Hugs And Killers (McD & darkangel76)

Hank sat patiently in the next room. He slowly inhaled a cigarette as he watched Cecilee assume the position. The girl was blind to the room, naked, and exposed. She was the perfect, willing, prey. He kept note the whole time.

10:05 She assumes her position, as directed.
11:23 She scratches her nose. Violation 1
12:00 Knees bend to stretch. Violation 2
1:03 Elbows touch desk. Violation 3
1:45 Elbows touch and knees buckle. Violations 4 and 5
2:57 Shakes hands out to relieve tingling Violation 6
3:30 Takes a knee for 2 minutes and 12 seconds. Violation 7
4:07 Starts to fall asleep, hits head on desk. Violation 8
4:30 Elbows on desk. Violation 9
5:15 Lays torso on desk and buckles knees. Violations 10 and 11

Hank opens the door to her room at 6:00am on the dot. He pulls a chair loudly against the floor, the screeching noise piercing the silence. He set it behind her, but did not sit, nor let her. He peeled the blindfold off and placed her glasses on her face. His hand touched her skin, feeling the curve of her ass the firmness of her breast. The folds of her groomed pussy. He examined her like a dog at a show.

"You did better than I thought you would." His voice is low and calm "But not perfect, and I believe you can achieve perfection." His hand traced down her back, never letting her from the position. In a loud slam, he slams the paper with the violations written on it before her.

Circling her to give her a chance to read it, he stops behind her holding her hips. "Read it." he doesn't further explain, he shouldn't have too. He waits patiently until her voice softly reads '11:23 She scratches her nose. Violation 1' His hand comes down hard on her right ass cheek, the smack echoing inside the bare room.

"Keep reading" She reads the entire list, each violation receiving a blow from his hand on her pale ass. At the end Hank switches sides. "Start over" as she makes her way through the list a second time, Hank focuses on her left side.

After done, he stands her up and brushes the hair from her face. "I know you're better than that Cecilee, my dear,dear Cecilee." He kisses her forehead and cheek brushing her hair and cooing to her. "You will see, I will show you how powerful you can be" His words are soft as he moves the girl to the wooden chair. He binds her ankles to the legs and wrist to the arms of the chairs. He kisses her lips softly, allowing his tongue to dance against hers. "You belong to me Cecilee, you are mine."

He slides the blind fold over her eyes and leaves. Her taste on his lips, the sight of her reddened ass in his mind. He goes to the next room to continue his scrap book.

Tonight he will show her more of himself, allow her to decide.

Cecilee heard the footsteps as she stood there, her muscles going tense knowing that she was no longer alone. He was there. She knew it with all her heart, body and soul. Mr. Johnson was there, right then and now. She could feel his presence enveloping her, cradling her, holding her, the closer he got. It was crushing and wonderful, her body so tired and sore from being in the same position for so very long...well, almost the same position. She knew she'd made a few slips, but she couldn’t help it. She'd done her best and the slips were so very minor. Oh, she hoped she'd given him a good impression!

Thoughts running wild, Cecilee suddenly felt tingles running up and down her spine. She heard the sound of a chair being placed behind her and then came his touch. She shivered slightly, her body yearning for more. But she knew she couldn't move. He hadn't told her she could and...

Oh, she just knew she couldn't. Not yet.

With a burning desire, Cecilee wished she could turn around, wished he would hold her, caress her....

Mr. Johnson then took off the blindfold and put on her glasses. Cecilee blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the re-introduction to light. She bit down on her lip as she felt his hand trace along the curve of her spine, her ass, his fingers probing between her legs making her long for more. It was sheer agony. She wanted to cry out, to beg. But it wasn't the time and she knew it, his tone as he spoke said as much. Just then, he slammed down a list in front of her, causing her to jump just a bit, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation came raining down.

She'd disappointed him. Maybe not terribly...but she'd disappointed him nonetheless. At that, Cecilee complied by reading the list not just once but twice. Each time taking Mr. Johnson's punishment as he slapped her ass firmly with the palm of his hand. She could feel her ass cheeks warming with smack, the tingle making her wet between the legs as she tried to read without her voice wavering, faltering.

Once done, Mr. Johnson explained how he knew she could do better. Cecilee found herself somehow believing him. If he had faith in her, then she could do anything...just like at her recital. She had to try. For him. For her Mr. Johnson. Nodding slightly, she didn't resist as he moved her body, manipulating it so that she was bound to a chair. Looking into his eyes, she felt fear...fear that she could disappoint him again. And oh how she didn't want to! She wanted to show him she could do it, that she was worth it. He was the first thing in her life to show her that she was anything to be valued...she couldn't stop now. She had to go all the way.

Suddenly, his lips were against hers and Cecilee was lost. Time stood still and the warehouse melted away. She was back in ' Mamihlapinatapei' where they first met, they first touched. It was surreal, everything a haze of swirling color as she thought about how it had been and could be if she proved her worth to him. Whimpering as he pulled away, the blindfold came back down and with it...the darkness.

Cecilee wasn't sure how long she sat there. But she was determined not to move this time. She sat there stock still, her body aching and sore as she waited for her Mr. Johnson to return. She was cold, hungry and so very tired. But she wasn't about to nod off or let any part of herself relax. No. This was important! She understood that now. This was for her Mr. Johnson. She wouldn't let him down...she couldn't. She was glad that her friends couldn't see her now, the things she was willing to do for this man. She had no doubt that they'd think her insane. But, they didn't understand and never could and she wasn't about to get into it with either of them. No. Best to leave them in the dark about all of it. They needn't be a part of any of this.

Sitting, waiting...terrified she make a mistake... Cecilee sat there, a motionless statue, not willing to falter this time like she did earlier on. Her muscles were so sore, tears streaming down her cheeks as the aches grew. But she refused to move. No. Not this time....not this time.

Hank looked up from his work and saw it was nearly noon. He peered at the monitor showing Cecilee in the next room, the girl was showing much resolve, and Hank was ready to reward her commitment. He slowly rose from the chair and unlocked the room that held her. He gently unbound her rubbing blood into her wrist and ankles, her blind fold was next. He retrieved her glasses, and gently placed them on her face.

"I'm so proud of you," His lips met her forehead as he praised her. "you are doing so well, so very well." He helped her weakened body to her feet and helped her walk.

The next room was stark contrast from the room her trial was held. The walls bathed in soft candlelight and there was a drawn bath for her, lavender and vanilla filled their nostrils as Hank half lifted her into the tub. The soft loofa lathered as Hank bathed her, softly kissing her, letting her muscles relax. "You are going to make me so very proud, you are going to give me such strength...." he drifts off as he thinks of the ultimate goals he has. "and I you." His hands wash her hair as she relaxes, rinsing her with a pitcher of warm fresh water. He pondered her possible reactions if she knew this tub had ended three lives.

After bathing her he helped her into a soft plush black robe and dried her hair. He ushered her to a table with one seat and a pillow next to it, he had her kneel next to him so he could brush her hair. He handed down a plate brimming with food from Mamihlapinatape, she was to be rewarded as well as reprimanded. "My darling Cecilee, eat." He brushed and petted her watching her happiness, knowing he gave it to her.

After the satisfying meal he lead her to the bed. The soft quilts and multiple pillows forming to her sore body. "My dear you will rest, and when you are rested you will find a folder and a cell phone. When you have read the contents of the folder and absorbed everything you think you can. You will dial 1 on the phone."

