Jean: The Box Cutter Murders Ch. 08

Content Warning: The following chapter is part of a novel-length murder mystery with graphic violence and gratuitous non-consensual sex. Since I am writing for Literotica, the story contains more sex than mystery. Sensitive readers should look elsewhere for entertainment.

This story is in Nonconsent/Reluctance for a reason. Sensitive readers should look elsewhere for entertainment.

This story took place in 1977. There were no cell phones, no internet and computers were scarce.

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Chapter 8: Innocence

I was overwhelmed with shame and confusion as I stared with unfocused eyes at the rundown table top while waiting for my long-delayed interview with a sadistic serial killer, quivering from lack of sleep, shuddering from my horrific ordeal at the hands of twenty rapacious guards and inmates, still recovering from a crushing panic attack that had been relieved by one of the guards finger fucking me to an explosive orgasm barely out of sight of everyone in the visitor's center but close enough for them to hear my whimpers and moans. So, I sat cowering under the stares of the other occupants of the Graterford Prison visitor's center. I was all too aware of the growing wet spot in the crotch my jeans as a seemingly endless mess of cum from the mob of guards leaked out of my battered vagina. At least the black pants partially obscured my shame. I was so absorbed with my misery, I failed to notice when the convicted killer was led in from his death row cell.

"Oh, pretty lady."

I looked up startled. A large guard was half dragging a prisoner incumbered by leg shackles and handcuffs. I recognized the scrawny prisoner as he shuffled towards my table. At last, I was going to meet the sadistic killer who had raped, ritually tortured and eventually killed a string of young prostitutes in North Philly. The young man was scrawnier than I expected. I was taller and heavier despite all the weight I had lost in law school. David was so skeletal, I thought even I could take him in a fair fight.

Professor Williams had prepared me for this meeting with careful consideration of every contingency. The professor had stressed the importance of establishing my dominance over our client from the beginning, but unfortunately, I began with one blunder after another. Without thinking, I stood and offered my hand. The guard yelled, "No contact with the prisoner!"

I blushed as I saw David drop his eyes from my face to my chest and then to my crotch. His grin increased as he scanned my soiled and barely covered body. My hair was disheveled and stuck together with cum. My tattered blouse, thanks to having all the skull-shaped buttons torn off by the guards for souvenirs, revealed a wide strip of bare skin from my neck down to where I had tied the bottom. My midriff was exposed down to the top of my low-rise jeans which gaped open thanks to the zipper jammed halfway up. A scraggly stubble of pubic hair and the top of my bare slit was on display to David as he licked his lips.

I recognized the guard leading David as one of the men who had assaulted me in the interrogation room. He laughed, "Nice to see you again, Jean. Have you decided to stay with us at Graterford?"

I swallowed hard as I covered my pussy and sat down hard. I watched the guard force David into the chair across from me and attach his handcuffs to a chain fastened to the tabletop. That was when I noticed, he had a small spiral notepad like mine in his hands. As soon as he sat down, he opened the notepad on the table before quickly glancing at me.

The guard scowled at me and said, "You have fifty minutes before visiting hours are over. Don't touch the prisoner. Any contact will be dealt with severely."

David's eyes focused on my notepad. As soon as I opened it, he smiled and started drawing on his notepad. He looked awkward trying to draw with his hands cuffed together, but he had just enough slack to manage.

He seemed fascinated with my torso, and his eyes darted from his pad to my chest and back again. I blushed when I looked down and saw that my blouse was gaping open. It had come loose when I stood up to greet my client. David could see most of my ample breasts. It was hardly a professional way to begin an interview. I hastily pulled the sides together and tied the bottom tighter. I was revealing far more cleavage than I wanted.

I looked back at David's notepad and blushed again when I realized he was drawing me naked on a bed. All my careful preparation for the interview was rapidly coming undone. My questions were designed to get David off balance. The professor was convinced David was taking the rap for someone. He hoped if David became rattled, he might tell the truth. Instead, I was the one who was becoming flustered. My ordeal at the hands of the guards and the recent panic attack had left me at a serious disadvantage. I struggled to control the trembling in my tired, aching body. I had to get my act together quickly or fail once again.

