Warning: this story contains graphic rape and murder. Don't read it if this isn't your cup of tea.

Conversely, if this is your cup of tea, so much so that you think you should try hurting someone in real life, please reconsider, as you are too stupid to get away with it and too soft for prison, where you will be raped more savagely than even my twisted mind could imagine.

If, however, you are somewhere in the middle, then please enjoy...

The Van 3: First Timer

       I was driving home from work on a Friday afternoon when I got the call. I recognized the number immediately, but I stared at it for a moment to be sure. It was Mark and Jean’s phone. I hadn’t communicated with them in over a year, and had deleted their number from my cell, but I still recognized it.

       “Juan?” said the voice on the other end. “It’s Mark T. What are you up to tonight?”

       “Uhh…” I hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

       He sounded really pleased with himself. “Trust me, you won’t regret it. Eight O-Clock.”

       With that he hung up, not giving me a chance to reply. Immediately my stomach started to churn with anticipation and anxiety. Between the years of 2007-2009 I had witnessed Mark and his wife Jean murder seven women. Although “witnessed” wasn’t perhaps the most accurate word, as I had actually filmed all of those murders on a high-definition digital camcorder. “Accomplice” is the word the police would use.

       I couldn’t imagine them trying to blackmail me, being killers themselves, but it was probably a wise idea to stay on their good side. I pulled off the interstate and headed for their house.

       It had started as a documentary, like one of those discovery channel shows where a naturalist spends a year filming a pride of lions in the savannah. Only instead of animal predators, I was going to chronicle human ones.

       I promised them that their identities would be protected by blurring out their faces and disguising their voices. We all agreed that under no circumstances would I get involved. That meant that no matter how sorry I felt for one of their victims, I had to resist the temptation to interfere. Unfortunately, on the very first kill I accompanied them on, Mark pressured me into helping him dispose of evidence. I had become involved in a way I never would have anticipated. But the most surprising thing had been that I actually enjoyed watching that girl die.

       From there my involvement had only grown deeper. Not only did I film, with the enthusiasm of a pornographer, the rapes and murders that took place before my eyes, but I actually began to help the killers lure in fresh victims. I had even sat on a girl’s legs once as Mark strangled her.

       Eventually I gave up the idea of ever releasing the footage. Instead of a great documentary it became my private collection of snuff porn. Although I never actually killed anyone, I masturbated daily to scenes of girls, some of them just teenagers, dying painfully.

       It was Mark and Jean who eventually broke off our partnership. They thought we were drawing too much attention to ourselves, and that we should take a break. I couldn’t help but wonder, after Mark’s call, if they were thinking of killing again.

       As if on cue, my phone beeped, announcing that I had a text message. It was actually a picture message, from Mark. It was a woman’s face, scared, with duct tape over her mouth. There was also text: “hry up or she mht be ded when u get here.”

I arrived at the house excited. Jean answered the door with a wry smile on her face. “Welcome, stranger,” she said. “We have a little treat for you.”

       As she led me through the house (which was really more of a mansion –they were very well off) it occurred to me that Jean had never liked it when Mark brought girls into their home. She had always preferred to take them somewhere secluded, often killing them in the van. If indeed they had a captive waiting in the house, she was acting surprisingly cheerful about it.

       I soon learned why. Jean led me through a remarkably well-hidden false wall into a room I had never seen before. It was quite lavish, with a full bar, fifty-inch flat screen and an adjoining bathroom. There was also a luxurious king bed with a naked young woman on it, her wrists tied to the headboards. Next to her sat Mark, casually stroking her leg. When he saw me he got up.

       “You made it!” he said with a big smile. “What do you think of the new room? We built this over the last year ourselves, didn’t trust it to a contractor.”

       “I like it,” I said. “Is this where you’re… doing the deed now?”

       “The room was my idea,” said Jean. “As you know, I never liked the risk of taking victims into the house, but it was getting to be to much trouble taking them somewhere else. So we just had a soundproofed room installed.”

       “That way we can keep a girl for as long as we want without worrying about someone hearing her,” replied Mark. “We could throw a dinner party with a bitch screaming away the whole time and no one would know.”

       “Also I can go to bed while Mark plays without getting woken up by the screaming,” said Jean.

       “Nice,” I replied. “How long have you guys been enjoying her? I should tell you I didn’t think to bring my camcorder.”

       “No worries there,” said Mark. “HD cameras everywhere.”

       “And we actually haven’t touched the girl yet,” said Jean. “That’s going to be your job.”

       I looked at her quizzically, then at Mark. We had talked about this before: I had never killed someone and didn’t want to cross that line.

