Posted by BlueLips on June 10, 20012 at 12:04:31:
What she saw in the mirror terrified her. She was naked, wrists tied to a chair, and the man behind her was garroting her, slowly. Her head bobbed this way and that as she fought to get away, her legs flailed but the chair underneath her wouldn't budge. In the mirror, she could also see the rest of the large, comfortable loft space. On the bed at the far wall were two figures, unmoving. Someone seemed to be on the couch as well. She didn't dare look to her right, having already seen what was there: another girl in a chair, unmoving, with eyes wide open and legs sticking out stiffly.
Amanda had gone out with friends for some clubbing on a Sunday night before the holiday. All of them had hooked up, and she'd gotten the true prize, a professional, handsome, confident man. She wasn't normally into one-night stands but accepted an invitation back to his place, and upon entering the door she'd been struck on the back, stunning her, and then had a cloth stuffed in her face.
Now she'd woken in this predicament. Her air was running out. How had she gotten into this?
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Walter wasn't a loner, and he wasn't a freak, in fact he was popular, attractive, and did quite well at his job. None of that would change this weekend, but Walter himself would, forever.
His apartment was in a small walkup, two units on each of two floors. All of his neighbors seemed to have left for the long weekend already. Usually he could hear some activity, either his next-door neighbor Eleanor on the phone, or the people downstairs working in the kitchen or turning the stereo too loud. This particular Friday, nothing. The quiet made him restless.
So, as he often did to kick off a long weekend, Walter went down to the club. And as usual, he made friends quickly, this time with an attractive, busty Latina named Miriam. Few women came to dance alone, but for those who did and were on the prowl, Walter was an obvious target.
Late that night, the door to Walter's loft opened. It was in a surprisingly quiet nook of the city, in a newly developed area. Walter lived on the top floor of three, each floor accommodating two spacious lofts.
Walter and Miram entered, kissing sloppily and drunkenly. They closed the door, and by the moonlight sneaking in through the closed blinds, made their way across the spacious single room to Walter's bed. It wasn't long before Miriam's top was off and her bra unsnapped, freeing her swaying, lucious breasts. She unbuttoned Walter's shirt and licked his chest.
It wasn't long before they were naked, with Walter leaning over her, kneading her breasts and sucking her nipples. She laid back and stroked Walter's stiff cock. "I'm on the pill," she whispered, eyes closed. "Just do me now."
Walter knew this was a bad idea, but he was drunk, and caught up in the moment. He mounted her, sliding his cock in slowly as she cooed in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly.
Several minutes later, they were still going at it, Miriam tossing left and right in ecstacy. Walter noticed she wasn't making the usual moans. She was holding her breath for long stretches. Finally, she moaned to him, "Put your hands on my neck, baby." Puzzled, he did, struggling to keep from squashing her under his body. "Now squeeze," she said. "Not hard. Just a little bit." He did, and her breathing turned into an audible rasp. "That's it," she said, breathing faster in a wheezing way.
He started pumping again, and Miriam's face turned to a look of worry, not serious worry, but the kind indicating she was really getting into it. "Yeah, that's it, that it," she said. Walter found he was getting into this too. He liked that look on her face. He squeezed harder. "Oh yeah, baby," Miriam croaked, barely audible.
Miriam's eyes were still shut tight, and she was bathing in pleasure. Walter knew what to do with his cock, and the asphyxiation was working even better than usual. She loved hearing herself gasp and wheeze. She tossed her head left and right, mouth open, eyes closed. Her breathing got a little more difficult, then a little more, intensifying the teasing sensations on her clit. Then she realized she wasn't making sound at all. Walter had inadvertently cut off her air.
By this point, Miriam was too close to cumming to care. Her head was swimming with the alcohol and the sex, and blissfully she lifted her hips, matching Walter's accelerating strokes. Her mouth opened, wide, then wider, in a scream of orgasm, but no sound came. She threw her head back and her hips began pulsing uncontrollably as she came. Walter kept pumping.
It was a long, intense orgasm for Miriam. When she was through, she tried to sigh, but no air came out. She tried to breathe in. Nothing. She opened her eyes.
