It was close to six when Julia Pfizer arrived home from a long and tiring day at work. As had become usual for her these days, she'd kept an eye out as she'd traveled been her office and her apartment, watching for the short man she'd become convinced was following her, possibly stalking her. Today she hadn't seen him, and that was a relief. Living alone as she did, in a top-floor Manhattan apartment where the neighbors were mostly older people who neither could nor would lend a helping hand in a crisis, she could not help feeling rather vulnerable.
But today there'd been no problem, today she'd not caught a glimpse of the stocky man she'd been seeing for the past two or three weeks. She had no plans to go out tonight; all was well, she was sure, with her world. With a slight smile on her face, she unlocked her door, went inside, and relocked the door behind herself. Her first stop was her answering machine; she listened to the messages. There was only one, a message from the landlord informing her that a serviceman had come earlier in the day to correct an electrical problem in her apartment and telling her to call if she experienced any problems.
She frowned at the machine; she hadn't had any electrical problems that she knew of. With a shrug she erased the message and dismissed it from her mind. Continuing on to her bedroom, she unbuttoned her blouse on the way. As she entered the bedroom she removed it and tossed it on her bed. She then unzipped her skirt, stepped out of it, and laid it beside the blouse. Walking on to the bathroom, she turned on the shower. While the water temperature was stabilizing, she took off her bra and panties. At no time did she notice that her bedroom closet door was standing slightly ajar.
From the closet, Larry Pine peered out, watching his 23 year-old target as she stood nude in front of the mirror. She was nothing short of spectacular, she looked even better than he'd imagined, far better than she'd looked in the short tight skirts and lowcut blouses she favored at work, better than she'd looked at any time since he'd begun trailing her. She stood about five-three, weighed probably 110; her legs were long, smooth, and athletically muscled, her belly was very flat, and her breasts stood very high and firm on her chest. Catching the flashes of brilliant blue from her startling eyes as she brushed out her long black hair, he felt himself beginning to get erect as he watched.
As soon as she stepped into the shower and closed the glass door, he slipped quietly out of the closet. He was dressed in an electrical contractor's uniform; with his fingers he toyed with the jam he'd placed in the lock when, earlier that day, he'd conned the landlord into allowing him to "service" the wiring in Julia's apartment, the jam that had allowed him to come back in later, undetected. On his side, in a pouch where earlier there'd been a screwdriver, now rested a large Marine Corps commando knife, and in his right hand was a toolbox. Leaving the toolbox on the floor, he pulled the knife from its pouch and stood just outside the bathroom door, waiting for Julia. He heard the water stop, and knew it was almost time. His cock, already partially hard, bounced a little in anticipation.
Julia opened the shower door, reached out, and took a towel from the rack. After lightly drying her body, she wrapped the towel around herself, tucking it in at the top. With another she dried her hair as much as she could, and walked through the bathroom door.
Just as she cleared it she felt a hand slam over her mouth; then she felt the cold edge of a knife blade laying against her throat. Her eyes flew wide open; she felt her heart might explode from her chest with the sudden surge of fear.
"Don't fight me," a man's voice hissed in her ear. "Behave yourself, do what you're told, and you might make it through this in one piece." Trembling, she nodded her head in agreement. He turned her around, and she stared into the face of the man whom she'd seen following her for the past several weeks. Her fear increased; seeing it, and seeing that she recognized him, he grinned. "Go over to the closet," he commanded, "and open the door as wide as you can."
Immediately, she obeyed; he followed her closely. At the closet, she was startled to see new additions; he'd been busy for a while. At the top of the doorframe was mounted a heavy steel eyebolt, and there was another in the facing, halfway down. Through the two eyes a length of yellow nylon rope was strung, the top end already tied into a noose.
She looked around at him. "You aren't going to..."
"Shut up. Turn around, put your hands behind your back."
She did as she was told, and he bound her wrists tightly with duct tape. While she trembled whimpered, he backed her into position. She stood unresisting while he slipped the noose over her head and snugged it up around her throat, being careful to keep her hair outside it. Once that was done, he pulled hard on it, dragging it through the lower eyebolt. She felt herself being pulled upwards, and the pull continued until she was standing tip-toed. He then tied the rope off and stepped back to watch her for several long minutes. .
Julia, though she could breathe easily enough, was now sobbing, and her body was trembling violently. Her assailant had not bothered to cover his face; she could give the police a complete description of him, and he had to know it. He'd planned all this well, he'd never let that happen. She was, she realized, going to die at his hands, tonight, and very soon. She was helpless, she could do nothing to stop it; it was out of her hands. Those words kept echoing in her head; "helpless," "out of my hands," "nothing I can do." For some reason, some reason she couldn't quite understand, the idea of this was causing a stirring in her lower body, a tingling in her breasts. She looked at her assailant critically; not a handsome man, by any means, but not really bad-looking in a rough sort of way. In a way, that made him more exciting, more exciting than he might've been if he'd been modeled after the men she normally found attractive.
She caught his eyes. "Do what you want to with me," she said in a quavering voice. Then she laughed a little. "You will anyway, I guess... there isn't anything I can do about it..." To her amazement, speaking the words seemed to increase the erotic charge of the situation. 'You are crazy, Julia," she said silently. "Just crazy." But there was no denying what was happening to her.
Larry grinned at her. "You're right," he agreed. "Nothing you can do about it, nothing at all." Reaching out, he unwound the towel from her body and, stepping back, looked her up and down carefully.
She knew what she looked like. Nice high firm breasts, small waist, long shapely legs. She found herself posing for him automatically. "Do you like what you see?" she asked him seductively.
He shook his head. "You bet I do! Damn, you are world-class!"
