Dark Fantasy, BDSM, Body modification, Bondage and restriction, Cruelty, Death, Discipline, Domination/submission, Extreme, Hardcore, Horror, Male/Female, Murder, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Snuff, Torture, Violence, Written by women
My very first story. This was written for my girlfriend and I'm sure that there are some spelling/grammatical errors and I'm sure some of this story isn't logical but it's a STORY. Don't nitpick, just enjoy. Also, I apologize for the lack of paragraphs. Please leave your opinions.
I studied the young woman intently from my place in the shadows, hidden by the branches and leaves of the woods I was in. I still had a wonderful view of the deserted, littered street the lack of vehicles, abandoned buildings, the one working street lamp at the very end of the road and of course, the frantic, blonde female scurrying down the filthy asphalt. I followed slowly and silently, careful of twigs and limbs that could possibly make any noises. She was looking over her shoulder steadily and although I knew that her panic would prevent her from actually sensing me, I certainly didn't want to alert her that I was on the prowl. I took great note of her appearance. I estimated that she was about five foot six, maybe five foot five without the stilettos. Slender, but with good muscle tone, as her shorter skirt revealed. My first thought was 'former cheerleader' but I suppose she could have been a gymnast as well. I wouldn't care enough to ask. I also noticed her clean, stick-straight, neatly styled hair and well-cut blouse. I couldn't distinguish her facial features from this far off but I could tell she was pretty. She certainly didn't appear to be one of the hookers, drug addicts or common street trash that occasionally made their way down here and for this I was thankful. They weren't good for much, I simply killed them and moved on. They were already well-used and held no allure for me. This one, however...well this one would be fun. I felt my grin widen as I imagined all the things I would to this little slut until she too, bored me. I knew that I could take her now but, to me, that wasn't as fun as playing a little cat-and-mouse. There was nowhere she could run from here, this was my territory, and any further she went would just bring her closer to my abode. As I continued to follow her silently, I had to wonder what exactly had brought her out here. There was absolutely nothing of interest this far out...no attractions, no sight-seeing, no motels or gas stations. This was ghost-town and everyone in a 50 mile radius knew that. That combined with the stories of missing women had made this a place to avoid for all those with a brain and common sense. My guess was that she had been near the neighboring town and had either broken down or been deserted. Instead of walking towards town, she had sealed her own fate. Growing anxious, I decided to approach her. Slipping quietly, so she wouldn't notice, I exited my hiding place. I didn't need her questioning why I had been concealed in the woods. I crossed the street to look as if I had came out of one of the abandoned buildings...one that looked as if it could just be closed for the night. I waited until I was about twenty feet behind her and called out to her. "Hey there! You really shouldn't be walking here at night! Do you need some help?" She spun around quickly and stared at me in fright. I imagine that I gave her quite the startle. I flashed her my most easy-going smile and made my eyes seem as concerned as possible. It worked. She visibly relaxed and flashed a tired smile back. "I'm afraid I got lost." she admitted with a gentle, southern twang. "I was looking for a motel or some sort of lodging. I came here on the bus and by the time I realized I had been stood up, there weren't any more buses coming. I figured I would find somewhere to stay and catch the next one in the morning but to make matters worse, I left my cellphone on the bus. There wasn't anybody around, or any places open so I just started walking. Thank God you showed up!" With that, she stopped and took a breath. I don't think she had taken one the entire time she was speaking. I studied her, as if suspicious, and responded slowly and carefully "Well darlin', there aren't any motels out around these parts. You picked a mighty bad place to walk to." I waited for her face to fall and take on a disheartened expression before I continued. "However, I reckon you could stay the night at my place, if need be. Can't have you roamin' these streets all durn' night, can I now? It's plenty big." She was the one studying me now and I assumed an expression to look as if I didn't care either way. This one might be easier than usual. I knew that I didn't look