He removed her robe and helped dress her in a silk nighty, tucked her in and kissed her forehead lovingly.


The folder sat ominous on the nightstand, inside newspaper article, police reports, photos, of everything and everyone he had killed. Including the last 3, all 17 spanning 9 years. His life's work, and he was sharing it.

"I'll see you soon my dear, there is a gift I will be looking for, for you" A last kiss and he locks the door behind him.

Just when Cecilee didn't think she could take any more, her tummy rumbling with hunger, her muscles shaking from both the inability and refusal to move and then there was her mind going over just how much she wanted this. She was beyond tired. But she wouldn't let herself falter. Not one inch. This was too important and she needed her Mr. Johnson to know just how much he'd already come to mean to her, how far she was willing to go and to prove herself to him. No...she'd make it. She wouldn't let him down. As her muscles threatened to give way, screaming for a break, she heard the door open. Relief washed over her body, her mind, her senses. He was there, enveloping her with his mere presence. She felt it moving over her, caressing her skin like soft velvet as he neared.

Mr. Johnson was oh so gentle. He removed her binds, the blindfold, gently massaging her wrists to help get the circulation going once more. Cecilee couldn't be more grateful as she looked him in the eyes as he placed her glasses back on and she was able to take in his face and features, just all of him as he looked down upon her with such loving care.

Oh, he was proud! Cecilee could feel it, sense it! It made her breath hitch as her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to throw herself at him, only she was too weak and he hadn't said she could move yet... Yes, somehow she knew he still had to say so. How did she know that? No matter. What did matter was that he seemed proud, happy, his face said it all, his words, his actions. Gently, he helped her up, whispering words of lavish and praise as he escorted her into an adjacent room.

The moment Cecilee stepped into this new room, her eyes fluttered shut as she drank in the intoxicating aromas of lavender and vanilla. They soothed her parched throat, made her feel calm and at ease, though the warmth of his body as he helped her into the exquisite tub was enough to do that. The bath was wonderful, the water warm as it cleansed her raw skin. She started to feel more like herself again...and worthy of this man who always had a way of boosting her confidence, of making her feel special.

Once Cecilee's bath was done, Mr. Johnson brought her a luxurious black robe to wear. The material felt lovely against her skin. She blushed then feeling good that she'd made him so proud. She only hoped she could continue to do so. The happiness she saw in his face seemed to gleam in his eyes. It was nice to see and to think she'd given that to him. Never had she ever been the source of someone's happiness like that. It was a nice feeling, a humbling one...an addicting one.

Kneeling next to her Mr. Johnson, Cecilee looked up at him with bright eyes and a smile upon her lips. She felt...happy. He set a plate of exquisite food beside her on the floor and she inhaled deeply as she turned to look at it. It smelled simply delicious. When she took a bite, her eyes rolled back and closed. She was in heaven. Eating, being pet and groomed by Mr. Johnson, she thought she'd found the perfect place to be. Never wanting to move from where she was—by his side.

After eating, Cecilee was escorted to a bed. Her robe was removed and she was given a silk nighty to wear in its place. A folder was placed on the nightstand, along with a cell phone, for her to read after she slept. She gave Mr. Johnson a nod, smiling at him as she slipped under the covers and allowed herself to drift off to dream land.

It wasn't long before her body woke up with a start. Cecilee sat up and glanced around, wondering if everything that had happened over the past two days had truly been real. And...it was. She was wearing the nighty and she was in the bed she remembered getting into. And there, on the nightstand were the folder and phone. The dreams were still fresh in her mind. Hot, torrid dreams of Mr. Johnson as he came to her, making her beg and scream as he made her body experience sensations unlike any she'd ever dared to dream. She blushed at the memory, that such dark thoughts were even possible. She snuggled up under the blankets, trying to sleep a bit more, but it was impossible. She was too wound up. Sitting up again, she decided to peek at the folder.

Cecilee grabbed the folder off the nightstand and opened it, her eyes squinting as she thumbed through the papers. "What's this?" she said out loud, then reaching for her glasses to put them on so she could see better.

Cecilee resumed looking at the papers, one by one, each one an article about a murder in the area. Her eyes widened as she glanced at them, skimmed through a few, read into a bit more. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the neclace about the throat of a picture of one of the girls.

"I...I..." Cecilee stammer, suddenly feeling a bit sick to her stomach, suddenly realizing just how much all these girls looked like her.

Suddenly, Cecilee got up, her hands clutching her tummy. She saw a garbage can next to her nightstand and retched, everything coming clear, slowly into focus. She collapsed onto her knees as her hands shook, her body trembling in fear. The phone. The cell phone! She raced over to grab it. She needed to dial 9-1-1! To get out! But...

But what proof did she have?

None.

Just a bunch of articles.

Terrified, Cecilee knew she had to do something, had to leave! Oh why! Why her? Why her Mr. Johnson! With his wit and charm, his handsome face and beckoning smile... She collapsed onto her knees again as she sobbed, face buried in her hands. She just didn't understand it! Why would he show her this? Why would he trust her with this? It made no sense.

Another surge of terror coursed through her and Cecilee raced to the door and tried to open it. It was locked, but in vain she tried to jiggle it open, yanking hard on the door but to no avail. She was trapped, stuck in the room until she was ready to accept things or...

She didn't even know what the other option would be.

Again, Cecilee collapsed to the floor. It just wasn't fair. None of it was. She screamed, her fists banging down on the floor as she cried out in all her rage.

"No! No, no, no!"

She just didn't know what else to do, to say. She needed him. Needed him to be there, to hold her, to tell her it would somehow be all right. Oh, what the fuck was she thinking? He killed these people! These girls! How could he tell her anything would be all right! More sobs, fresh tears. She was beside herself with grief, her body so tired. For a moment she wondered if this was a cruel joke. Maybe it was just another test. Yes, that was it. A test! And she was being silly enough to fall for it and fail! No, she couldn't fail him now, not after coming so far.

Cecilee sat there in silence for several minutes, her face stained with tears, dark circles under her eyes, her eye lids puffy and red. She could smell the stench from the wastebasket and it was beginning to get the better of her.

"This isn't a joke," Cecilee finally said to herself. Her voice was calm and quiet, though there was an edge to it that was a bit off. Standing up, she padded over to the cell phone and dialed 1.

Hank watched the whole episode in slightly nervous terror. He knew he could easily kill her, but it wasn't what he wanted....He needed his muse

He almost gave up hope then his phone rang. He knew it was going to be an uphill battle, he needed her to see she was safe with him. When his phone rung he half sprinted through the wear house. He opened the door to see his tear stained angel on the floor.

Closing the door behind him he stands by his girl, in a hushed voice he talks to her "I felt it was best to show you my true nature" He inhales witha sense of worry. "You must understand, you are safe. I will never hurt you" He kneels down and grabs her face as he sits cross legged on the floor and pulls her into his lap.

Brushing her hair from her face and cuddling her "Cecilee, you are safe. You are mine, I would never hurt you." His voice trails "I know you have a lot of questions. I will make it easy for you. Yes. Yes I did kill all those girls, it's something that I cannot control. No I will not stop. And No, I cannot live with out you. You are the reason I was put here, you and me are going to do marvelous things. You are mine, and I am yours."

