move my buff bitch into a new position. I undid her arms from behind her and retied them in front of her, then hooked the rope to the ceiling, leaving her standing more or less straight. I removed the spreader bar and her high heels, letting her dangle there and scrabble to find purchase on her toes.

   I filled a bucket with water and dumped it on Miranda's face to clean her off and wake her up a bit, then swapped the O-gag out for a traditional red ball gag. Being bound like this let me truly appreciate my victim's body. I ran my hands down her toned arms and shoulders, feeling the muscles strain and flex from supporting her weight. I carressed her breasts, firm despite her age and surprisingly large and shapely for a woman with an otherwise buff physique - if they were enhanced, the surgeon did a good job because I certainly couldn't tell. I stroked her rock-hard washboard abs, admiring the way the flesh trembled from my touch.

   I pondered Miranda's fate as I circled my finger around her cute tear-drop naval; the muscle-bound, not-quite-middle-age babe was a far cry away from being a "traditional beauty," yet I was still drawn to her. Maybe I'm just into powerful women, maybe I was just looking for a change from the rail-thin 20-somethings with jiggling tits that usually made up my world. Whatever the reason, it was poor Miranda's bad luck.

   I was broken from my reverie by a kick that nearly caught me in the balls. Really I was lucky she was still dazed from her face-fucking, a full-power kick to the right place could probably end my rapist career. Well, I know what to do with girls who fight back.

   Miranda was yelling (or at least trying to yell) obscenities at me through her gag, but they choked off in a whimper when I turned around a faced her, whip in hand.

   "You shouldn't have done that, Miranda," I said as I sauntered over to her. She didn't try and kick out at me as I approached her, the only movement being her head following the whip. I ran my hand down her ripped, powerful back, then stepped back. I cracked the whip through the air a few times, earning a few horrified "NNNNMMMMMMMMMMMM"s from my victim, before cracking it across her spine.

   A woman's first taste of the whip is one of those moments that I live for. Miranda's scream was deafening even through the gag and she swung back and forth on the rope like a pendulum, body arched beautifully and legs kicking wildly, as an ugly red welt formed across her spine. It took more willpower than I care to admit to not cum there and then.

   "Are you going to be a good girl?" I asked after a few minutes. Miranda nodded her head wildly, panting and sobbing. Now when I felt her sexy body up she froze in place, squeezing her eyes closed. I groped her tits, felt up her ass, rubbed her thighs, and pushed three fingers into her pussy - not a peep. I licked the tears from her face and stroked her hair as a reward. Just like that she'd gone from a feisty, fighting bitch to just another submissive slut who'd do anything I said. The whip does that to people.

   I put the whip down and grabbed Miranda's thighs, lifting her legs up and open. She moaned in pain as her shoulders took more of her weight, but she didn't protest when I pushed my cock inside her and started thrusting. Maybe fucking buff chicks is something I should do more often, because it felt pretty damn good. Her body felt firm where it should be and soft where it should, and her strong legs wrapped around my waist as she tried to relieve the pain in her shoulders. I bet she was a wildcat in bed. Too bad.

   I was already approaching climax even before I started fucking her, and it wasn't very long at all until I came in her. I let go of her and she dangled from the ceiling, exhausted. But I wasn't quite done for the day.
   I undid her gag and let it fall to the floor, then massaged her toned, curvy body (I hear it's good for relaxing and restoring the muscles after a hard workout) as I kissed her neck.

   "Please..." she muttered over and over, her voice hoarse and quiet. "Please... please... please..."

   "We're almost done for the day, sweetheart," I said. I picked up the whip and draped it over her left shoulder.

   "NooooOOOOOOO!" she howled. I stepped back and laughed as she shook and struggled in her binds. "NOOO! PLEEEAASE!"

   I cracked the whip across her back, her firm ass, the back of her muscled thighs. When I figured her back was done I stepped in front of her, lashing her abs and tits, splitting one of her nipples. When I was done I swung the whip underhand and cracked it across her pussy. I swear she jumped so high she almost cracked her head on the ceiling.

   Miranda was still screaming when I cut the ropes down and let her fall to the floor. I figured I could let her roam around her prison for the night without issue, but you never know, so I snapped a shock collar around her neck just to be safe. She looked so cute there, shaking and howling on the floor, although I imagined that she'd look a lot less pretty when those welts started setting in. I cut open a box of MREs for her, stuck a photo of her husband's corpse on it, and locked my toys up before heading out for the night.

   "Good night, Miranda," I laughed. She was still screaming when I shut the door.

****************************

   So, you remember how I said they'd probably never find Miranda's boyfriend in the ocean? It turns that was pretty optimistic. It actually took them a couple of hours, according to a call got from my buddy in the FBI. Embarrassing, I know.

   It seemed that right now they were investigating his murder as something gang related, or figured that maybe Miranda had killed him and took off - wouldn't be the first time a wife took out her 'roid-raging fighter boyfriend and fled - but a review of my cameras said that at least one agent didn't buy that. There she was, that same black obviously-an-FBI-agent woman, snooping around my property and asking questions of my staff. The audacity.

   Well, if she wanted to know where these women were disappearing to, I figured I could help her out there. But that could wait for another day. I showered off and went out to eat dinner with my girlfriend.

***********************************

   It was late afternoon the next day when I went to visit Miranda again. I reached for the lock, reconsidered, and pressed a button on a remote that would activate the shock collar before unlocking the door. It would be extremely unfortunate if I'd underestimated Miranda and got my head bashed in by a bed-frame.

   My caution was unnecessary though. She was lying on the bed across the room with the photo of her dead husband, twitching from the electricity as I walked in. She hadn't touched the MREs.

   "You gotta eat, Miranda," I said. "Going to lose all your gains if you starve yourself."

   She was legitimately in pretty bad shape. She just lay there sniveling, her once lovely body absolutely covered in nasty purple welts. Her right tit, where I'd split the nipple, was swelling painfully and her pussy looked pretty unusable. That was okay though, nature blessed women with more than one hole. I could live without her eating but I needed her to drink if she was going to be fully conscious for today's activities. Fortunately I didn't even need to threaten her to get her to break open an MRE and start gulping down its contents like a good little sex toy.

   When she was done I stripped and lay in bed with her and stroked her hair as she regained her strength for her final act. Part of me wished I could have kept her as a slave but alas, those welts were only going to get uglier as infection set in. Best to just put her down - in an arousing, painful, and entertaining way, of course.

   But first I wanted to fuck her. Somehow I had spared her lovely ass so far, so I flipped her onto her stomach and stuck a couple pillows under her hips to lift her up.

   A whimpered "Noooooooo" was all she gave me, but she scrabbled a bit at the bed so I twisted her right arm behind her as I lubed up my cock and pushed into her tightest hole.

   "Owwwwwww," Miranda sobbed as I pumped her ass, fitting in more and more of my shaft with every thrust. Her free hand grasped the bed-frame as her sobs began to match my rhythm, and she cried out when I gave the welts on her ass hard smacks. When I was ready to cum I grabbed her brown hair and yanked back, lifting her entire upper body up by her scalp as I pumped my seed deep inside her. I held her like that for a few seconds, extending her torment as long as I could before I let her go and collapsed on top of her.

   We lay like that until I was ready to get one more orgasm out of my bodybuilder chick. I threw her off the bed, sat on the edge and pointed at my cock. She gulped it up obediently, licking my shaft clean until I came in her mouth. You know someone's been well trained when they'll do ass-to-mouth without even questioning it. I patted her head as she looked at me with those big brown eyes, desperate for my approval.

   "We're almost done, Miranda," I said. "We're almost done."

   ************

   It seemed fitting that Miranda should die doing what she loved. I had her on a treadmill, and a noose-like collar (a marvelous device that tightens like a noose but can't be undone or loosened without a key) around her neck. I gave her ass a playful smack as I used a remote to turn it on and lubed up my dick, ready for the show.

   "The game's simple, babe," I said. "You make it an hour and I let you go. You fall off it and you die painfully."

   "Just let me goooooo," she cried as the treadmill picked up speed. She clawed at the collar as I set it to go up to eight miles per hour, which I figured was enough to keep my bodybuilder babe miserable while still giving me a decently-long show. The treadmill had no console or handles, and I'd covered the sides in shattered glass shards to keep her from cheating. I set up a clock so she could keep track of where she was at.

   I sat there stroking myself as Miranda literally ran for her life. As the minutes ticked by she visibly got in The Zone, maybe imagining she was back at the gym with her husband. And indeed despite her bruised, broken, naked body, I almost saw again that confident, strong woman running through the park. Her face was determined, her tits were bouncing, her muscles were straining, and her tan body shone with sweat. God she was sexy. I don't usually orgasm from masturbation but I came at the half hour mark.

   "Halfway there!" I said.

   I was almost ready to cum again as we approached the one-hour mark. She was wheezing and coughing at this point, but I saw it in her eyes: Hope. Was that a smile she allowed herself?

   Her expression changed to confusion and worry as the timer ticked past an hour.

   "Oh, right, good job" I said. I pulled out the remote and turned the speed up. "Sorry babe, I don't let my bitches go."

   "NOOOOOOO!" she screamed. I love that moment when someone realizes they're dead, can see the seconds ticking away. She lost control, put one foot on the side of the machine, howled in pain as it filled with glass, and went careening off the treadmill. "OH MY GO-"

   The collar choked her off. She was a strong woman though, and managed to grab the rope and pull herself up a bit. She was unbelievably sexy; arms straining for dear life, abs taught, chest heaving, legs kicking - every muscle in Miranda's rock-hard body giving its all to do something, anything to keep her alive. This was the best Miranda had ever look, the moment she'd been working for her entire life. Too bad she couldn't appreciate it.

   "Please," she whispered. Already she was sinking down the rope to her doom as her muscles slowly betrayed her. I walked over and jizzed on her abs, then sat back down. "Pleeeeeaaase."

   Miranda was a strong woman. It was probably about fifteen agonizing minutes of choking, pulling herself up, and choking again before she lost the strength to delay the inevitable and spun around kicking, arms clawing uselessly at her throat. All her years of bodybuilding, the hard work and strict diet, the hours spent at the gym - all she'd really accomplished with any of it was extending her own agonizing death, torturing herself for my amusement. The look in her eyes as she dangled there told me she realized this. All told, poor Miranda managed to spend half an hour choking on a rope, knowing she was going to die, before she fell into blissful unconsciousness. A few minutes later her hard body was nothing more than a twitching corpse.

   I took Miranda's body down, stuffed it in a box, threw the box in my trunk, and then dumped her miles away where I hoped nobody would find her for a while.

   As I drove back I kept an eye out for my FBI babe. I didn't know who she was, or how much she knew. I did know that she'd fucked around with the wrong guy, though, and that she was going to end up just as dead as the others.

Offline HungryFollower

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #4 on: September 12, 2020, 06:07:06 PM »
Wow! Loved the Indian sisters - I go big on Indian girls - and the second one getting it for trying to protect her sister. Not so keen on Miranda, but I hope you go on and describe how the FBI bitch gets it.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #5 on: September 13, 2020, 07:04:47 PM »
Thanks!

I'm sure it shows, but the sisters chapter was a lot more high-effort than anything else I've written. I actually wrote the club girl chapter afterwards and made it the first chapter because I was afraid that starting out with the sisters might set expectations a bit too high lol.

There are a few more entries posted elsewhere, but I'm thinking of revising them a bit before I post them here. In particular I think the FBI lady's chapter is kind of anticlimactic since she doesn't actually appear much before it, so I might try and get her a bit more involved in things.

Offline Khal Drogo

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killin
« Reply #6 on: September 14, 2020, 03:14:56 PM »
Damn! I’m a big fan of the bodybuilding tough girl one! I do usually prefer more fights but your writing is good, keep it up!

