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As the force impacted Jessica’s face and skull to better acquaint the wall she screamed within. She thought that any outright means of rejection or disdain would devoid the transaction on the table. Her squished face against the wall zoned in on the rattling… which seemed to suddenly vanish… then replaced with her attacker’s roars of pain. Blood smacked in a disunity of dots across her face and the wall her eyes fixated.
That’s what he gets for being so aggressive. Jessica thought, quite pleased with the fact. He was inside of her and on her in more ways than one, more so with what was about to occur.
He breached the gap of her wound. Electric cackles of seem to emit of the invasion, blasting Jessica with a pain whose scream filled the volume of the room. She convulsed and twitched, before her hand shot at his own and ferociously dug the bed of her nails into his flesh attempting to warrant him out. Despite what was at stake, she was alarmed and frantic, swooping her other hand to grip at the same spot he had at her leg, in his. She clawed. The pressure she used was no comparison to the vice that choked his cock through the sloppy mess of her pussy walls..
"You're hurting me!" She clarified through gritted teeth, not considering this apart of the willing aspect.
Jessica thought perhaps he wanted her to be here, to really force her to feel every meniscal aspect of this fucked up tale so he could really watch her… feel her experience the mental and physical turmoil without her eyes going dead. She thought he wanted to watch the change of infliction spasms in her expanded pupils. He was sick.
Jessica paused for breath; she was panting and sweating hard. While she cried out and moaned, she had become more animated, as much as the barriers entrapping her limbs and body allowed. Her moaning became louder. Her heart beat accelerated. And she felt intensity clogging the pit of her loins. She was going to cum. No. Jessica defied it, she did not want it. She wanted nothing to do with it and channeled her mind elsewhere to try and escape this fate. But that was not going to work with his body pressed up against her, fucking her as though they were wild animals. He was just… too good, ragged against her and inside her manipulating the sensitive inners that craved some sort of release. The blood sobbed and gargled with their colliding forms, mimicking the undeniable sound of wetness that came with his plunging in and out of her. She was wet and her body quaked uncontrollably as her treachous body writhed and elicited fresh screaming moans.
She came in unison with the murderous killer. He loaded her with his warm, sticky seed. A snarl of malice quivered at her upper lip as she felt the squishing and sloshing of something more from inside him, inside of her. And she came so fucking hard. The hardest she had ever came in her life. Certainly held no comparison to any time she experienced with her husband, even if those rare most intense of moment. Her own wetness sloshed and drippingly splashed to her ankles, until to be contained inside her.
It was a bitter sweet moment for Jessica. Her eyes were tear stained. The air was chilly, though that was not the reason for the erect goose bumps coating her sticky flesh.
Boiling outrage welled in her heart. Grievance, gall, and bitterness mixed their corrosive, acidity in her stomach. Her face contoured with purity of disgust and seemed to drift. Though a blanket of the serenity of release was at her outer form. One that could only from the vibration that still embodied her slit and lips, felt pulsating around this thick shaft still buried deep inside her. She hated to say, but she felt... okay.
She lay silent as a stone. Silent as the very void that now opened in her tormented soul, swallowing her scream, sucking it away as surely as his throbbing cock sucked away parts of herself. And in that terrible silence part of Jessica still listened to Kialler almost explaining, as if she must understand.
Did he just say what she thought he did?
He loved her?
Jessica’s set and vacant face was suddenly transformed, and she suddenly went off in a nervous laughter, as though utterly unable to contain herself. And in a flash she recalled with remarkable vividness the things which he had done in the recent past. When he remorselessly shot her husband in front of her eyes. That moment when he taunted her stare by motioning to the stairs atop where her daughter was. The unkind force that triggered the harsh blow of the airbag, after the unkind crumpling smash to the dashboard. She ached to curse and yell at him. But she only laughed, as if musing over an inside joke that he was left out on. The laughter was more out of madness than mirth.
She had almost felt sorry for him and the path his life has turned out. For him to think that this was love, or if it was, that this is how love was expressed. Then again, what did Jessica truly pertain with the knowledge of love?
