by Noir, Stella
“He’s from Brooklyn too”, I say. “That makes him important for the city of New York and for The States as a whole. There is no one else like him, anywhere in the world.”
“I’ve got to agree with you on that one. Lots of serial killers kill virgins, but none of them do it in the way Bone does. None of them do it with such care, reverence or delicate, discerning perfection. The torture, the removal of the necessary bone and the resulting mortal wound is all performed with the precision of a world class conductor guiding the Philharmonic orchestra to a career best production.”
“Some of them are tortured for days, and there are never any signs of forced entry or non consensual sex. And then when he’s ready, he cuts the axillary artery and the victim bleeds to death in less than a minute.”
“After which he washes them, dresses them, poses them either on the bed or sat in a chair so they can be found, and then moves onto the next.”
We could be talking about a renaissance artist or a world class mathematician.
“Except Catherine Jameson was the last.”
“Until he begins again.”
I pause to take a sip of my drink. “There are twenty seven victims and twenty seven houses all over Brooklyn”, I say. “I own them all.”
“Wait, what?” Maude says.
“I bought them”, I continue. “I’ve been buying them since they came onto the market. Sometimes even before that.”
“Why?”
For the first time in our conversation, Maude looks a little nervous.
“Because I have an obsession”, I say, careful not to trip over my words. “Have you ever heard of interactive tours?”
“Do you mean sort of like the stuff they do in the city in fancy dress?” Maude guesses.
“Yes, kind of like that, but much, much better.” I say. “Imagine every single one of Bone’s murders, reconstructed for a paying audience. Imagine standing so close you can smell the flesh rotting. Imagine blood squirting out of an artery and covering your shirt. Imagine being able to touch the victim as the life runs out of her.”
My cock is rock hard now, throbbing away and demanding to be seen to. Maude shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I can tell she’s excited too, but perhaps not comfortable enough to show it.
“That sounds-“, she begins, searching for the right words. A big smile covers her face, while her cheeks flush red. “Incredible”, she finally says. “But how would it work?”
“Come with me”, I say, and I’ll show you.”
Chapter 6
Maude
Jasper tells me to be careful. What the fuck have I got to be careful about? I think he’s just jealous I’ve found someone who’s not only interested in giving me a job, but seems to be interested in me, me.
We connect, even if it’s over serial killers and dark crazy shit that some people would prefer to pretend doesn’t exist. Well guess what, the world isn’t made up of balloons and fluffy bunny rabbits, it’s made up of rape, murder and a whole spectrum of dark shit in between, and if it wasn’t, it’d be as dull as Coney Island rock candy.
For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I click with. I’ve found someone that possibly knows more than I do about some of the most prolific serial killers in American history, and that turns me on more than I can even describe.
I’ve just spent the last hour basically squirming in my seat, my panties on fire and my pussy tingling so much I nearly had to excuse myself on several occasions, to go to the bathroom and sort myself out. I know I’m still wet too. I know it’ll probably take me less than a minute to come when I finally get the chance to do so, and with any luck, if this goes the way I’m beginning to want it to, I might not have to do it alone.
Apart from that, I’m super-fucking excited. I’m going to go inside one of the houses Bone killed a victim in. Not only that, he’s taking me to the very first place it started, the home of his first victim, seven years ago, french exchange student Maria Laurent.
I think Christopher is loaded. Alright, not many people can buy twenty seven houses, even if they were going cheap because of the murders, but this car has bullet proof glass, tinted windows, leather upholstery, a drinks cabinet and a built in chauffeur.
We haven’t talked salary yet, but whatever it is, there is no way that I’m going to decline. A guided tour of all of the murder locations of one of New York’s most important serial killers? I’d sign up for the tour even if he didn’t want me to give it. Fuck, I’d probably do it for free.
