Chapter 1

Randel’s life had never been easy. His mother was a whore, while his father was only known by God. Between the sting of his mother’s belt, seeing her fuck men for money, and his inability to get along with women in authority, he developed the most sincere and heartfelt hatred of women.

He tried being charming, but the girls and women he wanted to impress didn’t like overgrown oaths. He was a big boy, six feet five inches tall, with an odd face and strange, different colored eyes, one pale gray-blue and the other a bright green, and rough manner. By the time he graduated high school, he’d given up dating.

His fantasies revolved around the notion of hurting women. Mrs. Hallissey was the first woman he raped. She was his high school vice principal and had been, in his mind, cruel to him. And Randel was especially cruel to her.

After raping her, torturing her, and beating her within an inch of her life, he finished the job by snapping her neck. He disposed of her body on an abandoned farm, burying Mrs. Hallissey’s body and covering it with lye.

He went to trade school and became a computer guru. At 20, he went to work for a security company. His first job was installing security systems. The only girls he’d had any luck with were the ugly ones or the fat ones. When he fucked them, he was rough. They didn’t want to see him anymore.

Randel found it impossible to enjoy vanilla sex.

As stated above, he was a big man. Not only in his height and muscular frame, but also his cock was big. So when those girls were used hard, he hurt them. Randel enjoyed hurting them.

Actually, he reveled in their pain.

Randel loved fucking hard and hurting girls when he did. It was the only time he felt he had any power. By his 21st birthday, Randel decided he wasn’t going to settle for ugly bitches or for fat sluts. He’d take what he wanted, and when he did, he’d make the cunt know if she opened her trap, she’d end up dead.

Randel had no moral compunction that prevented him from murdering a person. He’d already done it and gotten away clean. Everyone in his hometown wondered what happened to poor Mrs. Hallissey.

He pondered, had anyone found her body yet?

It was Friday, the eighth of June, 2018, and Randel sat in his car one block from one of the many public pools in the city. This city was no different than any other. It had people with money and people without. He’d come straight to the pool from work. He’d had his eye on one rich bitch for a few weeks. He followed her after work and on the weekends. She went to the same pool probably every day in the summer.

She was the daughter of wealthy parents and had her own pool, but the cunt (his word, not mine) came to the public pool to show off her body.

Strutting around in different tiny bikinis showed off her deep tan. And occasionally allowing her pasty white, untanned flesh to contrast with it. Alice was an 18-year-old blonde goddess, the black boys all ogled her tiny body, small ass, and picture-perfect tiny tits.

If she lived in a city with a beach, they would’ve called her a beach nigger. Randel was surprised she didn’t wear her blonde hair in braided corn rows.

Alice loved the attention, but she never put out to anyone. The rumor was she’d like to munch carpet with her best friend. Her Bestie was on vacation with her folks.

Randel had, in his mind, a reason to hurt her.

The month before, he’d updated her parents’ security system. He tried several times to flirt with her. She’d roll her eyes, turn her back, or reply, “As if.”

’As if, what the fuck did she mean?’ Right off, Randel decided, ’The fucking cunt had to pay.’

The thing is, Randel was smart. He’d already figured out how to take the customers’ credentials from their system or copy their fob settings into another one. Randel would need to wait until she was home alone. That necessity limited when he would be able to take her.

At five-thirty, Alice left the pool, got in her Mustang, and drove home.

Following at a discrete distance, Randel trailed her and hoped her parents would leave or be away. He wasn’t sure how he’d figure that out. But sooner or later, he’d get the bitch and really make her wish she’d treated him better.

When she pulled in, one of the garage doors opened, and she parked next to a Mercedes. The four-car garage had two other cars beyond the one she parked beside. Expensive foreign models.

He’d seen the other two cars when he updated the system.

Despite that, he couldn’t remember what they were. He tried to remember as he watched the door descend. He pushed it out of his head. Why had he been thinking of what the cars were? The only thing of importance in the whole wide world was that dumb cunts attitude toward him. After an hour, the second garage door opened, and a baby-blue BMW backed out of it, carrying her mommy and daddy.

