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A violent serial killer in town. A neo promoted Captain, Sarah Allbright. And their day-by-day story until the point their lives merge together, to never split again.
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About the Author
Why that girl? Why her and not another?
Murder is often the son of the opportunity, either dictated by the madness of the moment or the careful preparation and planning, what we need is just an opportunity to act.
Sometimes, however, in cases more unique than rare, it is the son of art.
The artist chooses, the time, the motive, the weapon, the means ... and the victim. Many do not choose but suffer and kill because they think they can get ahead, to get something in return. Your co-worker has blown you a promotion? If you strangle him, the promotion will be yours and you'll feel stronger, you realize your dream.
But choosing was the specter of power, not you. And if it is not power, the money, jealousy sex. Pathetic motives for pathetic creatures that do not have control of their lives.
The choice is the key to everything. But then why that girl and not the other? Based on what to choose? There is not the beauty, not the youth, nor wealth.
It's the details.
Details make the difference.
The last girl, for instance. She never thought that her life depended on shoes. Probably that morning before leaving the house, she stopped on the endless pairs, thinking about matching colors or comfort, the momentum of the leg, if it was more beautiful with or without heels.
And when her choice led her to wear two low leather shoes, she did not know that that choice had condemned her to death.
I was on the subway when you get this girl, university, backpack on her shoulders and a book in hand. What did she read? I do not remember, my attention was captured by her nose. Note that I look at it, I smile. She smiles shyly and looks down.
Then I scan, I look at the young body, pistachio green pants, and white sneakers.
And just behind, between her legs, the leather shoe, ankle tapering coming out, a black sock that covers up to exactly half of the ankles.
It is the choice, it is the detail, the university was cute, but it disappears, does not exist anymore, and a thousand other thoughts start yelling and shoving in the head like a rowdy audience that hit each other to a heavy metal concert.
And screaming on stage, to inflame the thoughts of kidnapping, torture, and violence is those shoes, accompanied by the sock that keeps the pace as the best drummers.
That the details make the difference might seem obvious, but I've never had consciousness and when I realized, it was ... nice, pleasant, because I discovered a side of me that until then had in the shade. The lighting had arrived while I was talking at the bar with a guy who believed belonged to the circle of my friends (but I have no friends, he, poor fellow, found out too late and the hard way).
He was a photographer and he put under my nose two pictures, same model, face portrait, one with eyes closed and in shadow, the other, eyes open and well-lit, which set the goal.
And my attention was magnetized by the second photo.
"See," he said "They are the same, except for the detail of the eyes. Do you understand? Detail. DETAIL. And 'what makes the difference between success and failure"
At first, I thought he was exaggerating, but he continued to talk, I fantasized about how to carve with a hot knife that pure white skin, those beautiful red cheeks. But still staring at the second picture.
When I looked back at the first, it was like a different woman and fantasies disappeared, completely.
I went on the second and together with the knife, in the head, started to dance images of tape tightly wrapped on that sweet little mouth and rough ropes that biting the body leaving ugly bruises and red marks.
He was right.
I put the photo and thought in the past. My first love was a blonde high school, straight hair and a color a little 'dark, almost honey. Her unique feature was the eyes, slightly carved down, which made her different and very pretty. And when I smothered her with a plastic bag, after being shoved into her mouth her underwear to silence her, all the time, while I stroked her hair, I stared straight into those eyes that made her beautiful.
I had chosen not the cheerleader who everyone wanted in his bed, not the brunette with the bigger tits of the school, even not the redhead with marble ass and long legs. I had chosen the blonde and honey hair and eyes downward.
He was dead right.
And since then everything had changed, I was more aware, the artist was no longer employed by instinct, but with a technique acquired, consolidated and lethal.
"Hey, that dark and serious look. What are you thinking?" Anne brought me back to reality, putting out the fire of thoughts that had exploded in my head. I laid eyes on her eyes and smiled
"Nothing, I looked around. You know that I like watching people" I said as I lowered my eyes on the short skirt of the maid who was going there next.
"Above all the beautiful girls, it seems," she replied, laughing.
"You look at them more than me, right?"
Anne took the glass and waved her hand.
I took mine and we toasted.
"You had an area so ... brrr, did you fear, you seemed a predator," she said absently as she watched the menu.
One of the reasons I liked her: she was a smart girl.
"What are you having? I think I'll raw meat" I asked.
"A salad, cherry tomatoes and bacon"
The waitress returned to take our order and I noticed she was wearing light tights, flesh-colored, two from very low sneakers. It would have been very funny rip her stocking with a sharp knife, cutting the skin that was under, of course.
"Come to me tonight? Cinema and after ... well, we understand each other, right?" She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes shining.
"After the movie let's take Cucciola? And we bring her home," I replied with a look in my turn allusive.