Hank couldn't believe how weak he sounded in his head, he felt like the wolf apologizing to red riding hood for being a monster. He wasn't sorry, never would be, he just needed her acceptance.

"I love you, Cecilee. I have from afar for so long. I need you to know that" He kisses her cheek and waits for a reaction.

After pressing the button, Cecilee dropped the phone and let her knees give way as she collapsed once more to the floor. This wasn't a joke, some sick prank played by a high school jock looking for attention. No. This was real and it was messing with her mind. On one hand she had her tender and kind Mr. Johnson, the one who would give her the world. On the other, she had the firm disciplinarian, willing and wanting to bring out the very best in her, showing her that she was truly worth more than she ever knew. Then, on yet another, one that lurked deep in the shadows that most would never see...there was a killer.

A cold blooded killer with a thirst for blood and no remorse when it came to the loss of life. How could such a man love anyone or anything?

Cecilee sat there for what felt like hours, though it was only moments. Just then, the door thrust open and there in the dim light she saw the silhouette of a man she'd come to trust, to love, to become obsessed with. She let him watch her, touch her, demand so much of her. And she'd done it all willingly and...

How she still wanted to do so even now.

Tears streamed down Cecilee's cheeks as Mr. Johnson approached, his larger form crouching down to be even with her own as he spoke to her in hushed tones. Her mouth had gone dry, her spine stiffening as he moved to touch her, pulling her close as he cuddled her, whispering soothing words as he tried his best to ease her worries and pain. It was almost comical...the killer showing fear? She didn't quite know what to make of it, whether to laugh or cry harder. Her tummy in knots, she felt her blood curdle, the unease of being where she was taking root as a wave of panic began to set in.

"S-safe?" Cecilee whispered, tears still coming no matter how hard she tried to stop them. "If I'm safe...if you truly love me..." She choked on a sob, her heart broken as she thought back on the magical moments they'd already shared, the future she thought they had shattering before her in a million pieces. "Then let me go."

The words were soft, hesitant, as they were painful to say. More than anything, Cecilee wished things were different, that she didn't know these things about her Mr. Johnson. As it was, she didn't even have the heart to tip off police. No. She'd just stay quiet, keep this to herself and try to forget.

Forget the best days of her life...

More tears fell, but Cecilee didn't move, not so much as a sniffle as reality set in. "Just...just let me go."

Each word uttered was like a knife to her heart. Cecilee didn't know what else to do, what else to say. But if this man, her Mr. Johnson, was true to his word...if he did love her and she was safe with him? He'd let her go. He'd give her time at the very least.

Time? What was she thinking!

Cecilee closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that thought even broached her mind. No. She needed to stay firm. She needed to just leave and go home. To forget...

"Please, Mr. Johnson," Cecilee begged. "I... I just want to go home."

He heard her pleading with him, Hank had heard a lot of women plead with him. He spoke softly, trying to keep the voice inside his head at bay.

"If that is what you truly want"

You ungrateful BITCH! I should snap your neck in two

"Then you are free to go"

Bash her FUCKING HEAD IN, MAKE HER PAY

"There's a driver outside waiting to take you where ever you want to go"
He set her down and moves to the door unlocking it and opening it, he doesn't stop staring into her eyes as she exits.

Hank waits until the outer door of the warehouse is noisily shut and screams. The creeping rage filling his blood, he claws his suit jacket and shirt off, feeling like he's literally boiling. The table he sat at and brushed her hair crumbles under the weight of his forearms smashing down at it.

YOU should've killed her

His hands grip his head as he screams at the concrete floors and walls, hitting them with strong blows from his head. He can't shake the rage, he can't stop imagining Cecilee in a mass of blood on the floor. "HOW!?! how could she do this to me?"

Slumped over he crawls around the room in painful agony, his mind eating itself. He clawed his way up the bed, her robe still next to it, and her panties from the night before. He grabbed them and inhaled smelling the sweet scent of her body. He unclasps his belt rolling on the bed, the scent of her robe all over him. He unzips his pants and slides his hand in grabbing himself and slowly moving until he's fully erect, thinking of her. The soft fabric of her panties in his hands he wraps them around his cock and closes his eyes. He pictures her, nude, panting, underneath him, on top of him, on her knees, on all fours, gasping for air, struggling, bleeding, crying, dying....his climax calming his rage he lays half exposed and for the first time in days....sleeps.


A week passes, he hasn't contacted Ceecilee. Every night he places a white rose on her doorstep, and every day he watches the webcam. He turns it off before undressing, he doesn't want to violate too much space.

For seven days he had ran more each morning, drank a little more scotch, and nightly picked violent fights. Most the time winning, on one bad night he should've been hospitalized. Hospitals leave records and ask names, he couldn't have that.

Every night before bed he would lay her robe out, the smell was leaving it, and he needed her more than he knew. Every night he struggled not to enter her room.[/u]

And she went home. Simple as that. Cecilee couldn't believe it was that simple. Slowly, tenderly, Mr. Johnson let his hold on her loosen, his warmth slipping away as he removed his hands, let his arms fall and allowed her to get dressed and...leave. She was half stunned that it was that easy, expecting that he'd actually give her a fight, go back on his word that she was actually safe with him, that he wouldn't hurt her. Something.

Only, he didn't. He le her go.

Cecilee looked in her...wait, did she still think of him as hers? No, she couldn't be. He was a killer. Only, she still did. And the warmth, as it left her, only left a void. A growing, aching chasm as she looked into his eyes, now seemingly as hollow as her heart. She felt a pang, a break, that shatter as he walked her out, letting her leave with his secrets, his life in her hands.

And he was gone.

Ceciliee sobbed the entire drive back to her apartment, refusing to see anyone and calling in sick to work. There was no way she could face the world. Not now, not after everything she'd been through. Her heart had been ripped out. Severed. And she wanted it back.

The next few days were agony. The only thing dragging her out of bed, knowing that a rose awaited her on the doorstep. She'd go through the motions—getting up, showering, dressing... But, it held little meaning since she wished to see no one. Not when she felt like this.

No purpose!

Not even tea helped. And she could barely eat, her clothes starting to bunch on her body as she began to lose weight.
Cecilee sobbed as she got up per usual to get her rose. No, she wouldn't give away Mr. Johnson's secret, harboring the truth and never telling a soul—that cold, black truth of all the horrors and atrocities he'd committed and still would!

"Oh god!" Cecilee cried out as she fell down onto her knees, clutching her rose. As she fell, her one wrist accidentally brushed against the edge of the coffee table, the sting of the wood as it struck against her flesh causing a fresh plume of blue and purple to spread.

Cecilee looked at it a moment, her breath catching as she stared. Choking back on a sob, she let her wrist fall against the wood again. And then again and again, all the while she held onto the rose, keeping it close to her heart. The bruise slowly spread over her flesh, a blossom to remind her of this moment that she tried to take control over the emotions trying to consume her. The pain was nothing compared to the loss she felt inside.

She missed him. She wanted him. And... she didn't know why.

Oh, but that was a lie! She did know why. He was the best thing to have happened to her! He'd made her feel special, worth something, had made her feel like she could do anything!

After Cecilee was satisfied with her 'work', she inspected the bruise, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips as tears streaked her pale cheeks. She held onto her rose and then went back to her room, the lighting dim. Taking a deep breath, she glanced over at the window she used to think her Mr. Johnson peeked through and then looked away. Turning to look at the computer, she bit down on her lower lip, her body trembling as more tears fell.