She’d be alone, but for how long. Randel slumped down in the driver’s seat as they drove by. Once they passed, he slid up, watching them disappear in his review. Pulling a notebook from his console, he found the number and called it.

“Hello, Thomson residence, Alice speaking.”

“Hey there, Alice, is your dad home?”

“No,” Alice said. “Mommy and Daddy went to the cabin for the weekend. Do you want that number?”

“No, I’ll call next week. It’s nothing important. Have a good weekend, Alice.”

“Thank you, bye.” Alice couldn’t help but wonder who the caller was. His voice was vaguely familiar.

He killed the call and opened the app to their system. The alarm was on, good. Let the bitch get comfortable and relax a bit, and then kill her fucking happiness. Randel pondered if she was a virgin. He hoped she’d never had anything but a finger and tongue inside her twat.

Either way, he was pretty sure no one she’d fucked would have a member like his. Eight and quarter inches long, seven and a half around, he’d stretch her, hurt her, and that’s what was important.

The alarm was shut down, and his eyes widened. Alice might be leaving. That wouldn’t do. He tapped the cam link; she was strutting around in a different swimsuit. Even smaller than she’d worn at the pool, a clear, two-inch wide, white line was between her tan and the pink of her swimsuit.

“Beach nigger for sure,” he said. Randel pushed the buttons, and the windows slid up with an electric motor whine. It was seven-thirty, and she’d only have an hour or so of sunlight. Damn it, she had friends coming over.

Randel opened the glovebox, pulled out the bottle of blue pills, and popped one into his mouth.

“Yeah, this will keep me going all night.” He returned the bottle and closed the little hatch.

Leaving the car on the street, he made his way to the gate leading to the Thompsons’ backyard. As quietly as possible, he lifted the latch on the gate and slipped inside. Creeping down the side of the house, slow and careful, quiet as can be, he made his way to where he could see her.

She lay on a lawn chair, texting and giggling as she did. Alice was toned but tiny. He’d do all he could to break her body and spirit. Her pink string bikini barely covered her tight body. He slipped off his boots and pulled his socks off, putting them in his boots.

He stepped on the hot concrete and crept toward her. Once he was behind her, he pounced. Grabbing her and yanking her off the seat, pulling her to him, one hand clamped over her mouth, pinching her nose closed between his thumb and forefinger. He held her up, her feet more than a foot off the ground.

Kicking and flaying her arms, trying to scream, the beast held her body motionless. Clawing at Randel’s big arms, she wanted to scratch him, but soon, the fight went out of Alice. The kicking slowed. Her hand would hit at his arms, weakly and then weaker.

Finally, she went limp. Tossing Alice over his shoulder, Randel picked up the phone and studied the group texting.

Randel’s fingers danced over the keyboard: “BRB.”

A moment later, “Fuck they came back.” Waiting a few seconds as friends started asking if the party was on or off. “POS,” he sent to them. “OMG, PPL, they aren’t going away after all! QQ, KMS.”

Someone identified as Sandy, “Not funny, DEGT. CYO L8R.”

“CRBT, GG.”

Each party in the group, all girls, “L8R.”

“Bunch of teen lesbos,” Randel said.

This was perfect for him. A house built like a fort, soundproofed, with a large lawn in front and a massive backyard with a pool. High fences which provide privacy should he and the cunt want to swim.

Fetching his boots, he took his prize inside the house. He remembered her bedroom was upstairs. First, he wanted a smoke, drink, and to humiliate the whore a bit. Dropping Alice to her feet, holding her up with his left hand on her shoulder, he stepped back from her. With the palm of his right hand, Randel struck her left cheek with a brutal slap.

Alice’s eyes flung open. She screamed at the top of her lungs, then glowered at the man.

“What the fuck,” she said.

This time, he backhanded her and sent the girl sprawling across the tiled floor.

“Respect your betters, you fucking cheap bitch.”

“You aren’t my better,” Alice said, rising on her hands to push herself up.