threatening, even with my size. I was tall, about 6'3, and while I was far from overweight, I was wide. Muscular and solid...a football player's physique, if you will. I had dark brown hair that could use a trimming and bright green eyes. Add that to my tanned skin, straight, white teeth and the dimple that flashed at will in my left cheek and I appeared to be just another harmless, attractive man. However, Ted Bundy himself looked like a choir boy...when will women learn to stop trusting appearances? Not that I didn't thank it, of course. The young woman's voice snapped me back to attention, "Well...if it's not too much trouble for you, then that would be great. Thank you." I smiled again. "No problem darlin'. I hope you don't mind walking? I never drive the truck out here." She shook her head quickly, signalling that it wasn't a problem at all. We started walking together in the direction she was already headed. I let a few minutes pass uninterrupted before I asked her her name. "It's Lauren," she replied softly "I've never really liked it though. What's yours?" I paused to look her in the eyes before I answered. They were blue, like I knew they would be. Crystal blue, bright and clear. "I think Lauren is a beautiful name...mine is Jake." I wasn't worried about her knowing my real name, she wouldn't live to repeat it. "How old are you Lauren? I'll answer first. I'm 27." She smiled another shy smile...very cute, if I do say so myself. "I'm 19 and in my second year of college. I hope to be a school guidance counselor one day." I took in the information quickly. "Oh? Very impressive. Any reason why you want to be one of them school counselors?" She nodded slowly. "When I was in school, none of the counselors seemed to know what to tell me about why my father wasn't around or why my mother was always gone. So I grew up thinking that it was somehow my fault, that I had done something wrong. I think I could help children in the ways that I wasn't." almost as if it were an afterthought, she continued "That's who I was supposed to meet, you know. I had never met him before and I thought that maybe we could meet and become close. Maybe have that father/daughter bond that every child should have. I guess not though." With this, she became silent and I let a decent amount of time pass before I said anything back. "Well hearin' that, I think you'll be a fine school counselor, Lauren. I reckon some men just don't have it in them to be fathers. It's no reflection of who you are." She beamed at this. "Thanks Jake. If you don't mind me asking, how much further is your house?" I waved in the general area in front of us. "Just over yonder." When conversation ceased again, I began to think of my plan. She had opened up, which meant that she felt completely at ease. This might just be too easy. I actually hoped it wouldn't, what fun was it without a bit of a fight? The struggle, the fight, the screams, pleads and prayers...my dick twitched just from the thought. Thankfully we were approaching my house now. It was a modest, one-story brick house, painted white with the paint flaking off in more areas than not. A couple of the porch steps were broken and one of the remaining shudders was dangling precariously. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I'm 'fraid I don't have much time to do work around the house. A couple of the porch steps are missing but the back steps are fine. We'll have to go around since the front door's warped anyhow." I could see that Lauren was re-thinking her decision now but how could she turn back? "A-a-alright, that's fine." I smiled to myself and lead her around the back, conveniently placing her walking closest to the tree directly beside my modified shed. As we came maybe a foot and a half from it, I quickly grabbed her by her waist-length hair and shoved her torso first into the tree, yanking her arms back roughly as I did so. The whole thing happened so fast, she barely had time to gasp before she was trapped by my capable hands. She began to whimper, confused, shocked and very, very scared. "What are you doing?! Please let me go, please!" she pleaded. Why did they always beg? Did they really think that asking me was going to be enough to change my mind? Certainly not, not after this much trouble and preparation. I lowered my head to her ear and whispered "Lauren, Lauren. What a sweet little slut. I'm sorry that daddy doesn't love you...maybe I can love you enough to make up for it." With that, I laughed cruelly in her ear and felt her body shake with sobs against my own. "Why are you doing this? Why?? What did I do? Please!" she wailed. I drew back and looked at the back of her head disdainfully. Without responding, I withdrew the length of rope from my back pocket with