Open House

byMistress Maria©

I will be closing up here in a few minutes." I said to my husband, Paul, who was on the receiving end of my cellular phone call. "Sure I will pick something up on the way home. How does Chinese sound? Good. I'll get your usual then.... Okay, bye-bye, Hun." I pushed the end button on my phone and put it in my leather purse.

I was little miffed at Paul. It was Sunday and he was home all day. He could have whipped something up for dinner, while I worked all afternoon. But no, he just sat at home watching football. At least he could have offered to take me out to dinner. Chinese take out would have to do. After twelve years of marriage we had gotten into such a rut. Our sex life had become routine and boring too. Paul thought a peck on the cheek was foreplay. He would climb on top of me, do me for three minutes, cum, then roll over and go to sleep. That was it. He didn't care to see if I got off or not. Paul was a few years older than I was. He was 42 and I was 36. I took care of myself though. I exercised and ate right. I could pass for a girl in her mid to late twenties. I was tall and slender, yet I had a large 38DD chest and a cute heart shaped ass. I had blond hair that was cut in a bob. Paul preferred me with longer hair, but I liked to keep it short because it was easier to maintain. I could just wash it and go.

Being that I was working, I dressed in professional attire. Usually I like to wear short skirts and dresses that showed off my shapely legs, but it was Sunday and I decided to wear something less formal and more comfortable. I wore a navy blue pantsuit and soft black flats. My pants were tight in the rear accentuating my cute butt. I spent a great deal of time on the Stairmaster and I was proud of the results. My blue blazer with gold buttons barely closed over my heaving breast that protruded out of my sheer white blouse. My lacy white bra was visible through the thin material of the blouse. I would tend to open my blazer whenever a man came to see the house. I had no qualms about using my feminine charms and natural assets to sell houses.

I looked around the vacant house to make sure all was secure. I had been trying to sell this house for over a year now and I was getting frustrated. It is a nice big house in the hills in the exclusive West Side of town. The location was ideal and the neighborhood was fantastic. But, no one wants to buy a home where an entire family of four was hacked to death by an ax murderer over two and a half years ago. As a realtor I had to disclose that gruesome fact. Believe me, it was no selling point. People would love the house at first, but when they heard what happened here. It didn't help matters any that the killer was never caught. Turning pale, stammering, and a quick exit out the door was the usual reaction from potential buyers. Then there were the curious who were only interested in the macabre aspect of the house. They were just lookie-loos that could never afford the half million-dollar asking price. The house was worth a million easy, but due to the circumstances, I had to cut the price in half. At the rate I was going, I was going to have to lower it another $50,000 or even $100,000.

I went all through the house to make sure that all the windows were closed and the shades were drawn. I kind of got spooked being alone the house. It had a strange aura about it. I could sense the ominous presence of evil that was confined within its wood beams and stucco walls. I supposed that I wouldn't buy the house either, no matter how much the price dropped. After securing the upstairs rooms, I came down to draw the vertical blinds on the sliding glass door in the family room. As I looked out I saw a man standing in the backyard. He startled me as I thought everyone was long gone. He was tall, maybe 6'-3", and he was well built. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had short jet-black hair that matched his long black leather coat. He wore tight black jeans and sported black alligator boots. He stood there with his back toward me smoking a cigarette and staring into the pool. The pool was empty with the exception of a greenish brown puddle of stagnant rainwater that formed near the clogged drain. I slid open the door and called out to him.

"Excuse me, sir. The open house is closed for today." I said. Although he was a possible buyer, I was tired and anxious to get home and relax. The man did not speak. He turned around slowly and faced me. He had one hand in his pants pocket and took a puff of his cigarette with the other. He appeared to be about 35 years old. He wore large dark sunglasses that concealed his eyes and a good part of his face. He was clean-shaven and had a strong chin with a dimple. A long jagged scar traversed diagonally across his left cheek, beginning at his jawbone and disappearing underneath his sunglasses. His face was expressionless. Although his eyes were concealed I could sense that he stared right through me. He took another long drag of his cigarette, then flicked it into the puddle at the deep end of the pool. He slowly blew a stream of smoke from his mouth.