Walter was above her, staring down at her face, hands still on her throat, hips still thrusting into her. Miriam blinked several times. Her head was clearing from orgasm, and she was starting to realize the burning in her lungs was becoming more than uncomfortable. Her eyes widened involuntarily. She pushed at Walter's chest, trying to get him to stop. He kept going. She reached up to grab at his hands, but the orgasm, the alcohol, and her oxygen depravation were too much. Her own hands were shaking, quivering, unable to grab anything. Her fingers pounded at his uselessly.
Walter saw Miriam's eyes and mouth open even wider, in obvious panic. He knew he should stop, but to his surprise, he found he couldn't. Miriam's head tilted back, hard, as she struggled. He looked down and could see her chest heaving uselessly as her body tried to suck in oxygen. Now her legs were tense and quivering like her hands, and her torso was thrashing up and down. Walter's hands and arms were aching, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.
Miriam realized her body was no longer obeying her commands. The warm memory of her orgasm was long gone, and fear was taking over. She'd asphyxiated herself into unconsciousness before, but somehow, this was deeper, more horrifying. Something truly dark awaited her. She was helpless as panic washed through her mind, the last sensation before she faded into nothingness, her legs stiff and twitching.
At that moment, her bulging eyes crossed slightly and tipped upwards, and her tongue violently forced itself from her mouth, sticking impossibly far down over her lower lip. Walter gasped as he came hard, flooding her pussy with his load. He pumped for what seemed like minutes, emptying himself, forcing his eyes to stay open as he watched Miriam's last twitches, those dull eyes staring upwards with no spark of life left in them.
When he was finished, he let go. The bruises on her neck were startling -- so dark, as was her whole face. He rolled to the side, reaching over to squeeze her breasts. She looked so horrifying, so unrecognizable, and yet, so lovely. Walter passed out.
It was noon before he woke groggily on Saturday, sunlight dimly entering through the closed blinds. Someone was next to him... and then he sat up with a start, recalling. Miriam's face was an ashen gray, with dark bruises on her throat, her eyes wide, her tongue protruding. He thought he'd be sickened. But he wasn't. Her breasts were still so lovely. He began playing with them again, realizing his cock was still stiff with sleep. Gently, uncertainly, he rolled onto her, slipping his cock back in, and started pumping. Her body shifted pliantly with each stroke, her breasts bobbing. He was a little ashamed, but also deeply excited. He fucked her for a few minutes before coming again. Then he hovered over her, thinking. What had he just done?
He had killed a girl. And he realized that he wanted more.
And he knew where to get it.
"Hey, stranger," she smiled, leaning into his window. She had short, light hair and a friendly smile, and a face that was just starting to show her age. "I've got a friend with me tonight, she's new in town." Walter looked over her shoulder and saw an attractive, dark-haired woman. "'Mind taking her along? We'll give you a discount?"
Not long after, they were in Walter's apartment, sharing drinks. The girls had stripped down to bras and panties. The dark-haired one looked uneasy, but Candace had been here many times and was completely at ease. She sat next to Walter on the couch, his arm around her hip, occasionally reaching up to fondle a breast through her bra. The noise of their party didn't matter, as Walter had seen no signs of his neighbors all afternoon.
"You know," Walter said, sounding embarrassed, "There's something I should tell you. I've actually got my girlfriend over tonight. She's passed out drunk in the bedroom."
Candace giggled. So did the dark-haired hooker, but less comfortably.
"Anyway, the real reason I brought you over is, I'd like to play a trick on her. Just something harmless. She'll totally be into it. Wanna help?"
"Oh, sure!" Candace beamed. Then, seeing her friend's doubting look, she said, "Oh, Walter's cool. We've done tons of stuff together. It'll be fun."
In the bedroom, Miriam was turned to her side, facing the wall, blankets pushed over her. Only the back of her head was visible. Walter used the dimmer to turn the lights up just barely, so Miriam's corpse couldn't be seen clearly.
"I'm thinking it would be funny if she woke up next to one of you." He turned to the dark-haired woman. "How about it? I'll pay extra."