She looked at him, as though she was about to be sick. Perhaps more so with herself?
There were other words she wanted to use here. Though she mused it as a second thought and instead she muttered with her dry throat, "Do you even know what that means?" her voice still feminine and wracked with the moments events.
Jessica suggestively squirmed toward the way, as way to signal him out of her. "About Annabelle?" She distracted, absent mindlessly still clawing his hand weather or not he moved it. She could not possibly review what just happened here, her mind would not allow it.
He smiles, amused by the question. Of course he knew what love was. He loved Jessica. Despite what the ways he showed it…there was something there. And he couldn’t get rid of it. He had tried. The fact that she would challenge him on it angered him…but he was honestly too high off the orgasm to pay it any mind.
Then surprisingly, he does something human. When she squirms to hint him out, he retracts his hips smoothly, allowing his cock to slide out with a dripping of juices from it’s position in her hot, tight folds. He would have preferred to sit inside of her for a while…basking in the feelings…but, she had made him happy. Now he could make her happy. If she obeyed the rules.
His eyes survey her form, taking in the sight of her, legs covered in her juices…mixed with his of course. There was signs of her own release on the floor…and the fact that her body looked practically alight. He wondered how long she had gone without…and if he was her best. The killer made a point to ask her, sometime. Then he takes a few steps, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his frame to the fullest, then he digs around a bit before tossing her one of his tshirts.
He nods his head towards the door way, insinuating she should follow as he begins to take some shaky steps. God, his shoulder was really bleeding. There were thick globs of red pushing their way through the jagged tear, the meat of his muscle that had been so firm before ripped asunder by the force of the blow. The man pauses once, his hand braced against the wall as a form of support as spots dance across his eyes.
If he bled out here…he would be genuinely disappointed. The end he imagined involved blood. And lots of it. And fucking. And her. His eyes cast back towards the bedroom doorway wistfully, wondering for a brief moment if he should push his luck…but decides not to, the loss of blood creating a fear that his cock engorging would make him faint. And then she would definitely strangle him.
He flexes his hand if she decides to follow, examining the deep furrows she carved into the back of his hand. He liked it…She had marked him. And he had marked her. He firmly decides not to bandage it. Let it scar up. It would look nice…
The man sighs, pushing off the wall as he continues to stride down the hall, his shoulder twitching occasionally as fresh blood slides down his chest and back. He really would ned to patch that up…or get her too. He had a feeling she would appreciate him more…if they could find a way to work out what he had in mind.
He slides into his office chair, moving the mouse a bit to fire up the computer monitor. If she followed him into the room directly, the computer is covered in google maps. Hundreds of them. Thousands even. Points are pinned, seemingly at random but, if looked at in a wider angle, they appeared to form a cohesive arc. With a purple pin representing the house in the middle.
If she didn’t follow him directly, he minimizes the screen before she enters the room, pulling up instead a student database his school district had access to. Thankfully, the state had generalized the information among educators decades ago…making this stalk a little bit easier.
He clicks a few keywords, and within moments a name appears before them. Annabelle’s name. It had recent information, requesting leave for emotional trauma, citing the murder and subsequent disappearance of Jessica as the reasons. And beside that….an address.
Her parents address. They had truly taken her in. He scoots his chair back, handing over the mouse. Any of the information that was relevant to her…he would give it over. No more secrets…not between them. He rises then, leaving her alone with the computer so that she could…cope? Grieve? Rejoice? He wasn’t sure.
What he did know…was that his shoulder burned like a bitch. And the shower that was coming….was going to be painful. He turns the water on full cold blast, allowing it wash the blood streaming from his shoulder nearly as quickly as it comes, his mind racing with the night’s events. Though it was also cloudy from blood loss.
After washing ineffectually for a few minutes, he hops out of the torrent, fumbling around the supplies tossed across the room as he searches for gauze….this shit needed to be patched up. Stitches even. He had work to do. The weekend was here…two days off. Enough time for a hunt.
