Psycho Killer


The house was large, Victorian by design and vulnerable by his observation. He had been in these woods for four days, performing his usual level of pre-incidence surveillance and shaking his head in amusement. The woman who lived in this house was a bitch. He knew this because she had been his supervisor up until three weeks ago, until she fired him for insubordination. Maybe he shouldn't have told her to fuck off when he was having a loud argument with Harold Welson, the head of the tooling department, but he hadn't been in his right mind then. That excuse didn't sit well with her. And so with three boxes of personal belongings and sixteen years of work history with the company, he'd been escorted to the door and forgotten like a retired employee.

That was when he decided to take his revenge out on her. He wouldn't run screaming with blazing guns into the machine shop; his firing wasn't the fault of the company. The blame lay directly on her shoulders and he intended to make sure that she knew it and didn't practice her sad sense of workplace justice on someone else. He lifted the binoculars and checked out the front windows again. It was nearly eleven o'clock and night cloaked him in its devilish shroud, allowing him to move closer, to scent his unsuspecting prey.

She was beautiful, of course. No bitch had ever been ugly in his experience and he managed not to drool as he watched her step out of the shower and towel off. Her heavy breasts bumped against her arms as she rubbed her legs dry and started on her back. Her waist was wide as were her hips, but both were well-muscled, by-products of the martial arts she practiced. Most people were afraid of her because of her strength but he had prepared for that eventuality. GHB in a hypodermic needle would see to that. She left the bathroom and moved into her bedroom, setting the clock before she turned off the lights, plunging the entire house into darkness.

Time to settle the score, bitch.

* * * * *

Colette Harding was sound asleep when the gloved hand clapped over her mouth and a ball gag pushed past her lips. Her wrists were firmly tied behind her back and her ankles were tied to each of the bottom posts. A heavy man sat on her, straddling her waist as he secured the gag then sat back to admire his handiwork.

"Hello, bitch."

She struggled against the bonds but could find no give in the ropes. She was stuck and stuck fast.

"How do you like being under someone else's control? Not very nice, is it?"

Colette moaned, closing her eyes and playing the overwhelmed girl role while desperately trying to think. Who the hell was this? How could she get free? She opened her eyes, trying to meet his and convey childlike fear. The brutal slap he delivered jarred her teeth and she moaned anew.

"Don't try to pretend that you're some innocent, bitch. I know your true nature and you're not fooling me."

He yanked off his ski mask and her eyes shot wide open. Joe Henderson, recently removed from her supervision. Now she understood. His hands rapidly unzipped his black corduroys and his prick snapped out, thin and hard.

"You fired me without asking for my side of the story so tonight, I'm gonna fuck you without asking." The head of his sweat-slimed cock smacked her nose and cheeks and he moved backwards, whipping the head against her nipples and making her writhe in pain. "Let's take that gag off." He held the syringe up, priming it within her eyesight. "If you bite me, I'll stick you with this. And then, who knows what could happen to you while you're unconscious?"

Colette nodded in understanding and took great gulps of breath once the gag was removed. Just play along. Her mind kicked into overdrive. Play along and stay alive. He shimmied forward and stuffed his rod into her mouth, gleefully feeding it to her and giggling like a child. She choked, then swallowed, then choked again, trying to pull her head back. He laughed every time she gagged but finally allowed her a modicum of relief, sitting back a few inches and rocking against her face. She wrapped her mouth around his cock, sucking and licking while trying not to vomit. He oohed and aahed over her performance, then pulled out.

"Time to let my trouser snake taste your pussy." Joe backed up, letting his prick drag across her landscape, leaving a slimy slug path in the valley between her breasts, then across her abdomen and down to her hairy snatch. "Need to prune this hedge, bitch." He cackled, letting his finger part her thick folds, then slide mercilessly inside her. She moaned at the rough intrusion but her sweet juices came down to meet him. He laughed at the lubrication. "I knew you would be a ripe bitch."

She pulled at her legs but her ankles remained fastened. He leaned down and licked one, laughing again as she tried to pull away from his tongue and couldn't. Her knees were jerked up and he moved between, plunging deeply into her and drawing her cry of anguish. He pumped again and again, relishing the look of fear and disgust on her face and her hot, wet tunnel. He felt the urge to spurt almost immediately but bit his tongue until he tasted blood in an effort to stave it off, then he had an idea.

He pulled his cock from her pussy and rubbed the head against her asshole. Terror filled her features and he laughed, pushing into her ass and grunting as his release instantly overtook him. Her eyes closed, tears leaking from the sides as she felt his hot sperm bathe her bowels. It was over ... for now. She acted as if she'd achieved an orgasm and smiled at him, licking her lips suggestively.

"Fuck, you were good, Joe!"

He lifted his head and stared at her, not quite sure if he should believe her but hypnotized by the pink tip of her tongue as it traversed the edges of her lips. "Think so?"

"Fuck, yeah! If you'd have fucked me at the office, you would've still had a job." Colette gave him a seductive smile. "We can still fix things up, though. Just untie me."

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you go."

"Please, Joe." She put on her best begging face, wetting her lips and drawing his attention. "I won't go anywhere. The fact is, I love the way you fuck. I want to turn over so you can drill my ass."

Joe smiled. Now that was more like it. The bitch wanted him. "Okay." He untied her bonds. "Turn over and let me fuck that ass again."

Colette turned and arose on all fours, wiggling her delicious ass in his direction. His hands gripped her hips, sliding over the smooth skin, then catching her at the hip joints. He didn't see the silver .38 or its muzzle that slid under her body. He heard a deafening report and felt that sharp slice of the bullet as it entered his body. She turned over, still aiming the gun at him and firing a second, then third time as he continued to advance towards her. Finally, death claimed him and he fell face forward, his cock wilting like a balloon with a pinhole.

She smiled, tucking the gun back under her pillow, then quickly dressed in jeans, Timberline boots and a pullover hoodie. The sheets were ruined, of course, but the blood had stopped at the rubber sheet and the mattress was preserved. She wrapped them around his body, secured both ends and pulled a pre-cut length of tarpaulin out of the closet, enclosing the body. From there, it was easy to tug the bundle down the stairs and out the back door. The garage winch pulled it into the back of her SUV and she was ready to go.

Just before she departed, she extracted a thick folder that she'd hidden behind the feed oats and rifled through the newspaper clippings, smiling as she thought about the next day's headlines: SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN. She threw her head back and brayed in laughter, unable to keep quiet. I just beat you Aileen Wuornos.

The SUV purred into life and she headed into the welcoming embrace of the darkness.

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