It had been days—a week—since she'd received a message from her Mr. Johnson.... Yes, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd always think of him as hers. And it was ripping her apart. Staring at that laptop, she finally got up, still holding her rose, and walked over to it.

Watch me. Cecilee typed and then hit 'Send'.

Cecilee had no idea why she had to do it, but the bruise on her wrist, the rose in her hand. It was all too much. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. And...she missed him. She...missed him! Oh god, she did! And she couldn't help it! Crying harder, she stood up, backing away slowly from her laptop, unsure if her Mr. Johnson would even reply or respond. If he didn't, she wouldn't blame him. She deserved to be ignored at this point. After all, she walked away, left him cold and alone.

She wasn't worthy.

She had failed.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she stood there, eyes suddenly closing not wanting to see. How Cecilee wished she had a blindfold right then. Eyes shut, she just began to undress, taking off each article of clothing bit by bit until she was wearing nothing, her body naked and ready. She would wait. She would wait there, unmoving until he responded. And when he did, she'd tell him her final answer. That was, if he was willing to hear it, to listen.

Hank watched. Hank never stopped watching. Cecilee was so settled on thinking the windows and her laptop were the only things he observed her from. He could see every angle, every nook and cranny of her apartment. He could watch her undress, shower, eat, cry, sing, practice piano. He had, and still did enjoy all of these.

When he watched her slowly over the week deteriorate into a shell of herself, his heart sank. He knew he was the cause and certain she would never recover. Hank felt a sadness, not something he is use to feeling. His apathy for the human condition had given in and allowed empathy to take hold. He too, felt the pain of not having her there.

He felt a sudden sickness inside himself, watching her bruise her skin. Her flawless perfect skin now even more pale, and the hideous purple bruise hurting her, his, wrist. He still felt she was his, his only. He longed for any sort of answer. A yes, a no, cops knocking....anything!

He could see her typing, watch her fingers move. He knew in his core it was for him.

Moments later his email chimed. Watch me

He was watching, he was a mixture of shame and excitement watching her naked form. He knew he couldn't turn the computer on, knew he needed to test the resolve. He watched her for hours, her tears getting the best of her and sleep becoming to aggressive an adversary. She slumped next to her bed nude and slept.

Hank had already bought the dress he wanted to give to her. He just didn't know the right time too. Now was good as any.

Picking her lock was almost second nature, and years of stalking had made him silent inside the homes of others. He staged the dress on the back of the chair by her computer and a card. Inside was a note; For you my Cecilee, you decide who opens this door. Along with a key and directions to his penthouse. He placed a dozen white roses on the foot of her bed.

Then calmly and tenderly he scooped her up, being very still and ensuring he wouldn't wake her from her sleep. He laid her in the bed and pulled the covers around her, she was cold. He gently kissed her forehead, and then like a phantom, a dream, a dark apparition...he vanished.

He set to work staging his penthouse. New couches had arrived earlier, and a bigger bed. He did his best to try and match everything to her taste.

He set the same chair from the warehouse in the middle of the living room. It's bare wood a stark contrast to the decor of dark leather and stainless steal. On it a note.

Wait for me here. My love

It hurt...it hurt as Cecilee slowly opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she'd been crying, but it had been long enough that eventually no more tears could fall. Her eyes were slightly swollen, puffy to the touch, as her fingers reached up to gently touch them. And her muscles...they ached. How long had she been standing there? So very long. Blinking, she rolled over, the blankets hugging her slight body as she suddenly realized she was no longer on the floor, but in her bed. Her blue eyes widened and she sat up abruptly, a hand reaching to touch her forehead as a dull ache stabbed at her skull from the sudden movement.

"How...I..." Cecilee glanced around, her hands moving to her nightstand to reach for her glasses. "What?" She hadn't heard her email go off and she definitely didn't remember climbing into bed. She'd been waiting for a reply...

Something.

Anything.

Feeling dejected, Cecilee looked over at her computer, her breath catching as she caught sight of the dress. "Oh..." she gasped. She then noticed the roses at the foot of her bed.

He'd been there. Her Mr. Johnson had been there! And she'd missed it! Heart beating fast, Cecilee threw the blankets aside and dismissed the aches wracking her body. She ran over to the dress, her fingers touching it as she smiled, nervous giggles filling the room. He'd been there! She saw the card, picked it up and read it. Clutching it close to her heart, she just nodded, knowing she'd be there. She had to be. The key was more than a mere means to enter his home. It was the key to his heart, his life, his secrets. And he was entrusting it to her.

Tears began to fall from Cecilee's eyes. No one had ever trusted her this deeply, this unconditionally before. Grabbing the dress, she headed into the bathroom, taking care to shower first. She wanted to be her best for her Mr. Johnson. She used a lavender and vanilla soap she'd picked up since it had reminded her of their time together. Once clean and groomed, she made sure to put her hair up and put on lip gloss only, the rest of her face bare. There was little she could do to hide some of her more recent flaws—loss of weight, dark circles under her eyes and then...that bruise. But, this would have to do. Hopefully, he'd approve of the effort. She slipped on the dress he'd left and then went back into her room to get her roses. There was no way she was going to leave those behind. Getting her red coat and bag, she headed out. It was time to follow the directions to her destiny.

Once Cecilee arrived per the instructions in Mr. Johnson's note, her nervousness began to rise. She didn't fear him. It wasn't that, but after everything she'd put him through... She couldn't help but dwell on it. Finding her resolve, she pushed down the fear, knowing this was her last chance to right things. Her only chance. Standing in front of the door, she took out the key. Her hand shook, trembling as she fumbled to place it in the lock. There was a click as she turned it, the door opening as she twisted the knob.

Cecilee sucked in a sharp breath, her heart stopping for a moment as time suddenly stood still. Slowly, she walked inside, closing the door behind herself. She set down the roses and her bag, then taking off her coat. In the middle of the room, she saw a chair. A familiar chair. Swallowing hard, she approached it, her steps slow and even. On it, she saw a note waiting for her. Biting down on her lip, she picked it up and read it, the words clear in telling her to wait.

"I'll wait," Cecilee said out loud. "As long as you need me to...I will wait."

Hank smiled as he watched some life being breathed back into Cecilee. Any show of happiness from her calmed the monster in his head. A monster he was trying to keep at bay, calming it with booze and fights.

For a fleeting moment he felt the monster die, as he watched her giggle in her room. It was back again swiftly after, asking justification for why it was pushed down. Why was it being dismissed more often, when would they kill again?

He slapped his face clearing the noise out of his mind. He didn't have much time, he knew she was on the way.

His shower was fast, like most he took. This one was more urgent than just an ode to his efficiency. He felt, happy. Alive even. He couldn't wash the look of her in that dress away from his mind. She was so deserving of white. She was his angel, his muse, his Cecilee.

He felt a need to show the contrast, to really help her see the truth. One last, albeit subtle, attempt to let her flee. Rid herself of him. He touched the black suit and plucked it from its hanger, then found the black dress shirt. The pocket wedge was a blood red and the tie would've been invisible, if not for the red pinstripes.

He looked into the mirror, at the Devil himself waiting on an Angel. Wasn't the Devil at first an Angel? Doesn't the Devil deserve an Angel?