Offline HungryFollower

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #7 on: September 15, 2020, 10:55:45 AM »
Thanks!

I'm sure it shows, but the sisters chapter was a lot more high-effort than anything else I've written. I actually wrote the club girl chapter afterwards and made it the first chapter because I was afraid that starting out with the sisters might set expectations a bit too high lol.

There are a few more entries posted elsewhere, but I'm thinking of revising them a bit before I post them here. In particular I think the FBI lady's chapter is kind of anticlimactic since she doesn't actually appear much before it, so I might try and get her a bit more involved in things.

Thanks! Yes, by all means involve the FBI cunt a bit more before she gets her deserts. More strength to your, er, elbow.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #8 on: September 21, 2020, 01:46:26 AM »
Part 4 - Bad Boss

   I got back to my hotel around 10PM. It was a sea of flashing blue and red lights. I parked my car and walked around the yellow caution tape. It was a mess.

   Uniformed cops were tossing desks and carrying armfuls of computer hardware to their cars. They were going into the elevators, and confused, frustrated guests were coming out. A thorough search, clearly. A black woman in a tailored suit stood in a corner, arms crossed, chatting with a nervous looking employee. The FBI agent. She noticed me, gestured to a cop, and handed the staff girl a card. A couple burly cops escorted me to their car.

   I found myself in the interrogation room. A bald, sweaty cop sat across from me, coming up with as many creative rephrases of "Where were you on x day" as he could think of. The local cops apparently couldn't afford one-way glass, so I could see Ms. FBI watching me through the window. She looked like a tough bitch, standing there with her arms crossed and a stern expression. I doubted she'd look so tough with my cock up her ass.

   The cop was getting nowhere. She shook her head in frustration and walked in, shooing him out. She sat down across from me, hands folded. Her expression was smug.

   "You got cocky, Fischer," she said, "Those Indian girls? Might have gotten away with that one, the helicopter crash was pretty clever. Except Mister Morales had the foresight to record that you're the one who commissioned the ride. And what a coincidence, you were in India at the same time as the Mahajan sisters. Not hard to draw the line, Fischer."

   God damn it, Morales. I'd kill him if I hadn't already killed him.

   "Then we find Drake Ferebee's corpse, and his pretty wife's missing," she continued. "Not hard to draw the correlation, huh? You sick piece of shit."

   I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

   She closed her eyes and nodded. "Sure, sure. You're dumb enough to think we don't have your ass. You might be able to hide your secrets from the local mouth breathers, but next week I'm coming back with a fucking army of federal officers. And we'll see how well you covered your tracks when my boys tear your building down brick by brick."

   She stood up and stormed out. The cops came and threw me in a cell.

******************************

   I was in jail for about three days before a cop came and let me out.

   "Orders from above," he grunted. "You lucky sonovabitch."

   I hoofed it back to the hotel. The police were gone and the parking lot was mostly empty, most of the guests scared away. My cellphone rang.

   "You talking to the FBI?" a female voice drawled. Eria. "We're getting pretty fucking tired of you."

   "I've got it under control," I lied.

   "Oh, no doubt," she replied. "You have one fucking week, Fischer. One week to get this under control. And to pay us back in full. With interest. And maybe I won't flay you alive."

   "I-"

   "Shut up. I don't care." Click.

   I walked into the lobby miserably. An "army" of FBI agents were heading my way. Plus I was going to have the mob on my ass if I didn't somehow cough up a million dollars in seven days. Things were looking pretty dour, I admit. But no matter how bad things went for me, I resolved to make them worse for the FBI cunt that started this.

      But first I needed leads. I called up my fed informant, but he didn't know a thing about the investigation other than that it was happening. I pulled some photos of the woman from the security cameras and sent them to him, but he didn't recognize the woman.

   "I'll look into it," he said. Very reassuring.

        So that left me on my own, more or less. Irina didn't know about my hobbies and most people found out about them tending to die shortly. Clifton and his crew could probably help but they were liable to just shoot me if they found out how poorly I was handling this, "No loose ends" was practically Eria's motto. It's a lonely life, that of a serial killer.

        But I did know someone who had a pretty good idea of who I was looking for. My FBI chick had made the crucial mistake of letting me see her hand one of my staff a business card. An even bigger mistake because the staff in question was a hot redhead in her mid-20s; I'd had my eye on her for a while but couldn't justify the risk of taking someone who worked for me. Well, now I had my excuse, and my trail to the agent.

        The clerk's name was Jane Fortner, and she had the misfortune of working the night shift that day. Perfect. I announced that the roof  pool was closing to the public at 9PM that night. At 11PM, after making sure that it was clear, I called Jane up to the roof. I stood by the elevator door and waited for it to ring.

        "How can I help you si-" she cut herself off and her smile turned into an "O" when she saw me, naked, holding a handgun. "Oh my god."

        I grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out, then used my access panel to lock the elevator. I'd already locked the other elevator and the stairwell door. Nobody was coming up, and Jane wasn't going anywhere.

        "Undress," I said. Jane just stood there speechless. God she looked sexy, with that flaming red hair and that pale, freckled face. She'd look even better without clothes on. "I said UNDRESS!"

         She squeaked in fear and jumped a bit, then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. "Oh god. Oh my god." I stroked myself as the blouse came off, then the skirt.

         "That's fine," I said. My lovely redhead stood there in a black bra and matching panties, sexy stuff that pushed her already-ample breasts up and together in anticipation of an intimate encounter quite different from the one she was getting. Her skin was creamy and her ass was shapely, bolstered by her high heels. She tried to look tough but I could already see tears forming in those blue eyes. I was glad that, as always, I had set up cameras to capture the experience.

         I tossed the gun away, gripped her by the ass and lead her over to the pool, and pushed her in. The water immediately ruined whatever concealment her underwear provided. I jumped in after her and pushed her against the pool side and gazed into her eyes as I kneaded her tits and stroked her belly with my cock. The floodgates opened and tears poured down her face as she resigned herself to being raped.

        "Tell me about the investigator," I said.

        "Oh god. Oh god," she sobbed. "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about."

        I grabbed her head and forced her under water. As she flailed and struggled I wrestled her panties off and tossed them onto the concrete, then dragged her over the the shallow end where it was only a couple feet deep. Instinctively she clambered onto all fours to keep her head above water, and I took advantage of the opening and shoved my cock in to the hilt. Jane tried to cry out but instead just hacked up a bunch of water.

        "Nobody can hear you, babe," I chuckled as I plowed her deep. That was actually a lie, if she screamed loud enough people might actually hear her, but filling her lungs with water would take care of that. I unclasped her bra and grabbed her arms, letting her head drop back underwater as I wrestled it off and tossed it next to her panties; every panicked movement she made was felt in my cock. This position was great, because I didn't have to deal with bound arms obstructing my view of my victim's pretty back, but if Jane tried to use her arms to fight me she'd dunk her head under water.

       "Pulllleeeeeeeaaaaaaaase," Jane managed the choke out between coughs when she resurfaced. Undeterred, I grasped her narrow waist with both hands and began shifting her body back and forth in time with my thrusts. "Somebody help meeee-" I grabbed a fistful of red hair and shoved her head back under water. Her breasts mashed against the bottom, and I saw some blood mix with the water as the sensitive flesh, made fragile by the water, scraped against the rough floor.

       By the time I came in my sexy redhead's pussy, she didn't have it in her to scream or even groan. All she did was gasp for air and cry. It was beautiful. I navigated her to the ladder. She climbed out and collapsed into a sobbing wreck. Almost the entire front of her body was scraped up badly. 

      "Why are you doing this to me?" she cried. "Everything hurts. I hate you. It hurts so bad."

      "So Jane," I said. "We can go for round two. Or you can tell me about that investigator."

      "She-she just wanted to know if I'd seen anything suspicious. I didn't tell her anything, I swear. I didn't know anything!"

      "Did she give you any way of contacting her?"

      A moment of silence, then: "A c-card. It's at my home. I can b-bring it to you."

      I smiled and climbed out of the pool. "Better yet, I'll come get it with you."

      Jane shook her head desperately. "No, please. I swear I'll bring it to you, just let me go home!"

      "Nope, sorry. Now get dressed, we're going - oh, but leave your underwear, I'll be taking that."


   ***************************

      Jane lived in a nice apartment in a skyscraper downtown - say what you will about me, but I pay my employees pretty well. She was able to quickly produce the card in question, which was actually a sticky note with "Special Agent Robinson" and a phone number scribbled on it. It would have to do.

      But of course I wasn't done with her. I didn't want to rape her in the apartment itself, I didn't need her getting hysterical and waking the neighbors, but I could still have some fun. Jane was a woman who liked to dress up, and her closet was absolutely full of sexy shit. I had her shower and make herself presentable, then spent the better part of an hour photographing and filming my red-haired goddess posing in lingerie and bikinis and slowly stripping out of designer clothing. Waste not, want not. The tears and her battered, scraped body only made it sexier.

      Finally it was time to go. I had her put on a black push-up bra and panties set, a little black dress, and stilettos. She put on some makeup (waterproof!) and brushed her hair, and once again she was every bit the sexy vixen.

      "What the fuck were you doing being a hotel clerk?" I asked. It was a legitimate question, she could've made a killing as a model. At least it meant I had a monopoly on sexy photos of her. "Let's go."

      I led her up to the roof. She was shaking almost uncontrollably when I closed the door and was approaching a panic attack when I ziptied her wrists. "You're going to kill me," she sobbed.
   "Shhhh, just relax babe," I whispered. The roof was one of those fancy modern urban ones with a wood floor and benches. I sat Jane down on one of them and tugged her panties down. Her pussy was wet with fear and it smelled so good. "This is something I only do for my favorite girls. Try to enjoy it, you've earned it."

      The moment my tongue touched Jane's clit she stiffened like she'd been struck by lightning. As the minutes wore on her moans took on a more desperate tone - I could tell she was close and I was only using tongue so far. In that case she should be fucked properly, so I removed my face, unbuckled my pants and shoved my cock inside her again.

      "NOOOO god pleeaaasse!" she cried. "I don't want to diiieeee!"

      I've always said a woman is at her most alluring when she knows she's going to die, and Jane was no exception. Her knees were next to her head, her panties dangling on one heeled foot as I plowed her deeper and deeper, sweat and tears poured down her face, her bulbous breasts threatening to pop free from the dress, her red hair flying back and forth as she wildly shook her head, trying to resist the sensations taking over her - I love forcing an orgasm on my helpless women, and the way that they fight and struggle against the last pleasures they'll receive on this earth makes it better. I hope they regret not appreciating it as they're dying.

      Jane was silent now, her face taught in grim determination before the inevitable took over. Her eyes shot open as she silently spent herself high and low, every inch of her creamy skin turning pink as she lost her final battle. I didn't give her time to recover before I shoved my cock in her mouth and came in her mouth.

      "Better swallow every drop if you want to live, slut," I ordered. Jane tried her hardest but it was too much of a surprise attack. A couple drops dribbled onto her chest and she desperately tried to catch them with her tongue, but the only thing she achieved was spilling more cum onto her mounds. A grown woman desperately trying to lick her own tits while jizz pools in her cleavage is a rare sight.
   Giving up, Jane choked back a sob and looked at me with the most pleading eyes. "Please don't kill me," she pleaded. "I'm begging you. I'll do anything. PLEEAAASE."

      I socked her in the face, which did a decent job shutting her up, then threw her to the ground chest-down. Kneeling on her back, I gripped her head with both hands.

       "I've always wanted to try this," I laughed. I twisted, but her neck didn't break.