my free hand and shook it out. Then, too quickly for her to comprehend, I pressed my torso against her back and pulled her hands apart, only to put them back together on the other side of the trunk. I then quickly tied them together with the rope, boy-scout style. She was now, essentially, hugging the tree. Unable to move, with no chance of getting free from this, she fought violently. Obviously the realization that something very, very bad was going to happen to her had finally hit. I decided to answer her previous question. "My dear Lauren...you were in the wrong place at the worst possible time. It's nothing personal, I assure you. If you behave and be a good little whore, then you can walk out of here and go back to where you came." She paused in her struggle, weighing her options, I'm sure. She could either endure whatever I did without a fight and live or she could resist and die. She remained still. "Really?" she whispered. I snickered meanly. "No." That's when the screaming started. I didn't have anybody near enough to hear them but too much sound annoyed me. I let her scream for a good minute, then struck her in the back of her skull hard enough to make her face bounch off the bark in front of her. She was silent after that, weeping softly. I was glad. I wasn't a big fan of beatings...I preferred blood. I then removed the knife I kept in the waistband of my jeans, conveniently concealed by my shirt and used it to slice her skirt half-way. I ripped the rest off, the sound pleasing me. I took a moment to appreciate the flawless skin, the softness, the curves of her shapely ass clad only in a virginal white, lace thong. Somehow it looked innocent on her, although it was one of the sluttiest undergarments a woman could wear. I cupped and grasped her ass cheeks in my hands, feeling the weight and the slight jiggle. Dear Lauren cried harder as I did this, almost as if she knew what was coming next. She didn't, or else she would be screaming her fuckin' head off again. I then cut part of her tight blouse off, nicking her upper back a bit in the proccess. It would be okay. There'd be many more 'nicks' in the future for her. I then, of course, ripped the rest of it off. I then cut the straps on her bra, until that too could be removed easily. She was then completely exposed, besides her panties, and I could see the goosebumps rising on her skin from the chilly night air. It was an exhilarating sight. I ran my hands up and down her body, caressing, groping, pinching, squeezing and slapping. With each one of the last three, she would groan in self-pity and misery. I didn't care. I was enjoying it. I then picked up my shorter handled knife, once more and ran that across her skin. I could see her shiver with each touch of the cold metal. Growing tired of this, I pushed harder into her skin as I dragged the blade along the surface, drawing a thin line of blood. I smirked as she screamed out in pain. Little bitch would be subjected to a lot more than that. I sincerely hoped for her sake that her pain tolerance had risen by then. Actually, that was a lie. I loved it. I loved hearing the pain in her voice, feeling the pain in her movements, and when the time came, seeing the pain in her eyes. I continued to cut and slice her at random, sometimes shallow, sometimes deep, sometimes merely scratches. I did this until majority of her back and thighs were covered in the cuts, dripping blood down her lithe figure. I saved her ass, besides a few wounds where the cheeks met the thighs, because of the sole purpose of I enjoyed looking at it. I pulled her head back by the hair, as far as it would go with her arms wrapped around the tree and held the knife to her neck, pressing hard. I liked the way her body contorted and became motionless in order to keep the blade from slitting her throat. Then I just pulled hard on her hair, tearing a large amount of it from her scalp. I slapped her wounds, spit on her, and beat her with a particularly large, strong branch until it broke. I then decided that I was ready to move on. First, I tied her ankles together, relishing the pathetic sounds coming from her mouth and the ragged, heavy breathing. Once she was secured, I untied her wrists from around the trunk and brought her raw, scraped arms back to her body. Without saying a word to indicate what was next in store, I dragged her across the ground by one bloody arm to my shed. Once she was inside, I held her tightly and asked "Do you know why we're in the shed?" Silently, she shook her head, eyes wide with fear. I sneered as I answered my own question, "Because little cumsluts aren't worthy of dying in my house.". Lauren's eyes shut tightly and began to sob harder. All the monsters she had learned of when she was a child