Posted by hisdinner on June 29, 2005 at 22:30:57:
Released
I thought he’d lost his taste for killing girls, but I was wrong. About a month ago, he’d started taking me out driving late at night. We’d cruise through the valet areas outside the clubs, looking at all the little drunken girls. He’d sit inside the darkened van and watch them stumbling to their cars. It might be two a.m., and we’d be getting into bed, or lying there just after sex, and he’d grab a thick handful of my hair and pull my face up to his and whisper, “Let’s go out and spot-light some does.”
Up until two nights ago, it had stopped there. He’d stopped short of taking them. We’d found them, and he’d raked their bodies with his eyes, and that had been enough.
Tonight he’d simply said, “It’s time.”
I nodded and stepped into the shower. He seemed hungrier tonight. He was more talkative. He never talked about the things we used to do before; what we’d do out in the dark, with all those sweet young girls. He never talked about that last time, and what he had almost done to me. I shivered even as the hot water beat on my skin.
“I love their eyes when they get that trapped-in-the-headlights look,” he said, pulling on his clothes.
“Will you… do you want me to--” I glanced sideways at him as I toweled off my body and dressed in a little spandex mini and a pair of heels. It was club wear, camouflage, just in case he had me step out of the dark.
“What? Do I want you to fetch me one tonight?” He sat on the bed and watched my eyes.
“Yes. Do you?” It had been two years, after all. Two years of just the two of us.
“I do. Get me a wild-eyed girl tonight, bird dog. Think you can do that?”
“Uh--”
I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. I combed tangles out of my hair and put on makeup with a shaky hand.
Half a year ago, he’d started pacing around at night. He’d stalk around the house for hours. And he’d begun to hurt me more, methodically beating me after he tied me up. Our lovemaking was always rough, but it had changed. I used to love to look up at him and see the hunger in his eyes as he wielded that whip. Now his eyes looked right through me, but so intent, as if he were mesmerized by something or someone just out of sight. I sought his eyes, I took his beatings, I begged for more. But I wasn’t enough. I sighed. He needed more.
I tried to sound nonchalant, and failed. “Sure.”
He frowned at me.
“You don’t need to come.”
Something in my belly knotted tight. Not take me along? I hadn’t felt this terrified since his hands had closed around my neck, two years ago.
“No, no, I will. It’s-- it’s--”
“It’s what you do for me. It’s why you’re here. Come on, let’s go.”
It took about fifteen minutes to reach the Strip. My hands were clammy, and my heart stuttered every time I played back his last few words to me. We parked in the Luxor garage and made our way through the casino to the line of people waiting in front of RA, the nightclub. It was a Saturday night in summer. The throngs of girls and club boys shifted constantly as doormen let the A crowd filter in through a mob of Docker-clad tourists.
He gripped my wrist and nodded at three college girls who had just joined the back of the line, two redheads and a curvy blonde, all leggy and eager but obviously new to this. They radiated their insecurities, tugging at hems and glancing around for a place to fix their makeup one last time. Still so innocent. I glanced at him. Sure enough, he nodded.
“Any one of those will do.”
He left me there. He’d wait by the elevators for me. I could get her that far, I was sure.
I joined the three nervous girls at the back of the line just as the blond asked, "Does anybody know where there's a bathroom?"
“Sure, I’ll show you, I should go too. If you guys save me a place in line?” I smiled at the two redheads remaining. I turned and started walking down through the marbled, columned halls.
“Damn, Susan, you hit the bathroom back at the hotel just before we left the room. Hurry up!” the redheads called.
Susan caught up with me. “I can’t believe how cool this is, it’s like some movie set, is this real marble? Do you think my dress is ok? Where are you staying?” She was wavering a little on her four inch spikes.
“You look hot.” I smiled at her. “But oh damn! I left my money in my car and I don’t want to go up to the garage all by myself. Come with me?”
I zigzagged us back toward the elevators. Susan steadied herself on my arm. She’d already had more than a couple drinks, and she didn’t know her way around. I was banking on it.
“Uh, you drove here?”
I nodded at the little blond. Her purple spandex stretched and clung with every step. We’d nearly reached the bank of elevators and I could see him up ahead. Good.
Susan had slowed down a little, glancing around, looking for something familiar. She didn’t want to get too far away from the club. But now she needed a pee and she was completely turned around. She’d never find her way back to the party without me.
“Yeah, and I know better than to get into these elevators at 3 a.m. by myself. Come on, you and your friends can share my line pass when we get back. I know one of the bartenders inside; he can really hook us up.”
“Ok! Cool! I heard their bartenders are really hot too!”
“Oh, he rocks. Here we go. Five minutes and we’re back down there and through the door. Wait ‘til you see that place.”
