Raoul's First Murders Ch. 05

As usual, let the reader be warned that there will be some violence.

Also, some readers might want to know that all the really sexy parts are in the first half of this chapter; once the cops arrive, it's just plot the rest of the way.

This is the last of the "Raoul's First Murders" stories. They will continue (soon) with the "Raoul's Road Trip" series. But his story begins with the "Raoul's 18th birthday" stories, so if you haven't read them I hope you'll give them a go.

None of the characters in this story are based on anyone real — except of course to the extent that your humble author resembles Raoul... lololzzzzzz

——————/—————————

The following Tuesday afternoon — right on schedule — Raoul is called out of class to take a phone call in the school's office.

"Someone's very upset," the school secretary mouths, covering the phone's receiver with her palm while "unintentionally" brushing her wrist over her blouse, pulling it open to reveal just a little more of her large freckled cleavage. "Do you have any idea?"

Raoul shakes his head and reaches for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Raoul," Shirley weeps into the phone. "Something terrible has happened."

"What? Are you okay?" Raoul pretends not to know what she's talking about.

"My husband," she bawls, "he's ... he's...."

"Did he hit you again? You shouldn't put up with that, Shirley."

She doesn't answer, so he listens to her cry for a while.

"I'm sorry," she finally says. "I can barely say it."

"What? Just tell me."

"He's dead!"

"Who is?"

"My husband!"

"Are you sure?"

"I just got off the phone with the police. They said the maid found him this morning. He hung himself from the banister."

"Oh my god, Shirley, that's awful. Where are you?"

"I'm still at my mom's."

"Are you okay?"

"I need to see you, Raoul. I need to see you tonight."

"What about Scarlett?"

"We don't have to worry about her anymore," Shirley says. "You know where to meet me?"

——————/—————————

The staff at the Chateau Marmont now know him by sight, so as soon as he appears in the lobby, someone rushes over to greet him with a key, telling him what room "the lady" is in.

Then, when he steps inside her room, she leaps to embrace him, weeping into his stomach. He holds her blonde head as sobs shake her body. He feels the softness of her skin and her silk camisole. Though she is at that moment a multi-millionaire heiress, she is also a tender, fragile, vulnerable woman.

Holding her, however, he also feels a savage, manly pride filling the muscles of his arms and hands. He has killed a man in cold blood, taking his wife and daughter and no doubt much of his money for himself.

He remembers the murder with satisfaction. He'd worn his riding gloves to minimize fingerprints. When he'd come back into the study, Mr. X was sitting on a sofa, weeping.

"What do you want?"

"I forget to give you your money back."

Mr. X just sat there, confused, as Raoul sat next to him on the sofa. The old man just held still, apparently not understanding anything, as Raoul placed one leg over his so that he wouldn't be able to kick, and then held his body with one arm.

He put one arm around Mr. X's body. The old man fought back only to find Raoul holding both of his wrists with one hand.

"What the hell? What the hell are you doing?"

Then, with his other arm, Raoul pulled the noose out of his jacket.

"Hey! What the fuck!?"

Raoul dropped the noose over Mr. X's head. Mr. X held his chin against his chest to try to prevent the rope from getting around his neck, but even with both arms fighting against one of Raoul's, the old man could not prevent Raoul from pulling his forehead back to get the rope around the neck.

After that, drunk and obviously overpowered, with the rope permanently around his neck, Mr. X had accepted his fate without much struggle, really only squirming a little. He looked at Raoul and his death with impotent horror and hatred.

"Your wife and daughter are going to have my babies," Raoul had told him as his face purpled. "Your little pecker's never going to bother Shirley again, but she's gonna spread her legs and fuck my huge cock lots of times. She'll beg me to fill her cunt with my cum, and I'm gonna do it for her over and over.

"Your darling daughter loves it when I cum on her face," Raoul told the dying man, who had completely surrendered, his angry eyes pouring forth tears. "She loves to lick off my cock after I've fucked her. She licks it off and smiles up at me with gratitude. I'm gonna fuck both of them tonight, tomorrow, before and after your funeral, and a lot of times after that. They're gonna have my babies and before long they'll have almost entirely forgotten you, and when they think of you they'll be glad you're dead."