"Uh... okay?" she said, looking to Candace for approval.
Candace, who let herself get more tipsy with Walter than she would with other clients, smiled. "You should get naked first," she said naughtily. "Let me do the honors." She walked behind her friend and unsnapped the other woman's bra, removing it slowly to reveal a luscious pair of brests. Candace kept her attention on Walter, smiling seductively, as she lowered the other woman's panties. Walter smiled back.
The dark-haired woman laid down gently on top of the covers. "So, do I just wait here?" she whispered.
"Sure," said Walter. "Actually, you know what would be really good..." He opened his dresser and pulled out a few lengths of rope.
"Uh, wait a minute," the dark-haired one whispered. "I don't know..."
"It's okay," Candace reassured her, smiling. "Walter's into that, and he's a real gentleman about it."
Her friend definitely didn't like the idea, but with Candace's help, Walter pressured her into it. Candace tied the woman's hands to the headboard while Walter secured her ankles to the foot of the bed frame, spread apart.
"Let's gag her too," Walter suggested. The woman shook her head. "No way. Hey, Candace, I really --" but Candace, tipsy and comfortable in the presence of her best client, put a finger to her friend's lips. "Shhh," Candace said. "I'm telling you, it's OK."
Candace peeled off a stocking and stuffed it into her friend's mouth, giggling. Walter left the room and came back with a roll of duct tape. Candace sat on the floor, peeling off the other stocking, but Walter was satisfied with one in the girl's moutn. He quickly tore off a strip of tape and covered her lips. The dark-haired woman looked concerned, but they stayed bedside for a few seconds while Candace talked her down. Eventually, the dark-haired hooker's breathing eased, and Candace had convinced her to just wait for whatever came next.
Candace and Walter moved back to the living room. "Are we really just gonna wait?" she asked, taking another gulp of champagne from her glass and dropping her stocking to the floor.
Walter picked it up. "Oh, we'll think of something to do," he said.
Candace smiled back, seductively. That was her cue. She put the glass on the coffee table and laid down on the couch, her head on the armrest, back arched. "I'm sure we will," she said.
Walter stood behind her and fondled her breast. Candace sighed. Then he stopped as she started lightly stroking her clit. "Keep doing that," he suggested, as he took the stocking and stretched it out with both hands.
Candace sighed and moaned lightly. Walter quickly looped the stocking around her exposed neck, crossing the ends in front. "Mmm, what are you doing?" Candace asked dreamily. Walter answered by pulling tight.
"HHhhhhhhh- ggg?" Candace stopped, unsure what to do. Her air was suddenly cut off. At first, all she noticed was the annoyance of the ligature, but when she told Walter to stop, no sound came out. Her face showed concern and irritation. Total ignorance. Walter liked that.
Her hands suddenly flicked upwards to grab the stocking but it was already too tight. Candace was slowly sobering up. This game was going to far, and she had to let Walter know. She patted his wrists firmly, as if to say, "Enough, darling, this isn't working out."
Walter just kept pulling. "We're not going to stop, Candace," he said firmly. "I'm going to kill you."
His tone told her he wasn't kidding, and by now the burning was starting up in Candace's lungs. Her mouth opened again and again but produced only the tiniest of sounds. She kicked furiously, forcing her way off the couch, trying to get up. But Walter held firm, and followed her down the the floor.
Candace was starting to panic. Her kicking became less purposeful, more instinctive, her feet thumping against the floor erratically. Her body was simply trying to get away at this point. Her eyes were wide with fear, her mouth gaping, her tongue sticking out ever so slightly.
From the other room, Walter heard the dark-haired hooker scream into her gag once. Candace kept thumping and flopping, thrashing side to side aimlessly, a sight Walter knew he would savor forever. Another scream from the other room, followed by several purposeful shrieks. The hooker had figured out something was wrong with Candace, or possibly she had realized she was tied up next to a dead woman. It didn't matter to Walter.
