Posted by Dr. Radium on February 22, 2001 at 21:49:45:
Nola stretched luxuriously and rolled over on her side, stroking Charlie’s hairy chest with her right hand. Charlie was
spent, of course; Nola had never met a man who was her equal in bed. She was a fitness model, muscular but still very,
very feminine. Red haired, green eyed, with a lovely face and a sensuality that drew men to her irresistably. Now they
were alone in her mountain chalet, far from civilization. And Nola stroked Charlie’s chest, feeling his excited heart
pounding hard and rapid beneath the tips of her long, slim, strong fingers, watching his flaccid penis grow hard again,
veins standing out on the shaft.
“Was it good for you?” the man whispered. Charlie was a very average young man, blonde haired, blue eyed, with a bit
of a goatee straggling across his chin. Slightly overweight. Soft. Like all the others, he had first been astonished when
Nola came on to him, then quickly he had begun that silly, stupid act they all performed, making witty remarks and
double entendres designed to bring them to the place they were now. There had been over a dozen men here in the last
few years, and not one of them had realized Nola’s real intentions until it was much too late.
Men were so easy to deceive. And to kill.
Nola rolled over, kissed him hard, her tongue flicking into his mouth for just an instant. “It was great,” the strong, sexy
redhead lied. Actually she had barely felt his frantic, grunting lovemaking, but she had faked an orgasm just for his
benefit. Now she took the upper position, working herself down over his jutting cock. Took his head in her hands and
kissed him again, secretly amused when he clumsily tried to french kiss her in return. She began working him, pumping
gently and sensuously up and down, at the same time stroking the sides of his neck. He closed his eyes and threw his
head back with a sigh; she looked down at the fleshy arc of his neck and felt the first tremors of orgasm coming on.
“Charlie?”
“O god, Nola, don’t stop.” He groaned, deep in his throat, and she knew it was time. Suddenly, violently, her strong
hands clamped around his neck, thumbs crushing into his windpipe just below his adams apple, fingers digging into his
neck, cutting off both the carotid and jugular, leaving his brain starving for oxygen. His eyes opened wide, his mouth
gasped. His hands clamped around her wrists, trying to pull her hands free.
She laughed and bucked harder, still strangling him. “Sorry, Charlie. This is the only way I can come; by killing fools
like yourself. Hope you understand, love.”
He didn’t answer, but she saw anger and hate cross his features, and was surprised. Usually all they did was panic and
plead silently until they died. His eyes fixed on hers, burning with hatred... and suddenly his grip on her wrists increased
a hundredfold, easily dragging her hands away from his neck.
“Wha--?” Nola began, astonished, and then the beautiful woman screamed in agony as the bones in her wrists snapped
beneath Charlie’s impossibly strong grip. She twisted and tried to pull away, but he held her fast. All at once he was on
top, still holding her wrists in that crushing grasp, thrusting himself into her harder and deeper than any man had ever
done.
“Drugs, Nola. You thought my heart was beating so hard because I was worn out. No, it’s the drugs. Superhuman
strength for a little while.”
She howled and spat in his face, writhed beneath him. He pushed her forearms down across her long white throat,
harder and harder, and her fury turned to fear as she realized he was cutting off her air.
“No! You can’t --” Her cry was cut off by the crushing pressure on her windpipe. She moaned, deep in her throat, but
the sound could not escape her lips.
“Just a little while. Long enough. I had to take the chance. I had to be sure it was you.”
“Please,” she gasped. “Please...” Nola’s breasts heaved, her body tossed beneath Charlie as she vainly tried to get air
into her burning, aching lungs. For answer Charlie shoved her arms down harder across her throat. Terror rolled up
deep in her convulsing guts as she felt her tongue slide out from between her lips, against her will. Her vision blurred as
blood vessels began to pop in her beautiful green eyes. Beneath her flawless complexion her face held a hint of blue. A
vein stood out in her forehead.
“Remember Dave, Nola? You probably don’t. He was my brother, and you killed him.”
Nola jerked and twitched, her long white legs kicking hard. Her green eyes rolled back in her head; a flush spread across
her breasts as an orgasm exploded through her struggling, asphyxiating body. She shook her head from side to side,
denying what was happening. No man could beat Nola at this game. She had to break free, had to kill Charlie before he
killed her...but it was getting so hard to think, so hard to breathe in this creeping darkness that was falling over her.
Charlie gritted his teeth and slammed himself into her over and over again, driving her to orgasm after orgasm as her
heart beat faster and faster and her lungs fought for air. Sweat rolled down her brow, beaded on her lovely flesh.
“Die, Nola,” he gasped, raping her pain-wracked body. “Die, die, die, die, die...” He felt his come bursting, spurting into
her body, but he didn’t care. He had no criminal record, and by the time they found Nola he would be three hundred
miles away. The very precautions she had taken to be sure no one knew of her murderous rendezvous would now work
in his favor.
“Die.”
She thrashed beneath him.
“Die.”
She drew her legs up, thrust them out, again and again, weaker each time.
“Die.”
Suddenly she summoned all of her strength in one mighty spasm, one final, fatal effort to break free. Charlie held her
down, watched with blazing eyes as her body went limp, her hammering heart shuddering into death. Her eyelids
fluttered; with the last of her failing will she stared into her killer’s eyes, despair and defeat reflected in her gaze as the
light faded from her eyes and they rolled back again, this time forever.
He held her there for another twenty minutes before he released his grip. Now he was weaker than he could ever recall
being; the drugs had worn off, but the job was done. He sat up, pulled his cock free of Nola’s wet red bush, looked
down at the beautiful woman he had killed, his brother’s killer now dead by his avenging hands. He checked for a
heartbeat, but found none beneath the ripe, dead breasts. It was time to leave.
It was three days before he saw the headline: “Fitness Model Murdered”. But she had deserved it, he thought. Dave was
avenged.
Yet there was something about killing... He remembered Nola’s dead gaze, her bruised, crushed throat, the way her
dead body trembled when he moved it, like the body of a newly killed deer. The way her soft skin had felt beneath his
hands as he fondled her arms, her hands, her legs, her feet. The total submission of her still-warm body to his will.
Yes, there was something about killing Nola that Charlie couldn’t forget. He idly watched the waitress as she poured his
coffee, smiled at her, looking at her soft, plump white throat, and he knew that before long, there would be a new rash of
murders across the country. Killing Nola had revealed his true nature to him... and he would seize it, without apology,
without shame.
"Say, what's your name?" he asked the waitress. Tonight was as good a night as any to begin...