David smiled and said, "You're dressed like a whore, and you stink like one. Did my lawyer send a whore to interview me? The last woman he sent was stuck up. I like you better. I love whores."

I stammered as I introduced myself. "David, I'm Jean, and I represent your lawyer."

I started to hold out a hand again but pulled it back when I heard the guard protest.

David stared at his notepad without looking up as he said, "Nice to meet you, pretty lady."

"Thanks, David. I work for your friend, Professor Williams. Your aunt hired him to appeal your case. We think we can get you released if you cooperate. Can we talk?"

David was now writing in code beneath his drawing. He looked up at my chest and said, "I write in my journal so I won't forget things. I also like to draw pretty ladies."

"I don't mind if you draw me as long as you promise to tell me the truth about the night Inesa was killed. Can you do that for me?"

David squirmed and said, "Youssef said I shouldn't talk to anyone about it except for friends. Are we friends?"

"Yes David, I know your aunt. We are friends."

David smiled, but he still refused to look me in the eye. Somehow, he was catching glances of my face, because the person in the drawing was unmistakable. He even captured the mole on my right cheek.

"Nice, I'm friends with a pretty lady."

"David, you told the police that you were alone the night Inesa was killed, but Jamel said he and Youssef were with you after midnight. Do you remember being with them?"

"Jamel said he was with me?"

"Yes, Jamel told me."

"If Jamel says so, then I was with them. I was alone later."

"David, do you know Inesa's friend Marian?"

"I know Marian. She pretty lady too. She's always nice."

"Marian saw you with Jamel and Youssef around 1 AM when your cousins talked to Inesa. She saw Inesa go off with the three of you. Do you remember being with them when they picked up Inesa?"

David twisted around in his seat and surveyed the room. He whispered, "Yes."

"It's OK, David. It's good to tell the truth. Everyone knows you went off with Inesa. Jamel and Youssef didn't hide it. Where did the three of you go with Inesa?

"We went back to the projects."

"The projects where you live with your Aunt?"

"Yes."

"But the projects are crowded. Where did you find privacy?"

"City tearing down the projects. Throwing people out on the street. Maybe they'll build new projects. One building is already empty."

"Oh, how awful. What about your aunt?"

"She will move soon to her sister's place."

"So you took Inesa to an empty apartment?"

"Yes."

"What happened in the apartment?"

"Inesa go into bedroom. Jamel and Youssef take turns visiting her. Then they say she is mine now. They leave me alone with pretty lady."

"What happened after your cousins left?"

"I tied Inesa to the bed and killed her."

I stared at David's downcast face and said, "David, Inesa was bigger than I am. How did you manage to tie her up? I know she was a prostitute, but I can't imagine she would let you tie her up."

"She was sleeping. I tied her up. She woke up when I cut her."

Had Jamel and Youssef drugged Inesa? I couldn't imagine how David could have tied her up any other way. I decided to change my approach. If he had tied her to the bed, he would know the knot he used. It wouldn't prove anything about who killed her, but if he didn't know what knot was used, then he wasn't in the room when she was murdered.

"Your aunt says you were a Boy Scout and loved knots. You even had a book of knots from the library. Inesa was tied with a special knot. Can you tell me what knot you used to tie her to the bed?"

David smiled and started drawing on his notepad. He showed me the drawing and said, "I used a round turn and two half hitches to tie her wrists and ankles to the bed. I wrapped the rope around her three times and secured the end with the two half hitches around the standing part."

I stared at David in amazement. It was like mentioning knots had turned on a light switch in his brain. He described the knot used to tie up Inesa in two long complete sentences filled with detail. Once again, I doubted the Professor's belief that David was innocent. The scrawny young man was doing an excellent job of convicting himself in my eyes.

"David, did you ever teach any knots to Jamel and Youssef?"

"I tried to. They weren't interested."

"Did you teach them how to tie a round turn and two half hitches?"

"I don't know. I tried teaching them things all the time."

I tried once more. The knot used to tie up Inesa was a sailors' knot. I had to ask. "Did Jamel or Youssef ever go sailing?"

David shook his head. "No, we can't swim. We are all scared of water."

His answers weren't helping David's case at all. I switched topics and gave him my last shot.