were real and she was at the mercy of all of them rolled together into one man. She was going to die and she knew it. I then picked her up baby-style and laid her onto the altered cot in the middle of the room. I had to use minimal force, I think her fight was about gone at this point but I was nowhere satisfied. I first secured each wrist in the leather straps attached to the cot, then moved further down it where i untied her ankles (standing back to ensure I wasn't kicked) and fastened them too with the leather straps at the foot of the cot. Once I was finished, I stood back and admired my handywork, while she looked up at me with dark, tearful eyes. She really was beautiful, but the panties had to go. I rid her body of them and finally, she was completely naked. She was waxed bare, smooth and I had the perfect view of the dusky pink of her tiny slit. "You have such a pretty cunt, bitch. I can't wait to ruin it." I snarled. My excitement, anticipation and impatience were making me even more cruel and insensitive. Again, I didn't care. This bitch was here for my pleasure and my pleasure only and she knew it. Darling Lauren didn't even respond to my comment. She merely closed her eyes and acted as if a person accepting the fact that they're doomed. Now my only question was how I was going to cause her the most pain possible. I circled the claustrophobic space, exploring my options. I finally chose the items I would need and came back to sit at her side. I smiled at her and lovingly stroked her hair before reaching out and pulling her breast taut by the nipple. In quick succession, I pierced it with an old nail I had found laying around the shed. It had come to good use after all. She let out an awful scream and arched her back, pulling desperately against her restraints to no avail. I then made my way to the other side and did the same to the other nipple. She screamed again and thrashed around but surprisingly remained concious. I guess she had a higher pain tolerance than I originally thought. I thought for a moment before a particularly enjoyable idea showed itself to me. I never liked to do the same thing twice. I crawled onto the cot and kneeled between her thighs. "Are you a virgin, little Lauren?" I inquired. She just stared at me and for a moment I thought she was no longer coherent. "No." she answered quietly and dejectedly. Jesus, the sheen of sweat that the pain had put over her body was incredibly hot. "Well, you filthy little slut. You'll never enjoy fucking again." and with that I pulled a nondescript lighter out of my pocket. Looking at it, you wouldn't think of the pain it was about to cause this little bitch. However, I could imagine it quite well, and I quite enjoyed the thought of it. I brought the lighter to the folds of her pussy and pressed it there, delighting in the way it made her squirm, bucking her hips, knowing what was coming but being powerless to stop it. I pulled her cunt lips apart until her clitoris was revealed and held my fingers there, holding them apart. I then flicked the lighter and...no flame. Lauren jumped and started bawling again, her nerves stretched tight and thin, the feeling of helplessness too much to bear. I flicked the lighter once more and this time it lit. I moved the lighter to her clit and held it there, scorching the most sensitive part of any woman. She bucked, screamed, and pulled on her restraints until her wrists and ankles were bloody until the moment her eyes rolled back into her head and she lost conciousness. I calmly removed the lighter from her pussy and put it away. Then I waited for her to regain conciousness, it didn't take long. When her eyelids began to flutter, I slapped her, forcing her return to reality. As soon as she did, I forced my dick into her cunt, pushing past her swollen vulva and feeling her now crispy clit against the shaft. Lauren screeched again, more, as I dry-fucked her. I knew that me fucking her was pain in itself, combined with the pain of her pussy and the cuts on her back...well, I loved it. I fucked her harder and deeper, feeling her pussy milk my dick involuntarily while her body convulsed. I knew it wouldn't be long, so I reached up and circled my hands around her neck, squeezing as hard as I was thrusting. Her eyes began to bulge, as she tried to say something, anything, who cares. Nothing she has to say has any importance to me. I fucked her faster, maintaining the pressure around her throat, keeping her from getting any air flow. I leaned down and bit her earlobe and growled the last thing she would ever hear. "Oh darlin' Lauren...I'm sure you would have been a great guidance counselor." A moment later, I filled her with my life as hers left.
...When will women learn to stop trusting appearances?