Convinced now that his neighbors were not home, Walter ignored the girl's cries from the next room and focused on finishing the job. Candace was twitching and spasming now, her life clearly ending. Walter held the stocking tight and watched the life ebb out of her. Something about the finality of her last spasm told him it was over. He let go and took her head in his hands, admiring Candace's twisted, agonized features, her tongue sticking to the side awkwardly.
He felt no remorse. He had really liked Candace, but his need to kill her had been greater. He paused a moment longer, realizing he was breathing heavily.
Walter suddenly got up and went into the bathroom to get a condom, then walked into the bedroom and stood over the shrieking girl. He quickly took off his clothes and put on the condom -- reasoning there was no telling who this hooker had been with.
Walter went to the other side of the bed and flipped Miriam over, revealing her ashen, grotesque face to the hooker. The girl's eyes widened, and her shrieks became sharper and faster. She was in full panic.
Walter knew he wouldn't last long, and his arms felt exhausted after finishing Candace off. He tore off another piece of duct tape and, holding it in one hand, climbed onto the bed and mounted the hooker. He stuffed his cock into her pussy roughly. Tied tightly to the bed, she wasn't able to resist or throw him off. He pumped her a few times, enjoying the sounds of her screams and the sight of her eyes tightly shut. Then, propping himself on his elbows, he brought the tape to her face, to her nose.
She squirmed relentlessly, tossing her head this way and that. She could tell what was about to happen. But he finally got the tape onto the tip of her nose. From there, it was an easy matter to use his hands to smooth the tape down, blocking her nose completely.
"Nnn! Nnn! Nnn! Nnn!" Her shrieks were smaller now, higher-pitched. Walter began fucking the girl brutally. Her eyes went wide with panic as the asphyxiation began to take hold. Walter watched her chest and stomach muscles pulsing, trying to suck in any air. She arched her back in agony, again and again, almost matching Walter's thrusts.
Finally, she stiffened completely, her back off the bed, breasts thrust to the sky. She held that position, quivering, tense, and then he saw it: her eyes drifted upward, unfocused, uncentered. Her consciousness slipping away. That sent him off, and he came as he thrust into the girl again and again.
When
he was done, her arms were still twitching, but one look at her
blue-hued face and vacant eyes made it clear she was gone. Walter took
off the condom, wrapped it in tissue, and tossed it in the wastebasket.
He was spent. With the bed and couch "taken," he chose to simply drop to
the floor, where he passed out immediately. It was nearly dawn on
Sunday.
Dazed, he stood up, quickly realizing he was still naked. In seconds, he got dressed, his head slowly clearing, his eyes focusing enough to see Miriam and the dark-haired hooker on the bed, both dead and staring, so quiet.
Leaving his feet bare, he went to the front door and looked out the peephole.
There was Eleanor, the neighbor who shared his floor. She wasn't at his door, but leaning against the wall to the side.
Walter opened the door, and his eyes and nose told him everything: Eleanor was drunk. She'd stumbled all the way down the hall and literally crashed into Walter's door. Now she was making her way back along the wall to her own apartment.
"Waaalllllther!" she giggled when she saw him. "It's a long weekend! Happy -- Whatever Day!" She beamed.
Eleanor was in her 30s and still quite youthful looking, a professional type whom Walter usually saw in business suits or, occasionally, baggy jogging gear. Walter had always considered her attractive but not really his type. Here, she looked quite cute, almost helplessly drunk, beaming a bright smile, and stumbling about in a little black dress and black pumps.
"A buncha us spent the weekend downtown. I got a cab back. What time is it?"
Walter grabbed her wrist and looked at her watch. "It's about three. In the afternoon."
"Riiiight! I been out since Friday, so that's--" she counted on her fingers. "Two days! I gotta shower. Bye." She blew him a kiss, even though he was just inches away, and fished through her purse for keys.
She found them, then promptly dropped them. "Oops!"
She bent over to pick them up.
A sudden impulse rushed through Walter's brain. He punched her hard in the stomach.
"GuuuhhHHHHH!" Eleanor stumbled back against the wall, stunned. Walter punched her again, and she stayed doubled over, dropping her purse. Walter kicked it to the side. He was breathing hard now, desperately, feeling out of control, as if someone else had taken over her body.