"David, you left a lot of old journals in your room. The newest one was a couple of months old. The one you are writing in now isn't the same style. I think there is a missing notebook. Do you know where it is?"

David squirmed in his seat and looked around. His breathing quickened, but he ignored my question. I decided to try a little white lie on the chance David was covering for his cousins.

"David, we need to find the book or Jamel and Youssef may end up on death row too. Do you know who has it?"

"I don't know. I lost it."

"David, it's important. Your cousins are in trouble. Marian saw the three of you going off with Inesa.

David started rocking in his seat as much as his chains allowed. "I don't know, I don't know."

I reached over and grabbed David's notepad. I turned to the front page. The starting date was shortly after he had been sent to Graterford. Below the date was a drawing of a yellow rose. I tried to read the coded text using rose as the keyword. It didn't work. I tried "a yellow rose" and smiled. I could read his coded text.

David hissed, "Give it back. It's mine. It's mine. I thought you were my friend."

I leafed through the pages. The guard Milly was right. He had drawn a series of pictures of her in the nude. In one of them, she was tied to a bed. I turned to the last page where he had drawn me naked. I turned the notepad so he could see while I ran my finger over the coded text.

I read the caption out loud. "Pretty lady Jean."

I continued reading the next sentence. "Pretty lady asked about Jamel and Youssef. You see, David, I can read your code. When I find your missing notebook, I'll know who killed Inesa."

David wailed. He bent over his handcuffed hands. His fingers were picking at the inside of his nose. It was disgusting. I was shocked when blood began gushing from his left nostril. I reached into the pocket of my pants and pulled out a bunch of Kleenex. David pressed the tissues to his nose. His orange jumpsuit was covered in blood.

One of the guards was yelling over the phone for backup. People visiting other prisoners were herded toward the door. A guard unclipped David's handcuffs from the table. Two other guards grabbed the scrawny prisoner and lifted him off the ground. David was shouting that he had killed the girl and his cousins were innocent.

I was trying to hide David's notepad while they removed David from the visiting room. The fourth guard grabbed the notepad from my hands, "We need the book for the killer's psych evaluation. Besides, it's state property. I hope you weren't trying to steal it."

"David was writing about his meeting with me. The notepad is the property of the defense. It's covered under attorney-client privilege."

"Nice try but your argument is bull shit. However, if you insist you can have the pages from today."

The only part of David's notepad the guard could read was the date. He looked at the last few pages and laughed when he saw the nude sketch of me. He ripped them out and tossed them on the table.

"David really knows how to draw nudes. I think he did a fantastic job on your breasts. I sure enjoyed tit fucking them."

I took the pages and shoved them into my pants' pocket. I also grabbed a blood-soaked Kleenex and put it in the used sandwich bag I had saved. The Kleenex wouldn't stand up in court, but it might answer the Professor's question about David's blood type.

The guard led me back to the entrance, and I signed more paperwork absolving the prison of responsibility for any injuries I might have received during my visit. I thought about refusing to sign the release form, but I wanted to get far away from Graterford Prison as fast as possible.

#

My trip to Graterford had been a colossal failure. I had gone through hell and back to meet with David and gotten nothing more than a bloody Kleenex and a nude drawing of myself. After seeing David in person, I was convinced more than ever that the justice system was going to execute the right person. As I thought about it further, I realized that there was one more thing I might be bringing back from the prison. There was a strong possibility that I was now carrying one of the guards' baby. I prayed the father wasn't the idiot nephew of the warden.

To complete my sense of doom, I was sure Professor Williams would now reward my efforts with an incomplete for my summer internship. Even if I pulled off a pass in contract law, I would still be two credits short of what I needed to earn my law degree. There was no way I could afford another semester at Temple. Maybe I should accept Samuel's offer and become a prostitute. I doubted my old boyfriend, Steve, would be interested in marrying a law school dropout, a stupid girl who couldn't keep herself from being gangbanged regularly, standing on his doorstep with a black baby in her arms.