       Jane figured out what I was trying to do pretty fast and began flailing, though fortunately screaming was a bit harder with a broken jaw. "PLEASE DON'T! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

       Well, I wanted her to. I twisted again, she yelped in pain but no cigar. It took about five more tries before I decided to change tactics. Instead of trying to quickly snap her neck like in the movies, I turned her head to the right as far as it would go, then hooked both hands across her face and pulled as hard as I can, slowly and painfully twisting her neck past its limits. Jane fought me, her teeth gritted and muscles flexing as she resisted my efforts, grunting in exertion. But I was stronger, and I had the leverage. I could hear crackling noises as slowly but surely Jane's neck reached its breaking point. She screamed in agony and her body began spasming under me as the delicate connections between her head and body came apart.


         "STOOOOOOOOOOP!" she howled, "nnnnnoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOAAAHHHH-" She was interrupted by a a satisfying *crack!* and she immediately stopped struggling. I let go of her head and it flopped to the ground, her neck at a sickening angle.

        I turned her over onto her back. Jane was was still alive; her eyes darted back and forth in abject horror while her mouth tried to form words with lungs that she could no longer control. Her body twitched and shook as her nerves misfired and signals were scrambled. After a few minutes - I can only imagine how long they felt to the poor girl - Jane finished asphyxiating and her eyes glazed over. It was a few more minutes before the twitching stopped.

       I took a photo of my former desk clerk's sexy corpse, then put her panties back in their proper place, cut off the zipties, and tossed her off the roof. I hoped they'd chalk it up to just another suicide, but at the very least it would be a while before the cops could scrape Jane off the pavement and start looking for clues.

       Back at my hotel I stood in a room on one of my floors that I'd decided to re-purpose as a trophy room. I'd planned this before I took Miranda, the buff chick I snuffed a couple days ago, but alas I'd forgotten to take an actual trophy from her house. The room had a few female mannequins in it, ready to be adorned with my lovely victims' remains. Jane had the honor of being the first woman memorialized so, the first mannequin donning the sexy black lingerie she'd been wearing when I raped her in the pool. Next to it was a few of the photographs I'd taken of her in her room, and a flash drive with all the video and stills I'd taken of my redhead's demise. Maybe I'd have to buy a red wig for it.

       But that would have to wait. The FBI agent's phone number had an area code for a Colorado suburb, which narrowed my search considerably. It was time to do some research and finally take care of my legal problems.
« Last Edit: September 22, 2020, 03:13:05 PM by xenmon2 »

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #9 on: September 22, 2020, 03:12:50 PM »
Part 5 - Fuck the Feds

   "Where are we going, Jason?" Irina was watching me stuff things into my suitcase with visible annoyance.

   My FBI bitch, Special Agent Robinson, lived in a Colorado suburb. Definitely a bit of a hike from coastal California. I was annoyed that they hadn't had somebody more local investigate me, but I guess that frustrating any efforts of mine to fight back was probably the point.

   Of course, one person didn't manage the entire caseload, and killing Robinson wouldn't be some silver bullet that would end my troubles. I fully understood that this was probably the end for me, but at least I was going to go down swinging. Still, I didn't want my presence in Colorado to be officially documented on the off chance that there was a way out of this, so no quick airplane ride for me. Plus I had a special tool to help me out on this outing, a little toy Eria had built me back when I was new in town and still doing hits for Clifton, and it certainly wouldn't get through security. Nope, I was driving.

   Which meant I was taking my girlfriend Irina, because what's the point in a sexy blonde trophy if you can't get blowjobs on car trips? And more importantly she would probably report me missing if I disappeared, and killing her would be way, way too suspicious.

   "Just on a quick vacation, baby," I replied. I gave her ass a reassuring squeeze and went back to packing. "The mountains are beautiful this time of year."

   Irina started to protest but I clamped my mouth over hers and hiked her dress up past her thighs. Within ten minutes I had her in a screaming orgasm that could probably be heard at the beaches. Eventually she dazedly got up and went to pack her own things, all thoughts of protesting gone. That's my Irina.

   I must say that the road trip to Colorado was fairly uneventful and concluded much the way it started. I lay in bed in a luxury apartment (paid for in cash, of course), the Rocky Mountains in the back and Irina bouncing up and down on my cock. I reached up and squeezed a soft tit and even, I believe, sighed in contentment. Even if this trip ended with me deciding between life in prison and blowing my brains out, I'd lived a fulfilling and remarkable life that most men can only dream of.

   Irina climbed off my cock and lay down, moaning and jutting her tits out as I came on them. She was certainly a sexy woman, think a 23-year old Erin Heatherton with bigger tits. We showered and then I fixed celebratory drinks, slipping some tranquilizer into hers. Soon she was snoring happily in bed; it was only 2PM, but the stuff would keep her out until morning. Plenty of time for me to take care of business.

   It hadn't been too hard to find my target with the information I'd gotten. Special Agent Joan Robinson, age 29, former Army intelligence and current FBI pig. She had no children and never married. Her address pointed to a cute house in a quaint neighborhood near the downtown area.

   The question now was, how to get her? The big problem was in virtually every setting, she was in close enough proximity to others that screaming would be bad news for me. Holding her at gunpoint and telling her to be quiet wouldn't work, if she knew anything about me it was that cooperating would only make things worse for her. I could overpower her for sure, but she would certainly be able to resist long enough to call for help. Not to mention that as an FBI agent she was almost guaranteed to be packing heat.

   But I'd come prepared. Remember that tool I mentioned earlier? Clifton had wanted a guy brought to him alive, and to help me out he'd had Eria, the local expert on chemicals and things that go boom, built me a small gas bomb with a payload that was odorless, non-lethal, remote-detonated, and strong enough to knock a grown man out fast. I, ever the hoarder, hadn't needed to use it and instead stashed it away for that special girl who I just needed would be too tough to take conventionally. And here she was.

   Joan came home from work and pulled into her garage at around 5PM. At 6PM she left again. I followed her as she drove to an apartment building and picked a guy up, her boyfriend I assume, and then drove to a restaurant about fifteen minutes out.

   I parked a good distance away then walked back to the restaurant. Joan's car was a convertible and she'd left the top down, which made my job sooooo much easier. Making sure nobody was watching, I stuck the bomb under the driver's seat, then popped the trunk and climbed in. With me was a gas mask and my handgun, safety off; I doubted Joan would open the trunk, but if she did I didn't plan on going to jail with her still alive.

   Fortunately that wasn't an issue. After about an hour I heard the door open and the car turn on and we were off; it was a bumpy ride (there was a briefcase and an unsecured double-barreled shotgun that kept hitting me), but all I could think of was my sexy FBI agent in the front seat, oblivious to the fact that this was her last night alive. But as the minutes dragged on I began to get worried. She hadn't lived this far away from the restaurant, had she? It was nearly 45 minutes before they stopped and turned the engine off.

   I was confused and actually a bit afraid, but it dissipated in moments when I heard the couple speaking in clearly aroused voices. The car shifted and I could tell that both riders were now occupying the same seat. I smiled. Joan had driven into the mountains so she and her boy toy could make love under the stars, how romantic. Normally I would have let them have their fun, I'm all for letting my playthings have some fun before the end, but Joan had made herself a nuisance and thus lost that privilege. I pressed the detonator button.

   The bomb was surprisingly quiet. There was a soft pop! and some surprised and confused talking, and then silence. Gas mask on and gun in hand, I popped the trunk and leaped out, but true to advertising the gas had worked fast. The guy had fallen asleep in his seat, dick out, apparently having made zero effort to escape. Joan was awkwardly splayed out, blouse unbuttoned, with her head on the driver's-side floor and her stilettoed feet sticking up in the air; it looked like she'd been sitting in her boyfriend's lap and when the bomb went off tried to look under the seat.

   I manhandled Joan onto the hood of the car and got my first good look at my FBI bitch outside of a police station. She was a sexy piece of ass. She had curly brown hair and a tough-looking face with full, cock-sucking lips. Her body was the color of coffee and well-muscled. Her blouse was unbuttoned and I let my hands explore her curvy hips, her almost-but-not-quite-six-pack abs, and the cleavage enhanced by a designer pushup bra, pink with little brown dots. I relieved her of her blouse and her black skirt and slid my hand under her frilly pink panties. Joan's pussy was drenched, no doubt it had been getting plenty of attention during the drive over.

   Speaking of that, I had to do something about the boyfriend. The car was hidden in an out of the way spot, turned off onto some obscure side road, overlooking a cliff. Easy enough. I sat him at the very edge, got Joan's shotgun from the trunk, and shot him in the chest. The guy's body jerked back and toppled into the trees below. Optimistically, the cops would think Joan killed him and fled.

   That taken care of I locked the shotgun back in the trunk, set up some miniature video cameras around the scene - there were still a couple hours of daylight left - and returned to my sexy FBI agent. I removed the bra and admired her chest for a couple minutes - not particularly large, but nice and perky and capped by dark, pretty nipples. I used a couple ropes I'd been carrying to tie her arms to the side mirrors, stretching the limbs out painfully, and wrapped a cleave gag around her mouth. I'd be able to understand her, more or less, but her ability to scream would be limited.

   While this was going on Joan was rubbing her thighs together and actually soaking through her panties, her body still desperate for cock. Well, who am I to refuse? I pulled Joan's panties off, climbed between her legs, and shoved my shaft in her.

   Even unconscious she still felt pretty good, but what was best was the way her body reacted. Maybe it was a side effect of the gas, or maybe her boyfriend's finger game was just that good, but I'd barely gotten a thrust in when I could tell Joan was about to climax. Her mouth gaped open in quite moans and her firm body flexed as I fucked her sleeping body hard. Her moans grew in intensity and within minutes her body arched high in ecstasy (giving me the most extraordinary view of the female figure I'd seen in a while) and she gasped and moaned and sobbed in orgasm. She held this position for a good 20 seconds, brown skin tinged with pink, before collapsing and lying motionless.

   Cumming in my FBI bitch while she was asleep would be cheating her, so I pulled out and spilled it on the ground nearby. I watched her sleep and stroked her belly idly, running my finger in circles around her pretty navel. People knocked unconscious don't dream or feel, her climax was a purely physical reaction. The most important orgasm of her life, the last one, and Joan derived zero pleasure from it and wouldn't even know it happened. Too bad for her.

   While I recovered and Joan slept, and got her briefcase out of the trunk and opened her laptop (the password conveniently on a sticky note in the briefcase). It'd be convenient, not to mention hilarious, if she'd been looking into me for tax evasion or something, but alas it seemed that she actually knew what I was up to, and was putting together a pretty decent case too. My heart sank a bit as I went through her communications. My name, and the names of a few dead women, popped up an awful lot. 

   I was cheered up a bit as I heard the familiar sounds of a woman waking up. At least whatever happened to me, what was going to happen to the bitch responsible would be a thousand times worse.

   I stood in front of Joan, stark naked, as she slowly came to and muttered through the gag. "W-what... Jake, what..." Her eyes widened with recognition as she saw me. "Oh fuck."

   "'Oh fuck' is right," I laughed. I stroked my cock back into hardness as my victim desperately tried to pull her arms free before wildly bouncing around on the car and screaming through the gag. I got a knife from my clothes and put it to her left eye, shutting her up. I kissed and sucked on her neck, pressing my chest against hers, feeling her body tremble against mine. "Say, you don't look so tough now."

   "Get your hands off me," Joan growled, trying to sound tough, "You won't get away with this, asshole."

   "Maybe not," I acknowledged, putting the knife on the ground and positioning myself between her spread legs, "But you aren't going to survive this, bitch." Joan tried to kick out at me with her muscular legs, but it wasn't easy in her position. I simply grabbed one of them and pushed it all the way back, and pushed a finger into her exposed pussy. "Haha, feels like this hole's already been used! No matter."