"I am sorry sir. It has been a long day and I have another appointment." I handed him a business card. He took it, but still did not say a word. "You have my card. If your are interested in the house or others in the area, give me a call tomorrow." He looked down at my card then he looked back at me with a blank stare.

"Terry?" The man uttered.

"What? Oh, yes - Terry. Yes, my name is Terry - Terry Lawrence." I replied. Obviously, he must have seen my name on my card. He was totally unfamiliar to me and would not have known me otherwise. My name wasn't even on the sign out front.

"I would like to see the house." Said the man in a quiet tone.

"Okay, well call me tomorrow and we will set up an appointment. I would show you now, but I have someplace to be right now." I smiled politely. I didn't like to lie, but the guy kind of gave me the creeps.

"This house has significant meaning to me. I want it." He said in a monotone voice. His facial expression lacked any animation. His demeanor and his reason to have the house were unnerving for me. Who was this guy? He was definitely strange. I looked at him and tried to figure him out. He spoke again in a soft voice, "I know you've been trying to sell this place for a very long time." He paused and stared at me.

"Yes - yes I have."

"I am a serious buyer. I am willing to pay cash for this house."

His statement surprised me. I thought, was this guy for real? Why did he want it so badly? Was he just pulling my leg or what?

"Wow." I said with a hint of disbelief in my voice, but if he was not bluffing, I could lose out on the only chance to sell this place. "Come on in." Reluctantly, I invited him inside. He came in and looked around the family room. He shook his head up and down, but said nothing for a while. He inspected the room thoroughly although there wasn't any contents. It seemed that he saw a fully furnished and decorated room in his mind's eye. He walked over to the blinds that partially covered the sliding glass door. He began closing them. I became slightly alarmed. I closed the door, but I did not lock it.

"I work at night and sleep in the day. I want see how dark the room gets." He explained, obviously sensing my nervousness.

"Oh, I see." I said. It was close to sundown and the sun was facing the opposite side of the house. The room grew dark as he drew the blinds. The man continued to walk around the house quietly. He was in deep thought as he crept into each room. I spoke of some of the features of the house, but he seemed disinterested and tuned me out. I just kept quiet for the most part. He was bizarre. Then I realized that I never asked his name, but he never volunteered it either. I asked him as he was checking a bedroom closet. Without looking at me he plainly stated that his name was Dave.

After touring the house, we ended up in the living room. He tried the front door, opening and closing it. He inspected the locks. He closed the door and locked it behind him. He tugged on the door handle. It was quite secure. I felt uncomfortable being locked in with this guy. I knew that the sliding glass door in the family room was still open. I kept an eye on it. I had my cell phone if things really started to get hairy. I just wanted to be rid of this odd open house visitor. Then he walked toward the sliding glass door.

"Do you know the history of this house?" I asked trying to interrupt his stride toward the door. The man secured the lock on the sliding door. His response was delayed. He turned and looked at me. He was still wearing his sunglasses in the darkened room.

"Do I know about the murders? Isn't that what you mean?"

"Well...yes."

"I am intimately familiar with the account of the murders." He said in an inpatient way. The veins in his neck and forehead bulged. He began to perspire.

"Oh. I-I see." I began to get really frightened at this point.

He moved casually toward me and his arm suddenly disappeared behind me. I felt my scalp sting as he pulled the back of my hair. I was stunned and let out a brief squeal. He placed his face close to mine.

"You know what lady? You ask a lot of fucking questions of someone who is willing to pay cash money for this death trap you call a house." He said in a quiet, even manner, but through clenched teeth. I smelled his stale smokers breath as he spoke. He pulled my hair harder. He drew a long thick bladed knife from his boot and placed it against my cheek.

"Please don't!" I whined. Who was he? Why was he doing this to me?

"You scream and I shove this knife into your throat!" He said raising his voice. "These walls will be splashed with blood again if you don't do exactly as I say. You get me?" He pulled my hair even harder.

