Saint and a Sinner
Copyright© 2005 by Daniellekitten
Chapter 23
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 23 - Novel size story of a serial killer who terrorizes a small community and the detective and sheriff's deputy who hunt him.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic NonConsensual Rape Violence
Tonight.
He giggled as he put together his kit. This was a special day, a special night. Everything had to be perfect for them. He carefully chose a knife from the array spread on the table in front of him. He checked the edge for sharpness and giggled when it bit into his finger deep enough to draw blood.
He stared at the drop of blood, lost in the glossy deep red of it. It was so pretty in the light, much prettier than at night. Then it was too black and deep. Like deep wells that were waiting to suck him in or like the shadows that used to chase him in the attic. He stuck the finger in his mouth and sucked on his own blood. Then he put the knife in the bag.
He'd spent the day running their errands. He'd answered phones, heard so many crackpots who thought that they knew him, knew his Purpose. He'd heard the stories, the ones who thought he was an alien, who thought he was their neighbor, one lady had even said he was a transvestite that came up from Detroit on the weekends.
What they didn't realize, had no idea, he was so much more than all of that, than all of them. He had hoped they would understand, but it didn't matter anymore. He had new plans and she was going to help him fulfill them.
He had watched her today, watched her run around with the high and mighty detective. She had been so pretty, her hair shining in the bright sun. She sparkled, glowed. He wanted that. So he had watched and planned. He thought if he could think about her hard enough, she would see him and she would know. But she hadn't noticed him, hadn't heard his silent calls. That would change. He would become all to her. He would be more than any other man had been. He would be lover and killer, benefactor and enemy. He would hold her life in his hand and gently show her how absolutely beautiful death could be.
It was his Purpose. She was his. She just didn't know it yet. He had watched them last night, stood outside the bedroom window and watched as he defiled her. He would pay for that later. But she came first. She had to be made to see that what he did, what he was, was so much more important than what she was doing now. When she saw, when she came to love him, she could share in his purpose. She could join him in his studies. It would be perfect.
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