She rolled her eyes at the top left and stayed a moment to think, with a smile that as much as possible became even wider. She was surely remembering our last meeting with Cucciola.
"Me the purpose I thought this time!" she said in a menacing tone, pointing against an index.
She took a sip of water and shrugged. Despite being very smart, Anne could not conceive of anything different from her existence and still had not figured out that sex for me was definitely overrated.
Pleasant, but that was it and orgasm, the real one, came in many other ways.
Even when I could not entertain me in my one and absolute pastime, or kill, I preferred to try my hand between the sheets in other activities.
"Go ahead, until you are not tied, you can do what you please," I answered with a tongue, receiving in reply a fake smile and a repeated banging and fast eyelashes.
The waitress returned with our meals and found myself in my hands a pie raw meat surrounded by several slices of carpaccio.
I picked up the knife and divided the cake into four equal portions, sinking the blade slowly, but with determination.
"Today I saw Frederick" said Anne while putting salt in the salad "He asked me how it goes between us ... the same as my other friends. And it turns my ass they think that we are together,"
"I do not care about the gossip of morons, "I said, eating a quarter of the meat patty.
Anne's eyes went dark, as every time you were discussing the subject.
Shutter she put the cutlery on the table and snarled.
"Sorry if those idiots are my friends!"
I took two slices of carpaccio and responded instinctively "So you are the one who is stupid to get certain thoughts"
She clenched her fists and turned red with anger.
"No one was ever allowed to give me an idiot!"
"I am no one, get used to, I do whatever I want"
"No, what you need to do is tie me up, fuck me and make me shut up!"
We looked for a few minutes in each other eyes and her tension eased. Better, that conversation bored me, as it had given boredom all the other times it had begun.
And I did not want to kill Anne, in the end, it was very pretty, very well swept and had about sex with my own tastes and trends. Sooner or later she would have ended like the others but had not yet decided if I could not experiment with her in the creation of another artwork.
For now, it was just my sex toy, formally my girlfriend.
The comic aspect was that I considered her such only in appearance, while she did not want us to appear like a couple and behaved as such only in private.
And she liked very much to have a relationship.
But I needed an appearance, the monster that I carried inside me needed a mask of normality to wander undisturbed among the manicured gardens and small perfect houses, where to procure its victims.
And what she wanted, I cared little or nothing.
I took a slice of carpaccio and rolled over the fork to wrap, floor and with measured gestures, by adhering each layer in a perfect way on the previous layer.
I stopped keeping the raised fork before face: a woman in the table next to ours was watching us with eyes that betrayed interest. Anne had raised her voice and almost certainly she had heard. But her expression was enigmatic.
She liked what she had heard or was thinking of himself to two of us as people perverted and disgusting?
But I was watching her hair in a braid, wonderful.
"Do not worry, dear," I said to Anne, but looking at the new draft of my next work of art "I'll be happy to fulfill your wishes. And to get your ass purple by whipping"
I looked a bit 'the voice on the last sentence and the woman turned back.
Our eyes met and she hastened to take her eyes as soon she realized that I had seen. Still, I not sensed the nature of her interest, but at that point, it did not matter.
I needed not another bedmate, I needed another woman to kidnap and torture, slaughtered like a pig to sacrifice to my insatiable thirst for violence.
And I just decided that pigsty was going to the slaughter.
"Do not make me horny!" Anne replied, returning to smile.
I eat a slice of carpaccio and taken from another quarter meat pie.
"In fact, to make certain threats to you, I make you a favor" I was talking to Anne, but my head was on the braid. She had the look of a clerk, dressed in a knee-length skirt, bare arms, shoes with high heels, but not too much and open toe. Most probably she worked nearby and had to pause to have two, maximum three fixed places to dine. That would have facilitated my hunt. People tend to be a creature of habit, and the habit is often my biggest ally.
"You have your head in the clouds today," Anne said, "You're watching some other woman? At least share!"
And at that moment Miss Braid got up and headed to check out. I had to follow her and liquidated Anne with a resounding No, sorry, is that actually, I have to make an urgent phone call, wait here.
I wasted no time telling her more and I did not care if she had or not believed me.
I left the room and, standing at a distance, I followed the woman. She took the subway entrance to exit on the other side of the road and entered into a large full of offices building.
I looked through the windows of the front door and just put the foot in the elevator, entered the building. There was no concierge and apparently even, no cameras, two less hassle to think about. I climbed three flights of stairs before I heard the noise of that stopped. Four Steps, arguably shod heels and the sound of a door opening. I came cautiously on the landing in time to see the entry of a law firm that was closed.
Smiles, without stopping and continuing to climb stairs.
Braid was mine: I knew where she worked and discover the rest would be a child's play. How to make her disappear in a trunk and to tear her body after torturing her.