I know the house, even before we pull up to it. I’ve been outside here before, a number of times. I’d put this on my own tour list if it was in the center. I can tell you the position of the body, the time she was found, the number of lacerations she had on her wrists and the quantity of semen that was found in both her vagina and her anus. I can even tell you what she was wearing, the pose he put her in and the contents of her stomach.
“Distal phalange, index finger of left hand”, I say as we pull up.
“Very good”, Christopher notes.
The house is a mid row brownstone typical of this area. There is nothing that distinguishes it from the houses on the other side, apart from a slightly faded red front door.
“What else?” Christopher asks, the key poised, ready to slide into the lock.
My heart is beating. I don’t know why, but it’s beating so hard I can hardly breathe. Our arms are touching and I don’t want to pull mine away. I can almost feel his skin buzzing.
“Vaginal and anal intercourse”, I say, my voice almost a whisper. “Multiple times.”
Christopher smiles, his eyes lighting up. “Very good”, he says, the key going into the lock. “What else?”
I watch him pause before he turns it. “She was tied to the bed when he killed her, after which he lay her out on her back, her arms crossed together up by her neck, like this.”
I demonstrate the action for him, while the door clicks open, a chink of darkness momentarily obscuring the apartment beyond. There are murmured voices. Something that sounds like groans.
Before he pushes the door open further, he turns to me.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Yes”, I nod.
“What was unique about Maria?” Christopher asks. “What was different with her than any of the other girls?”
The question throws me a little. Bone is a consistent, methodical killer, there is very little that sets apart each of his works of art. I’m embarrassed I don’t know, and I can feel myself going red because of it. I shake my head, ashamed I’m not able to answer him.
Christopher pushes the door, and the muffled gasps get even louder.
“Come on”, he says. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter 7
Maude
I don’t know what I expect to see. A theatrical performance is difficult to misinterpret, but a theatrical performance depicting a sadistic murder, that’s another thing entirely. We climb the stairs, Christopher in front of me. Perhaps for reasons of authenticity, he leaves the lights off, which makes it hard for me to see much else but shadows moving in the darkness. When we get to the bedroom door, the muffled gasps are now full-on moans. Without even opening the door, I know they are fucking.
***
She is bound to the bed head. I’ve seen pictures of the dead Maria, and this girl, whoever she is, is an absolute spitting image. Christopher has obviously chosen well. I’m so shocked I bring my hand up to my mouth. I’ve seen people fuck before, but never right there in front of me. We are less than a meter away from the bed, and it’s as if we are not even here. Nothing but ghosts to them. They don’t stop what they are doing, nor do they look in our direction. My eyes go to her swollen nipples, down to her pussy, which gapes open under the insistence of his finger, and then down even further to his swollen cock, which is pushing open her anus so the tight muscle looks like a second pair of lips pressed securely around his shaft.
Maria, or really the girl that Christo
pher has contracted to play her, is bound by rope to the bedhead. Her legs have been forced open and lifted up, and her hands are tied awkwardly behind her back in a criss cross pattern that looks more uncomfortable than she is letting on.
I have no idea how accurate this is, but I do know that she had ligature marks on her wrists and ankles and a large quantity of semen inside her anus. Bone, for whatever reason, looks a hell of a lot like Christopher. I wonder for a moment whether this obsession of his is something more than just an appreciation of Bone’s work. Whatever it is, I don’t linger on the thought for too long. Christopher has one eye on me, and one eye on his actors taking center stage. I can’t keep my eyes off them. I don’t know if I should say something or just stand here in silence. What I do know is that it is turning me on. I’m watching the recreation, or perhaps interpretation might be a better word, of a serial killer’s first murder, and I’m watching two people fuck each other, and thoroughly enjoy it.
His shoulders are tense, his back and upper arms rippled with muscle. I can see the flatness of his stomach and the fullness of her pussy lips. I can see his crown slide out of her from time to time, her anus attempt to close, only for him to insert it forcibly back inside her. Her tits are flush and heaving as she breaths deeply, gasping for air.