He went on until the old man's body went limp. Even then he sat there, holding him, pulling the rope tight to continue choking him until he was sure Mr. X was gone.

Probably was a little much, but for Raoul at that point it wasn't about right or wrong or what Mr. X deserved — it was about his own sense of power.

How different, he noticed, these thoughts were from those he'd had only a day earlier, killing Todd and his brothers. He counted the men he'd killed, accidentally and intentionally, reaching ten. Mr. X was the tenth. Apparently ten is the point when it starts to become routine, when a man — or at least a man like Raoul — starts to get used to the idea of taking human life, starts to enjoy it and do it with confidence and joy.

He looked at the wealth around him. The dark wood, the antique books, the frosted windows, the carpets and chandeliers. It would be sold, probably, and the money would go to Shirley. She would lavish it on Raoul, and he had earned every cent of it, choking the life out of her pathetic, broken husband.

He carried the lifeless body up the stairs, tied the other end of the rope around the banister railing, consciously making the knot amateurish since Mr. X would not have known much about that kind of thing, and would not have been in a condition to do it well. Then he dropped the body over, and as the rope snapped taught, Mr. X's neck gave a satisfyingly loud "pop."

He'd taken out the envelope of money and scattered it around the hall beneath Mr. X's slowly swinging, slowly spinning body, keeping only a few thousand of it for himself and his girls.

Then he calmly walked away, understanding that he'd probably never be in that house again, reflecting on how his actions would change everyone's lives for the better.

Especially and most importantly his own.

So now here he is to begin collecting his dividends. Never again will he worry who knows what he and Shirley do together.

Perhaps preferring the darkness, Shirley has left the lights off in her room. Quiet swirls of golden dust dance in the bars of twilight streaming through the blinds. The dying embers of a cigarette glow in an ashtray, and next to the tray lie a mirror and a razor blade — not that he's surprised, but that is an aspect of Shirley's life he hadn't known about before.

"Raoul," Shirley eventually sobs again. He notices her sniffles. "Thank you for coming. I needed to see you."

"My pleasure," he tells her. "I needed to fuck you."

"Yes," she almost barks at him, looking up at him desperately through bloodshot eyes. "Fuck me. Call me a slut and a whore and fuck my brains out."

She sounds eager for a little degradation. A treatment for guilt, perhaps.

But what he feels is ownership. He's here to seize his new property, not to make anyone feel better about anything.

He takes her chin between two fingers. "First you're going to lick my balls and suck my cock. You got that?"

"Yes," she cries. "I want to suck it, Raoul. I'm your cock-sucking whore."

"I'm going to cum all over your face and watch you lick it off your fingers."

"Oh, god, yes," she shudders. "Raoul, please, anything."

"Then I'm going to eat your pussy until you can't take it anymore."

"Anything you want."

"And finally, I am going to bang the fuck out of you — not once, but lots of times. I am going to bend you in every direction and take you in every way."

"Oh, thank god," she weeps, holding him more tightly. "I need your cock inside me. I need your cum inside me."

"I'm going to pump you full of cum over and over until you have a baby for me."

"Yes, good. I don't care. I'll do anything you want."

"Strip and get on your knees by the bed," he orders, releasing her. Then he walks over to the mirror and razor and throws them in the garbage.

He doesn't know the risks involved, but he knows some of the possibilities, and the last thing he needs is to be the last person Shirley sees before she ODs.

Shirley looks at him with a little frustration, but, dominating her with his eyes, he points to her place on the floor, and she kneels there, her robe falling from her shoulders to reveal her still-youthful tits.

——————/—————————

About an hour later, after keeping some of those promises to each other, she lies naked on his naked body. Her legs are open around his waist, her breasts pressed into his statuesque abs, her head nestled between the muscles of his chest.

She sighs deeply.

"Raoul, you are just amazing."

"You are too."

"No, Raoul. I mean, that is literally the hardest I ever came. I didn't know that could happen. You cleaned me out."

Of course hearing this feels good, but Raoul has heard it all before.

"Good. You needed it."

"Oh, god, I did," she agrees. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine, kitten. We can do that lots of times."

"I hope we will."

"I guaran-fuckin-tee we will." He slaps her ass to make the point, and she laughs.

"Raoul," she says, teasing his nipple with two fingers. "I know what I am now."

