Predator and Prey - Bad Boss

  I got back to my hotel around 10PM. It was a sea of flashing blue and red lights. I parked my car and walked around the yellow caution tape. It was a mess.

      Uniformed cops were tossing desks and carrying armfuls of computer hardware to their cars. They were going into the elevators, and confused, frustrated guests were coming out. A thorough search, clearly. A black woman in a tailored suit stood in a corner, arms crossed, chatting with a nervous looking employee. The FBI agent. She noticed me, gestured to a cop, and handed the staff girl a card. A couple burly cops escorted me to their car.

     I found myself in the interrogation room. A bald, sweaty cop sat across from me, coming up with as many creative rephrases of "Where were you on x day" as he could think of. The local cops apparently couldn't afford one-way glass, so I could see Ms. FBI watching me through the window. She looked like a tough bitch, standing there with her arms crossed and a stern expression. I doubted she'd look so tough with my cock up her ass.

     The cop was getting nowhere. She shook her head in frustration and walked in, shooing him out. She sat down across from me, hands folded. Her expression was smug.

     "You got cocky, Fischer," she said, "Those Indian girls? Might have gotten away with that one, the helicopter crash was pretty clever. Except Mister Morales had the foresight to record that you're the one who commissioned the ride. And what a coincidence, you were in India at the same time as the Mahajan sisters. Not hard to draw the line, Fischer."

      God damn it, Morales. I'd kill him if I hadn't already killed him.

      "Then we find Drake Ferebee's corpse, and his pretty wife's missing," she continued. "Not hard to draw the correlation, huh? You sick piece of shit."

       I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

       She closed her eyes and nodded. "Sure, sure. You're dumb enough to think we don't have your ass. You might be able to hide your secrets from the local mouth breathers, but next week I'm coming back with a fucking army of federal officers. And we'll see how well you covered your tracks when my boys tear your building down brick by brick."

       She stood up and stormed out. The cops came and threw me in a cell.

******************************

       I was in jail for about three days before a cop came and let me out.

       "Orders from above," he grunted. "You lucky sonovabitch."

       I hoofed it back to the hotel. The police were gone and the parking lot was mostly empty, most of the guests scared away. My cellphone rang.

       "You talking to the FBI?" a female voice drawled. Eria. "We're getting pretty fucking tired of you."

       "I've got it under control," I lied.

       "Oh, no doubt," she replied. "You have one fucking week, Fischer. One week to get this under control. And to pay us back in full. With interest. And maybe I won't flay you alive."

       "I-"

       "Shut up. I don't care." Click.

       I walked into the lobby miserably. An "army" of FBI agents were heading my way. Plus I was going to have the mob on my ass if I didn't somehow cough up a million dollars in seven days. Things were looking pretty dour, I admit. But no matter how bad things went for me, I resolved to make them worse for the FBI cunt that started this.

        But first I needed leads. I called up my fed informant, but he didn't know a thing about the investigation other than that it was happening. I pulled some photos of the woman from the security cameras and sent them to him, but he didn't recognize the woman.

       "I'll look into it," he said. Very reassuring.

        So that left me on my own, more or less. Irina didn't know about my hobbies and most people found out about them tending to die shortly. Clifton and his crew could probably help but they were liable to just shoot me if they found out how poorly I was handling this, "No loose ends" was practically Eria's motto. It's a lonely life, that of a serial killer.

        But I did know someone who had a pretty good idea of who I was looking for. My FBI chick had made the crucial mistake of letting me see her hand one of my staff a business card. An even bigger mistake because the staff in question was a hot redhead in her mid-20s; I'd had my eye on her for a while but couldn't justify the risk of taking someone who worked for me. Well, now I had my excuse, and my trail to the agent.


   "How can I help you si-" she cut herself off and her smile turned into an "O" when she saw me, naked, holding a handgun. "Oh my god."

   I grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out, then used my access panel to lock the elevator. I'd already locked the other elevator and the stairwell door. Nobody was coming up, and Jane wasn't going anywhere.

   "Undress," I said. Jane just stood there speechless. God she looked sexy, with that flaming red hair and that pale, freckled face. She'd look even better without clothes on. "I said UNDRESS!"

   She squeaked in fear and jumped a bit, then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. "Oh god. Oh my god." I stroked myself as the blouse came off, then the skirt.