He sat calmly in the other room, hearing the lock click and the soft padder of her feet. His honed senses could smell her, she had used lavender and vanilla. He inhaled wildly in silence, she was a drug.

The chair made a soft creak as she sat down in it, he slowly opened the door. A box in hand.

Not saying a word he kneeled beside her, opening the box he pulled the ace wrap from it and held her wrist gingerly. Slowly wrapping her swollen bruised wrist, he softly sighed in disappointment. He applied the small metallic clips to keep it in place and walked away to get a bottle of water.

Returning he handed it to her and two painkillers watching her take them slowly, standing over her. As she swallowed he held her wrist and pulled it to her eyes, grabbing her chin sternly at the same time. "Never again!" he looked deep into her eyes trying to show her how upset he was with her hurting herself. "You are never to hurt yourself again, do you understand?"


He pulled a chair up and sat across from her, unbuttoning the lower button on his suit and crossing his legs. "I take it you have an answer for me?"

Cecilee looked into her Mr. Johnson's eyes through her glasses, her own unblinking as she held her breath, unable to move. The moment seemed surreal, the rest of the world a total haze as he wrapped her wrist, tended to her injury and saw to it that she take something to ease the throbbing ache that pulsed with every beat of heart. That throb seemed so distant as she stared into his eyes, lost in the moment, forgetting about the reality of who he was, what he'd done and would do again. But did it matter?

On some level, she supposed it did...but as she slowly let her lungs work, exhaling as she held his gaze...she knew she could see past it, that she would. That she had to. Dear god, for her own sanity, she had no choice! She knew what life was like without him and she couldn't bear it. Not when she knew what it could be with him there.

For a fleeting moment, Cecilee thought of Trisha, of Leah...the two had always been good to her. But neither compared to this, could give her what this man...this killer...could.

Cecilee nodded. "Y-yes," she answered, her voice soft, barely audible. "I understand." Licking her lips, she swallowed and took a shaky breath, her eyes drifting slightly as she watched Mr. Johnson take a seat across from her.

Never had she ever felt this way about anyone. Not even close. Cecilee let her hands rest in her lap, fingers gently brushing the white material of her dress. She looked at her Mr. Johnson as he sat there, waiting patiently, calmly. How he managed that even after everything she'd done, she wasn't certain, though she was grateful.

"Y-yes," Cecilee then said, breaking the silence she'd let linger as her eyes continued to roam, taking in the sight of him, making sure this was real and not a dream. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long," she started, her eyes moving from his so that she could look at her hands as they rested in her lap. "I won't fail you again." She could feel the tears pricking her eyes. Blinking them back, she looked back up at her Mr. Johnson and smiled. "I promise. I...I'd like to stay."

Cecilee looked at Mr. Johnson with hopeful eyes, a slight waver to her voice since she felt she'd wronged him with her previous reaction. She just hadn't been ready, had needed time.

Time...ugh, Trisha and Leah would never understand. She knew she'd have to never see them again. They'd never forgive her. But...it was worth it.

"That is, if you'll have me," Cecilee finished, her eyes shifting, looking back down at her lap once more. The throb in her wrist was subsiding, her skin hot and alive as a fire began to burn inside. He was awakening things within her, a want and desire. A need. She could feel the burn, her body, her soul, beckoning for his. She was falling and the only one who could catch her was him—her Mr. Johnson.

Standing Hank holds the key he gave her and guides her to her feet. Opening her hand he places it in her palm. "This is your key now," He touches her face lightly " and you are mine now." He stares deep into her eyes, watching the pools of blue pull him in. His hands fall to her waist as his lips contact hers, parting them and allowing his tongue to massage against hers. His hands pulling up her skirt slightly allowing his hands to feel the smoothness of the outside of her thighs.

"You don't need to worry, you won't ever be with out me." The scent of her so close, the feel of her fragile body in his hands. He knew he couldn't last long, he needed her, to consume her. His lips touched hers again as his hands found her face, the urge to choke her strong but he resisted.

He moved his hands to her shoulders slowly slipping the straps of her dress off, he kissed each shoulder as he slid her dress down. "I was worried," kissing her neck as her bra is undone "worried you wouldn't come back." He tosses it aside letting his hands massage her perfect breast as his teeth bite lightly on her ear. "I didn't care if you ran to the Police, I could vanish easy." His hands slowly spinning her, resting her back against him as his hands held her abdomen. "I was afraid you forgot who you belong to," his hand traces into the front of her panties feeling her slowly, allowing her legs to part and invite him in.

You're going to allow her to come and go as she pleases? To hurt you like this?
The remarks clawing his brain as his hands explorer her, varying pressure on her clitoris and keeping her body locked against his. Why should he let her back? He had felt on the verge of death all week. He could feel her passion and lust as she squirmed against him. He wasn't angry about the hurt she had caused. It was....something else. Something else completely.

Look at her, do you think it's ok for her to make herself sick like this? Like US?

His hand slowly removes itself from her panties, he slides them down slowly watching her form from behind. His eyes trace her body, skinner, more pale, sickly almost. She had allowed herself to become this way. This is not the Cecilee he knew. This was not his Cecilee, and it angered him. He didn't care who did it, or why. Someone had hurt his Cecilee, and this time it was her. She needed to understand her importance, and the lengths he would go to keep her safe and sound.

"Grab the arms of the chair" his voice deep and flat as he watches her gran them slowly and unsure. His hand holds her hips softly as he speaks "You have made yourself sick and weak." His hand runs along her ass "There is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe, Cecilee." His hand smacks hard on her ass "That includes correcting you, when you don't care for yourself." His hand lands harder this time. He needs to show her the severity of her crime.

Shifting he stands to the side and delivers a hard spanking to her opposite cheek, letting his hand settle for a moment. "Who do you belong to?"

His hand smacks down again.

A flutter of nervousness, a flurry of anxiety and Cecilee looked deeply into her Mr. Johnson's eyes as he pressed the key into her hand. It was hers to hold onto, a most precious gift she'd forever treasure. Gazing back into his eyes, she was utterly lost, her body and mind fully his as he spoke to her, making her feel whole once again. The rich tones of his voice sent shivers along her spine, like silk caressing smooth skin. She let out a sigh, content in the moment, knowing full well she was right where she belonged, was meant to be.

Cecilee listened to the dark, velvet voice of her Mr. Johnson, his hands slowly removing her dress, inspecting her body. She closed her eyes and let her mind linger on the kisses he'd given her, the way his lips felt against hers, how he tasted. She then leaned into his warmth like a moth to a flame...though she hardly cared if she was to burn. The fire was warm and inviting, beckoning, welcoming her home where she belonged. His hands were so confident and sure, touching, caressing. Without thought, she parted her legs, her hips tilting and giving him better access to take what he wanted. A soft hiss rasped from her mouth as his fingers explored her depths, massaging between the folds, making her wetter and wetter by the second. She could feel herself all but dripping, her clit swelling to the point of screaming agony when he finally removed his hand causing her to whimper softly in protest.

Biting down on her lower lip, Cecilee then leaned forward. Glancing over her shoulder, she locked eyes with her Mr. Johnson for a fleeting moment and then turned to face forward, assuming position against the chair.

"I...I belong to Mr. Johnson," Cecilee stated, her voice soft. She could feel the sting of his slap against her ass, the flesh warm where his hand had rested.