       “Guys,” I said, “I don’t know if I can kill someone.”

       Suddenly the girl cried out, “Oh God! Don’t kill me! I didn’t do anything to you!”

       Without a word, Jean walked over to the bed, slapped her in the face, and gagged her. She continued to whimper and plead, but we could no longer understand her.

       “Look at it this way,” said Mark. “This chick is already dead. By this time tomorrow she’ll be worm food. She’s gonna get fucked and she’s gonna get killed, either by you or by me. So why not let it be you?”

       I looked at the girl. There was no denying her attractiveness. About 5'4", slender, but with full hips and breasts. I brushed her wavy brown hair out of her face to get a better look at her. Big grey eyes, wide with fear, stared back at me. Suddenly, she looked familiar to me.

       "Do you recognize her?" asked Jean. "Think rib eyes and beer."

       Then it dawned on me. The cute upturned nose, strong jaw line, oval face... "It's the girl from McElheny's," I said at last. McElheny's was a steakhouse/bar that the three of us had frequented during our killing spree. One of our waitresses had been particularly sexy, and so we started asking for her and she became our regular server.

       "Theresa is her name," said Mark. "But I'm sure you knew that. Do you remember what you said about her?"

       I did. One night when I had a few more drinks in me than normal, Mark and Jean had asked me what kind of girl was my perfect victim. The waitress was bending over to serve another table at that moment, and I got a tantalizing view of her cleavage. "Someone like that," I had said with a sudden surge of lust. "I would love to snuff that girl."

       But it was different now that she was actually in front of me and I wasn't full of liquid courage. "Listen, guys," I said. "She was always really nice to us. Couldn't we find someone else who I've never met before?"

       "It's not about nice or mean," replied Mark. "This isn't a revenge killing. It's not personal. She has something you want, so you take it."

       "There are basically two types of people in the world, Juan," added Jean. "There are predators and there are prey. Mark and I are predators. This girl is prey. What are you?"

       Their speech, along with the sight of the girl's tiny form squirming about on the bed had turned me on quite a bit. I could feel myself surrendering the last of my humanity -it was a sickly sweet feeling.

       “Alright,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

       I wasn't ready to start quite yet though. Mark offered me a viagra, which I accepted. It would help me to get the most out the girl. While I waited for it to take effect, we all sat down to a casual dinner. I hadn't eaten all day and was famished.

       Our stomachs full, we returned to the rape room. Theresa was where we had left her, tied to the bed. I sat down next to her and put my hand between her legs. She wriggled and cried, but couldn't stop me. Because she was just a normal girl, and not a porn star, her pussy was hairier than I cared for.

       "I'd like to shave her first," I told Jean. "Do you have a razor?"

       "Of course." She left and returned with a pink bic and shaving cream. "Let me do it," she said. "I'm used to shaving my pussy so I won't leave any cuts."

       Mark and I each took an ankle and spread the girl's legs. She fought us desperately, and I had to use both hands to secure her. I enjoyed the sensation of her calf in one hand, her straining inner thigh in the other. Her legs were shapely but slender, and I soon had control of her.

       Jean sat between her legs and squirted the shaving cream onto her cunt. It was clear that she wasn't happy about that, because she started bucking her hips wildly and screaming into the gag. Jean tried to shave her anyway, but every time she got a good start the girl would buck and she would lose her place. Finally Jean had had enough. She slapped the girl, then forced her to calm down.

       "Theresa," Jean said calmly, almost compassionately, "I'm going to shave your pussy. You can't stop that from happening. If you keep struggling, you're going to get cut up. I know this is hard, but I need you to hold still, okay?"

       Finally the girl nodded and stopped struggling. Jean lowered the razor to her pussy and carefully scraped away a swath of pubic hair. Tears of humiliation began to run down the girl's face.

       Gradually, the girl's vagina became visible. As Jean shaved off the last of the hair and then patted away the cream with a towel, she admired the naked cunt that had been hidden moments before.

       "Oh, yeah," Jean remarked, admiring the girl's sex lips. "She has a pretty little pussy, Juan." She slid a finger into the girl, who gasped and tensed up. "Very tight. I think you're going to enjoy yourself."

       "How do you think you want to kill her?" asked Mark, causing the girl to sob.

       I thought about it for a moment. Mark had always choked his victims to death, so I had assumed that I would do the same. But now that I was given the choice, something else occurred to me.

       "I'd like to use a knife."

       Mark looked surprised, but interested. "That could be fun," he replied. "You'll just have to make sure not to kill her too quickly."

       "What do you mean?" I asked.