She smiled. "Thank you..." She murmured. She kept smiling and kept her eyes on his as he touched her throat with the knife's point and began dragging it lightly and delicately down over her body, down between her breasts. Wondering how it would feel if he did stab her with it--and finding the idea irrationally erotic--she shuddered and closed her eyes. He went on, running the knife down across her belly, and then on down between her legs and down the inside of her thighs. In spite of her desperate situation, she could feel herself starting to get wet. She let out a low moan, halfway between fear and pleasure.
Stepping back again, Larry took off his shirt and pants, then came back and pushed her legs apart roughly. As she was forced to move her feet further apart, she could feel the rope tighten around her neck. He slid his cock inside her, and she knew he could feel the wetness around it, knew that he now knew that she was, in fact, excited. He couldn't have known, she was sure, just how excited; she could not remember ever having been in a frenzy like this. He started to thrust in and out, and, as he did, he started pulling down on her shoulders, making the rope tighten even more.
Julia suddenly found herself unable to breathe at all. She fought for air, her chest heaving; there was none to be had. Seconds passed; her whole head felt like it was swelling up. Her face turned red, then the red gave way to a deep purplish hue. Her tongue was hanging out to one side, and then the darkness started to take her. Her last thoughts were of being vaguely disappointed that he was doing it this way, that she hadn't experienced his blade, and worse, that it was happening so damn quickly...
A few minutes later, though, she came around; after the confusion left her, she felt an odd gratitude that he'd stopped, that he'd not allowed her hanging to go to a fatality. Wetter than ever, she smiled at him again and moved her hips against his. She started to moan as he dragged the point of the knife across her body again. The entire time, he continued to pump his rock-hard cock in and out of her.
Finally he stopped moving the knife. The point was resting in the shallow depression of her navel. He brought his face close to hers and looked deeply into her eyes.
"You're going to put it in me now, aren't you?" she asked. Her voice was quite calm.
"Yeah," he answered. "Are you ready for it?"
She hesitated only the slightest bit. "Yes," she murmured. She actually squirmed against it a little. "I mean, there's nothing I can do to stop you, I'm helpless, it's all up to you..." She gave a gasping, sobbing sigh. "Nothing I can do to stop you from running that blade into me... nothing at all..." Grinning, he slowly pushed the knife forward, and she could feel her belly starting to indent with the pressure, she could feel the pricking of the point. Her mouth tightened, she closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again. "Nothing I can do," she moaned, "to stop you... no way to stop you, you can do whatever you want to do to me..."
He kept pushing. After a moment she heard a distinct pop, and her eyes widened to their fullest. There was a flash of heavy pain, and she knew the knife had punctured the skin of her soft belly, that it was inside her now. He continued to push it forward slowly and it moved in much more easily, softly and sensually--she could feel its progress, she could feel the point and the edges cutting through her entrails, fingers of fiery pain reaching out in all directions. She let out a loud groan as the knife finally stopped. He had driven it in all the way to the hilt, the full six inches of the blade was buried in her belly.
Julia could feel it lying deep inside her; it burned red-hot, and she squirmed and trembled all over. She could feel the agony all the way up in her throat, all the way down through her legs. Slowly, though, gradually, the pain lost its edge.
But then she felt the blade move again. She looked down; he was pulling it out. The pain flared again as her skin clung to it. It finally came free with a sucking noise, and once it was out her blood started pouring out.
Watching her eyes, Larry pressed the point in a little to the left of her navel and held it against her soft belly for a while. Just as she settled down, just as she started to relax a little, he slammed it forward, driving the full length of the blade into her again. She flexed her legs and gave a brief but loud cry as it sank deep. Her belly was on fire again, and she could feel herself getting weaker. She looked down at herself. Her hips were cocked slightly forward, his cock continued to slide in and out of her soaked cunt, blood poured from the wound in her navel, and the knife was sticking in her belly a bit to one side, so deep she couldn't see the blade at all. As before, he paused for a few seconds before starting to pull the knife back again. Fighting the pain, she watched it come, the blade reappearing inch by inch. When it was back far enough that it no longer filled the hole, her blood came streaming out with a vengeance, and again, she felt herself weakening.
She looked up at Larry's face. He was working his cock in and out ferociously now, and all her experience told her he was about to come--and she was close to the edge herself. "You're killing me," she moaned, her voice a hoarse thready whisper. Again, speaking the words caused her excitement to rise higher. "Killing me... kill me... I'm dying, I'm going to die... and I can't stop you..."
"Yeah, baby," he whispered back. His voice was rough and coarse and uncaring, and she discovered that that too added to the erotic charge. He giggled inanely. "Yeah, I'm killing you, all right!"
He drove the knife forward once more, hard and fast, and this time it went in just below her navel, angled down, all the way to the hilt once more. She stiffened again, and started to quiver and groan. Her orgasm abruptly rushed up over her, its intensity making the pain and fear insignificant. For long seconds she was hardly aware of her attacker and what he was doing to her body; she vaguely felt the blade rip upwards through her belly, come out of her, then come back in through her breast. No longer able to support herself, she hung suspended between his hips and the rope around her neck. Darkness came swirling in from the edges of her vision, and soon all she could see was his face, now taut as he, too, was reaching his climax. She was distantly aware that he was stabbing her repeatedly, with a frenzy, in her breast; she moved the spot of her vision down and saw, to her amazement, that they both were completely soaked with her blood--and more, that her entrails had slid out of her mutilated body and were draped over his cock. For some reason that was amusing to her. She felt like giggling, but the rope around her neck was far too tight, and besides, she discovered that her repeatedly- punctured lungs were no longer working in any case. She was, she realized, only a fraction of a second from her death; but, even so, she could not help feeling that the overwhelming power of that final orgasm was worth the price.
She was still thinking that when the darkness closed in, winking out the last of her field of vision.