Be Still My Love
Chapter 1: A Death for All Seasons
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual, NonConsensual, Rape, Heterosexual, Mystery,
Desc: Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 1: A Death for All Seasons - Canadian agent Hamilton Bahn is tangled with a very sexy assistant as he searches for a sadistic killer who has murdered four politicians and will soon kill again - if not stopped.
Hamilton Bahn thrust his rigid staff harder and deeper into the writhing, sexy female who was nearing her orgasm beneath him. Spurred by his movements, she used her straining, shapely, silken legs to try and leverage herself up and force him even further into her before the release of climax took hold of them both.
"Fuck me, Ham!" her breathless, girlish voice urged into his ear as the hand that wasn't now hidden beneath the pillow beside her clutched at the taut muscles of his heaving, sweating back and pulled his broad, hairy chest against her compressed breasts.
He could feel her curvy body straining upward, under him, as all of her muscles and sinews coiled before the very moment of euphoric explosion.
He struggled to keep his needed wits about him but there was nothing he could do other than abandon himself to the immense feelings of carnal pleasure. He was about to erupt and his penis swelled even harder, inside of her, as the crest of his own sexual pinnacle was at hand.
He emitted a low, guttural sound as he started to climax, his member lurching and throbbing, deep inside of her, as it began to ejaculate its first pressurized streams of scalding semen.
Feeling the heat of this within her, she angled her wide, lower torso even further upward to receive his final, depositing thrusts even deeper, bringing her over the edge and into the throes of blissful orgasmic abandon.
Just as the onset of climax caused her to breathe deeply inward, eyes closed tightly to reflect the sublime ecstasy taking possession within her, Bahn saw his opportunity and pulled the hidden plastic bag from under their shared pillow and, in a quick motion, pulled it over her head and tightened it around her neck so that she was suddenly unable to draw any inward breath.
She reacted in complete surprise and shock under him, writhing her body with even more urgency as her eyes widened in utter horror at what was happening.
Running his hand up her left arm to hold her hidden wrist firmly against the mattress, he pushed his still ejaculating cock even further inward as he felt her vaginal muscles clamp almost painfully around his erupting member in the rigor of her frantic struggle.
It took almost a full minute before her body succumbed to suffocation and she went totally limp under him.
Bahn withdrew slowly from her and got to his knees, looking down at her motionless, but still curvaceously sexy body, lying still and lifeless on the bed. How long, he wondered, was the road that had brought him to this exact moment? How had things conspired to bring him to do what he had just done?
It was only a few days before that he had been working late at his office in Ottawa, reading intelligence ciphers, filing reports on those decoded ciphers and counting the official beans that those above him thought needed to be counted and accounted for.
Hamilton Bahn's profession was that of a civil servant, more or less. An agent for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service which acts, under the auspices of Parliament and through the Minister of Public Safety, as the primary intelligence gathering service of Canada. Bahn's section, of this agency, was charged with, not only collecting the intelligence, but also acting, with force if necessary, on that collected intelligence.
The head of this trouble-shooting department was a strict, tactful, no-nonsense woman, in her mid fifties, whom everyone called by a conjuncture of her initials EJLS which was pronounced Ells (as rhymes with shells). This was because her last name was deemed unpronounceable, by most, and she certainly did not want her underlings to be on a first name basis with her. She disdained being called Mrs. Whatever but did not object to being called simply ma'am.
"Is that you, Inspector Bahn?" she inquired, her voice stopping him, that day, as he was about to pass by the open doorway of her office. In her brown, austere, business suit you most certainly would not pick her out from among a group of PTA mothers.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, realizing as she turned her face to him that he hadn't buttoned the collar of his shirt or pulled his tie up. Ells was a stickler for decorum at the office. Just as much as she was about how she was addressed.
"Working late?" she asked, the stern, grey-blue eyes, in the center of her round face, showing wide and clear below the severe bangs of her short, platinum-hued coiffure.
"Yes, ma'am," Bahn said as he pulled the knot in his tie up and into place. "There were a few items to clear up before the holiday weekend."
"Come in," she told him. "I've got a few items here that I want to show you."
Bahn walked over to her neatly arranged desk, the late afternoon sun bathing the office in yellow light from the large windows as he took a place to the side of where she was standing.
Ells picked up a manila envelope and emptied its contents onto her desktop. What appeared, to Bahn, to be four greeting cards fell onto the tan-colored blotter.
"These cards were left at the scenes of four seemingly senseless and very bloody murders," she said as she picked up one of the gaily colored, folded cards and handed it to him.
There was a colourful drawing depicting a turkey on the front and, as he opened it, the message on the inside stated I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR FEAST. There was no signature but there appeared to be a brownish colored fingerprint where the signature would normally have been.
"That's a thumb print," Ells offered.
"The print, in his own blood, is from the right thumb of the victim who was a high justice on Manitoba's Court of Queen's Bench."
"Alistair Mackenzie," he observed aloud. "I remember the news accounts of him being found dead last October. But I don't remember any news of this card."