   I pushed my cock inside her slit and began fucking it hard. With Joan conscious and fighting it was a lot tighter despite its recent use. She glared up at me with brown eyes, refusing to show weakness, like that would somehow improve her position. I gripped both tits in my hands and twisted as hard as I could. But she bit her lip and didn't cry out, the tough bitch. This just motivated me to hurt her worse.

   I pressed her hips back, fucking her deeper as I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of her left tit until I tasted blood. Now she was hissing in pain but still resisting, so I grabbed the big toe of her right foot and snapped it. Now she screamed as loud as she could and the tears started flowing. It sounded so beautiful and I came inside her. She grunted in pain and dismay as I came inside her.

   "You piece of shit," she spat out between pained sobs, "Just fucking kill me. I know who you are. Just do it."

   "All in good time, babe," I said. I lay on top of her for a few minutes until I was ready for round two. "That's one hole down, Jean. Can you guess what's next?" My cock was pressing against her asshole so it probably wasn't a difficult question.

   "God damn it," Joan cried, "Fuck you! You can't do this to me! Get off me!" Slowly I shoved my member inside the hole while she screamed out. "OOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW GOOOOOOOD STOOOPP!"

   It took a bit, her pussy juice was the only lube I had, but soon I was pistoning in and out, conquering the tightest hole of the woman who thought she could conquer me. My dark skinned beauty was a sight to behold, screaming hysterically, banging her head against the metal while every muscle in her body rippled under her skin. Blood ran down her left breast, the only blemish on her lovely brown skin.

   "You haven't asked about your boyfriend," I chuckled. Joan paused for a moment, absorbing my words, then resumed screaming and crying. I shut my eyes and moaned in ecstacy as I felt myself achieving another hard-earned climax. I held it in, prolonging my pleasure and Joan's suffering.

   So I was wholly unprepared when I heard two loud cracking noises. With Herculean effort, Joan had actually managed to rip off the mirrors restraining her to the car. In my surprise I released my orgasm, delaying my response and weakening me as she managed to kick my off and roll off the car.

   Her sobs took on a triumphant tone as she ran past me, but that turned into pained limping pretty fast thanks to her broken toe. She turned and limped back to me, face contorted with rage, one of the mirrors still in hand.

   You, dear reader, have probably observed by this point that I avoid fair fights whenever possible. In fact it's been a pretty long time since I've been in one. But I'm a pretty big guy and while she looked tough and was pretty built I was confident in my ability to beat up people smaller than me. It was with this combination of rusty skills and overconfidence that I attempted to tackle my victim and promptly got clubbed in the head by a mirror.

   Seeing spots and feeling dazed, I swung with a messy haymaker that Joan easily avoided, and was rewarded with two fingers on her right hand forming a V almost gouging my eyes out. I narrowly avoided that, got my jaw smashed by a left hook, and her other hand swung the mirror down on my left knee and I felt the whole leg go numb.

   I didn't know if it was the Army training or the FBI, but either way I was dealing with quality. The worst part was that this was being filmed. I imagined a bunch of rich pricks laughing as they watched me get beaten to death by a pissed-off woman with a broken toe and cum dripping out of her holes. I reached down in the hopes of finding some dirt or something to throw in Joan's face and got a knee to the face for my effort. My head smashed into the side of the car, and I saw her grab the shotgun, still loaded with a barrel, that I'd left sitting on the trunk. Fortunately at the same time I saw the knife I'd left on the ground earlier. I was damn near getting filled with buckshot when I drove the blade into her foot.

   Joan screamed in pain and jerked the gun, which went off about an inch from my face. The noise was still enough to jack me up, and when I regained my senses the shotgun was in my hands and the chick I was supposed to be raping right now had managed to run a lot further than you'd expect a woman with a broken toe on one foot and a knife in the other to get. She was limping down the road, headed for the main road and if she got there it could definitely be bad.

   I dropped the empty shotgun and took off after her, slowly, my left leg still not working right. But I was at least limping faster than she was.

   "Fuck you! Get away from me!" Joan yelled back at me. "I need help! Somebody! Help me!"

   Doggedly I pursued her, slowly gaining as the feeling came back to my leg. Joan looked back at me, visibly distraught, hopped on one foot as she attempted to pull the knife out, failed, then resumed limping. But at this point it was clear to both of us that she wasn't getting away. My arousal returning, I took the time to admire the firmness of Joan's ass and the the futility of her efforts.

   Joan looked back at me and sobbed. At this point I was about ten feet away, and her wide, teary eyes were focused on my stiff cock. "Anybody!" she called, "HEEEELP MEEEEE!" When nobody responded she turned back to me, fists raised, but I could tell the pain had taken the fight out of her. "Wait," she said calmly, "We can work something out. I-I can help you."

   Subduing her was easy this time. My leg had returned to full function, while Joan could barely walk, and I was literally running circles around her. I feinted a punch at her and when she moved to block it she put too much weight on her knifed foot. She howled in pain and clutched the foot, and I moved in and delivered a series of blows to her abs and breasts, followed by a knee to her sensitive, fucked pussy that almost lifted her off her feet. Joan collapsed to the ground, sobbing in pain. Not content to allow her any more chances, I pinned her right arm to the ground with my knee and pulled until the bone snapped, and did the same for the left. Then I stood up and smashed my heel into her knee until it was broken.

   All that was left of Special Agent Joan Robinson was a sobbing, screaming wreck. She'd looked so smug back in California and had the audacity to interfere with my life, and now here she was, not even able to crawl on her own. I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the forest, heading toward that road that had been her salvation.

   It was dark now, and I was able to find a spot that we could see cars on the road and they wouldn't be able to see us. I dropped Joan face down, then crawled on top of her, clamping one hand over her mouth while used the other to line my manhood up with her ass.

   "Now, where were we?" I whispered.

   "MMMMMMMMM!" was all she could get out as I shoved back inside her ass for the second time. I fucked her like that for about fifteen minutes, plowing her asshole while she watched the cars go by. Every time one came up she tried to scream through my hand, but if they heard her they were apathetic to her suffering. Finally I pumped my cum deep inside her ass, picked her up, and began the long process of carrying her back to the car.

   I had Joan laying down (about the only position she could manage anymore) on the hood of the car again, unrestrained, while I fucked her mouth and looked at the view. From here I could see for miles, stars as far as the eye could see, distant mountains illuminated by the moon, a beautiful naked woman sucking me off. It was a good day, I thought, as I pulled out and came on her face and tits.

   "Just kill me," Joan muttered. I had removed the knife from her foot and wrapped it up. "Why are you doing this to me?"

   "Because you're hot," I said truthfully, "And you were an enemy for a bit, which makes you even hotter." I picked her up, laid down, and dropped her on my crotch. She was in a reverse cowgirl position, and I lined my cock up with her pussy. Sloppy thirds, but she still felt good. "But maybe I'll let you live. I've been doing all the work so far, but get me off and you can go home."

   "You're lying," she sobbed. "You're going to kill me." But she slid up and down my dick as best she could anyways. What a champ. Soon I was dumping my, what, sixth load of cum into her that night? My stamina is legendary.

   "That's right Joan, just imagine that sweet disability retirement after this," I said as she sat on top of me miserably. Her arms dangled uselessly at her sides, a multitude of ugly colors where the bones were snapped. The mocha skin of her stomach and breasts was bruised and covered in dirt but didn't look too bad, aside from where I'd chomped on her tit. Her brown eyes stared at me listlessly, drained of any will to live; even if I were to let her go, I doubted Joan would make it through the year without offing herself. I pulled her down on top of me, feeling her tits squishing against my chest as she cried softly in my arms.

   But it wasn't nearly enough. My body still ached from fighting her, and my ego was still bruised from how close she'd been to ruining me. I held Joan tight and stroked her hair as I pondered how to torment her further.

************

   It was 1AM, which gave me an hour or two of fun left before I had to head back to the hotel. But fucking Joan more in her current state would be kind of gross, so I had her in the trunk while I drove around looking for a place to clean her off.

   It was dark and hard to see, but my GPS lead me to a mountain creek that I hoped would work. This area had much sparser vegetation, and I was able to drive the car a good distance off road to maintain our privacy. With the headlights giving me a good amount of land and creek to work with, I set up my cameras, got Joan out of the trunk and let her soak under the water a bit. She was shivering bad when I pulled her out but she looked presentable again.

   "I just want to go home," she whined as I gently put her down on dry ground. Her nipples were stiff from the cold water and little droplets coated her cute brown mounds.
   I kissed her belly and licked the water from her belly button. "Will you be my slave, babe? Sell out your pig friends?"

   "Yes god please I'll do anything," she replied earnestly. Her voice was suddenly tinged with hope. I had no doubt that she'd happily sell out her own mother right now to get some relief, but I doubt she had much of use to me.

   "Well, too bad," I said, standing up and walking to the car, "You're broken goods, Joan. I'm not going to take care of your broken ass and you certainly aren't getting my tax dollars." I grabbed a few lengths of rope and secured her left arm and leg to a couple firm-looking tree trunks, and her right limbs to the fender of her car. I put the car into reverse and slowly backed up until it lurched as Joan's strong body resisted it.

   I put it in park and walked back to Joan, armed with my belt. The ropes had her suspended and pulled so taut that she literally could not move her body at all. Her arms and legs were visibly dislocated and her skin looked so beautiful stretched out. Her head dangled unsupported, eyes wide open, her stomach and breasts heaving with every painful, gasping breathe. Between her tortured legs was her little pink pussy, glistening with river water.

   "Whhyyyyyyyyyyyy," she sobbed, "I can't - I can't - I can't take this anymore!"

   "You'd might as well enjoy this, Joan. It's the last fuck you're ever going to get." I pushed inside her and got an agonized shout - getting fucked stretched open like this would bring her nothing but pain. I folded up my belt and smacked her sexy body with the hard leather as I fucked her, leaving angry red welts wherever it struck.

   "IT HUUUURRRTS STOOOOOP!" she screamed. "MOOMMMMYYYYY HEEELLLLLLP MEEEEEEEEEE! MOMMMMYYYYYYY!"

   I fucked her deep and hard, belting her nonstop, holding my orgasm as long as I could. It got to the point of hurting, but every second I held out was another second of torture for my FBI bitch. Former FBI bitch.

   Finally I couldn't hold out any longer. With a yell I emptied my balls inside Joan's pussy and collapsed on top of her, putting my full weight on her arms and legs. I cradled her head in my hand and shoved my tongue in her mouth, and she responded in kind. Her eyes had a wild look to them and I could tell she was succumbing to shock and delerium, and no longer had any idea what was going on.

   I pulled out of her and gave her tits a playful squeeze. Her dark complexion was gone and replaced with ugly pink and red as I'd managed to belt nearly every inch of her body. "Alright, babe, ready to die?" No response, which I took as a 'yes.'

   I climbed back into the car and put it in reverse again, putting my foot on the gas. Resistance for a second, then a pained yelp as the car went careening backwards. I got out and jogged back. Joan was still attached to the tree, nothing but bloody holes where her right limbs used to be. Her eyelids fluttered as her life's blood spilled across the ground, and in seconds she was gone.

   I found a cave and hid what had once been Special Agent Jone Robinson inside - hopefully the animals would eat the corpse before anybody stumbled across it - then got in the car and began the drive back to the city. It was tough going without mirrors but I managed, and when I was close I abandoned it and hoofed it back to mine.

   ************************

   "What happened?" Irina asked groggily from the bed. I'd found a note in front of the door, but my blonde's sexy body seemed more important right now. I hopped on top of her and pushed a finger inside her, earning an eager moan.