   "That's fine," I said. My lovely redhead stood there in a black bra and matching panties, sexy stuff that pushed her already-ample breasts up and together in anticipation of an intimate encounter quite different from the one she was getting. Her skin was creamy and her ass was shapely, bolstered by her high heels. She tried to look tough but I could already see tears forming in those blue eyes. I was glad that, as always, I had set up cameras to capture the experience.

   I tossed the gun away, gripped her by the ass and lead her over to the pool, and pushed her in. The water immediately ruined whatever concealment her underwear provided. I jumped in after her and pushed her against the pool side and gazed into her eyes as I kneaded her tits and stroked her belly with my cock. The floodgates opened and tears poured down her face as she resigned herself to being raped.

   "Tell me about the investigator," I said.

   "Oh god. Oh god," she sobbed. "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about."

   I grabbed her head and forced her under water. As she flailed and struggled I wrestled her panties off and tossed them onto the concrete, then dragged her over the the shallow end where it was only a couple feet deep. Instinctively she clambered onto all fours to keep her head above water, and I took advantage of the opening and shoved my cock in to the hilt. Jane tried to cry out but instead just hacked up a bunch of water.

   "Nobody can hear you, babe," I chuckled as I plowed her deep. That was actually a lie, if she screamed loud enough people might actually hear her, but filling her lungs with water would take care of that. I unclasped her bra and grabbed her arms, letting her head drop back underwater as I wrestled it off and tossed it next to her panties; every panicked movement she made was felt in my cock. This position was great, because I didn't have to deal with bound arms obstructing my view of my victim's pretty back, but if Jane tried to use her arms to fight me she'd dunk her head under water.

   "Pulllleeeeeeeaaaaaaaase," Jane managed the choke out between coughs when she resurfaced. Undeterred, I grasped her narrow waist with both hands and began shifting her body back and forth in time with my thrusts. "Somebody help meeee-" I grabbed a fistful of red hair and shoved her head back under water. Her breasts mashed against the bottom, and I saw some blood mix with the water as the sensitive flesh, made fragile by the water, scraped against the rough floor.

   By the time I came in my sexy redhead's pussy, she didn't have it in her to scream or even groan. All she did was gasp for air and cry. It was beautiful. I navigated her to the ladder. She climbed out and collapsed into a sobbing wreck. Almost the entire front of her body was scraped up badly.  

   "Why are you doing this to me?" she cried. "Everything hurts. I hate you. It hurts so bad."

   "So Jane," I said. "We can go for round two. Or you can tell me about that investigator."

   "She-she just wanted to know if I'd seen anything suspicious. I didn't tell her anything, I swear. I didn't know anything!"

   "Did she give you any way of contacting her?"

   A moment of silence, then: "A c-card. It's at my home. I can b-bring it to you."

   I smiled and climbed out of the pool. "Better yet, I'll come get it with you."

   Jane shook her head desperately. "No, please. I swear I'll bring it to you, just let me go home!"

   "Nope, sorry. Now get dressed, we're going - oh, but leave your underwear, I'll be taking that."


   ***************************

   Jane lived in a nice apartment in a skyscraper downtown - say what you will about me, but I pay my employees pretty well. She was able to quickly produce the card in question, which was actually a sticky note with "Special Agent Robinson" and a phone number scribbled on it. It would have to do.

   But of course I wasn't done with her. I didn't want to rape her in the apartment itself, I didn't need her getting hysterical and waking the neighbors, but I could still have some fun. Jane was a woman who liked to dress up, and her closet was absolutely full of sexy shit. I had her shower and make herself presentable, then spent the better part of an hour photographing and filming my red-haired goddess posing in lingerie and bikinis and slowly stripping out of designer clothing. Waste not, want not. The tears and her battered, scraped body only made it sexier.

   Finally it was time to go. I had her put on a black push-up bra and panties set, a little black dress, and stilettos. She put on some makeup (waterproof!) and brushed her hair, and once again she was every bit the sexy vixen.

   "What the fuck were you doing being a hotel clerk?" I asked. It was a legitimate question, she could've made a killing as a model. At least it meant I had a monopoly on sexy photos of her. "Let's go."

   I led her up to the roof. She was shaking almost uncontrollably when I closed the door and was approaching a panic attack when I ziptied her wrists. "You're going to kill me," she sobbed.
   "Shhhh, just relax babe," I whispered. The roof was one of those fancy modern urban ones with a wood floor and benches. I sat Jane down on one of them and tugged her panties down. Her pussy was wet with fear and it smelled so good. "This is something I only do for my favorite girls. Try to enjoy it, you've earned it."