With a swift, vicious, upward kick of his bare foot, he picked her off the ground and sent her crashing into the refrigerator door. The pain blasted in her belly and back. Alice sunk to the floor again. Clutching her by the throat, he lifted her, with her back against the icebox, up to his eye level.

Her hands grabbed his wrist.

Randel squeezed tight, a sadistic smile on his face.

Alice tried to speak but only choked out a plea, soft but raspy, “Please.”

He squeezed tighter, shutting off the blood to her brain. Her eyes lulled upward, and out she went—again. He released his grasp, and she collided with the floor. Coughing and hacking, she gazed up into his hateful scowl.

“My dear, little Alice, you belong to me.” Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, he plucked out one and returned the pack. Fishing out his lighter, he lit up and breathed out the smoke with an order, “Take me to your daddy’s booze.”

As her breathing eased, she scrambled to her feet. Alice’s mind searched for a weapon, and she spotted the knives in the knife butcher’s block. She moved forward, running her hand on the cool marble as she stepped closer and closer to the holder. As her hand hovered above the counter, ready to grab one of them, Randel grabbed Alice and pulled her to him. Randel yanked a large butcher’s knife and laid the blade right against her throat.

“You really are a stupid cunt,” he said. Randel returned the blade to where it belonged. “Now, lead me to the booze.”

She led him to the den. He made her fix him a drink, a shot of bourbon on the rocks. He drank it down in a gulp, and after he set the glass down, Randel ripped the string bikini top off of her with one forceful move. The strings snapped, and her small tits and plump hard nipples were exposed.

Clutching her left breast, he squeezed and pinched her nipples and tit mercilessly.

Alice tried to squirm free, but Randel squeezed tighter and shot her a warning look. She danced on her toes, and he switched between her tits. Tears streaked down her face. A girl or woman in pain always got his dick going.

At long last, he let loose of her tits, his hand slid down her body, grabbing the tiny triangle of pink cloth covering her pussy, and he snatched it off with a violent jerk. Her pale white mound was shaved clean. He clenched his hand into almost a fist, clamping on her twat like a vice closed over something soft—crushing the flesh, bruising it against the bone.

The tears gushed like a waterfall.

“Those are nice tears,” Randel said. “Nothing makes you more of a woman than crying. At least until I bust that cunt open.”

“Please, I’m a virgin,” Alice said, still not realizing that wasn’t a deterrent to a man like him.

He laughed, a hearty, deepthroated chuckle, as he unsnapped his western shirt. Pulling it off, he dropped it on the carpeted floor, ordered Alice to fold it, and put it on the back of the sofa.

She did as he told her.

Unbuckling his belt, Randel pulled it free and put the big rodeo buckle in his hand along with the other end. Taking the middle into his left hand, he snapped the leather a few times, then sat on a wooden straight-back chair. Randel patted his lap.

“Come and bend over my knee, whore.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Alice knew why. She couldn’t even imagine why she’d asked. Dutifully, she stretched over his knee. Her feet left the floor by an inch or two. After all, she was only five feet tall. Alice felt the lump in his pants and realized he had a gigantic penis.

“Duck your head and put your hands behind your back.”

As soon as she complied, he held her wrists together with his bear paw of a hand. A kind master would start with alternating soft blows to warm her cheeks before he whipped her ass. But Randel wasn’t kind. He was cruel, so the first blow was sharp and brutish. It was followed by ten more of the same.

As he whipped her ass, her feet kicked, she shrieked, and bawled. Picking a cigarette from the pack, he lit a smoke, putting the cherry red end on her ass. He branded one cheek with the letter R.

He stood, and she fell to the floor. Randel unbuttoned his fly and let his pants fall around his ankles. Returning to the chair, he snapped his fingers.

“Get me another drink, skank, bring it to me, and get yourself on your knees.”

An argument raged in Alice’s head. One voice shouted to run, and another urged her not to be foolish. He was big and strong, and his steps would be twice the distance of hers. The calm voice advocating caution won the day.