   "Oh you know. Partied and got annihilated, the usual."

   "Oh good," she sighed.

   I was exhausted, sexually and physically, but I still managed to get hard again. Duty calls.

Offline HungryFollower

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #10 on: September 23, 2020, 07:21:07 AM »
Ooooooooooooh. I was waiting for this.  :D :evil: Couldn't have been better. She didn't deserve that...yes, of course she did. Asked for it and got it.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #11 on: September 25, 2020, 12:52:25 AM »
Part 6 - Bad Boyfriend (and a couple quickies)

        Irina was off eating breakfast when I got around to checking the envelope that had been left at my hotel door. I began to feel a bit sick to my stomach when I opened it and found a small flash drive. Flash drives in the mail are never a good thing.

   I plugged it into my laptop and was greeted with video footage of me putting the bomb in Special Agent Robinson's car and hiding in her trunk. It looked like cell phone footage. Uh oh. The video ended with a message: BRAVO'S @ 3.

   Was someone trying to blackmail me? If so they were going to be disappointed, I already expected the feds to kick down my door any minute. Still, might as well go, right?
   Bravo's was a decent enough Italian restaurant outside of the city. The hostess seemed to recognize me when I walked in and lead me to a table in a secluded corner, away from the rest of the patrons. I sat down across from a woman in a blue dress. She looked to be of Hispanic heritage, probably in her mid 30s but still pretty sexy and well built.

   The hostess handed me a menu and walked away. I checked to make sure nobody else was around before addressing the woman. "You the camera girl?" I asked.

   "Nope, but I paid the camera girl," she replied with a smile. "And you are, wait wait let me guess, Jason Fischer, former talent scout and real estate mogul, current serial killer and filmer of snuff porn?"

   "That's a good guess." I tried to keep my face straight but I'm sure I went a bit pale. Random people aren't supposed to know about that stuff. "I usually edit myself out of those. You know, deep-fakes and all that? I guess I don't do a very good job of it."

   "No, it's very convincing actually. But I'm in the FBI, hon. We do a lot of poking around, as you know."

   I clenched my menu. "Poking around the wrong places can get you hurt. As you know."

   "Oh, you mean poor Agent Robinson?" She grinned. "She does tend to stick her nose in the wrong places, doesn't she? But try and think of her as a gift."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Come on, Jason! Who do you think made the call to release you from jail? What I'm saying is, I'm a huuuuuge fan of your work!" she leaned forward and gave me a good view of her deep cleavage. "The way you snuffed that Asian family a year ago? Classic! And I'd hate to have to throw you in prison. Which I'm supposed to do, but I think we can work things out."

   My mood lightened instantly. "You mean, you can help me?"

   "Of course!" she beamed. "I can't give you specifics, of course - but call me Maria, no it's not my real name - but I promise, I'm high up enough that with me on your side you can murder to your heart's content!"

   The waiter arrived and I ordered spaghetti while I thought this over. Had I won the lottery? It sure sounded like it, but there had to be a catch.

   "You'll protect me, just like that?"

   Maria leaned back. "Well, I've always wanted a slave, you know? No, not you. But your girlfriend Irina is a very beautiful woman."

   "Excuse me?" My jaw dropped.

   "Oh come on, don't tell me you respect women now!" She chuckled humorlessly. "Listen, I can't go out and kidnap a whore for myself, and I've been wanting to fuck Irina since I saw her in that shitty zombie movie last year. Give her to me, or you go to jail. Or die."

   I sat there slack-jawed. Finally I said: "Do you know who you're talking to, woman?"

   Maria rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, go ahead and kill me. You'll be in prison within the week. Think about it!" And with that she slid me a piece of paper with a time and address, and got up and left.

   The waiter brought me my spaghetti while I mulled it over. On one hand, Irina was really hot and I kind of liked her. On the other hand, prison. And it's not like I had trouble getting my dick wet. It was an easy choice after all.

********************************

   "The address seems kind of sketchy, babe," Irina said. She was in front of the mirror putting on makeup, dressed only in a strapless black push-up bra and panties.

   I kissed her neck and ran my hands over her hips, somewhat mournfully. I'd miss her a little bit. "Don't worry baby, it's gonna be great."

   Soon we were driving to the address Maria had given me, me in a suit and Irina in a little black dress. Irina was right - this place was sketchy. She looked out the window at the rows of abandoned buildings nervously. I patted her thigh reassuringly.

   Soon we arrived at the place, a seemingly abandoned warehouse. The place looked terrifying, even to me.

   "Honey? Let's just go back to the hotel," Irina said. Her voice was trembling, she knew what happened to pretty women in places like this.

   I stepped out of the car and opened her door, pulling her out. "Come on Irina, we drove all the way out here. Let's at least give it a shot, okay?"

   "Jason, I really don't want to. Please." But I wrapped my hand around her waist and firmly lead her to the door. I pushed Irina inside and shut the door behind us. "Oh my god," she whispered.

   The room was decorated with what might optimistically be called "BDSM gear." Chains, whips, plenty of rope, anything a torturer could want for. Sitting in a chair in the middle of it all was Maria, wearing a black tank top and jeans. She hopped up, beaming.

   "Jason! I'm so glad you made it!" She looked Irina up and down lecherously, lowering her voice to a more seductive tone. "And Irina Slate. God I've wanted you for so long."

   Irina was struggling against my grasp. "Jason! Let's go Jason. Let's go. I don't like this." She managed to wriggle free and pulled at the door handle, but it had locked behind her.
 
   "Sorry babe," I said. "For what it's worth, I didn't want this for you."

   Irina plastered herself against the door while Maria slowly sauntered up to her. She trembled violently as the Hispanic woman felt her up through the dress.

   "Jason, please, I'm not into this stuff," she begged, still hoping that this was just a kinky sex thing. When Maria grabbed her crotch she began fighting. "Get OFF OF ME!"

   Unfortunately for Irina, Maria was about six inches taller than her and made of muscle. A sharp knee to the pussy took the fight out of my hapless blonde, and Maria took the opportunity to grab her hair and pull her onto a nearby table.

   The table was short, narrow, at groin-height, and had a variety of cuffs. Soon Irina was lying on her back, legs dangling off one end and head dangling off the other, arms cuffed to the bottom. "Somebody help me," she cried. "Jason! I don't want this!"

   Maria meanwhile was stripping her own clothes off. Her body was tan and powerful, and her tits hung large. "Feel free to join in, by the way," she said to me as she pulled off her panties. She planted her slit over my now ex-girlfriends face and gave her tits a few sharp slaps. "Come on, bitch, don't tell me you've never eaten a pussy before."

   I pulled my pants down and wrestled Irina's panties out from under her dress, then took a minute to admire the scene. Maria was groaning in pleasure as she straddled Irina's face - I guess Irina did have some experience in pleasuring a woman - kneading one of her own tits with her hand. Irina strained against the table in her tight black dress, tits pushed up and out, futily struggling against her binds. Holding her legs apart, I rubbed my cock over her blonde landing strip as I'd done so many times before, and then pushed it inside her.

   Irina cried out at my entry so I slapped her tummy hard enough to leave a mark. "Don't like my cock anymore, you bitch?" Her struggling pussy felt amazing, far better than it ever had during consensual sex.

   We went at it like this for about ten minutes before Maria screamed out in orgasm. She climbed off Irina's face, which was now wet and sticky. "Cum in her mouth," she ordered. "I don't want to be seeing your spunk on her for the rest of the night."

   I pulled out and walked around the table to Irina's face. She looked at me with desperate, frightened eyes. "Jason..." she cried.

   I gave her a slap. "Sorry babe. I guess I forgot to mention that I'm a psycho rapist." I shoved my member into her mouth. "You heard the lady. Better swallow every drop."

   If there was anything I was confident Irina could do it was swallow, and after a couple minutes of skull-fucking I came down her throat and she obligingly swallowed it all. "Good girl," I said.

   I stripped off the rest of my clothes. "Irina here's a bit over dressed I think. We got a knife?"

   "Nooooooooo" Irina sobbed. Mentioning knives does that.

   "Not yet, hon," Maria replied. She was digging around in a fridge and came out with a bucket of water. She lugged it over and began pouring the contents over Irina's chest and belly, down her legs, and over her face. Ice cubes rolled down her tits onto the floor while she gasped and sputtered in shock. "The dress will hold the water in," she explained.

   "You sure this is your first time?" I asked. Irina was shaking uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. The fabric of her clothes was transparent now and I watched as her tits vibrated enticingly, the nipples hard as diamonds.

   "I've got a history of police brutality, maybe." Maria had two brown rubber hoses and tossed me one. Irina started to whine but Maria shoved a ballgag in her mouth, shutting her up. "I'm guessing you know what to do with these?"

   "Of course." I smashed the hose down across Irina's belly. Her blue eyes opened in shock as she howled in pain. The cold water had made her flesh extra sensitive and the sheer black dress did nothing to cushion the blow. The dark blue stripe was barely starting to appear when Maria struck with her own hose.

   Thwack!

   "AAAHHHHHHMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH!"

   We continued like that for a while, whaling on my ex-girlfriend's body while she jerked and leaped and emanated sweet ball-gagged screams. Her cries rose an octave as we worked over her breasts, the ample mounds bouncing and shaking as the rubber kissed the sensitive flesh, but they were nothing compared to when I lined my hose up with the space between her legs, wound up, and smashed the hose across her pussy.

   “AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!”

   Maria laughed when she saw me lining up another blow. "Stop! Stop! That's enough, guy. She's going to pass out."

   I walked behind the Hispanic woman and groped her breasts, rubbing my cock against her back. "A bitch can take a lot more pain than you think."

   Maria bent over for me, resting her arms on Irina's abs. "Maybe, but I'm getting bored with this." She tossed her hose to the side as I pressed my cock against her slit. "Put a condom on, guy. I don't trust that morning-after shit and if I get pregnant, the deal's off."

   "Whatever." I dug around in my clothes until I found one. I put it on and then pushed into Maria's pussy. I fucked her as she tore Irina's ruined dress apart with her nails, rubbing her fingers over the many, many black and blue stripes.

   "Don't you worry, Irina," she cooed. "These will heal up nicely." She reached over and undid the ballgag. "Do you have anything to say to your boyfriend?"

   "Why are you doing this to me?" Irina sobbed. God she looked adorable. "I loved you!"

   "That's too bad for you," I laughed. I groped one of Maria's dangling tits with one hand as I spanked her with the other. "I guess I'll have to find some other dumb blonde with jiggling tits."

   "Fuck you," Irina sobbed. She winced as Maria squeezed a bruised tit. "I'll fucking kill you, bastard."

   "You don't get it, do you? You're not going home, Irina. I've sold you-" I grabbed a fistful of Maria's dark hair and pulled her up, then nibbled her neck, "- to this fine piece of ass. She owns you."

   "Y-you can't - OWWWWW!" She screamed as Maria dug her nails into her tits as we climaxed together. Maria climbed on top of Irina and lay there as I threw the condom away.

   "You can go now," the Hispanic woman said. "There's an address in my jeans pocket. Meet me there at 4PM Tuesday."

   I dug around in the denim until I found the note. "This had better be worth it, Maria. Or you'll be starring in my next video."

   Maria didn't respond so I began to leave. When I opened the door I heard one last, anguished "Jason!" I looked back at Irina one last time, she looked so scared, then waved goodbye and left.

*************************************

   The address was for some mountain cabin. I figured that Maria had rented it for the day so that I wouldn't find her address. Fair enough, and it wouldn't be too difficult to get if I needed it. I knocked on the door at the appointed time and Maria let me inside. The first thing I noticed was Irina tied to the ceiling fan, spinning in lazy circles while moaning from the vibrator in her pussy.