He stepped forward and reached over, grabbing Eleanor by the throat. He brought her upright and, before she could react, began to squeeze. Her breathing turned into a sour rasp under his powerful thumbs.
He pushed a little harder, and Eleanor was lifted off the ground a few inches. She inhaled one more time, long and raspy, as Walter increased the pressure and cut off her windpipe.
Eleanor was only now starting to react. In the instants since Walter hit her, she first thought something had fallen on her, then thought he was somehow coming on to her. Now, she could tell something was clearly wrong. Her feet didn't seem to be touching anything, and she wasn't able to say anything. "Wa... wa...." her lips kept saying, trying to spit out Walter's name.
After about 30 seconds, Eleanor began to realize she was in real trouble. Her lungs were uncomfortable. She tried to push Walter back, then tried to grip his hands, but he was too strong, and Eleanor's drunken state was slowing down her responses. She tried to run, still barely aware that her feet were off the floor. She kicked, but Walter had moved in very close now, pressing his crotch into her. Her shoes didn't have heels to dig into his thighs, not that she was in a state of mind to think of anything like that. Her feet flailed groggily in helpless arcs behind him.
The burning in her lungs was now desperate, but poor Eleanor could do nothing about it, her asphyxiation being acclerated due to the effects of alcohol. In her mind, she was twisting and fighting, but in reality, her arms stayed down by her sides, uselessly thumping the wall. She was wiggling like a beached fish, her eyes open, her head zipping occasionally to one side or the other.
Then her eyes opened wider. Eleanor's mind had sobered up just in time to fully experience her death. Her lungs were roiling in agony. She wanted only to scream, but her mouth was already open wide. Her tongue began to spill out. Her last conscious thought was an animalistic panic, like a horrible screeching in her ears.
Her eyes drifted off-center, then crossed slightly, then crossed hard. Her tongue stuck out even further. Walter stared deeply into her eyes, and he realized this was it -- this was the moment he would forever live for, that last instant of consciousness when a living, vibrant young woman was turned into a mindless body of flesh. That's what he wanted to see, again and again, and each time, he wouldn't be satisfied without knowing he had snuffed out her life.
His hands were tiring, but he kept his grip as Eleanor wiggled viciously against the wall. Her body's final reflexes were stronger than her actual struggle had been.
At long last, she was still.
Walter let go. Eleanor fell to the floor in a heap.
Walter suddenly realized he had been asleep all day. He didn't know if any other neighbors had come home already. If they had, he hoped they could ignore the commotion upstairs, figuring he or Eleanor were doing housework. He moved quickly, dragging Eleanor by the armpits back into his apartment, then quickly going back to the hall for her keys and purse. He closed and locked his door.
His body was raging with desire, and the sight of Candace's twisted frame on the couch just fueled the flame. He threw Eleanor into an easy chair and ripped at her little black dress. It came apart, with difficulty. He tore it all the way down. Eleanor's black bra had a front clasp. He undid it, revealing perky breasts that were bigger than he'd ever realized. He squeezed them hard.
Her panties were black, too. He slid them off her, pushing her shoes off her bare feet to get the panties off entirely. He savored the sight of her dark bush.
Walter pulled each of Eleanor's legs onto an arm of the chair and moved her ass forward to the edge. Her body slumped down, her pussy exposed, her crossed eyes still crazily locked, tongue sticking out. He took off his pants and shoved himself inside her, noticing she was still warm and even a little wet.
He fucked her with abandon. Last night, with the hooker, had been one of his most animalistic times, but something about Eleanor was driving him even wilder. He plowed into her limp body again and again, madly, watching her breasts and even her head bobbing with the furious motion. He paused every now and again to squeeze her breasts or lick her tongue. The sensations were electric. He lasted much longer than he'd expected, so long that his legs began to hurt from the awkward position. Finally, as he stared into Eleanor's wild, dead eyes, he spewed his load hard inside her.