"Please don't kill me. I will do whatever you want." I pled for my life. The man spun me around and placed his forearm over my throat. It was hard to breathe. He shoved some type of cloth into my mouth. He pushed me down onto the carpet face down and straddled my body. He stripped my blazer off of me. I heard tearing sounds of thick tape being torn from a roll. He bound my wrists behind my back with the tape. He flipped me over onto my back and placed a strip of gray tape over my mouth, sealing in the cloth gag. He was much too big and strong for me to resist. Furthermore, I was deathly afraid of what he could do to me with that horrible knife.

He sat astride my hips and looked down at me. His eyes were still obscured by his dark glasses. He grabbed the front of my blouse and roughly ripped it open exposing my lacy white bra. He took his knife and slid it under the front cross section of the bra. The blade was so cold on my warm skin. It felt hard against my breastbone. With a quick upward flick of the wrist, the man cut my bra open causing the cups to fall to my sides. My breasts flopped out and drooped to the sides as well. He lowered his head and began to lick and bite my plump breasts and tender nipples. I squirmed and wiggled, but it was no use. I was powerless against this mad man.

Dave raised up and took off his leather coat, flinging it to the side. He scooted down and straddled my thighs. He unfastened my pants and slid them down my legs, leaving them bunched around my ankles. He pushed my ankles up close to my bottom causing my knees to raise. Then he forced my knees apart and planted the palm of his right hand firmly on my mound. I had still had on my black panties. They were lace in the front and satin in the back. A pink rose adorned the top center of the "V" shaped front. He lowered his head and gripped the rose in his teeth. He ripped it off and spat it across the empty room. He placed his nose to my lace-covered crotch and inhaled, breathing in my womanly scent. He came up grinning. It was the first time his face showed any expression.

I felt my panties being slipped down over my hips and thighs. They ended up with my pants at my ankles. The scarred man parted my labia with four rigid fingers, which he held tight like a wedge. I was scared to death, but my open nakedness and the touch of his strong fingers upon my intimate parts made me a little moist down there. He sunk his middle finger into my vagina, pulled it out and sucked it clean. He sat there savoring the taste of my pussy. I saw his erection bloom in his jeans. He stood up, unsnapped and unzipped his pants and dropped them to his ankles. He was not wearing underwear and his huge hard cock stood out at a right angle against his flat hard stomach. In a moment of panic, I tried to roll away from him. I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I felt a tremendous weight drop on me as I lay in face down. My head was pulled back by the hair and I felt a sharp sting just under my right jawbone. It was the cold steely knife. He held it there to let me know that he meant business. I shivered and wept, as I knew what was to come next.

He pressed the tip of his cock into my backside and found my vaginal opening. He slithered his way inside me and forced his pubic arch into my ass cheeks slamming it against my butt bone. He started ramming me from behind driving my hips and pubis into the thick carpet. His stiff swollen cock filled me to the core as he worked it in and out. His balls slapped away at the back of my upper thighs. With my hands bounded behind me, I could feel his washboard stomach. He gritted his teeth and grunted like a wild boar as he pumped my precious pussy and drove my ass into the floor. The fear was intense, but the physical pleasure of the hard and fast sex was just too overwhelming. I soon found myself on the verge of cuming. Then, he let out a loud long grunt as he shot his wad into my hot aching snatch. I let out a stifled scream into my gag as I climaxed as well. It was so wrong for me to enjoy this. My body was betraying me. My mind was screaming NO! But my pussy was begging for more.

Dave pulled out of me and flipped me over onto my back. He lifted and parted my knees, then knelt between my legs. He laid his shins over my bunched up pants and panties, which caused my ankles to be pinned to the floor. He kissed and licked me all over my neck and breasts. His tongue ventured down my tummy and he swirled it around my navel. He was driving me bananas! His tongue made its way down to my pubic line, where he stopped. He lifted his head up and began rubbing his hands all up and down the front of my body. He pressed the meaty portion of his palm into my thick mound, which was covered with a thin strip of light brown pubic hair. He licked the bare flesh around both sides of my little pubic "landing strip." His tongue glided over my clit and dipped into my pussy. This wasn't so bad, I thought to myself. But things were soon to change for the worse.