That didn’t just happen. She did not like it. She did not just cum. Denial and vacancy was the only way to go about this, the only way her mind would let her go about this so it could still function to make sure the ends of the bargain she was interested in were met.
Jessica took a brief moment to herself, hastily slipping the oversized black shirt to her small frame that fit her like a sort of fashionless dress. Tissues adorned on the night stand were now made functional and every bone in her body seemed to stiffen as she wiped the waxy goo from her labia. Stomach muscles flexed and flattened, as though trying to get rid what excess of him he had inside her. She swiped across again. He was still swimming in her, she could feel it. She could still feel him pumping in and out her and she shuttered with disgust. But she liked it and wanted to vomit.
Jessica walked straight to the room he led her to, stood in the middle and leaning both arms crossed over her freshly molested chest staring into the distance of the brightly lit computer screen. Her eyes investigated the number of maps and wanted to discard any connection of him with the human world. It seemed all to improbable that he should have.. or even be allowed on a computer.
When he left her alone, she felt so much weaker that she crossed over to the computer chair, reached out to position it and sat down. She yearned to lie down on the organized desk, more so in the comfort of her own bed, but that was not possible. Settling for her sculpted jaw to prop in her left hand she launched her right hand to the house before trailing it to the keyboard.
For the moment, her body was still mute of intolerable pain. Though what was subsided in that, she gained in trifles shadowing her heart that were as if darkening as the room eclipsed from the night’s lone glimmering moonlight and the anxious tapping of the black raised, square down arrow key creased her face with a cycling anxiety. The blood of Marcus ran cold on her back… just like his heart.
Jessica absorbed and stored the information in the depths of her mind. She gawked at the screen, blinking cursors to the top right on the screen.
The text in the screen glowed in her eyes: Annebelle.
The chambers of her heart churned and choked stinging wetness in her eyes. She took her head slowly in disbelief and stayed silent. This engulfed, submerged that everything she had been through was not to be a complete stranger to her; this was supposed to be her life now. It left a bitter taste on her tongue. That could just be lingering traces of his saliva too, though.
Her daughter’s voice she still remembered, she needed no recording to remember that. And yet, she wanted to hear that high pitched voice vibrating in her eardrum. She missed her. Her mind raced.
In a feverish state her glare morphed into skeptic when she ventured off for more information of her daughter only to be bought back to the pit of maps. There were an over abundance that the thought these were his victims was but a fleeting thought.
She mused over crashing his computer, or seeding it with viruses, but that could be saved for another time. Fore she planned for her revenge to be something more concrete than something she surmised he kept back up discs of somewhere. Then that would be pointless to have done, and likely warrant trouble on her part. It was not worth it. Or she could! She froze raising her eyes back to the definite words and number on the screen that was indicative he could find her; it was too tangible projecting right at her eyes.
This sick fuck was all this had.
Between her legs she felt a slow and thick leakage and her thighs tightened, repulsed. His seed. At least he was coming out of her…
She didn’t just cum. Jessica told herself again, closing her eyes to the night and concentrated on the aura of serenity. She sensed evil stirring like a slow breeze through the murder’s house, but it was more than the general swelling of the restlessness that had normally been consistently present. She couldn’t focus on it, nor pinpoint what that may be.
One thing she was near sure of: just a flicker of a human soul now remained in this god forsaken house. It faltered within Jessica, and desperately fought to thrive. God turned his back on all this long ago. She had no acceptance of her humanity verging on such a path, merely she was neutral for the reason she want not to bother with such boggling thoughts. Not right now. There was no room.
The blue of her eyes scanned the desk before stopping and extending a hand to a pencil, slowly holding the solid point of the lead tip to the light of the computer screen. It was a brand new, never used- naturally, number two pencil. A side smile cranking on her lips. This was lead. Real lead. Her eyes shifted in the direction of the door for a sign of his presence, head stilled. Her eyes reverted back to the point. This dose would not kill him, but it was still a poison nonetheless.
Snap.
The tip of the pencil looked like a miniature gray tic tac between her dainty index finger and thumb. Jessica smiled. A mischievous smile that wanted to laugh. She held it casually, wedging it to conceal between the tip of her index finger nail, avoiding any cuts or opening that may have been at her finger tips.