Hours later, Walter was sipping coffee and finally bringing his mind back to reality. With Monday being a holiday, he had just more than 24 hours to start cleaning up his binge. Miriam's corpse was the oldest and would have to be disposed quickly. Eleanor was sure to be missed first and was most easily traceable to him, so she had to go, too. He hoped Eleanor wouldn't be noticed missing until she didn't show up at work Tuesday, which probably gave him until Wednesday before anybody did anything about it. That would have to be his deadline, because police combing her apartment were sure to come knocking on his door. Walter didn't want four naked corpses lying around if that happened.
It was evening, and he realized he didn't really want coffee. What he wanted was a drink. The club would be open, and in fact it might be a good night, considering it was still a holdiay.
He thought about Miriam, and he realized that against his better judgment, he was getting ideas again. He was still restless with desire, with the novelty of his new hobby. He had time before he had to get to work on Miriam and the others.
He made preparations. He took time to nail a chair to the floor, in front of the full-length mirror in his living-room space. He soaked a cloth in chemicals, leaving it near the door, in easy reach. He dressed up, and headed back out.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Which brings us back to poor Amanda, being forced to watch herself die at the hands of this man who had decided to become a serial killer.
Walter toyed with her, letting tiny gasps of air slip into her lungs before retightening the stocking he was using to kill her. Each time, he reveled in seeing Amanda's face in the mirror, her eyes full of despair and hopelessness, then widening as the burning pain kicked in yet again.
The first ten minutes were the best, when Amanda still had the energy to struggle hard. Walter especially liked it when she twisted side to side, her breasts wiggling back and forth with the effort. After that, each round of asphyxiation seemed to just result in small, tight spasms. It was still arousing, partly for the sight, partly for the knowledge that Amanda was slipping away.
Finally, he decided to end it. Amanda was tiring, and she had stopped shrieking during her little respites of air. He didn't want her to be too ready to die. He doubled his efforts and pulled the stocking tighter than he had before. Amanda's face turned dark red with trapped blood, and her tongue stuck out, her mouth frowning in horrible, hopeless despair, as if she knew this was the end. Her eyes nearly popped from her head.
Walter tried to keep her head positioned for a good view in the mirror. After a few minutes, as he grunted with the effort of keeping the stocking tight, he was rewarded. Amanda's eyes slowly rolled upwards, one small tick at a time, and her wide-open mouth went slack. She was gone.
Walter felt crazed with desire but kept the stocking tight while Amanda quivered like jello. He waited patiently for her body to die.
When it was done, he untied Amanda, threw her roughly to the floor. He would spend Sunday night fucking her repeatedly until he was spent.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Monday morning, Walter faced up to his responsibilities. He was going to need tools -- saws and the like. The big-box hardware store came to mind, but he instead decided on a smaller place that was in walking distance. The walk would help clear his head.
He felt ghoulish inside the store, contemplating saws and plastic bags. Could he dispose of the bodies whole, or was it better to cut them up first? Wouldn't that be messy, even in the tub? In the end, he decided to cover all bases, and went to the counter with an assortment of tools, bags, and plastic sheeting.
Two young girls were at the checkout counter, chatting. The one working the register was particularly attractive, and Walter couldn't help glancing down at her chest. Instinct. He made himself look away.
The girl didn't notice, nor did she think twice about the assortment of things Walter was buying. She said Hi and Did you find everything, but otherwise continued her conversation as she rang him up.
"So I volunteered to close up again next Sunday," she told the other girl. "I just hope my asshole boyfriend remembers to pick me up this time."
"He fucking forgot?" the other girl asked.
"Yeah. I was out there about an hour. I still don't know where he was, he wasn't answering my texts. It was about 11 when I called a cab, and it took fucking forever, too. They don't have many drivers out on Sundays, I guess."
"At least it's not that bad a neighborhood. I'd hate to be standing out there in other parts of town," the other girl said. She glanced at her watch. "Hey, my shift's up, and I've got to get home -- see you later?"
"See ya," the cashier said, then turning her
attention to Walter, having rung up all his items. Walter paid cash. As
he walked out, his mind was racing. He suddenly had plans for next
weekend.