Menü
Very carefully, he watched her weave down the street. She moved with an easy air of confidence, occasionally chatting with the people she passed. She'd had a rough life, he knew, but she was the vision of congeniality and grace when in public. Young Sara Dawson had lived with her father and brother in the apartment below his for six months. She was coming up on her sixteenth birthday, and he had quite the present to give her.
Sara's father was an alcoholic. Every night, from upstairs he would hear the fight begin as Mr. Dawson began drinking he began yelling. Sara would do her best to appease him, or to protect her brother, but oftentimes she would carry the bruises for weeks. Derrick thought the color contrasted beautifully with the pale ivory of her skin, and the long blonde hair she wore in a braid down her back. The sight of them always urged him to add more, but he was careful. He had been a homicide detective - on the force 18 years - and he knew he had to cover his tracks and make this as untraceable as possible.
He started the day she moved in. He had noticed her bright blue eyes and cheerful smile first. At fifteen years old, she was already a knock out - with her long legs and adequate chest she could have easily passed for 20. He assisted moving boxes, stunned into silent altruism by her innocent beauty.
Within two weeks, he had established an easy friendship with her, chatting as they passed in the hallways, helping carry groceries. He had gained her trust easily, and he was soon invited over for dinners or the occasional hockey game. He memorized her schedule and would watch as she actively engaged conversations - leaving the others feeling as though they had made a new best friend every time. Her intelligence and her social prowess ceaselessly amazed him, and he looked forward to seeing her curled up, beaten and broken - with the knowledge that he caused it.
On the day of her sixteenth birthday, Sara attended school, acting as though it were any other day. In her experience, the only difference was her dad started drinking earlier and she had more violence to deal with. She stopped at the market on her way home - planning on putting away the groceries and then retrieving her brother from day care. Derrick met her at the door to the building - apparently on his way out - and gallantly offered his assistance. Smiling her disarming smile, Sara took him up on it and gave him the lighter bag. The pair headed up the stairs to her apartment, and as she put the bag she was carrying on the table, she thanked Derrick with a kiss on the cheek.
Sara didn't expect the blow to the back of the head that left her unconscious.
She woke up in pain, her lower lip bitten and pulled as teeth dragged it out. Having a high pain tolerance she didn't cry out, but instead tried to assess her situation as best her muddled head could. Derrick leaned over, smiling, having let go of her lip.
"Good to see your awake, sleeping beauty. " Derrick's voice was cold, crueler than Sara had ever heard it. She shivered, attempting to hide her fear. She had been tied up, spread eagle, on a cold metal table. In her silent evaluation, it didn't escape her notice that, while she still had her clothes on and was relatively unhurt, the bonds would prevent any movement, and there was an assortment of unkind looking items on the counter to her left. She didn't want to think what they could be used for.
"Derrick, why am I here?" Her voice was small and as she spoke again she tried to add more strength and courage to it. "Will you please let me go? I need to get my brother. "
"Sweets, you won't be leaving - or seeing your brother - for a while. Until I'm done with you, you're mine and will remain here.
Slowly, he drew a pair of scissors out from his belt. He lined it up with the seam of her jeans, and cut from the ankle up, repeating it on the other side so he could remove them. A couple drops of blood gathered at the few places where he had carelessly nicked her. She didn't make a noise, but the contrast of the dark maroon against her skin nearly set him off. He drew in a breath to stabilize himself - he wanted this to be as excruciating as possible for her, to give in to his urges now would be too easy. Taking a large knife, he removed her shirt, leaving her in a pair of thin white panties and a light pink bra. He marveled at his prize, enjoying the quiver in her uneven rushed inhales. It was clear that she didn't dare make a sound, not that it would matter - in his preparations he sound-proofed every room of his apartment - she wouldn't have been heard in the next room, much less downstairs. With the knife, he slid up the edge of her panties, taunting her as he did so. "The picture's so pretty from here, but I think I shall wish to see what more there is to uncover. " He did the same to her bra and finally left her there naked and spread before him.
"I wonder, just what size those boobs are, I have to say they never looked as big as they do now.
"You're just a prick who is incapable of getting a real woman so you abduct and rape girls who can't fight back. If you weren't such a dumbshit, I may be afraid of you, but as it is you're nothing more than a blip. You're a worthless drip of a man whose intelligence can be measured in a thimble. I won't lower myself to give you the satisfaction of my fear. Quite frankly you aren't worth it. " Astounded by her break in composure, and the venom that filled her words, Derrick failed to notice her right hand working its way free of the bond.
"You're nothing but a fucking cunt. This look small to you, slut? I hope you're ready because this is going to be filling every one of your fucking holes. " He leaned over and as he did she swiped at him with her newly freed hand, only to be rewarded with her head slammed against the table. He sported a new gash across his chest, thin and only lightly bleeding, but he was angrier now than he'd ever been. The control he'd shown, all his restraint was lost. He held her down and she struggled against him, trying once again to free her arm. She was yelling now, feeling his anger the fear had finally hit her. Her fear, her screams and her struggles turned him on, and in one thrust he penetrated her tiny little cunt. Tears rolled down her face as he ripped through her hymen, the blood providing the only lubrication. "You're awfully tight, slut.
"Please dont" he mocked, as he finally sheathed himself within her ass, he began to rapidly pick up speed until he felt his balls tightening. Her ass was bleeding now, providing lubrication as he slid in and out of her faster and faster. Groaning he came, deep inside her bowels. After he rolled off her, she slid easily into the fetal position crying. One of her arms was still tied, and - despite her despair - he could see her trying to undo it as she shook. He slapped her hard, and retied all of her limbs. He pushed the handle of a baseball bat inside of her and left her crying.
To be continued. Tell me what you think? It's my first story and any criticism is good criticism
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