"What's that?"

"A rich old widow. I used to be the hot young thing that every man wanted, and I used it to get what I wanted. I wanted class and money and luxury. But I failed as an actress so I married an old rich man, and I got it all that way. Even the actresses he slept with envied me."

She pauses for a response, so he gives her an "mmmm."

"Yeah," she says with the tone of an admission. "But anyway, now he's gone. I can hardly believe it. I wished for it for years. Years and years. I wanted him to die. I prayed for heart attacks, cancer, car accidents, anything. I wanted to be free of him, and now I finally am."

"Um-hmm."

"And to think I still have his money. It's amazing. I can't believe it. He was going to change his will the next day, but he — he didn't do it. He was going to cut me out, but he didn't do it."

"Maybe he wanted you to have it."

She laughed.

"I think he just got so drunk he forgot his plan."

"Same thing, I guess."

"The thing is, now that I have the money, or I guess I will get it all, it's like — I really was a slut. I let him fuck me all those years. I pretended not to know about all the other bimbos he was fucking. I put up with all that shit, just for the money, the lifestyle and the money, just like any slut."

"You were married. It's not the same."

"Maybe not. I don't know. But now I finally have it all to myself."

"Yup."

"Am I a bad person, Raoul? I feel like a bad person."

"You're completely normal. You traded what you had to offer for what he had to offer. Everyone else does the same thing."

"You think so?"

"Yup."

"I actually am sad. Maybe we even loved each other once. It's just... I'm not as sad as I think I should be."

"You just went from being broke and hopeless to being rich and free from a man you didn't love, who didn't love you. You'll have a lot of opportunities to play the grieving widow over the next few days. You don't have to do it right now."

She seems to think about that a while.

"Did you visit him that day, after I called?"

"Yup."

"You were probably the last person to see him alive."

"Maybe."

"What was he like?"

"Upset. He threw a glass at me. He missed, but it broke the mirror in his bar."

"You remember what I told you on the phone?"

"Yup."

"What do you remember exactly?"

"You said you wanted him to die. You even asked me to kill him for you."

There is a long silence in the dark room.

"I don't think we should tell anyone that I told you that," she finally says.

"Why not?"

"It would make me look horrible. His sisters will be coming after as much of the money as they can get anyway."

He laughs.

"You're gonna fight them off."

"We'll see what the lawyers can do. But I almost don't care. I don't even want the money."

"No?"

"Well, I do. But I only want it for one reason."

"What's that?"

"For you. I'm an old widow now. Maybe you want my body now, but that won't last long. I'm getting older every day. You don't understand because you're young and you think you'll be young forever, but now I understand it. We all get old."

"Why are you thinking about these things? You're not even forty."

"Because they're true. I'm an old widow now, and I'm going to be one of those foolish old women who waste all their money on a hot young thing like you."

"That's what your husband would have done."

"It's not the same for a man. But whatever. I don't care what anyone thinks."

She slides up his body, so that they are face to face.

"Raoul, will you tell me something truly?"

"Anything."

"Did you... when you were there... have any idea that he was about to kill himself?"

"No, but he was very upset."

"Did you... encourage him?"

"We didn't talk about it."

She thinks again a while.

"I know it's crazy but I have this crazy idea."

"What?"

"No, it's too crazy."

"Just say it, Shirley."

"Raoul, did you... did you.... I mean, did he really hang himself?"

"Are you asking if I murdered him?"

"I guess so."

"Shirley, don't think such things. You'll drive yourself nuts."

"I know, I know. But I just keep thinking about what I told you on the phone."

"Stop it."

"I guess if you killed him I wouldn't want to know."

Raoul doesn't respond to that.

"Anyway, we're free now," she says.

"Yup."

"But, can I tell you something?"

"Just tell me. Stop asking."

"Okay, but this is really bad. For some reason, I was kind of thinking, when you were fucking me, you were fucking me as if you'd killed him, and to be honest...."

"What?"

"That's why I came so hard. You were behind me, holding my hips so hard and just crashing into me — god, I love it when you do that, just like you don't even give a fuck about me, you're just fucking me for your own pleasure, just using me. You were banging me so hard and I kept thinking about the power of your body and imagining that you'd killed him with those hands, and I just... it just... I can't even... it just... when you slammed into me at the end and I knew you were cumming in me and I felt it was the cum of of the man who'd killed him for me, thinking that the cum of a killer was filling my cunt, it just felt so good."