There was no doubt in Cecilee's mind that she was his. In fact, she'd known it for quite some time, well before her recital. It was why she'd had to go back to him even after he'd let her go. Because she was his. The logic was so simple at its core, but no one would truly understand it. She was certain of that. Though how could they? And what did it matter? She was home...and she'd keep his secrets safe.

His secrets!

Waves of fear coursed through Cecilee as she thought on her Mr. Johnson's secrets and how many of them he harbored. It was going to be difficult...the most difficult road she'd ever traveled...

But worth every bump, every twist. She would do what she needed to keep those secrets safe, secrets he trusted to tell her, to share with her.

Suddenly, Cecilee felt humbled, the realization of just how deeply connected she was to her Mr. Johnson bubbling up, causing her emotions to stir.

"I belong to Mr. Johnson!" Cecilee cried out, her hands clutching the chair, her sex glistening, throbbing as she broke out into a sweat and dared to look over her shoulder at the man—the killer—standing behind her. Her blue eyes found his and she panted wildly. "I...I belong to you," she whispered. "Always have."

"Always will," Hanks voice is deep as he lets his hand land hard onto her already pinked flesh on her right buttocks. Her eyes driving him mad as he watches her moan and wince. He lets his hand slide between her legs feeling her sex dampened by his touch. "every inch of you belongs to me." His thick finger slowly enters her, feeling her tightness around him. His free hand lifting and delivering a hard smack on the outside of her left cheek, watching her skin ripple down her thighs.

He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he slowly unbuttons his dress shirt. His chest hair matching his dark features, his body the result of constant running and staying in shape. He was not vain, but certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. His hands touched the markings on her ass as he knelt slightly to kiss the soft flesh of her ass, kneading her softly moaning as he smells her skin. He makes quick work of the rest of his shirt as he calmly circles her. Reaching out to touch her body when the mood strikes him.

Such a splendid creature she was, such a picture of beauty. He stops by her face and slowly undoes his belt, petting her and letting her face rub on the crotch of his slacks. He can feel his erection growing, as she eagerly traces the outline of his cock with her mouth. The fabric bulging from his arousal. He half tosses her head away and moves back behind her.

"Every inch of you Cecilee." He slides himself out of his slacks and can feel her sex warm and damp on the tip of his cock. He slowy pushes into her feeling her give way to him. Feeling himself take full ownership of her, watching her body give into his pleasure. His hands on her hip as he buries into her.

"And you're never leaving my side."

A chill ran along Cecilee's spine, her body shuddering with a mixture of excitement and fear as Mr. Johnson's words resonated in her mind... She was his. His! She couldn't deny it, not even if she tried. There was no turning back now, no running out the door, no leaving. She was right where she belonged—by her Mr. Johnson's side. He'd spoken with confidence, as if he'd always known she'd come back to him. How had he known? Her blue eyes pricked with tears as once again she felt humbled, her emotions stirring within, so raw and wild and all of them screaming for this man.

This...killer.

Cecilee watched her Mr. Johnson as he circled her. She then bit down on her lower lip, her legs parting just a bit more as she felt his fingers enter her causing her to let out a tiny groan. The squelching sounds of her slicked up sex only added to her excitement as he probed her, teasing the sensitive flesh that was craving him so badly. He then pulled his hand away, his fingers ever so slowly going to work on the buttons of his shirt. Agonizing anticipation of what was to happen next ran through her head, her eyes just fixed upon him as he continued to move, her head twisting this way and that so that she could watch. He was a sight to behold—chiseled perfection—everything about him calling her to him, beckoning her home. A soft whimper caught in her throat, that desperate call for more from her Mr. Johnson.

But he was taking his time. Making his point. Cecilee tried, in vain, to get what she could. But the man held back. She knew her Mr. Johnson was going to give her what she needed when the time was right, when he was ready. The tension was growing, the mood darkening and she was about ready to burst as she felt a trickle of her own pussy juice begin to work its way down her inner thigh. Just when she thought she wouldn't be able to stand it any longer, she felt his hands on her hips, the tip of his cock teasing her heated entrance as it seethed and pulsed, begging for him to take her.

She was his! She knew it, so did he!

"Every inch," Cecilee repeated breathlessly, her mind going blank as instinct took over. She tilted her hips, feeling her Mr. Johnson finally push himself deeply inside. Her walls gave way, adjusting to accommodate as if they knew just who their owner was and always had been. "I'll never leave..." she groaned, feeling every inch of him. "Never again..." She threw her head back and began to pant, her hips trying to move against him, desperately wanting more as tears began to roll down her pale cheeks.

The movements of her body against his cause a new type of primal to come from Hank. He looked down and her fragile body and arching curves of her hips, his hands gripping them tighter as his thrust were slow but powerful. Tracing his hands up her body large compared to her gripping her shoulders and holding her at his will. He could feel the breathes she took become sharper and more animal like.

He couldn't take it anymore, he need more of her. She was a drug he never knew he was addicted too. He pulled slowly out of her, watching her dampness surrounding his erection. He stood her and spun her fast, almost instantaneous. Scooping her by her waist he pulled her onto the couch straddling him. His hands on her face mouths inches apart as he gasps feeling her slide on top of him.

He licks the sweat from her sternum then moves to erect pink nipples. His mouth pulling them in one by one biting caressing exploring that which was his now. "Every single inch, my Cecilee" He loved the feel of her body on his, the way her eyes were almost wild.

She does have a monster inside

Hank shook the idea out, recognizing the look in her eyes as familiar and dark. The lust she was showing him.

She's ours and all you want is her body? She can be like us!

He pulled her hair kissing hard on her neck trying to drowned the voices
out.

Look at her eyes. Look deep in them

He grabbed her chin and stared directly in her blue eyes. The innocent perfect Cecilee was there, his girl was there. There was something lurking behind them, a dark curiosity. His hands gripped her still tender ass and kissed her deeply.


"I love you my Pet"

The muscles in Cecilee's jaw flexed as her back arched and her body shifted, trying to take in more of her Mr. Johnson. He felt so good, so right...the moment perfect as he began to take her as was his right now that she'd returned to him. Her blue eyes locked with his, wild thoughts running through her mind as she gazed deeply into his, so desperately wanting to be closer, to feel his heat, to take in the hard planes of his body next to hers.

Suddenly, Mr. Johnson pulled away. Cecille let out a soft whimpering cry as tears rolled down her cheeks. But all too quickly she was spun around to face him, her body pressed against his as she slid down on top of him, their bodies fitting together, becoming one. Her body trembled at the union, this dark joining of souls. Her legs quivered and she wrapped them tightly about his waist, a chill running along her spine.

She was his. She'd shout it for all to hear if that was his desire, his wish.

Cecilee looked into his eyes, her hips rocking forward in urgent need to be closer, to grind against him as he filled her up and provided her warmth. Her head lolled back as her Mr. Johnson licked along her chest, his teeth grazing the tender flesh of her breasts and biting down on her sensitive nipples. Moaning, groaning, she wasn't sure how long she would last. Her hands held onto him tightly, a life line as he kept her grounded in the reality of the moment...

She was his! This was happening!

"All of me..." Cecilee whimpered. "I'm your Cecilee..."