   Somehow the meeting managed to be boring. I'd hoped for some fucking but I guess Maria wasn't in the mood because she was strictly business. She detailed what she wanted from me - women and money - and what she expected of me - to not rat on her or get arrested by local cops - but truth be told I wasn't paying that much attention. She shot me down when I asked about sticking my dick in Irina, which just made me want to fuck Maria instead. But she was too useful an ally to kill or alienate. Oh well.

   I was shooed out of the cabin about an hour later. I had a raging hardon, but with my new FBI immunity I didn't think it'd be too hard finding an outlet.

   *************************

   I decided a good place to look would be on one of the mountain trails in the area. They aren't super populated, but fit trail runners make use of them. And they have strict rules about going off path, which meant that if I could drag a chick off the trail the odds of unexpected company were low. I still wouldn't have much time though, this would have to be a quick pump-'n-dump.

   I ran up and down the trail, sweating like a pig, when finally my next victim came jogging up by some cliffs. She had dirty blonde hair and a lithe, strong body, but at only 5'2'' she was basically helpless. I grabbed her by the pony tail as she ran by and shoved my pistol into her mouth, then began dragging her up the hill into a wooded area while she was still figuring out what happened.

   Her screams would carry far and wide so as soon as we were in a sufficiently secluded area I shoved her onto her stomach, then lay down on top of her and clamped a hand over her mouth. With my free hand I wrestled her shorts and panties down to her knees, then undid my own pants before shoving my cock into her slit.

   I pistoned her unwilling pussy right there on the ground, feeling her muffled screams against my hand. I twisted one of her arms behind her with my free hand, grinding deeper and deeper inside her. When I was ready to cum I pulled out and shoved myself into her mouth, spraying my seed down her throat where it would never be found.

   I pulled my pants back up as my victim lay on the ground sobbing, probably wondering how her day had suddenly gone south like this.

   "Get dressed, girl," I ordered. Slowly she pulled her panties and shorts back on and then stood up. I grabbed her shoulder and walked her back down to the path by the cliffs.

   "Are you going to tell anybody about this?" I asked.

   "No..." she muttered unconvincingly.

   I stood there for a minute, staring at her, then grabbed her by the waist and threw her over the ledge. Time slowed down; in slow motion I watched her surprised and terrified face, her arms and legs flailing for something to grab onto, before she disappeared. When I looked down she was at the bottom of the cliff in a pool of blood. A number of her bones were sticking out of her skin and she was hacking up blood. She was moving weakly but she'd be dead soon.

   I was eating at a cafe when I overheard talk about the unfortunate death of a local lawyer, dying painfully after accidentally falling off a mountain trail. And in the prime of her life too, what a shame.

**********

   I'd hit the road about a day later and stopped in Oklahoma. Saw some hills, went and saw a bunch of grass, stopped at a bar and met an inked-up chick named Shey. Bronze skin, said she was from Iran, or of Iranian decent, I don't remember or care that much. She was a full-bodied woman with bronze skin and one of the best asses I've ever seen.

   We were driving back to her place when one thing lead to another and soon we were parked behind a department store, Shey riding my cock and sticking her tits in my face. I nibbled one of the bronze mounds a bit while I thought things over.

   I could go back to California right away. But that seemed kind of rushed, you know? For one, I still owed people in Cali a good amount of money, and I knew some people in Florida who could help me with that. On top of that it just seemed kind of unfair, you know? After all, there were plenty of women just dying for my attentions in the other states. Like Shey here. I surreptitiously removed a zip-tie from my pocket and quickly had her wrists bound behind her back.

   "Oh baby, you're so kinky," she cooed. She moaned as I ran my hands over the tattoos on her waist, dutifully bouncing up and down on my manhood.

   I'd made my decision, I was going to go on a road trip for a bit. Living the high life, seeing the country, fucking and killing targets of opportunity. I wrapped my hands around Shey's throat. She giggled a bit at first, the submissive slut, but that quickly stopped when she realized I wasn't going to let go.

   With the FBI out of the picture, as long as I stayed on the move I could probably stay out of the reach of local police departments. It'd be a nice change of pace from my usual life.

   Shey was struggling now, but with her arms tied behind her back there wasn't much she could do besides wiggle her tits at me. She couldn't even dismount thanks to the confined spaces of the car, so all she was really doing was servicing my cock with more vigor than she'd shown before. And it was amazing how much tighter she was now. Her brown eyes filled with tears as she realized she'd made a big, big mistake.

   After a few minutes her struggles were almost gone, lines of drool drooping down to her breasts. Shey's bronze body shone golden with sweat as she continued to weakly slide up and down my rod out of instinct. Her brown eyes were fluttering in an effort to stay conscious, and I came in her. When her eyes rolled back I let go and she flopped backwards onto the dashboard.

   I sat there for a bit, watching Shey's unconscious body begin sucking in much-needed air. I could have let her live, I bet enough brain cells were asphyxiated that she wouldn't be able to produce a useful sketch, but nah. I grabbed another ziptie and secured it around her neck, then sat back and watched her naked bosom heave as its air supply once again vanished. In a couple of minutes her body gave a mighty spasm - I like to think this was her soul leaving her, but maybe that's too fanciful - and lay still.

   I unlocked her phone with her face and went through her social media. Turned out she was a small-time model with an Instagram presence, fancy that. I dumped Shey's body deep in the desert, took some photos of her corpse, stuffed her underwear in my pocket, went back to my car, then floored it for Texas.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #12 on: September 25, 2020, 12:53:31 AM »
Chapter 7 - Hot Tub Shenanigans OR: I Don't Know How Electricity Works

        My next plaything was relaxing with me in a hotel hot tub. She was a sexy thing with long blonde hair, a fairly extravagant silver navel decoration, and a leopard-print bikini. I'd seen her hanging at a Texas pool and the first thing I'd noticed was her height; if she wasn't six foot tall she was damn close, and she towered over the other women. Definitely helped her stand out from the competition.

   I kept tabs on her until she ordered a drink. It was easy enough to drug her drink, then I simply smuggled the increasingly delirious woman out of the pool and into my car. I ensured her drugged stupor lasted until night, then I took her down to a hotel I'd scoped out earlier.

   The hotel, which I of course wasn't staying at, had an outdoor pool and Jacuzzi that closed at 10PM. This was normally enforced by a guard, but I chloroformed him so me and my "date" could have some fun.

   Her name was Anya and I escorted, or rather dragged, her over to the Jacuzzi. It was one of those ones with stairs and a railing that descend into the pool, so it was easy enough for me to maneuver the stumbling blonde in. I yanked my trunks down, followed by Anya's bottom, then guided her slit onto my cock. Without a sound the drugged woman began sliding up and down.

   I felt up her statuesque body, squeezing her breasts - they were pretty large, probably enhanced a bit - through her bikini top and biting down on her neck until I tasted blood. She quietly moaned in pain but she was drugged, so she continued to fuck me. It was pleasant and gentle; this night was of course going to end with Anya dying, but until then in almost felt like a normal night fucking a girl under the stars. Life was good.

   I managed to hold on for almost half an hour before I could tell I was about to cum, so I pulled her off of me and then straddled her face. Anya instinctively wrapped her lips around my cock and sucked until I exploded inside her face, and she swallowed every drop. I sat back down next to her, satisfied.

   Above the jacuzzi was a fairly dangerous looking power line that ran to a generator half-hidden in a corner. The generator was off, but I doubted it was OSHA compliant, and they probably wouldn't bother to run a drug test on anyone who got electrocuted by it - but I planned on stashing the drugs on the unconscious guard anyways. I looked back at Anya; her eyes were fluttering and she would definitely drown if I weren't here holding her up. She was probably so far out of it that she wouldn't even register pain or fear when the time came. A rare privilege for one of my girls.

   I figured I'd give her one last good fuck first, though. After several minutes of squeezing Anya's titties - I kind of wanted to take her top of, but leopard print looks so sexy on a woman - I was once again hard and ready to rock, when I was surprised by a female voice. With a speed born of desperation I managed to yank both my trunks and Anya's bikini bottom back up to their proper positions.

   "Pool's still open? Hell yeah!"

   "Told you it would be, stupid."

   I turned around and saw two women in bikinis approaching. One was a pale, skinny goth chick with shoulder-length hair dyed pure white, a black stud in her belly button, and what looked like a fairly flat chest covered up by a skimpy black bikini. She was covered with black tattoos - a large flame-bat-thing on her chest, some sort of circular pattern around her navel, and a variety down her left arm. Her red-bikini-clad friend was an Asian with an incredibly cute face and a tanned, fairly curvy body. They were both smoking joints, and carried with them a six-pack of beer and a pool bag.

   "No guard tonight, thank god," the Asian chick laughed. Her voice was slurred and I could tell that both girls had probably already gone through a good amount of alcohol and drugs.

   Goth Girl didn't respond, simply cracking a beer and taking a long drag of her joint. She held it out to me from across the tub. "Want a hit?"

   I accepted it. I don't normally smoke, but I wanted to appear friendly. I definitely didn't need the girls taking too close a look at the barely-conscious blonde on my shoulder. If they suspected foul play, a single scream was all it would take for things to go badly for me. This only made my cock harder; there's something immensely arousing about danger, which I guess is why I chose a public pool for my fun tonight.

   When I handed it back, I noticed that Goth Girl had edged noticeably closer to Anya. "What's up with her?" she asked. Anya's eyes fluttered a bit and she sank into the water up to her tits, her blonde hair fanning across the surface. There was no way that the girls couldn't have noticed that she was drugged, unless they were really that blazed. Or they just didn't care.

   "Drank a bit too much, I guess," I said with a shrug. "She came down here a few minutes after I did, and was crawling all over me."

   That was all the invitation Goth Girl needed. "So she's not yours then?" Before she even finished the sentence she had pulled my blonde prize away from me and was running her hands over her. She pulled Anya's top off and threw it onto the concrete and began squeezing her ample chest. "Uh huh, definitely fake."

   Asian Chick rolled her eyes and looked at me apologetically. "Sorry about this," she said.

   I didn't bother responding. Now was the time for action, not words. I scooted over to Asian Chick and lifted her out of the hot tub, sitting her down on the concrete. My face was in front of her sex and I began tugging her bottom down.

   "No don't," she giggled insincerely as her clit visibly hardened in front of me, "I'm not that type of- ooooohh." She writhed on the concrete as I ate her delicious Asian pussy out, alternately covering her mouth to stifle her moans and huffing her blunt.

   We must have been quite a sight. Four sluts in a hot tub, a curvy Asian covering her face while a guy ate her pussy; on the other side, Goth Chick's bikini was floating in the water while she straddled Anya's face. Her body language suggested that my hot blonde was as good at unconsciously eating pussy as she was at unconsciously sucking cock. What a versatile young woman.

   I pulled Asian Girl back into the water and flipped her over, pushing my cock into her slit from behind. I undid her bikini top and massaged her tits her tits as I railed her.

   "Don't stop," she whimpered. I could see tears dripping from her face; I guess she was a cryer. Just a few minutes of thrusting and she covered her face again. "I'm- I'm cumming," she sobbed. "I'm cumming."

   I, however, had not. With Asian Girl spent, it was time for me to sample Goth Chick's goods. I pulled her off of Anya, barely noticing as her blonde head slipped underwater. Goth Chick growled and fought a bit as I sat her down and penetrated her, but it was more of a dominance thing than non-consent; I could tell she was a woman used to being in charge. She broke open another beer and sat there stoically, arms spread out across the ledge of the tub, legs resting on my shoulders, her long, white hair floating on the water, framing her petite body. Beer in one hand, joint in the other, and a determined expression on her face, her only sign of arousal was the hard nipples on her titties; as I'd initially guessed her breasts were on the smaller side, mere bumps on her chest, but she had wisely decorated them with piercings and an extravagant tattoo of a black bird or the like. I gave the mounds a bit of massaging, but she remained stoic; I guess she had decided to make this some sort of challenge, but as I'd already fucked her friend to orgasm it was one I was content to lose. After a couple of minutes I pulled out of her and sprayed my seed across her tits, almost covering up the tattoo.