I want to touch myself. Every time I look at her pussy I think of my own. Every time I look at Bone’s cock, I think of Christopher’s pushing its way inside me and taking my virginity. I look at him briefly and I swear I see a bulge in the front of his trousers. This is incredible. It’s so incredible I wonder if I should be enjoying it as much as I am.
Bone’s hand moves from her nipples, leaving the red, leathery stubs hard and excited, and up to her neck. I watch him wrap his fingers around her neck and begin to squeeze her throat tightly.
Maria loses herself in it for a moment. She shuts her eyes and lets him continue. She trusts him completely. Bone stabs her asshole with his thick cock, pushing himself in so deeply his balls squash up against her skin. He squeezes tighter, refusing to let go.
I watch Maria begin to struggle. My heart skips a beat, and I have to step closer to the bed. Her hands rattle against the bedhead, trying to break free. I look at Christopher, scared for her, but he doesn’t return the glance. His eyes are fixed on the young girl he’s paid to perform this.
Her head jerks from side to side, stilled as best as possible by Bone’s right hand, the tips of his fingers going white. In his eyes I can see a darkness brewing. This thing looks so real, I can hardly believe it.
Bone ups his rhythm, his cock thrusting fast and deep into her stretched asshole. Each stroke more, he tightens his grip. Maria’s chest bounces up and down as she gasps for air. She fights against the cord, but no movement she makes does anything more than tie her up even more tightly. I can see the lines against her wrist, and what looks like real blood trickle from a cut near her ankle bone.
I’m wet. Without realizing it, my hands have found their way to my waist, and I’m lowering them without care below the waistband of my jeans and on towards my pussy. I can’t hold myself back.
Despite being so close I can touch them, I have the feeling they don’t know I’m here at all. With that invisibility, I feel like I can do anything that I want. Because of it, I’m witnessing something more intimate than I ever thought possible. This is the moment of death. Of love. Of orgasm.
I watch it tear through her. I watch it burst out from her pussy, ride across her midriff, seep into her legs, arms, hands and toes and crawl out across her skin. I watch her twist uncontrollably from side to side, jerking involuntarily and trembling wildly and I watch her pupils dilate in orgasmic ecstasy, in fear of what might follow.
Her muffled screams are caught on her lips and stilled. She comes hard, the world around her - Christopher and I included - melting into a dark patch of fear-filled nothingness.
The tips of his finger are white. Sweat has broken out across his shoulders and his teeth come together, gritted against it. Two more slow pushes and he’s done. Her eyes hang open. My finger pauses between my lips, my clit buzzing. I’m on the edge, trembling forwards, nowhere else to go.
I hear my heart beat hard and fold into it gasping, one hand on the bed as I stumble forwards, my fingertips almost touching her still warm skin. I can’t help it. For a moment I’m alone in my own bedroom, the snuff film still running. Fuck it’s strong. Fuck. I come hard and try to hide it with my own muffled screams, wild and barbaric. When I open my eyes again, I’m on my knees. I’m so close I could stick my tongue out and taste the salt in the sweat on his skin. She’s dead, I’ve come, my fingers still sticky.
Bone slowly pulls his still erect cock out of her button tight anus. I am so close I can see the veins pulsing like flowing rivers. If I wanted to, I could suck him. I want to, but I don’t do it. His crown comes out with a pop, like the head of an arrow pulled from torn flesh.
I watch cum trickle from the tip like lava. A moment later he pulls his hand away from her throat. I gulp. There are marks from his fingers dug into the skin. I still don’t look at Christopher. I still don’t allow myself to process what I’m seeing beyond a carnal recognition of enjoyment.
My legs are are still trembling, and my pulse refuses to slow down. Bone reaches to his right. From underneath the mattress, he pulls a bone handled knife. I see the blade shimmer with purpose under the overhead light. Christopher is in behind me, and without turning around I know he’s there.