Cecilee could hardly breathe, her grip tightening as her hips rocked forward, juices pooling around her Mr. Johnson's cock as he made her wetter and wetter with each touch, each look. Her clit was begging, screaming in agony as it throbbed with her racing heart.

"And I love my Master and Owner..." Cecilee admitted, her cheeks flushed, tears still coming as she writhed against him. "I love you..." She choked on a sob, body arching into his as she let out soft moans of need, her hold onto him never loosening.

Hanks body tensed as he heard the voice of his Cecilee, soft and singsong, and all his. His powerful hands pinned hers behind her back, she was at his mercy and willing to be. He thrust into her feeling himself deeper in the folds of her sex. He couldn't contain his pleasure anymore and felt his climax explode into her depths. He half collapsed as he felt her body slump against his. He didn't move or breathe, just laid his back on the couch his hands gripping her hair and petting her.

That night he took her into his bed, they slept for what seemed like ages. Waken before the sun Hank started his morning routine. He looked down at the nude and content Cecilee and stealthily made his way around. He was sure to write her a note

If gone when you awake make yourself at home. I have left car keys on the counter, go to your apartment and gather the things you will need. Meet me here by 8pm.

He thought long and hard about the next move, then with out fear signed the letter.

Hank

The remote keys to thecar she would use from now on, were wrapped in a sticky note with PH1 written on it. He had already taken the liberty of placing a card with a new credit card inside. Her name on it. And set it on the dash of the vehicle.

Hank took his breakfast silently and went to the warehouses. He had a lit of planning to consider.

Whimpering, gasping, Cecilee knew her Mr. Johnson—her Master—was getting close. As it was, she could barely hold out herself, the tension thick as the burn within was ready to explode and consume her with all its heat and fire. He pinned her arms, her body succumbing to everything he gave and wanting him take all that she had. She was his! She would bear that knowledge proudly now. No more running, no more hiding, no more fear. Looking into his eyes, she peered into the depths, her breath catching in her throat, her heart stopping as she suddenly lost herself to the pleasure that was him. She fell over the edge and into oblivion, the only thing she could see was her Mr. Johnson...her Master.

Cecilee's clit swelled, throbbing angrily as she began to cum hard about her Master's pulsing cock. Crying out, shivering as the rapture of the moment took hold, she tried to breathe, to let the moment last as she let it forever emblazon itself within her memory. She was his! Her Mr. Johnson's!

When the moment subsided, Cecilee's body spent and covered in sweat, she fell forward and leaned against her Master, her Owner. How wonderful it felt as he petted and caressed her...the fear of what he was and what he'd do gone. A part of her worried for him, terrified that somehow it would rip him away from her...but that just meant she'd have to do her part to keep his secrets safe.

She couldn't be without him.

Not again.

As dark thoughts crossed Cecilee's mind, she slowly drifted off to sleep, a smile crossing her lips as she snuggled close to the one man who completed her. Her life would never be the same now. She couldn't go back to it. And it would be impossible to explain any of this to either Trisha or Leah...

When Cecilee woke up, she was no longer in her Master's arms, but in a warm, soft bed. She smiled shyly, pulling the blankets closely about her slim body. Glancing about she was certain her Mr. Johnson had brought her to bed...so thoughtful. Blushing, she saw her glasses on the nearby nightstand. She reached for them and put them on. Next to them, she noticed something else—a note.

Cecilee's smile broadened as she picked up the note. Notes seemed to be their way of things and as she set it in her lap and began to read, her tummy began to flutter, a wave of heat washing over her entirely.

"Hank..." Cecilee whispered, her smile only growing. She brought the note to her chest and leaned back, sinking deep into the bed and beneath the sheets. Her Master now had a name. He trusted to tell her, to share it with her...baring himself fully to her now.

Humbled, Cecilee felt her eyes water once again and she sighed happily, dreamily.

After several moments, Cecilee finally got up and got dressed. She had things to do if she was to meet her Hank at 8pm. He'd bought her many things and they were the only things that mattered now. The rest? They were an old chapter. A new life awaited her and she wanted to embrace it. The hardest part was going to be figuring out what to do about her friends, her job. She'd have to ask him about that, what he thought best. For now, she'd call in sick and avoid them, but she'd wait to do so until she was at her place. No need to have any traces leading back to her Hank.

Back at her place, Cecilee quickly went to work packing. She'd already called Leah and told her she'd not be coming into work, that she still needed more time. The blonde was clearly concerned. As it was, she'd already taken a week off and now she was starting to worry that something was seriously wrong. Cecilee had assured her that she was seeking the help she needed, that things were being handled. It was the best she could do given things. But she feared that the woman might not be satisfied for long. Not wanting to linger too long, she decided it best to make quick work of everything, to pack fast and get out even faster.

Two suitcases later, Cecilee was satisfied that she had everything she needed. All the clothes and gifts she'd received from Hank had been packed along with her laptop and a few items she'd purchased recently in her depression that had reminded her of him. There were a few other things—mainly things that reminded her of her family—that also made it into the suitcases along with her music, books and tea paraphernalia, but the rest went untouched. She then looked longingly at her piano. The thing was far too big for her pack and she certainly couldn't lift it nor did she have time to get anyone to move it. She'd saved every penny she had to purchase the thing—her first 'big' purchase when going it on her own. But...it would have to stay.

Eyes watering, Cecilee let out a sad sigh and walked over to the instrument. Her hand rested on it for a moment, gently caressing the black and white keys before she walked away and picked up her suitcases. Setting her jaw, she exhaled slowly and opened her door. Quickly, she raced to the car and put the suitcases into the trunk, closed it and went around to get inside. Just as she sat down, she saw Trisha walking up the stairwell toward her apartment. The girl had an extra key. She'd given it to her so that she could check on the place for her when she'd owned a cat for a short while before eventually being told by the apartment complex she couldn't keep it.

Biting down on her lip, Cecilee pressed her foot against the gas pedal, not wanting to stick around. She knew damned well that Leah had called Trisha, knowing that the two were close and that she was hoping her friend would intervene. Heart pounding, she pulled out of her parking spot, fear coursing through her as her adrenaline pumped through her blood. She just hoped that neither Trisha nor Leah had seen her, that she could leave and speak to Hank before either of them got too suspicious of anything.

Hank busied himself removing all the comforts from the room he held Cecilee in, ensuring the warmth was gone. He had wasted too much time hiding from himself for Cecilee, he was finally ready to start a hunt.

He always had a few targets in mind, someone in passing, or a person he saw on the bus. Since Cecilee the list had added up to three girls. The small amount of info he had on each was separated into piles, he took each one and carefully thumbed through the pictures and notes. Mostly hand written. Usually it was about the easiest to separate the next target. Like a lion he would pick off the easiest to catch, the weakest.

This hunt was different. Somehow. Was it Cecilee? Was he feeling a new excitement knowing she knows? Was it an excitement because, he wanted her involved?

He quickly set out arranging the three girls into profiles. If nothing else it might help his decision. The desk he worked at always had spare binders. He carefully set out making the binders of girls to present to his pet.

Erin
27
Lives alone
No Pets
No Boyfriend
Few Friends
Works at call center

Lucinda
23
One Roommate
Possible Boyfriend
Student

Amber
36
Divorced
No Kids
Retail Clerk
Two Cats
Online Dating profiles on four sites

Hank carefully bundled his work up and retied his tie, it was 7:25. He quickly raced to his penthouse and road the elevator in anticipation.