   Goth Chick looked at me triumphantly and chugged the beer down in one go. Asian Girl had crawled around the hot tub and was opening another can; Goth Chick snatched it out of her hand and pulled her into the water.

   "C'mere baby," she cooed.

   "Heyyyyyy," Asian Girl muttered. The goth woman looked me in the eyes smugly, then poured the beer down her chest, washing off my hard-earned seed. The Asian woman shoved me out of the way and eagerly began licking the alcohol off her friend's pale chest. She licked her way up to her face and soon the two were locked together, the Asian's large tits engulfing the goths small tits, their faces hidden under a mesh of white and black hair. They moved around the pool as one, neither of them seeming to notice Anya's expressionless, drowned face staring up at them from the bottom.

   I decided it was about time for me to take my leave. I gathered up the various bikini pieces floating about and tossed them onto the concrete. Goth Chick caught me and glared questioningly.

   "Something to remember you girls by," I said with a smile. She shrugged and, leaning back against the side, grabbed a fistful of her Asian girlfriend's hair, forcing her face underwater between her legs. Every so often she'd pull the Asian up by her dark hair to let her breathe, then it was right back to eating pussy.

   "I respect a dominant bitch," I said as I climbed out. "Too bad we didn't meet under different circumstances."

   She didn't seem to grasp the significance of that. I walked over to the generator and confirmed it was off - I didn't want any embarrassing accidents - then grabbed a knife I'd stashed away and climbed up on top of the small pool-side bar where I could reach the wire. As I began working the wire free from the pole it was attached to - careful to make it look uneven and crude, like it had just deteriorated and hadn't been deliberately cut - I looked down at my girls. Goth Chick's back was arched, tiny, tattooed boobs jutting out, eyes clenched shut and mouth wide open as Asian Girl ate her out. From this angle I couldn't even see Anya's long-dead corpse beneath the water; it was like she never existed.

   Goth Chick was in the middle of a long, shuddering orgasm by the time I managed to cut through the wire. I flattened myself against the roof as they looked around.

   "Where'd he go?" the Asian girl slurred. "Where'd she go?"

   "You should've gotten his number, stupid," the goth chick said, lightly slapping the Asian's face.

   I waited a few seconds and then peeked over the roof hesitantly. Asian Girl was floating on her back, head in Goth Chick's lap. Goth Chick was laying half-submerged on the hot tub stairs, stroking her girlfriend's face. Their eyes were closed and they were smiling contentedly.

   I climbed to the ground, wire in hand, and cautiously laid it in the hot tub, careful not to disturb the ladies. I quickly ran over to the generator and put my finger on the power switch, then yanked the cord a bit to get their attention.

   The cord brushed one of the Asian girl's legs. "Wazzat?" she giggled. The goth woman opened her eyes lazily, still smiling as she noticed the cord and followed it to its source. Her eyes fell on my cock and she stared with drunken lust for a few seconds before the realization hit her. Her eyes shot open and she tried to jump to her feet, but slipped and fell deeper in the water. Asian Girl was still floating around happily, oblivious to her impending doom, while her white-haired friend desperately grabbed at the railing in a blind panic, trying to pull herself out.

   "NO! WAIT -"

   I hit the power button and electricity coursed through the tub. Goth Chick's muscles contracted violently and almost tossed her out of the pool, but she now had an involuntary death grip on the railing and simply fell on her ass, submerged from the waist-down in the electrified water. Asian girl convulsed on the surface wildly for a few seconds before sinking into the water; soon only her tits were visible above the water, jiggling like jello. Ironically, Anya was the only one who managed to escape; reinvigorated with electricity, her muscles gave one massive, final spasm against the bottom of the tub, propelling her to what would have been safety. The drowned blonde landed on the ground tits-up, skin blue and water-logged, sightless eyes staring into space.

   I walked over, careful to avoid any water, and looked at Goth Chick. Still attached to the railing, her body was stretched and splayed in something resembling a spread-eagle position, giving me a magnificent view of her white, svelte body as it jerked and flailed in the current. Her long hair was sticking out out at wild angles out like some sort of white sea urchin. The path the electricity was taking across her body was visible, a line of red running from her pelvis to the conductive metal of her black belly button stud, traveling up to and between her pierced nipples, down her outstretched arm and finally into the metal railing in her grip. Her jiggling tits charred and blackened as the trail progressed to fourth-degree burns, the tattoos around her chest and navel almost seeming to spread and consume her pale flesh. She endured this in silence, unable to breathe, let alone scream, as she was cooked alive from the inside out.

   Neither of the girls looked like they were going anywhere, so while they were frying I went about covering up my tracks. I went to their pool bag and dug out a cell phone - which I was able to unlock and password-change with Goth Chick's agonized face, surprisingly pristine aside from the cracks forming along her teeth from her clenching - and pocketed it along with a room key. There was also a handgun, of course she was the kind of bitch to keep a pistol in a pool bag, which I carefully pulled out using her bikini bottoms like a glove.

   I found their room and unlocked the door, then dug around and found spare swimsuits and their IDs. Goth Chick's name was Naomi and Asian Chick was Miya, and they were University of Texas juniors. I planted the drugs I'd used on Anya in a purse and hurried back down. I put their key back and tossed their new swimsuits into the hot tub while I gathered up the bikinis they'd actually been wearing, then turned the generator back off.

   Muscles instantly relaxed, Asian Girl - sorry, Miya - let go of whatever had been supporting her. Her breasts sank below the surface, and from what I could see of the rest of her it was a good thing the water abstracted her form. She came to rest on the bottom, her once-beautiful form blackened and shriveled like a dead spider.

   Naomi, the goth chick, hadn't been nearly as modest, the top half of her body still proudly on display to the surface world, the water subtly steaming where it met her flesh. Her entire torso, once a lovely chalk-white, was now red and blistered everywhere except for the ugly trail of black fourth-degree burns that ravaged her chest and abs, and slight glistening where her piercings had fused to her flesh. Her submerged lower body was mangled almost beyond recognition, but her face was curiously untouched, still pretty aside from her now-shattered teeth, and her wide eyes that bore testament to the pain and terror that had defined her final moments.

   She had let go of the railing and I watched as she slowly slid back down the stairs into the water. After a few minutes Naomi and and Miya were reunited at the bottom of the tub. Very romantic, I think. I turned the generator back on, got dressed, and walked off with three bikinis, a cell phone, and Naomi's gun. I left Anya where she was.

   Before I left I went over to where I'd left the guard, who was finally regaining consciousness, and put a few rounds in his chest. Then I dumped the pistol in a nearby dumpster.

   The incident was in the news for a few days. The radio said the investigation was ongoing, but the police scanner said it was pretty much wrapped up. Naomi, who it turned out had a history of sexual harassment and violent behavior when drunk, had slipped Anya, a Russian tourist, date-rape drugs. When the hotel guard confronted her Naomi, spooked and hammered out of her mind, shot him to death, then proceeded to rape and drown Anya with her girlfriend Miya before the couple were fried in a freak accident involving an outdated, non-regulation-compliant generator. The cops admitted it sounded far-fetched, but they didn't have any better ideas.

   I, meanwhile, was in Louisiana, looking for my next prey.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #13 on: September 25, 2020, 12:54:10 AM »
Aaaaand that's all there is for now, you're all caught up with our hero's exploits. More to come when I get around to writing.

Offline xenmon2

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Re: Predator and Prey (rape, torture, serial killing)
« Reply #14 on: November 13, 2020, 03:30:12 AM »
Chapter 8 - The Art of the Deal

The trip to Florida had been less eventful than you'd expect. The knowledge that my useful FBI agent didn't have any sway in the east was enough to keep me well behaved, relatively speaking. It was when I was banging a stripper in a private room that I heard of an opportunity too good to pass up.

   I'd been meeting up with an associate at a strip lounge, a Wall Street multi-millionaire who I'd been hoping could help me with my financial troubles. Turns out that after his wife had died in a boating accident last year, he'd spiraled into depression and blown all his money on strippers and booze. In fact, the reason he'd flown down from New York to Florida was to beg me for money. I said no and he stormed out.

   Well, that was a disappointment. Luckily this was one of those joints where the strippers are just high-end prostitutes, and I decided to at least get my dick wet in one of them.

   She was an Asian named Ling. She apparently had the goods on almost everybody there, and she didn't mind telling me as she rode my dick. Turns out my former millionaire buddy wasn't telling me the whole story. According to Ling, his wife, a fashion model named Shanna, had somehow convinced him to withdrawal almost all of his money from the bank before trying to flee the country. When her boat went down, so did the cash.

   But that wasn't all Ling knew. According to her, she'd once run into Shanna in the Bahamas, living like a queen. Naughty girl had stolen her dopey husband's money and faked her own death so he wouldn't look for her. You had to respct it - she would have gotten away with it too, if she hadn't been recognized by the wrong stripper. Some extreme misfortune there.

   I remembered Shanna a bit, she'd been fairly well known on the runways and was quite a looker. And now this babe was officially dead and sitting on loads of money? Yes, please.

   So I got myself a boat and headed down to the Bahamas. Ling didn't have Shanna's address, but she had given me the bar she'd seen her in. I headed over there that night and as luck would have it, there she was.

   It was easy to see how Ling had recognized her. Shanna's efforts to disguise herself seemed to have mostly consisted of wearing lots of purple - her tube top pants were dark purple, even her lipstick was a deep red veering on it. A nearly six foot tall brunette with a bob haircuit (died dark purple, of course), she was definitely still recognizeable to anybody looking for her. Her face was even still plastered in that perpetual fashion model scowl, though I figured I could find a way to make her lighten up.

   I ordered a drink and watched her surreptiously. Despite her looks and apparent eagerness it seemed that every guy there already had an eager girl clinging to him and she wasn't having much luck. Getting alone with Shanna would be easier than I'd thought.

   I bought Shanna a drink and the fashion model scowl turned into a relieved grin. She told me her name was Maria and rattled off some obviously fabricated backstory while I imagined cutting her pretty throat open. Her tube top clung to her perky, braless tits and I could see her nipples hardening through the dark fabric. It wasn't long before I was driving Shanna - sorry, "Maria" - home to her expensive beach house.

   A few minutes later she's on her hands and knees in bed, wiggling her cute butt at me. Not one for foreplay, I suppose. I surreptiously slid my condom off as I lined myself up with her pussy and then moaned as I pushed inside the tight, wet slit.

   "Fuuuuuck," she groaned, "Harder baby!"

   I obliged and gave her ass a few harder slaps for good measure. Her traditional fashion model body - tall, thin, and narrow - wasn't quite my thing, though she'd clearly been hitting the gym and had earned an attractive layer of muscle, but her ass was definitely her standout feature. It was heart-shaped and firm, the kind of butt you could bounce a quarter off of. I knew I'd be putting it to work later.

   Meanwhile I was ready to take things to the next level. Her pussy was nice and tight, but I knew how to make it tighter. I leaned over licked her ear.

   "Where's the money, Shanna?" I whispered.

   "Huh?" she replied. It took a few moments for it to register. Her eyes shot open and she bucked under me, trying to push herself up. "No! Oh god!"

   I simply laughed, clamping one hand behind her mouth and twisting an arm behind her as I pinned her with my weight. Her free hand grabbed the headboard and her pussy clenched as she tried to force me out.

