never hurt me bad, Darlene, honey. An’ we been friends a long time now. Besides, whatever happens, he’ll make it worth your while.”
Sandy peeled away her knockoff Burberry trench coat, revealing only a black bra and panties. At Koller’s request, she had on her stiletto high heels as well. The killer savored her long, toned legs, flat stomach, and sensual dark skin. In front of the closed drapes, Darlene held her own coat tightly across her slender frame. Sandy moved to where she was standing.
“Darlene, sweetie, you ain’t got nothing to worry about, ya hear?” she whispered.
“He scares me,” the blonde whispered back, but not quietly enough.
Koller heard her.
He grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to make her cry out in pain. Then he threw her onto the bed, as if he were tossing a pillow. The woman’s overcoat flopped open, revealing, per instructions, only a garter belt and mesh stockings. Her breasts would need implants in a few years, he thought, but at the moment, they were schoolgirl perfect. Now it was time to see just what she was made of.
Koller was becoming more aroused. He sat down on the mattress next to Darlene and began to stroke the woman’s fine, straw blond pubic hair, shaved in a landing-strip style.
“Sandy, baby,” he said, “you go into the closet and grab my black canvas bag and bring it to me. Don’t open it, though. I got surprises inside.”
Koller kept his eyes locked on Darlene. Her fear was easy to see. He could feel his pulse slowing.
Sandy returned, carrying the black canvas bag, and climbed onto the bed behind Koller. She placed her hands upon his shoulders and began to massage him, rubbing her long, delicate fingers down and across his bare chest, teasing his nipples. Darlene gazed up at them, unable to keep her body from shivering as though she’d just been pulled from a river.
“Whatchu freakin’ about, girl?” Sandy snapped. “Take off your stockings and let’s do our job.”
“Hold on a second, love,” Koller said. “Give me the bag.”
Koller took the bag from her as he got up off the bed, then brought it to the small desk and opened it while keeping his back to the bed. From inside he withdrew four Velcro restraints. Turning, he showed the women. Darlene’s eyes widened, but Sandy just giggled. Koller strode back over to the bed, now with a full erection. His eyes were a wolf’s, locked on Darlene. The girl was beginning to hyperventilate. He checked his wrist for five seconds.
Fifty. Maybe forty-seven.
“Straddle her,” Koller commanded Sandy.
Then he reached beneath the bed and pulled up a length of nylon rope he had earlier tied to the frame.
“Sandy… you didn’t say… anything about… ropes,” Darlene managed.
“Take it easy on her, baby,” Sandy cooed to Koller. “Remember, she’s sort of new at all this.”
With his hand wrapped firmly around Darlene’s neck, Koller bound the teen’s wrist with the Velcro and tied the restraint to the cord. In seconds, he had repeated the maneuver with her other wrist and both ankles. The knots were impossible to undo without help. Koller nodded Sandy away, then he stroked the girl’s breasts until her nipples responded almost in spite of themselves. The horror he saw in her eyes was blessedly pure, almost palpable.
Forty-five.
“If you scream, you’re going to die,” Koller whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “Don’t you dare move. Do you understand me?”
“Sandy, help me.”
Koller raised a finger to keep Sandy from responding.
“I asked if you understood.”
“Y-yes. I understand.”
The master of the non-kill pulled a fifth length of rope from beneath the mattress at the head of the bed, then knotted it firmly about the teen’s neck. Finally, he opened the black bag once more and withdrew a bowie knife with a nine-and-a-half-inch blade, a pair of large pliers, and three brown glass bottles, which he held up to the lamp to ensure they were full of whatever liquid
Sandy peeled away her knockoff Burberry trench coat, revealing only a black bra and panties. At Koller’s request, she had on her stiletto high heels as well. The killer savored her long, toned legs, flat stomach, and sensual dark skin. In front of the closed drapes, Darlene held her own coat tightly across her slender frame. Sandy moved to where she was standing.
“Darlene, sweetie, you ain’t got nothing to worry about, ya hear?” she whispered.
“He scares me,” the blonde whispered back, but not quietly enough.
Koller heard her.
He grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to make her cry out in pain. Then he threw her onto the bed, as if he were tossing a pillow. The woman’s overcoat flopped open, revealing, per instructions, only a garter belt and mesh stockings. Her breasts would need implants in a few years, he thought, but at the moment, they were schoolgirl perfect. Now it was time to see just what she was made of.
Koller was becoming more aroused. He sat down on the mattress next to Darlene and began to stroke the woman’s fine, straw blond pubic hair, shaved in a landing-strip style.
“Sandy, baby,” he said, “you go into the closet and grab my black canvas bag and bring it to me. Don’t open it, though. I got surprises inside.”
Koller kept his eyes locked on Darlene. Her fear was easy to see. He could feel his pulse slowing.
Sandy returned, carrying the black canvas bag, and climbed onto the bed behind Koller. She placed her hands upon his shoulders and began to massage him, rubbing her long, delicate fingers down and across his bare chest, teasing his nipples. Darlene gazed up at them, unable to keep her body from shivering as though she’d just been pulled from a river.
“Whatchu freakin’ about, girl?” Sandy snapped. “Take off your stockings and let’s do our job.”
“Hold on a second, love,” Koller said. “Give me the bag.”
Koller took the bag from her as he got up off the bed, then brought it to the small desk and opened it while keeping his back to the bed. From inside he withdrew four Velcro restraints. Turning, he showed the women. Darlene’s eyes widened, but Sandy just giggled. Koller strode back over to the bed, now with a full erection. His eyes were a wolf’s, locked on Darlene. The girl was beginning to hyperventilate. He checked his wrist for five seconds.
Fifty. Maybe forty-seven.
“Straddle her,” Koller commanded Sandy.
Then he reached beneath the bed and pulled up a length of nylon rope he had earlier tied to the frame.
“Sandy… you didn’t say… anything about… ropes,” Darlene managed.
“Take it easy on her, baby,” Sandy cooed to Koller. “Remember, she’s sort of new at all this.”
With his hand wrapped firmly around Darlene’s neck, Koller bound the teen’s wrist with the Velcro and tied the restraint to the cord. In seconds, he had repeated the maneuver with her other wrist and both ankles. The knots were impossible to undo without help. Koller nodded Sandy away, then he stroked the girl’s breasts until her nipples responded almost in spite of themselves. The horror he saw in her eyes was blessedly pure, almost palpable.
Forty-five.
“If you scream, you’re going to die,” Koller whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “Don’t you dare move. Do you understand me?”
“Sandy, help me.”
Koller raised a finger to keep Sandy from responding.
“I asked if you understood.”
“Y-yes. I understand.”
The master of the non-kill pulled a fifth length of rope from beneath the mattress at the head of the bed, then knotted it firmly about the teen’s neck. Finally, he opened the black bag once more and withdrew a bowie knife with a nine-and-a-half-inch blade, a pair of large pliers, and three brown glass bottles, which he held up to the lamp to ensure they were full of whatever liquid
Similar Books