   The moment my tongue touched Jane's clit she stiffened like she'd been struck by lightning. As the minutes wore on her moans took on a more desperate tone - I could tell she was close and I was only using tongue so far. In that case she should be fucked properly, so I removed my face, unbuckled my pants and shoved my cock inside her again.

   "NOOOO god pleeaaasse!" she cried. "I don't want to diiieeee!"

   I've always said a woman is at her most alluring when she knows she's going to die, and Jane was no exception. Her knees were next to her head, her panties dangling on one heeled foot as I plowed her deeper and deeper, sweat and tears poured down her face, her bulbous breasts threatening to pop free from the dress, her red hair flying back and forth as she wildly shook her head, trying to resist the sensations taking over her - I love forcing an orgasm on my helpless women, and the way that they fight and struggle against the last pleasures they'll receive on this earth makes it better. I hope they regret not appreciating it as they're dying.

   Jane was silent now, her face taught in grim determination before the inevitable took over. Her eyes shot open as she silently spent herself high and low, every inch of her creamy skin turning pink as she lost her final battle. I didn't give her time to recover before I shoved my cock in her mouth and came in her mouth.

   "Better swallow every drop if you want to live, slut," I ordered. Jane tried her hardest but it was too much of a surprise attack. A couple drops dribbled onto her chest and she desperately tried to catch them with her tongue, but the only thing she achieved was spilling more cum onto her mounds. A grown woman desperately trying to lick her own tits while jizz pools in her cleavage is a rare sight.
   Giving up, Jane choked back a sob and looked at me with the most pleading eyes. "Please don't kill me," she pleaded. "I'm begging you. I'll do anything. PLEEAAASE."

   I socked her in the face, which did a decent job shutting her up, then threw her to the ground chest-down. Kneeling on her back, I gripped her head with both hands.

   "I've always wanted to try this," I laughed. I twisted, but her neck didn't break.

   Jane figured out what I was trying to do pretty fast and began flailing, though fortunately screaming was a bit harder with a broken jaw. "PLEASE DON'T! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

   Well, I wanted her to. I twisted again, she yelped in pain but no cigar. It took about five more tries before I decided to change tactics. Instead of trying to quickly snap her neck like in the movies, I turned her head to the right as far as it would go, then hooked both hands across her face and pulled as hard as I can, slowly and painfully twisting her neck past its limits. Jane fought me, her teeth gritted and muscles flexing as she resisted my efforts, grunting in exertion. But I was stronger, and I had the leverage. I could hear crackling noises as slowly but surely Jane's neck reached its breaking point. She screamed in agony and her body began spasming under me as the delicate connections between her head and body came apart.


         "STOOOOOOOOOOP!" she howled, "nnnnnoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAHHHH-" She was interrupted by a a satisfying *crack!* and she immediately stopped struggling. I let go of her head and it flopped to the ground, her neck at a sickening angle.

   I turned her over onto her back. Jane was was still alive; her eyes darted back and forth in abject horror while her mouth tried to form words with lungs that she could no longer control. Her body twitched and shook as her nerves misfired and signals were scrambled. After a few minutes - I can only imagine how long they felt to the poor girl - Jane finished asphyxiating and her eyes glazed over. It was a few more minutes before the twitching stopped.

   I took a photo of my former desk clerk's sexy corpse, then put her panties back in their proper place, cut off the zipties, and tossed her off the roof. I hoped they'd chalk it up to just another suicide, but at the very least it would be a while before the cops could scrape Jane off the pavement and start looking for clues.

   Back at my hotel I stood in a room on one of my floors that I'd decided to re-purpose as a trophy room. I'd planned this before I took Miranda, the buff chick I snuffed a couple days ago, but alas I'd forgotten to take an actual trophy from her house. The room had a few female mannequins in it, ready to be adorned with my lovely victims' remains. Jane had the honor of being the first woman memorialized so, the first mannequin donning the sexy black lingerie she'd been wearing when I raped her in the pool. Next to it was a few of the photographs I'd taken of her in her room, and a flash drive with all the video and stills I'd taken of my redhead's demise. Maybe I'd have to buy a red wig for it.

   But that would have to wait. The FBI agent's phone number had an area code for a Colorado suburb, which narrowed my search considerably. It was time to do some research and finally take care of my legal problems.