We stood right next to my master at the elevator. The door opened and the three of us walked inside.
“Ladies?” He raised an eyebrow, nodding toward the buttons.
“Four.” I said, moving to the far side of Susan. She was between us now. The elevator started moving up.
“Catch her,” he said, twisting his upper body and raising a fist.
“What?” said Susan. And then he punched her, and I caught her just before she fell.
He left us as the doors opened and circled around to get the van. I pulled the wobbly, whimpering girl up tight to my side and half-carried her out into the dimmer light beyond the elevator doors. A group of Asian tourists watched us, whispering to themselves.
I giggled and shook Susan. “You don’t have to take a free drink every time the cocktail server comes around, Christ!”
I was relieved to see the van just ahead, the side door open and my master behind the wheel. Susan was beginning to fight off her daze. Ignoring the dawdling Japanese, I shoved the little blond inside, followed her in and closed the door.
That first night we’d taken her home. He’d pulled off onto the side of the road on the way home and hit her again, this time hard enough to knock her out. She laid with one leg off the bench seat, her head tilted, chin upwards, one arm splayed over her eyes and the other dangling to the floor. Tomorrow morning, her cheek would bear a large bruise. No one ever saw. We pulled into his garage, and down came the automatic door, and into the house we went. Safe. My heart beat hard, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
He carried her to the bedroom and sent me to get clothesline. He must have bought it only today. He was tugging down her panties when I brought in the rope. She lay in the center of the bed, her spandex dress riding up high on her thighs. Her arms lay wide stretched, palms up, and her head was turned to one side, eyes still closed. Her mouth was open slightly, and she stirred and moaned.
“Put it on the nightstand. Find something to gag her. No.” He shook his head and gripped the girl’s mouth and stuffed her panties in. She fought against his grip but he used a knee to hold her down as he secured the gag with duct tape, ripping off a length of it and taping it to her face. Some strands of her hair were trapped beneath the tape. She whimpered louder now, despite the gag.
He fucked her hard that night after he tied her wrists to the bedposts. He had me shove pillows under her ass to elevate her. He took pictures. He left her legs free to kick and allowed her body to twist and curl between his sessions with her. He pulled me down onto my knees and pressed my mouth into her cunt and told me to suck all of his cum out of her. I did. He took pictures of that, too. He had me turn to face him, my face slick with her juices and his.
All this time she shrieked and swore and cried. Her legs were sleek and lovely and strong, but eventually she tired of kicking and arching her back and trying to escape his cock or my mouth. But she started twisting and screaming again when he showed her his hunting knife and cut away her little dress. He slit it right up the middle, exposing her lacy pink bra. It didn’t match the panties in her mouth. She writhed and pleaded, but he cut right through the center of it, too. The halves of the bra fell to either side of her.
Her uptilted nipples rode high on rounded breasts. Her eyes were wild and wide. She watched him put down the knife. Her chest rose and fell in tortured breaths, straining to take in air as she sobbed and fought the gag. He stood and nodded, then bound her ankles to each bottom post and picked up his braided leather belt. He sat me close beside the bed. She howled before the first lash even fell on her flesh. He beat her, and his belt cut the air around me. My nails dug into my palms and I watched, and the air puffed into my face each time he struck her.
For the next hour he decorated her body, methodically striping her thighs and belly and breasts with long raised welts. Sometimes the end of the belt nipped and left herringbone toothmarks on her tanned skin. She shrieked and wept and he took his time. He paused to get a drink, sit back and admire the beauty of the welts on the quivering girl’s skin.
“Enough. Tomorrow we’ll drive out to the canyon with her. Clean her up.”
Thursday dawned overcast. A gray pall overlaid the usual August heat like a heavy blanket. I woke, sticky and uncomfortable in his favorite living room chair. After I’d taken the little girl into the bath last night, and gently daubed her wounds and bathed her, he’d carried her to his bed and closed the door. Thunder rumbled across the valley, but no rain fell. I had waited for hours this morning before I knocked on the door to ask if he wanted breakfast. No one responded, though I heard the slap of skin against skin, wet and hot and good. I heard him grunt and I heard her moan. She sounded eager. I wasn’t surprised. He had mesmerized me just as suddenly. His knife had been my first lesson; his fists were hers.
About one o’clock, as I was cleaning up the kitchen, he and the girl emerged. She padded up the hall just ahead of him, her hair tousled and gorgeously disarrayed. She wore his shirt from the night before, not one button done, but somehow, so demure. The shell-shocked look of sex hazed her innocent face. I wanted to smack it off. He kept his hands on her, playing with her hair, or cupping her ass, tracing the welts he’d given her last night.