Arriving in the door he saw his pet slowly chewing a nail and nervously looking around at her stuff neatly piled on the floor. He set the binders down on the counter and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You look troubled?" He kissed her forehead and patted her ass lightly. "Make me a scotch and come sit down, tell me whats wrong"

He took his jacket off and handed it to her, then took a seat in his overstuffed chair and waited for her and his drink.

Cecilee arrived to her new home as quickly as possible, dragging her suitcases filled with all the possessions she'd deemed worth keeping along with her. Her new credit card was in her jacket pocket along with the keys she'd been given. Setting down the suitcases, she pulled out the key to the door, the one that unlocked 'the heart'. Once she heard the click, she wasted no time and brought her things inside, placing the suitcases in the middle of the room until her Master—her Hank—got home. He would let her know where everything was meant to be placed once he returned. Her thoughts drifted to the piano she'd had no choice but to leave behind and she felt her eyes tear up slightly.

Scowling, Cecilee pushed her glasses up and rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. Now wasn't the time to get too overly sentimental. She'd have time enough to dwell on that loss later. Besides, there was a more pressing matter—Trisha and Leah. The two were going to be a problem, if not handled properly. It had shaken her to see her closest friend dart up her outside stairwell just before leaving...such a narrow miss! And knowing that she possessed a key to her place only added to her nerves. At any time, her friend could decide to enter.

What then?

It was nerve wracking. What would she find? She knew her Hank had been in there, had bugged the place. Just...

What then?

Cecilee began to pace, her tummy fluttering, her head spinning. So many thoughts began to swirl throughout her mind as she pictured Trisha and Leah conversing, discussing their thoughts about 'her'—their worries, their suspicions... She suddenly felt a pang deep in the pit of her tummy and she dry heaved.

"Pull yourself together!" Cecilee admonished herself out loud. Weak, pale, she continued to pace, just waiting for her love to return.

Time rolled on. It was agonizing, painful! Suddenly, the door opened and Cecilee looked over to see her Hank standing in the entrance way. Her blue eyes lit up immediately, a wave of relief washing over her that things just might have a chance at being all right now that he was home. Her cheeks flushed at his confident touch, her body leaning into his, knowing what it wanted and needed.

Cecilee then gave Hank a nod as she took his jacket and set it aside for him, walking over to the mini bar to make him his drink of choice. Once the drink was poured, she was quick, but careful, about bringing it to him. Kneeling on the floor beside him, she placed the glass into his strong hands, her worried face resting against his lap.

"I talked to Leah earlier. I had to since I was due into work and hadn't called in sick yet. I've been calling in sick every day for the past week," Cecilee began to explain. "This marks my second week of needing time and..." Her voice trailed, faltering slightly as fear made its way to the surface. "And she gave me a hard time." She looked up at Hank, her expression worried. "She meant well. She's just worried. But, I had to tell her I was seeking help given how I've been and, well, in a way I am," she added with a smile, her eyes watering a bit. "But..." Her body began to shake, trembling slightly as she recalled seeing Trisha, knowing she had a key. "But, I know she called Trisha. I think the two were planning an intervention or...something?" Her eyebrows knitted together as her face twisted slightly in both fear and worry. "As I was leaving, I saw Trisha. She was heading up to my place. She didn't see me though. But..." Again, her voice trailed, her body shaking even more. "She has a key." She gripped his thigh, fear evident on her face. "She has a key to my apartment." A tear rolled down her cheek. "What if she goes in there. What if traces of you are found. What if..."

Cecilee buried her face against Hank's lap, her body shaking as she sobbed against him.

Hank looked down at Cecilee her eyes welling up with tears, his hand gently petting her face as he sips his scotch.

"Silly girl," his voice is soft as he leans to help her up and into his lap "I suggest you begin working again. We cannot have questions being asked." His hands slowly rub her lower back. "Its imperative you remain in contact with your old life" he moved his hand up to grab her chin firmly "for now at least" His hands turn her head and looks into her eyes. "if you do not placate them. I will." he stared long enough to get the point across.

His strong hands move to her blouse unbuttoning it slowly. "Go draw yourself a bath and Ill bring you some wine, we have much to discuss." Hank kisses her as she stands and gathers the profiles and wine. He enters just as her nude form slips into the water. Pulling a stole close he sets a tray in front of her and the wine.

"Ive never shared these with anyone, and it would mean a lot to me if you would pick." he sets the folders down and almost smiles.

Cecilee nodded, everything coming at her so quickly, a wild rush that she hadn't anticipated. Her muscles tense, her tummy in knots, she just leaned into her Master and took in his warmth. He was right. She had to do as he stated. His secrets being kept depended on it, as did her friends' lives. It was imperative that she follow his lead on this no matter how difficult it seemed to be. She had to try. For him.

No...for them both.

"You're right," Cecilee rationalized, her mind going over all possibilities. Her blue eyes glanced down as her Hank began to undress her, her skin flushing a deep shade of pink as he slowly started to expose her body so casually, so easily.

Cecilee slipped into the bath, the water lapping against her skin as she lazily let her fingers make waves along the water's surface. It was soothing, just what she needed. The bubbles and oils were fragrant in the air, rich and heady as she allowed her eyes to flutter closed so she could forget about everything just for a little while. As the aromas of lavender and vanilla filled the room, she smiled a little, her mind thinking on happier times.

Suddenly, Cecilee's eyes flew open. She heard the door creak and she sat up a bit. The water ran down along her spine as she shifted herself in the water to get a look at her Hank as he approached with a look on his face that made her feel warm to her very core. Blushing a bit, she leaned against the tub's edge and peered up at him. She noticed on the tray he'd brought was more than just wine, but a set of...folders.

Cecilee tilted her head a bit as the folders were presented, her hand coming up to rake through her dark hair as the other reached to look at them. Slowly, she opened the first one, her fingers turning through the pages one by one. Instantly, her mouth went dry and she felt her body begin to shake.

She hadn't expected this...she didn't know why, but she hadn't.

Maybe she thought it would a separate thing or... Oh, she just didn't know. But she'd been taken off guard. Biting down on her lower lip, Cecilee was unsure of what to do, to say...how to feel. A numbness took hold as her heart lurched, aching for the man she so desperately loved. Her eyes pricked with tears just then and she moved a hand to wipe at them, not wanting them to be noticed, but knowing full well that they would be.

He wanted her to 'pick'. To choose which life should end. How could she do that?

She couldn't.

Could she?

Looking up at her Master, Cecilee felt her voice leave her, her eyes welling with tears as an ache formed in her chest. "I..." she stammered. "I'm to ch-choose?" A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away. Blinking, she looked back at the folders, shaking hands turning through the pages once more as she blankly stared at everything set before her.

How could she choose?

She couldn't.

Cecilee looked back at her Hank and swallowed hard, her heart pounding as her breaths suddenly came quicker. Her thoughts spun wildly inside her head as she looked from her Master to the pages and back again. Whether she picked or not...one of them would die...

It was inevitable.

She knew it.

This was who he was.

He'd said so.

Shaking her head, Cecilee sucked in a sharp breath and held it and finally handed Hank the folder belonging to Erin. Her entire body shook as she held it out, her eyes fixed on the floor, her mind...cold, blank.

Dark.