       "Well, the most difficult part of snuffing a chick, for someone without experience, is getting the most out of her. You're only going to be able to kill her once, so you want to extract as much pleasure from her as possible. I like to strangle chicks because it’s a naturally slow process. With a knife you might kill her too quickly."

       I considered his argument, but I still wanted to slash her to death.

       "Fair enough," said Jean, "but we'll need to cover the bed if there's going to be blood."

       Mark had something in the garage for that, he said. He left and returned with a huge tarpaulin. We untied the girl and moved her off the bed. As Mark held her still, Jean and I spread the tarp over the bed and surrounding area.

       "That should do the trick," said Mark. The girl was literally trembling in his grasp. We carried her back to the bed and re-tied her wrists to the headboard.

       Mark liked screaming, so he removed her gag. "What do you think, Honey?" he asked her. "Looks like you're in a pretty bad spot."

       She was truly terrified. She looked at each of us in turn, searching for compassion. Finally she managed to blurt out, in choked sobs, "I... I... don't... want to die!"

       "Of course you don't," replied Jean, gently stroking her cheek. "They never do. But you're going to die anyway. You're going to die full of cum, because that's what you're good for."

       The color drained from young Theresa’s face and I thought for a moment she was going to pass out. As Mark and I forced her back onto the tarp-covered bed and re-tied her wrists to the headboard, she began to cry again. She was on the verge of hyperventilating, and her sobs came in hitches; a loud wail followed by a few seconds of silence before the next outbreak.

       “I have to say,” said Mark, admiring our prize, “I might have a go at her myself. After she’s dead of course. You ready to get started?”

       “I’m ready,” I replied nervously.

       “Let me just run and get you some cutlery,” said Jean, and left the room.

       I stared at the girl, hardly able to believe what I was about to do to her. She was one of those girls who actually look prettier after they’ve been crying. Her tiny nose and cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were big and full of tears.

       “No need to wait for Jean,” Mark said, interrupting my reverie. “You can start on her now.”

       I took my pants off and climbed onto the bed. The viagra, along with the bound young woman in front of me, had taken its affect, and I was sporting my best erection in years.

       “Please don’t do this, sir,” said the girl, finding her voice again. “My parents…” here her voice cracked and she couldn’t finish. I found myself starting to feel sorry for her, which I couldn’t afford to let happen.

       “Can we gag her?” I asked Mark.

       “Certainly,” he replied. He re-gagged her and then took her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Your parents,” he said, “are never going to see you again.”

       She clenched her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking. Not wanting to let myself chicken out, I quickly spread her legs and forced the tip of my cock up to her pussy lips. Then with a violent surge I thrust myself into her.

       God, she felt nice! It had been years since I had had such young pussy, and I had forgotten how good it was. But honestly, even at my peak it had never been this wonderful. Knowing what was in store for her increased my excitement tremendously.

       Jean returned to find me in up to my balls. She had brought a selection of knives for me to choose from. Unfortunately, before she reached the bed I found myself cumming. I tried to stop myself at first, but when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to I sped up in order to achieve the best possible orgasm. There was a long initial spurt and then three or four aftershocks spanning about 20 seconds. I pulled out of the girl having been inside of her for less than two minutes. My disappointment must have been evident to Mark, who immediately tried to comfort me.

       “Perfectly normal,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “The first time is always the quickest.”

       “She’s just so pretty,” I replied, shaking my head.

       “I have something that might help.” He reached into a pocket and produced a pill bottle. “Effexor,” he said. “They’re for anxiety. One of the pleasant side effects is sexual stamina.”

       As I waited for the pill to take effect, and for my testicles to re-fill, I watched as Jean had a go at our unfortunate guest. Jean didn’t often show more than a passing interest in molesting the victims they collected. She normally got most of her satisfaction out of psychological torment. The one time I had seen her physically participate in a rape had been a particularly savage attack that had left the victim unusable for anyone that followed.

       Jean looked at me and read my mind. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m just going to warm her up for you. I promise not to leave a scratch.”

       The girl had pulled her legs up into the fetal position. Jean sat down on the bed next to her and began to gently caress her thighs.

       “You are a fine specimen of womanhood, Theresa,” Jean said admiringly. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. Just look at these feet.”

       She took the girl’s tiny foot in her hands. “So dainty. I myself have rather large feet. I’ve always been a little self conscious about it.”

       I had never know jean to be a foot fetishist, so it took me by surprise when she licked the girl’s sole. Theresa flinched, but Jean held her foot fast.

       “Tasty too,” remarked Jean. “Let me ask you something, Theresa.” Here she slid up to the head of the bed and brought her face close to the girl’s. She grabbed a handful of ass-cheek and then let her middle finger slide into the young woman’s anus.