Jessica dispersed her aura through out ground floor and followed the noise to where he was upstairs, in the bathroom. Her eyes glowed feasting upon his attractive form as she stood in the door frame. She would use her cunning and intelligence.
She gazed him. "You have some pretty deep wounds there." Jessica parted her lips and ran a hand slowly throwing her hair, the dark strands waving back and made her cheekbones pop before the section of shiny hair tumbled to one side of her head. Her uneasy steps let him know that what he has done has still not been forgotten and that she need to proceed speaking and approaching him with cautious steps. "I'm good at that. I can help."
He looks at her almost curiously, standing near the large granite sink as his shoulder continues to bleed out his life blood. She was offering to help him…maybe he had finally gotten through to her? His mind screams logically that she was up to something…that those furrows she carved in the back of his hand weren’t her marking him as her own. They were her still trying to harm him.
But he wasn’t very logical at the moment. Marcus was light headed, his eyes clouded over with post orgasm high and seeming far away. She was a doctor…and she was his. Of course she should patch him up. He watches her timid steps for a few moments, quite liking the way his tshirt hung around her hips. He could just barely see the reddened skin of her thighs…the sight of her was enough to make the receding bulge in his briefs twitch, the thick cloth barely restraining the monster beyond. His hands then dig out a needle from the wreckage, laying it on the counter.
The man licks his lips, eyeing her as she comes ever closer. His woman. His hands finally find the bandages in the mess she had made, and even some thin surgical stitching. He was sure she could fix him right up…unless she had one of her episodes and tried to wound him further. The thought of his seed inside of her distracts him though, his eyes alighting on her hips as he wonders if the thick cream was still filling her up, or if it had run over.
He takes a step forward, then places his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him. He could almost smell her self loathing from here. He nuzzles against her cheek, worming his face closer to ear, the soft day old stubble coating his cheek rubbing against her own silky skin. Then his deep voice whispers in her ear, “Don’t look so ashamed…I know you feel bad about that mess you made when you came…” His thin lips part in a wolfish white smile. “But, we can clean it all up.” He continues, as though that was the reason bothering her, though he had a hunch that it had more to do with the fact she was convinced he couldn’t get reactions out of her.
Marcus releases her hips, and goes to sit on the edge of the counter, lifting himself up with a flex of his arms, which immediately summons a grimace and snarl from his throat. “Fucking shoulder..” His voice hits the night air nearly feral, his eyes wild from the pain. “Just do it fast…” He motions for her to have her way, facing his eyes to stare at the shower.
He had no desire to see her dig in his shoulder with a needle. But he did desire her…so he had to stay alive. At least for now. Then there was the business of the coming day…he wondered how late it was? Was it already morning? They didn’t have long to rest….though the thought of what he could do with her body for a few hours makes the tongue slide across his lips once more in anticipation.
He busies himself with the thoughts of his cum filling her tight hole, the idea that she would carry his child…he wondered if she was capable of having children? That brat they had was treated like a birth daughter…but he almost guessed Jessica’s body had never seen such trauma. She was too damn good looking.
The arm not being worked on pulls her closer to his seated position, desiring the feel of her body near his own. Even if she just stood between his legs…just touching her was enough. She was like his favorite high…and he would never let her go. Though, his work…the killings…was still the top of the list. At least he hoped so…
Throbbing need fills his brain, the thought of spilling fresh blood that was not his own making his mouth water. And now he had someone with whom to do it with….she would have her first kill. He could almost feel his cock hardening at the thought.
Marcus wondered if she would prefer a knife or a gun once they got past her first…if she would hesitate, or immediately go through with it. The thought of her killing with him, or even for him, truly aroused the demented man.
He also vaguely wondered if she would sleep in his bed with him. The thought of her tight body held against his own muscled frame was…appealing. Though not for gentle reasons, such as his desire to be near to her at all hours of the day.
No.