She stopped walking as he tugged her backward and into a rough embrace, her back against his chest, his arm around her collar bones. He whispered something into her hair and she laughed and looked at me through blond wispy curls. It felt like she’d run a steel spike through me. Then her eyes softened and she tilted up her head to him and finally, I got it. I could see why this bit of fluff had affected him. She looked like Amie, I realized. That’s it. She looks so much like his lost, perfect girl.
“It might rain,” I said, looking past the girl and into his eyes. He knew how I loved to run outside and be drenched in the warm downpours. He knew how I loved him.
“I doubt it,” he said, “We’re going out. We’ll do the canyon trip tomorrow.”
He turned away before I could close my mouth. They went into his room again and when they re-emerged she wore my white sundress and a pair of my sandals. I felt cemented to the floor. I stood on the cool tile, my bare feet soaking up the chill. I spent the rest of the day wandering through his house, choking back the urge to call him. Once I dialed his cell, but I killed the call. My throat was too tight to speak. Outside, a hot wind blew away the clouds. I curled into his chair at dusk and slept. I got a few hours fitful sleep.
“Wake up. We’re going to the canyon.” It was dark. I felt his hand shaking my shoulder, and then he was gone.
I sat up feeling disoriented, staring out the window. It was night, and windy. Where was the girl? He strode through the house, collecting things. I followed him, stumbling over the rough tiles and out to garage. I didn’t see her. He got into the driver’s seat and I took my seat next to him. I turned and saw her, bound and dirty in my white dress on the back floor of the van. My head was spinning. We drove out of the neighborhood. I wanted to ask him a million questions. I looked at her, tear-streaked and filthy. This was not what I’d expected when they’d left this afternoon. My body had lost all its tension, and I slumped into the seat and breathed in the unusually sultry air.
“I thought you--” I said.
He grinned at me. “You think too much,” he said. He pulled the car up to a curb.
We drove up into Red Rock Canyon on a back road that the rangers seldom patrolled. He stopped the van near several petrified logs strewn against the cliffs. Paiute Indians believed the stone logs were the weapons of the wolf god Shinaray. We’d found them on a hike. He was struck by their cold, hard resilience. He ran his hands down the surface of a log; and he’d talked about ancient sacrifices, then he had me strip and lashed me there and we’d made love. He’d kept his knife between us all the while, its curved point scratching a rough cross into the very center of my chest.
My master had me take out his satchel and lay it near one of the petrified logs. I placed a lantern there. The wind made the willows creak around us. He brought Susan from the van. He’d freed her legs and she stumbled along beside him. He surprised me when he placed her on the ground next to the log and beckoned me closer. He turned away from the little blond and faced me. I blushed as he kissed me.
“Take off your clothes.”
He reached out and tugged my tank top over my head and gently pulled me to my feet. He let me rest a hand on his shoulders as I removed my denim shorts and thong. He touched my chin and ran a finger down my throat and further, stopping at that center mark he’d made so long ago.
“Lie on the log.”
He took my hands and positioned me on the cold slick surface of the log and wrapped a length of cord twice around each wrist, then brought the ends down and secured them above my head and to each side, the cord trailing down beneath my line of sight, around the log. I couldn’t breathe. I turned my head and saw her watching me. Susan’s eyes were wide and her whole body lifted and fell with each breath she took.
“Look at me.”
I blinked away tears and focused on his face. But he was speaking to her.
“Do you want to leave with me tonight?”
She nodded, staring at his face and then at me.
“Then do as I say. Bring me the knife inside that bag.”
Susan gazed up at him, a question in her eyes. She was gagged. She couldn’t speak. Susan’s hands were bound behind her, but she stood, wobbled, regained her balance, and then fell to her knees and rubbed her face against the bag until she’d freed her mouth. She gulped in air and tossed the hair away from her face. Then she ducked her head inside the bag and found it. She struggled upward to her feet. She held the knife in her teeth, her lips close to the sharp edge of the blade. Her breath hissed around the steel as she made her way to him.
He smiled at her and touched her cheek and carefully removed the knife from her mouth,
“Kiss it.”
Susan glanced once into his eyes to be sure he meant it, and then she leaned forward and complied. She lost her balance and fell against his body. He caught her easily and righted her, petting her, nodding, smiling.
“Good.”
And then he turned to me. He hadn’t bothered to tie my legs. They splayed on either side of the log. My knees were trembling and the muscles all along my thighs danced. He held the knife with one hand as he took off his pants. And then he came to me and we made love just like we did before. And it was good. And I whispered, “Thank you.”
No. That wasn't how it happened at all.
My master held the knife between us, and he thrust inside me and I cried. He let the blade rest flat against my chest, my breasts quivering on either side of it. I felt his tension build.
I knew his rhythms so well; I knew that it was almost time. And then he arched back and he raised the knife. And then the knife fell, and it pierced my heart, and I was done.