I had a lot of time to think about my fucked-up life on the way back from Graterford prison. The abuse at the hands of the guards triggered memories I had long ago buried. Until my sophomore year of college, my relationship with men had been dominated by my sense of worthlessness. As a young child, I blamed myself for my father abandoning my mother and me. I was happy for my mother when a new man came into her life, but my happiness was short lived. My mother's fiancée abused me for most of the next year. He told me my mother hated me for driving my father into the arms of another woman. Any show of affection on her part was an act to fool her friends and colleagues at the high school. He claimed he was the only one who loved me. Even his love wasn't unconditional. The son of a bitch said he could only love me if I kept our secret.

I never recovered my sense of self-worth after my mom caught her fiancée and reported him to the police. For years afterward, I engaged in risky behavior including drugs as well as sex in a futile attempt to find love. I became known as an easy girl. I worked my way through half of Zeta Psi in my freshman year at the University of Wisconsin before I met Berry. My sophomore year, I took a class in philosophy because it had a reputation for being a sure A. Berry was a graduate assistant helping the philosophy professor. He was a short and skinny Jewish kid from Queens. I was fascinated by his urban sophistication as well as his mop of curly black hair. After a couple of review sessions, Berry took an interest in my fatalism and decided to rescue me.

He lived in a commune in an older part of Madison. I wasn't familiar with socialism and hadn't thought much about the Vietnam War. He couldn't understand how someone from an Ivy League college town like Ithaca, NY could be so ignorant of world affairs. I moved in with Barry only a couple of weeks into the semester.

The first time we had sex, instead of thanking me, Barry declared that I was a lousy fuck. He presented me with his copy of the "Joy of Sex" and gave me a reading assignment. I finally got his point when he compared sex to dancing. I understood dancing and found that sex was more fun for both of us when I participated. We worked our way through the book. After trying each position, he had me make notes in the margin. I was caught by surprise when he gave me the first orgasm I'd ever had with a man. I laughed for a few moments before I broke down into tears. For the first time in my life, I was in love with a man who I thought loved me.

Barry was a free spirit. One night he expressed a desire to try a threesome. At first, I was reluctant to participate, but he wore me down over several days. He claimed that I needed to be liberated from my puritanical upbringing. Once I agreed to give it a try, he wasted little time finding a suitable partner. Danielle was another member of the commune, and I had been paired with her for cooking and cleaning duties. She was a bubbly blond with big boobs and an athletic body.

We drank some wine and smoked a little weed to get relaxed. I expected Barry planned to fuck both of us. I was surprised when Barry said he wanted to start by watching the two of us make love. I had never even kissed a girl before, but before I knew it, Barry had us in a sixty-nine. Danielle was great with her fingers and tongue. I tried to copy her moves and was pleased when she orgasmed shortly after I did. Afterwards, Barry fucked us both. For nearly a month, Barry, Danielle and I experimented together. It was hard to be jealous of Danielle fucking Barry when she had such magic fingers.

Barry caught me by surprise when he suggested we try a threesome with Will. Our new partner was a big farm boy from Iowa. I suspect Will had joined the commune purely for sex. I never saw much evidence that he was the least bit political. I'm sure he didn't even know or care where Vietnam was until a year later when he got drafted.

I didn't expect the position he selected. Barry had me lie on my back, and he slid into a sixty-nine with me. With Barry's cock in my mouth, I had a front-row seat as Will thrust his big dick into Barry's scrawny ass. Will gave it to Barry for a long time and was still driving his cock into Barry's ass long after Barry had cum in my mouth, and my supposed boyfriend's happy fingers had driven me to a second orgasm.

I woke up in the morning in a shaking bed to the sounds of Barry and Will's grunts. I looked over, and Barry was fucking Will in the ass.

The next night I was on clean up duty with Danielle after dinner. I was exhausted and headed up to bed once we finished the dishes. I was shocked to find Will and Barry were already in bed, and they weren't sleeping. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched. They didn't acknowledge my presence. I got bored listening to them tell each other how wonderful they were. I took my pillow and joined Danielle in her bed.

Barry and Will became an item. It was hard to get their attention at dinner; it was impossible to arouse their interest in bed. I was broken hearted. I had let myself fall in love with Barry, but I now realized he never loved me in return. I moved my stuff out of Barry's room and moved in with Danielle. I had no idea why I was at the University of Wisconsin or what I was doing with my life. I dropped out of college in the middle of my sophomore year.