The killer wanted to smell the scent of their fucking, see the signs of it as it ran down her legs and wet her thighs, he wanted to feel the way she hugged against his hips because she knew what was beyond…he just doubted she would ever allow such a thing.
And the fight was just about gone out of him tonight. The blood loss, combined with the days activities…it was enough to make the man tired. He waits until she finishes stitching him up, then heads over to the bed. The man systematically replaces the covers, the blanket, and the pillows, before crawling in himself. It had been an exhausting day…
And unless she attacks him, or other so assaults the man, he falls asleep rapidly, arms spread wide as though to claim his territory.
The feel of the killer's body rippled against her soft, curveous form and she stiffened at his touch, as though a coating of worms crawled underneath her skin. But the crawling howled and stretched with it's own budding sense of contentment to his touch- just as much as she rejected it. She had no one left. There was only him... this... thing that wanted to harm her. Or love her. But she sided with harm. She recalled as he nuzzled against her face, as if with an urgency. It almost
In that moment she questioned the consideration if she should really poison him. That if this small, trivial amount of affection, even if it was out of selfishness, can rise out of something something so vile. But that was just the human decency that remained inside her. It desperately must have searched for any make shift of connecting him to anything human, even if the rebellion of her mind disagreed.
That died right at his utterance that enraged her. She was sure he could feel the stiffened expansion of her body as a large breath held in her lungs. A boiling rage it was, though it could be mistaken for shyness, or guilt- and a part of it was. She could give him that if that is what he initially took it for. Her fingers twitched to abuse him in some sort of violent way to signify her disapproval, the sheer hatred she felt for him at that second.
He was wrong. Wrong! What would he know? Worried Jessica, but then realized the answer was nothing and it instantly simmered the compulsions brimming at her surface. He knew of nothing. She reminded herself again. Though she couldn't escape the haunting squishing feel of his waxy substance inside of her or the dried and flaked sheets at her thighs and ankles that were once her own wet and hot cum.
It's okay. He would pay for it. She assured doing everything she had with in her to not trip any suspicion, including letting him get near her hands. The mini lump of lead still stayed wedged in her nail, she could feel the pressure of it.
Finally he sat on the counter, mumbling. She retorted, "Shut up. And sit still."
She could never truly vent her scolding vengeance upon him, on account of the leverage he pertained and this annoy blockage that for whatever reason and for whatever it was, would not enable her to kill this man. Nor at the very least display her disdain for him volumes of brutal violence. But now.... she abruptly went to work with cleaning the wound.
Durning the flick of her finger injection, he had not noticed, perhaps lost in perplexity at the hazing thoughts the evening would ensue on his mind. Or maybe it was the feel of Jessica's ripe body at his finger tips, the faint natural scent of a womanly vanilla that emitted from her aura, that could possibly be seeming to come from the dip of cleavage that penciled at the neckline of his over-sized shirt. The two mounds, not overly large, but had a nice, defined and inviting shape that would draw his eyes to the turns of her shoulders in which her collar bones would pop. When that could happen, Jessica could feel the purping bite and suck mark at her neck. The broken blood vessels seemed to be jointed together no thanks to his hated, expert of a mouth.
Detecting no threat, the bead of substance entered. A poison? Hardly! But she smiled as if getting away with something, and technically, she was. She did, as she no gently sewed him up, making it as painful for him as possible.
It was a sweet moment for Jessica.
He went off... uncaring as to where or what and Jessica showered, desperate to scrub him OUT of her, while tending to the night's battle wounds. When finally finished, not totally feeling clean, still dirty and tainted no matter how much she reddened her skin with scrubbing, she explored the house for a bedroom with a lock and found none. She had settled for that bedroom where she was locked in earlier with the broken in door. Anything was better than sleeping next to him... that monster that she did not understand why she felt some sort of... connection? Something. Unless it was hate, she wanted it not on her troubled mind and dismissed it.
Jessica crawled exhausted and sore in the empty bed and cocooned herself in the blanket that still had a stench of his appealing scent. And drifted off to a much required slumber. That sweet moment; it had seemed to occupy her thoughts from the evening events, as she felt unreasonably satisfied with herself.
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