Bone moves the knife towards Maria’s armpit. I feel Christopher put his hand on the back of my neck, and pinch the delicate skin there firmly. I have my heart in my mouth. For a long while I feel like I can’t breath. I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m frozen to the spot. And then he does it.
The knife slashes so quickly across the skin under her arm, I barely see it. Christopher tightens his grip on my neck as blood literally gushes out of the wound, turning the white sheets a burgundy red. There is so much of it, it begins to spill out onto the bedroom floor.
I’m about to get covered in it, but I still can’t move. I can’t tear myself away. A single drop of cum weeps out of Maria’s anus, while Bone takes the knife to her index finger. A silence descends on the room, filled only by the sickening drip of her blood on the carpeted floor. I don’t even notice how tightly Christopher is holding my neck, nor how much my hands are trembling.
Just before he cuts the tip of her index finger off, he pauses, leans over and kisses her frozen mouth.
“Fuck”, I manage to say, as I watch the knife slice through her bone like butter.
Chapter 8
Christopher
I hadn’t expected that. I knew this girl was special, but I hadn’t expected her to involve herself quite as much as she did, quite so early on. One hand on her tits and the other down her panties. I’ve picked a winner! If that’s all it takes to make her come, then I may have to plan something even more elaborate.
Seeing it again was even better this time. Seeing it with Maude made my cock so hard had I known her better I would have folded her over the top of them and taken her there and then. I need to gain her confidence first and I can’t appear unprofessional. I need to make her trust me. The poor girl is still shaking. Beautiful, hot, sweaty, skin. Such a delicate neck. So innocent.
I take my hand away and clap. I clap slowly and deliberately and finally the actors break the fourth wall. Marshall Turner who I’ve employed to play Bone steps off the bed, walks to the wardrobe, covers himself with a towel and sits in the chair to the corner.
I take the knife, leaving Maude still knelt down to my side, fake blood now covering her knee caps, and cut the rope that’s holding my Maria in place. I lift Jessica from the bed and help her down from it, her arms and wrists a little sore but her fingers all in one piece, and her life very much still intact. Jessica goes to the wardrobe, takes a toweling robe from the hook, covers her beautiful body and sits down in Marshall’s lap.
Maude looks frozen with fear
. She’s as white as a sheet. I sit on the bed, put my index finger under her chin, and tilt her head up so she can look me in the eye. She looks completely catatonic. I click my fingers, and finally she seems to come to.
“Fucking hell”, she says. “Fucking hell that was intense. I thought she was dead.”
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“Fucking hell”, she says again. She turns her head to Jessica, and repeats again what she has just said. “I thought you were dead.”
Jessica shrugs her shoulders. Already she’s got a cigarette between her fingers, the smoke climbing in spirals up to the ceiling.
“Show her your hands”, I say, and Jessica responds, fanning her fingers out to the still confused teen, on her knees at the scene of both a faked murder and a real one. I help her to her feet and she sits alongside me, on the part of the bed not yet tainted by the gallon and a half of fake blood that still oozes out of the tube connected to and hidden by the framework of the bed. I hold the knife in my hands, absentmindedly testing the sharpness of the blade against my skin.
“Elaborate, huh?” I say.
“Fuck me that looked so real”, Maude says. I notice her hands still sticky with her own cum but I don’t say anything. I also don’t mention the erection I’m no longer trying to hide, even though I know she’s trying her best not to look at it.
“That’s the kind of thing I want you to be part of”, I say.
Maude is still shaking her head and trying to catch her breath. Every so often she casts a glance to Jessica, just to make sure she is real.
“I thought he’d killed her”, she mutters again.
“All of the others were strangers”, I whisper to her, too quiet for Marshall and Jessica to hear. While I do so, I return my hand to the back of her neck, pinching her tightly. “She was the only one he knew before he killed her.”
I pull away and Maude regards me. Her grin tells me all I need to know. She looks at me like she can’t have heard what she did, only of course she knows she has.