       “Would you mind if we cut off your feet? I mean, you’re not going to be using them and they would just go to waste.”

       Theresa turned her head into the pillow, which was her only escape.

       “No? Well I might just take them anyway.”

       In addition to the knives, Jean had brought a small garbage bag from the kitchen. I hadn’t really understood why until she started to pull it over the girl’s head.

       “I’ve often wondered what it must feel like to know you’re about to die,” she mused, pulling the bottom of the bag tight against Theresa’s throat and sealing off her air. As her victim realized what was happening, she began to struggle, but with her arms secured there was little she could do.

       “In one way you should consider yourself lucky,” continued Jean, sliding a hand under her pants and pleasuring herself. “In this day and age, few humans ever experience what it is to be prey. To die for the satisfaction of something greater than yourself.”

       She opened the bag and let her victim take in a deep breath, then sealed it again.

       “You are going to experience that very soon, my dear. You will… aaaah… will die… Oh, fuck!” She was masturbating furiously now, and was losing her eloquence. “Fucking murdered little cunt!”

       Mark and I watched in awe, not considering that she might actually finish the young woman off accidentally. By the time she finally brought herself to orgasm, the girl wasn’t moving.

       Jean removed the bag and lifted Theresa’s head off the pillow.

       “Shit!” she said, and immediately began performing CPR on the unconscious waitress. After a few scary moments, she was able to revive her.

       “Sorry, Juan,” said Jean. “I almost ruined that for you. But she’s yours now. Take her out in style.”

       I was ready. Jean’s performance had inspired me. Theresa must have still been groggy, because she hardly put up any fight as I crawled between her legs. I was semi hard already, and with a few seconds of stroking myself I was ready. I spread her pussy lips and shoved my cock into her with a grunt.

       It was even better than the first time. I didn’t feel the desperate need to ejaculate, so I could enjoy her flesh at my leisure. I lingered on the sensation of the meaty walls of her vagina pressing around my dick, slowly savoring her youthful body.

       Still fucking her, I began to roughly knead her breasts with my hands. They were not too big, but firm and almost perfectly round. I dug my fingers into them and elicited a yelp of pain from my victim. She was fully conscious.

       “You should cut her tits off,” suggested Jean, handing me a knife.

       “Let him do it his way, Jean,” said Mark.

       I looked at the knife. The girl looked at the knife and began shaking her head no. I tentatively brought the knife to her left breast, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to cut her. After about half a minute, Mark offered some advice.

       “Just let yourself go,” he said.

       I sliced into the girl’s breast. Not too deep, maybe half an inch, but she cried out in pain. More importantly, I felt a restraint lifted.

       I began to fuck her faster and harder, working my way into a frenzy. I think my cock was hurting her more than the knife had. It was time to change that.

       Suddenly I plunged the knife into her stomach. It was one of the most satisfying sensations I had ever experienced. I could actually FEEL the knife slicing through her body, as if it were an extension of my cock. It was like I was fucking her internal organs.

       The girl’s eyes were wide with shock. If she had harbored any lingering hope of survival, that was now extinguished.

       Jean, meanwhile, was beside herself with lust. Normally very cool and well-spoken, desire had made her bestial.

       “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of your corpse, Theresa,” she commented. Then she kissed her on the mouth. It was a deep, probing kiss, but the girl was too stunned to do anything about it.

       I was really fucking her hard now, and I started to feel the head of my cock bumping up against her cervix.        This must have hurt her, because even with a stomach wound she cried out in synch with my thrusts.

       I could feel an orgasm approaching, and decided it was time to finish the girl. I jabbed the knife deep into her breast, causing her to scream in agony. I pulled the knife out and thrust it into her chest. This time she only grunted and blinked in shock.

       I was seconds from orgasm at this point. Placing the knife under the young waitress’s chin, I sunk the blade into her neck. Using all of my strength, I cut her throat from ear to ear, severing her windpipe.

       I looked into her staring dead eyes and came harder than I ever have in my life. I shot load after load into that girl, emptying what must have been a month’s worth of cum into her dead pussy.

       Finally I extracted myself and kissed her, almost tenderly, on the forehead.

       “Well?” asked Mark. “How was you’re first time?”

       I realized that it had been a kind of initiation rite. That I had just bonded with Mark and Jean in a very permanent way, and that I was now one of them.

       “It was everything I had hoped for,” I admitted simply.

       “Good,” he replied. “Now if you don’t mind, there’s a perfectly good ass here that hasn’t been used at all, and I’m horny as hell.”

       I helped him to turn the girl onto her stomach.