   "That's right, bitch, time's up," I said, thrusting into her even harder. I released her mouth and grabbed a fistful of short purple hair, twisted her head around so I could see her terrified brown eyes. "Scream and I'll break your neck."

   "Did my husband send you?" Shanna asked, trying to keep her voice steady as I plowed her hard. She wasn't crying, yet. "Please stop, listen, we can talk-"

   I twisted her arm harder and she yelped in pain.

   "We are talking, bitch," I hissed.

   "Whatever he's paying you, I can pay more. Get off -" I was getting tired of Shanna's whining, so I shoved her face into the pillow, muffling her. With her shut up I was able to focus on extracting maximum pleasure from her pussy. As with all women, Shanna felt so much better when she was unwilling. It was only a few minutes before I was ready to cum, but intuiting that I might want to use this hole again I pulled out and came on her back.

   "Fuck yeah," I moaned, savoring the moment. When I was good and ready I stood up. "Get up," I ordered.

   Shanna, eager to appease me, practically fell off the bed in her haste. She scrambled to her feet, looking me in the eyes and trying to look calm.

   "I don't have any money," she said flatly. "You have to believe me."

   I pulled her to me and nuzzled her dark purple hair. "Then I'm going to kill you," I whispered. I felt her breath catch in her throat as I gripped her neck.

   "You can't - I -" Shanna stammered. "Listen, you don't have to hurt me. W-we can work something out. A deal." Her hands ran down my chest to my cock.

   "A deal, huh."

   "You're hard again," she cooed. I nearly rolled my eyes, but whatever.

   Shanna dropped to her knees and began sucking my cock. She knew what she was doing, even letting out some inauthentic moans to show what a good girl she was. Her purple bob, still in perfect condition, covered half her face and her uncovered eye stared up at me seductively. But despite her apparent enthusiasm I could still see the fear in her eye and feel her trembling around my cock.

   While she was occupied with that I grabbed her phone, conveniently on the nightstand. Shanna's face unlocked it even with my cock in the way, which I found mildly amusing, and luckily she had mobile banking. Her accounts together amounting to only a couple thousand dollars, which was concerning. Did she keep it in cash? No, that'd be stupid. Even another, secret bank account struck me as unlikely. Maybe this was all a wild goose chase. Either way it was going to go bad for poor Shanna.

   I grabbed her hair and pulled her face away, then lay on the bed. Shanna got the point and climbed on top, bouncing up and down. Her pussy clenched in fear she was so desperate not to show, my former fashion model slid along my shaft with the enthusiasm of a woman literally fucking me for her life. I lay there idly slapping her little tits back and forth while she faked an orgasm.

   "Okay babe," she said as she climbed off of me, sensing my approaching climax. But I would not be deterred. I sprung up, flipping her onto her back, now thrusting hard while she looked at me with fear in her eyes once more.

   "Please don't cum inside me," Shanna implored.

   "Alright," I said. I pulled out and pushed my cock against her asshole.

   "NO!" she shouted before catching herself. "No. Please. Not there."

   "It's pussy or ass, babe," I said. "Your choice. Choose quickly."

   "Jack, please-"

   "My name isn't Jack, for one. But it sounds like you're choosing ass."

   "PUSSY! Oh god..." she cried.

   "You want me to cum in your pussy? Roger that," I said. I pushed back into the wet slit and fucked Shanna hard until I came, pumping my seed deep inside her where it belonged. Her face went red with frustration and humiliation and all the other things a bitch feels when she gets pumped full of jizz by a rapist. Her legs dangled at my sides.

   "What are you gonna name the kid?" I laughed.

   "Fuck you," she hissed. Her right hand formed a claw, but she was able to stop herself before she did something stupid. "Just get out, please. Take whatever you want and go."

   "I don't think it's going to be that easy, babe."

**************************

   I had Shanna lying on her dining room table, face up, tits jiggling lightly as she trembled. I hadn't bothered to tie her up - she seemed to have the completely unwarranted idea that if she cooperated things would end well for her. Poor girl had more courage than sense, which I found amusing.

   "You don't have to hurt me babe," she said.

   "Then you just need to tell me where your money is. I hope for your sake you still have it." I was heating up a knife on her stove. When the tip was read hot I went back to the dining room.

   Shanna gasped when she saw the knife and sat up.

   "Uh oh, Shanna. What did I tell you?" Reluctantly she laid back down, arms at her sides. I stroked her soft, struggling tummy. "You sure you don't have the money."

   "I SWEAR!"

   "Too bad for you then. Fortunately, I'm something of an artist." I lowered the red-hot knife tip to her right tit, her pink nipple sizzling on contact. Poor Shanna's screams were loud, but there was nobody around to hear her. She grabbed my arm and tried to pull it away, falling off the table in the process. I pulled her up by her hair and put the knife to her throat.

   "NO NO NO NO!" she yelled. "I'M SORRY! PLEASE!"

   "I thought you said you didn't need to be tied up," I replied. "But now you just fought me."

   "It just hurt so bad," Shanna squealed. "I'm sorry."

   I stroked her hair. "I forgive you. Now, I can cut your pretty throat. Or I can tie you to this table."

   Shanna hesitated, debating whether torture was better than death. In the end she chose torture.

   "Tie me up," she said.

   Now I had her stretched out over the table, each limb tied to a leg. I licked Shanna's tits as her eyes stared at the newly reheated knife. I began tracing the red-hot knife across the screaming model's body, the smell of burning skin permeating the air. When I was done Shanna had fallen unconscious and her tummy was covered in what might generously be called abstract art.

   "You have anything you want to tell me?" I asked.

   "Pleeeaaase," was all she said.

   "Not what I'm looking for." I pressed the knife to her right tit, drawing a scream as the skin turned red and blistered. "This only ends when I get what I want, or you die." I dug the point into her left nipple.

   About thirty minutes later I was about done with this. I'd been torturing Shanna for a good thirty minutes and I still wasn't rich. I was, at this point, pretty thoroughly convinced she was telling the truth. All that was left was to completely destroy the bitch.

   I got back from reheating the knife and admired Shanna's body. The former model was a mess of burns, cauterized wounds, and tears. But the worst was yet to come. I ran my hand over her pelvis. She was almost delirious and didn't respond.

   "You know what's coming next, Shanna." I slowly brought the knife down between her legs.

   The encroaching heat in her most sensitive region was enough to bring her back to reality. She bucked, struggled and screamed with renewed vigor.

   "NOOOOOOO! GOD NOOOOO!" She howled.

   "Don't worry, the knife will cauterize your pussy on the way in. Just when I take it back out it'll yank your skin with it. You'll bleed to death in no time.

   "HEEEELP MEEEE!" she screamed. But no help was coming. With a painful death only inches away from her pussy, Shanna finally broke. "THE MONEY! I HAVE IT!"

   Fucking finally. I had to admire her strength as I looked at the blistered mess that was her body. I pulled the knife away.

   "Just- just let me keep some," she sobbed. Even after all this, she was still convinced she could come out ahead here. "Please."

   I patted her face. "Of course. Now where is it?"

   It was, as it turned out, in a cleverly-hidden compartment under a sofa. I threw open the door and was greeted with about a dozen black suitcases, full of hundreds.

   I untied Shanna and let her count the money for me. It was an absolutely insane haul. I could see why she endured for so long. But not long enough, and now she was kneeling on the floor crying as her fortune disappeared, hundred dollar bill by hundred dollar bill. By the time it was over, I had a cool $300 million pile.

   "We can split it," Shanna said quietly.

   "I don't think you're in a position to demand anything," I said. "But I can see where you're coming from. Bet you couldn't even make it as a street whore looking like this." I squeezed a cooked titty and she winced. "I'd might as well kill you, huh?"

   "Why..." she sobbed.

   "Tell you what. Suck me off and I'll let you live. I might even let you keep some." I stood up and bapped her face a couple times with my cock until she reluctantly took it in her mouth.

   It was a nice contrast from the blowjob I'd gotten from her earlier. Then, Shanna had still been a strong, pretty girl trying to deal with me and trying oh so hard to look tough. Now she was a wreck - face streaked with eyeshadow and smeared purple lipstick, her hair a mess, the occasional glimpse of her permanently ruined body. Instead of meeting my gaze with that scared yet confident look, now her eyes were blank and broken. It was so sexy. But I wasn't satisfied with just another blowjob. I pulled out of her mouth.

   "Hang on a minute babe," I said as I went to retrieve my wallet. Shanna hadn't moved when I came back.

   "Disappointing performance," I said as I fished a couple ones out and tossed them at her. "There's your share."

   I stroked my cock while Shanna stared at the bills. I'd half expected this bit of mockery to set her off, but she really was broken at this point. I could see her in a couple weeks, with no hope for the future, severe trauma, and possibly a kid on the way. I saw her hanging herself in her bedroom. How boring.

   "Say 'thank you,' Shanna."

   "Thank you," she mumbled.

   "God, you're adorable," I chuckled. "I'm going to come clean with you, I'm definitely going to kill you."

   Shanna looked up at me, mouth gaping. "But I- we made a-" she fell silent, her mouth working as she tried to find words. "You can't," she finally said desperately, the reality of her situation finally hitting her. I could almost see her coiling up like a spring before lunging at me, fingernails aimed at my eyes. But Shanna was no fighter and in seconds I had her bent over the couch, arms twisted behind her back.

   "GET OFF ME! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

   "Would you rather I fuck your ass than kill you?" I asked. Shanna nodded vigorously. I lined my cock up with her ass and pushed in, drawing a howl that soon broke off. Shoving something up someone's ass usually pacified them. Shanna stomped her feet and gripped the sofa as I pounded her tightest hole. "I'm still going to kill you."

   "I've given you everything," she cried brokenly. "Why are you doing this to meeeee?!"

   "Not everything, slut," I said, slapping her ass. "Not your life. Not yet."

   "You said you'd let me go! We had a deal!"

   "I said no such thing," I laughed. God her ass was tight. "You're the one who was acting like I came here to negotiate. I came here to kill you, Shanna. You gave me your pussy, your mouth, your ass, you let me mutilate you. And guess what? I was going to fuck all your holes, torture, and kill you anyways. All you did was make it easier."

   "NoooOOOOOOOOOOO!" she howled mindlessly. I gripped her hair and forced her face into the cushion as I pumped my cum deep inside her ass.

   I pulled out and began pulling her to the kitchen. "Fun fact. I was in debt to some bad types, the kind who would definitely shoot me for being in debt, right? I would probably be dead within the week if it weren't for your money. Thanks to you, I'll be able to kill bitches for years to come. That's going to be your legacy, Shanna."

   She began fighting with fervor as she saw the knife I'd left heating on the stove, but it was easy enough to force her over the counter, legs spread. The entire blade was red and I needed to use an oven mitt to pick it up.

   "Now, where were we?" I said, holding it inches from her pussy.

   "NO! PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHIIIIING!" she screamed desperately.

   I shoved the blade into her slit up to the hilt. Shanna actually fell silent for a moment as her mind processed the pain, before letting out an absolutely deafening scream. She howled in blind agony as her most sensitive nerves were incinerated.

   After ten seconds or so I pulled it back out, taking some charred flesh with it. The knife looked pretty gross even for me and I tossed it away where I didn't have to look at it. Shanna collapsed to the floor, hoarse from screaming, well beyond any rational thought, blood pouring from between her legs. She writhed there for about five minutes before finally falling still.

   I tossed the money and Shanna's corpse into her car. I loaded it all onto my boat, then dumped Shanna a couple miles out with some rocks to weigh her down. Her home would be very obviously a murder scene, but it would probably be a while before anyone realized she was gone. And by then I'd be far, far away.

 

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