"I'd tell you to watch your mouth but you need to watch your whole damn mind."

She laughed.

"You're right. I was just... being crazy. But...."

"Say it, Shirley."

"Can I pretend that sometimes? Because...."

"You can pretend anything you want."

"God, you are amazing. No wonder so many women fuck you. Women and girls. How many have you fucked in your life?"

"I lost track a long time ago."

"I know, but how many would you guess?"

"I don't know. Maybe a hundred."

"God," she laughs. "And you're only eighteen."

"Maybe it's more like sixty. Or eighty. I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"Who was the most beautiful? The hottest?"

"I don't know," he says. "I usually only fuck hot women."

"Scarlett's not really hot enough for you, is she?"

"She's okay. It's fun to fuck her because it means so much to her."

"It really does. She's nuts about you."

He doesn't respond.

"So who was the best?"

"My first girlfriend. We were in love, so it was the best."

"Wow, I can't believe it. You have a magic wand for a cock and you're sweet too."

He acknowledges her flattery with a sniff.

"But she was not really the best, was she? I mean she might have been the best experience for you, but she didn't know what she was doing, did she?"

"Not at first. But neither did I. We figured it all out together."

"So who was literally the best? Like who had the best technique?"

"I guess there are six or seven girls tied for first place. You're one of them, for sure."

"Me? Really?"

"You're one of the best cock-suckers I've ever known."

"Oh, wow," she coos. "I'm so glad. What have I got to do to be the very best?"

"You can't really be the best all by yourself. The best I've ever had was with four girls at once. Two of them took care of my cock and two of them kept my hands and mouth busy."

"I will make that happen. I'll get three girls with movie-star looks and we'll all blow you together."

"Sounds good."

"But your cock is for my pussy only."

"Nope. I put it where I want to put it."

"Fine. Whatever. Maybe I can get even more than three. How many is the most you've had at once?"

"Mabe fifteen."

"My god. Your life is like a porno, isn't it?"

"I guess so."

"It really is. How many guys have ever been with fifteen girls at once?"

"I don't know."

"Not many. Only people like movie stars and kings. But I know you fuck a lot of hot women. I'm glad you fuck my daughter too. She's so lucky to be with a man like you. Actually," she laughs, "You should get her pregnant too. Knock her up. That'd be funny."

Raoul just looks at her, not sure that she's thinking straight.

"Anyway, there's something else I wanted to tell you." As she talks, she kisses his lips, cheeks, temple, forehead. "I'll be one of the most powerful women in Hollywood now. MMG Bros won't be able to do anything without my say-so. Do you know what that means?"

"Not really," he manages to say as she sucks his bottom lip.

"It means I can put you in any film you want. Any role you want."

"I'm done acting. I'm in business now."

"Fine. But you know it also means I can get you almost any woman you want. Any woman who wants to be in a picture will have to spread her legs for you if I tell her to. That's how my husband got them, and you've got a lot more to offer than he did."

"I have plenty of women."

"Of course you do," she pouts, "but let me do some nice things for you anyway. I'm in love with you, Raoul. I want to make you happy. You can have all my money and all the women I can get for you, and all you have to do is let me be one of your little harem women. I'll write you into my will, give you everything."

"Scarlett?"

"Let her find her own man, get her own money. She'll be okay. But when you get tired of fucking me, when I'm too old for you, and you don't even want me to suck your dick because you don't even want to see my ugly old face down there anymore, just keep me around like an old antique. I can't live without you, do you understand? If you abandon me, I'll throw myself over a banister just like my husband did. I'll do anything you want, but just let me be with you."

"Shirley," he says, holding her face in his hands to calm her down. "We're going to have a lot of fun together. But shut the fuck up and put my dick in your mouth."

She looks as deep into his eyes as she can.

"You killed him, didn't you? With your bare hands? You did it for me, didn't you?"

He looks hard at her for a moment. Then he puts one finger on the top of her head and pushes her toward his crotch.

"God, I love you," she tells him as she kisses her way from his chest to his dick. "You're my god. Your cock is my god. I love you both so much."