But it would not have happened that day, no. I had to take the time to plan each action in detail and avoid to listen to the instinct that would have forced me to cuff her and strangle her directly in the elevator with the iron rope that had always with me, as she tried desperately to press the alarm bell. Not at all, I decide because the artist is not even dominate by emotions!
As I returned to the restaurant, I had already topped a guess of when fetching her, how to make her powerless and most importantly, where to take her. A little later they had just opened a yard, knocked down an old historic building. A mess and good, it had left a big hole in the middle of the city, surrounded by blind walls and no windows on three sides. In the middle had built the skeleton of a smaller building, with a completed facade, fortuitous event, precisely that which gave on the only side left in sight. And of course, they had stopped work on a lawsuit with the building that was impounded.
The place where it ideal to bring a kidnapped woman. After all, what is the correct definition of the construction site? The Dictionary of the perfect serial killer reads the place where people disappear.
The stupidity of those who had believed they could speculate was returning useful. The practice allowed me to easily procure the victims, but stupidity, my second biggest ally, gave me opportunities and space to do what I wanted.
And the design work began to take shape in my head: she had not the air of a woman who takes public transportation, so with a little 'of agility I could avoid the parking lot cameras, waiting for her and kidnap her; I would have doped and immobilized, flow in the shipyard and held captive until the next night when, around two o'clock in the morning, the knife would have started to work on her flesh.
It made me smile and I was also exciting!
I freed my head from all those thoughts and went back to reality. The next step would have got hold of the right drug and study some details to see if Plan A was feasible, but for now, I had to go back to Anne and immediately, before they get suspicious. Also, it was waiting for me an interesting evening.
Of course, much I preferred torture and kill, but as I had heard from a well-known erotic comic artist you can not spend the whole day with the bird in the shooting, you have to sometimes do more and get distracted.
As binding Anne and Cucciola on the bed and giving them lashes.
I went back to the restaurant and Anne asked if everything was ok.
"Wonderfully," I replied, "in the afternoon I have an interview. I made you wait? Excuse me, but work is work "I lied shamelessly. About her, I did not care anything except fucking her. But the carrot and the stick was always a good way to manage Anne and it was time for the carrot. Poor Anne, woman as intelligent as stupid at the same time.
She broke up and looked at me with eyes languid "You'll make amends tonight"
I finished eating my raw meat and watched with a raised eyebrow "Forgive? Do not be so sure. I think I'll tie you together with Cucciola and I will make you so bad. Or I leave you locked in the closet and I do my business"
Anne smiled and rested her chin on her hand.
"Oh. Do you want to kidnap me too? Like the first time?"
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and I told her I had to go, it was getting late.
The first time ... Yes, I kidnapped her, handcuffed, blindfolded, stuck in the car and brought to my house, without her knowing where we were really going. On arrival, she was chained to her knees on the wall as I got ready. Every time I went to her and pulled kicked or pushed a foot on her shoulders. Never said anything the whole time, keeping her head down, until the weight lifted and threw me on the bed, face down.
And I removed my underwear.
Anne did not know I was going to take a plastic bag and suffocate her, as she didn’t know she was saved by to the lake between her legs at that time.
She was excited to death and she had excited me, at the sight of her wet pussy the idea of killing her had passed, giving way to another thought that until then I had never had: I wanted a toy and I decided it would have been her.
And I spent the rest of the evening to torture, or sparing myself, being careful not to provide her with permanent damage ... I needed her in one piece!
At one point, when I slipped a ball in mouth and starts whipping her pussy, full of clothespins that they bit her big lips, I thought I had gone too far.
Anne began to scream and cry before later when I continued to whip blasting the clips one by one. Finished here, she will send me to hell and she will not want to see me anymore I thought.
Never mind, I would have made her disappear by throwing her naked body tied in some deep pool in the mountains. Because I did not stop me, I wanted her as a toy, but I liked to weep, who suffer, excited me to hear her cries muffled by the gag. Never mind I would have found someone else.
But when I finished and delivered her, she hugged me and did not come off.
She had a shapeless makeup from weeping and trembling all over, sweating as if she had done a marathon, but she begged and thanked.
Smiles, one of the few if not perhaps the only smile that managed to have without killing, without thinking.
A true masochist, greedy and without limits.
And for the second time in a day, Anne went from a dead corpse to the perfect toy.
"Nothing kidnappings tonight," I said as we left the restaurant "take Cucciola, bring her home and immobilize her. And sit on the couch waiting for me, naked"
"When? " she asked.
I did not answer and walked away.
I did not need to see her, I knew that Anne was rushing to Cucciola and was running home.
Not having them said the time, I could get in a minute ...
Or I could do my interview, a couple of errands and get tonight calmly.
And let Anne wait for hours.
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