Dave raised up and brought out his scary looking knife again. He placed the blade against the side of my throat and began to skim it along my soft skin, which was wet with perspiration. He slowly worked it down between my supple breasts, gently dragging the point alternately along my bulbous globes. The cold sharp steel sent chills down my spine. He carefully made a zigzagging course down my abdomen and crossed my navel in a "Z" pattern. The blade pressed ever so slightly into my tender flesh, but he made it a point not to break the skin. He was just teasing and taunting me with his weapon. He stared through his dark glasses at the big knife as it caressed my body. I tensed up as he got to my groin. He outlined the pattern of my thin strip of pubic hair. Then, he went for my clit. He slowly slid the point along both sides of my chick pea sized clitoris. I quivered and quaked as the hard sharp point came in contact with my extremely sensitive tissues. He closely studied my nub as he probed it with his knife. Then he moved on to my fleshy pussy lips, maneuvering them about with the care of a surgeon armed with a scalpel. I braced myself, as I feared that he would cut my tender parts, but he didn't. The mental experience was torturous, but the physical sensation was strangely arousing for me. At first, I thought he was playing a devious mind game with me. Later, I realized that this was foreplay to him.

He set the knife down and lay upon me. He nibbled at my neck and ear. He reached down and guided his stiff cock into my vagina. He slipped it in to the hilt and rubbed his groin into my mound. His course pubic hair chaffed the bare skin around my pussy as his hips gyrated into me. My pussy was stuffed to capacity with his throbbing meat pole. His rigid prick slipped and sloshed in, out and around my wet love canal. He fucked me good and hard for twenty minutes straight, pounding my ass into the solid ground. The rug burns irritated the soft skin of my heart shaped hynie. I came two more times. Dave built up a lot of steam and let loose with a massive crescendo as he spewed inside me for the second time.

Dave lay quietly on top of me for a few minutes. He gingerly removed the tape from my mouth and took out my gag. After doing this, he stopped and looked up at the bare wall behind me and frowned. He was in deep thought, and after a minute or two, he spoke.

"What's wrong?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I still see blood on that wall." He said softly. I looked and saw that the wall was clean. There was no blood.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The older daughter, she was 18, she got ambushed in this room." He said somberly.

"What?"

"She had come home late that night. She was on a date. She came through here to the kitchen to get a drink of water, probably to rinse her pathetic little boyfriend's vile saliva from her mouth."

"Huh?" I was perplexed. How did he know all this?

"She got her water and was going to take it back to her bedroom. He caught her right about here. In a decisive moment of fight or flight, she chose the former and smashed the glass against his face cutting him badly." It seemed that Dave recounted the events from memory as I sat in horror listening to his story. How did he know so much? Then it occurred to me. The scar! Oh my God, was it him? I really became frightened as I realized that I was face to face with a maniacal killer.

"Please, let's not talk about this. Can we change the subject." I appealed to him. He continued anyway.

"That was HIS blood on the wall over there. He killed her on this very spot. This very spot where I fucked you." Dave said with his characteristic monotone voice.

"Oh God!" I wailed. I shut my eyes and tried to drown out the horrible sights and sounds in my head. My imagination was running wild. Then I had terrifying visions of my own gruesome demise. Was he going to kill me now too?

"They did a good job cleaning the carpet." He went on to say, "They called him an ax murderer. Hah! He only used an ax to chop them up afterwards. He used a knife to kill them. One just like this!" Dave pressed one hand down on my throat and snatched up his knife with his other hand, placing the point against my cheek. I could barley breath and there was no way I could scream. "He liked the intimacy of killing his prey with a knife." He went on with his story or his "confession" without missing a beat, "He liked the closeness the knife afforded him. It's silent and swift. It's a wonderful tool."

My teeth chattered as I trembled uncontrollably. I knew that I was doing to die at that point. Dave lowered his face to my ear and lowered whispered to me. "I know what you are thinking. You think it's me, right?" I nervously shook my head in the negative. "Yes, you do. I didn't do it you know. I would have like to have done it, but I didn't. I am just an avid fan of his work." Dave loosened his grip on my neck. I began to gasp for air and cry at the same time.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked sobbingly.

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