"Precisely right, Inspector. This card was deemed important inside information by the Winnipeg PD and the Manitoba RC's. A piece of evidence that only the killer himself would be aware of. That and the method of death."
"The method of death? I recall the news reports stating that he had died of some sort of knife wounds."
"Magistrate Mackenzie died from both bleeding out and suffocation."
"Oh, how so?"
Ells looked directly at Bahn now who, taking notice, looked directly back at her.
"The judge had been found naked and secured to a chair. His penis had been neatly severed, below the base, and shoved down his throat so that only his testicles appeared dangling from his mouth."
"Nasty business," he observed, a sour expression coming over his face as he looked back at the greeting card in his hand.
"That was found on the table next to the body," Ells explained. "A table that also contained the bloody straight razor that had done the deed. No prints were found on it."
"It sounds like somebody had it in for him," Bahn stated.
"That's an understatement, Inspector," she said as she handed him another of the cards whose cover depicted a jolly Saint Nicholas and the words SEASONS GREETINGS in red and green.
Opening the card, he read the flowery printed HOPE THIS SEASON IS JOLLY and then, once again, the bloody thumb print below it. "And what was the story behind this one?" he inquired of his superior.
"An alderman in Toronto."
Bahn immediately remembered seeing the headlines in THE STAR. "Brian Neeley was his name as I recall."
Ells nodded. "Murdered the same way with his penis severed and lodged in his throat and this card on the table, with the straight razor, next to his body."
"So one murder for the Thanksgiving season and the next for the Christmas season..."
"Correct. And the next body and card were discovered the day after New Year. It was an MP in Ottawa."
"Gordon Hewett," Bahn interjected, having heard the news of that killing in January. "He was an MP from Saskatchewan."
"Yes," Ells confirmed. "He represented the Regina-Lumsden riding. Found dead in a room at the Lord Elgin Hotel. Same M.O. and card at the scene."
Bahn looked down and could see one last card on the desk, a red card with a pink heart. "And who received this one?" he asked, picking it up.
"Pierre Leclercq who was an assistant Crown Prosecutor in Montreal and a candidate to lead the Parti Quebecois in the next election."
"I remember the news of his murder just a couple of months ago. They reported that he was killed shortly after a rally for the separatists at the Hotel Le St. James."
"Yes, in his hotel room with the same modus operandi again and that card with his thumbprint," she stated.
"A gruesome murder and card and for each of the passing seasons."
"That's what we have, Inspector. The RC's have dubbed him the Seasonal Killer and, as you can gather, people in government are his targets and, when politicians are being killed, politicians get scared and pull strings. Because of the nature of who he is killing, the very high ups (meaning the Inspector General's office) have dropped this on Director Fadden and Ceesis and it's come to our little section to resolve and stop - by any means mind you - before the next killing."
"And, I take it, you're about to drop it on me?"
"You're relatively new to this trouble-shooting section, aren't you, Inspector?"
"I came here last fall, ma'am, as you recall."
"Yes," she said, picking up a file from the corner of her desk and opening it to peruse among the papers as she read aloud, "Hamilton Bahn, age 38, graduated from the Royal Military College of Canada, served four years in the Navy and saw service aboard the HMCS Athabaskan, reached rank of Lieutenant, after resigning commission joined RCMP where he trained at Depot and graduated first in class in 2000, excelled in criminology studies and espionage, expert with small arms fire and hand-to-hand combat techniques, reached the rank of Inspector and then transferred to CSIS 10-24 of last year ... exemplary record..." Ells read on silently for a moment and then looked up at her subordinate. "It says here that you were instrumental in the Almalki case."
"He was being held and tortured in Syria, ma'am. Accused of being a Canadian agent. It was well known here that he wasn't so I went to Syria, extracted him and brought him back."
"Shot the place up with your Mountie issue Smith, did you?"
Bahn smiled. "Nothing so daring, ma'am. I just used a little persuasive, vocal diplomacy and they let him go."
"None the less it got you a Meritorious Service medal and a promotion to Inspector before you transferred here." She looked back down at the folder. "You've handled a couple of minor field assignments at Ceesis and performed very well. Think you can track this guy down?"
"I can do my best, ma'am. I can already see that our backs are against it."
"Today is Thursday and Easter is only three days away. I would expect the next killing would be on Easter, if he's keeping with this "seasons" notion."
"Alright then, Inspector Bahn. Take the file and get to work."
"Yes, ma'am," Bahn said, picking up the folder from the desktop and turning to leave.
"Oh, there's one more thing," Ells announced from behind him.
"Yes?" he said, turning back to face her.
"There's an RCMP constable who has been working the case ... very diligent and will be assisting you."
Bahn didn't like assistants. He always preferred to work alone. It helped him cut through the red tape and get the job done quicker. Maybe, he thought to himself, Ells wasn't that secure with assigning him this job.
"Who is he?" Bahn asked.
"Not he ... she," Ells replied. "Her name is Kittredge. Kittredge Cassidy."