by Noir, Stella
His lips are on my skin, hot and smooth. Bite me. Fucking bite me. He moves his hand from my shoulder, along the jagged edge of my collar bone, testing it for size, purpose. From there, he moves his hands down my front, trailing them across my skin to the edge of my T-shirt. Onwards. My nipples between his fingers blossom erect. The words are on the tip of my tongue, each one a mercy dance towards it.
Does. He. Know. You?
“Come”, Christopher says, breaking away. “I want to show you my favourite part of the collection.”
A long time passes before I can move. When I look down, I see my nipples standing taut. My pussy is wet and I want to touch it. I want him to fuck me amongst the forgotten remains of dead women and I feel like Christopher is the kind of person I could tell that too without being judged.
I follow him into the shadows. At the back end of the room, there is a display cabinet. I don’t see it until I’m right there in front of it. A hand made of several different bones, isolated on the ledge.
His project.
I gasp for air, but can’t get any down. I want to run but can’t seem to comprehend how that might be possible. Christopher sees my alarm.
“I want to make the whole thing”, he says quickly by way of explanation, “but I can’t until Bone has finished his work. It wouldn’t be right.”
Still I say nothing. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic. I’m aware of the denseness of the air, the rotten smell of death that surrounds us. I feel dust in my throat and begin to choke. I’m bent over retching into the black swirl of nothingness by my feet, my heart pounding hard in my chest.
“Maude”, Christopher says. “Oh, Maude. I thought you knew.”
Chapter 16
Maude
I’m sat at his kitchen table gulping down water. I can’t believe I thought the hand was real. What a dick. Real bone, but not bone from those twenty seven victims. It’s a sick thing to have. A priceless addition to the collection. Fucking amazing.
“Who is he?” I ask. Finally, I can feel a bit of color coming back to my cheeks. I can’t believe I pussied out like that, especially after knowing what Christopher is like. I should have guessed the lengths he’d go to for his obsession after the performance at Maria’s house.
“I don’t know really”, he says. “I don’t know where he comes from. I don’t know much else but what he does. I don’t know why he does it.”
“But you know him”, I say. “You said you knew him.”
“It’s complicated”, he offers. I look at him suspiciously, trying to work out what he really means by that.
“You said he was going to kill again, that we’d see it. How can you know that?”
“Because I’ve been following him. I’ve been following him all of his life. Most of mine.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Do you want to see it?” Christopher says, ignoring the question, his eyes going wide. “Do you want to meet him?” There is a silence neither of us can fill. It’s like saying “do you want to see a car crash, a snuff film or a dead body?” The question is essentially rhetorical.
“Am I in danger?” I ask, unsure if it matters whether I am or not. Unsure whether the question is important anyway.
“Do you trust me?” Christopher asks, the corner of his mouth flicking up into a smile.
“That’s not the question I asked.”
It feels like we are about to commit murder, not go and witness it. Perhaps there isn’t much of a distinction.
He shakes his head. “Then no, of course not.”
“Then yes”, I say, making sure the words come out before I have time to stop them. “I want to see it. I want to see it for real. I want to see Bone. I want to see him do it.”
“Ok”, he says quietly. And then with solemn conviction, and a flash of raw excitement in his eyes. “Let’s go and meet Bone.”
Chapter 17
Christopher
I haven’t been entirely honest. I guess it’s too late to turn back now anyway, even if I wanted to. When I look in the rear view mirror it’s him that looks back, and when I reach over to squeeze her leg, it’s Bone’s hand I see doing it, not mine.
She’s excited, I can tell that. I knew she would be. They’re not too different Bone and Maude, I guess that’s why he picked her. He always knew. He always knew where to find them. Killing is nothing if you have no-one to share it with. That’s like painting a beautiful picture and keeping it in a drawer forever.
There were always the police and the press after the fact, and myself of course, but there was no-one to really share his work with while he was doing it. There was nobody standing alongside him while he stuck it into them, no-one watching that magical moment where life turns so spectacularly into the absence of it. Death apparent. The cusp at the very top. The lid over which we turn.
When I was eight years old, and I took the firecracker out to the end of my parents field, along with my sister’s pet bunny rabbit, I stood there alone, and watched the frightened animal slowly come to terms with what I had done to it.
This is how lies form. They begin as an idea, then they merge into something much more concrete, and then all of a sudden, when you breathe life into them, they become as real as everything else.
I’ve told that story to a lot of people, in a lot of different ways. Sometimes I’m Kal, sometimes I’m Christopher, sometimes I’m the boy that has been banished from his house and happens upon a group of vicious teenagers, hell bent on exacting revenge, for something one of their neighbors has done.
It’s easy like that. A sad look in the eye, a smile, a wistful pocket of silence while the tension breaks. Bone taught me that. Bone taught me the beauty in forming a lie, because in doing so, you reveal the truth.
He’s the one that made me see that truth with Maude. Or perhaps I’m the one that made him see it. Whichever way round it was, there is something about her that he’s never seen in anyone else. Perhaps it’s the same kind of hunger for that which we are told we shouldn’t crave. It’s the yearning to see that tipping point, that incredible moment where you can truly be God.
We are getting closer.
Bone puts his hand on my shoulder, the other one on Maude’s. Sat forward in his chair I can see he’s excited. Maude turns to him and smiles. She reaches for his hand, takes it and puts it in her lap. Makes circles in the center of his palm with the yolk of her thumb. Seeing her do it is making me hard. It’s making me want to fuck her.
The house isn’t mine, not officially. Not yet. After this, when the police have been in and out, the death has been linked to the others, and the investigation has been reopened, I’ll swoop in silently at auction, do the banks a favor and add it to the tour.
“We’re here”, I say when I’ve parked the car a comfortable distance away.
Maude cranes her neck to look at the houses on the street, trying to guess within which one he’s waiting.
“Bone’s here already?” she asks. “Inside?”
***
She was a pleasant girl, worth a lot more than twenty thousand dollars. A bargain. We drank wine, spoke a little bit about her family, and then I put my hand around her neck and held my knife to her throat. After that we got along a lot better. Sometimes you have to be forceful. I told her it was part of the game. She’d get extra money if she played along with it. It didn’t take long to convince her. Bone can be very convincing like that. He’s a charming man when you get to know him.
I don’t know if I’m telling Maude this as we climb the stairs, or Bone is telling us both. I’m too excited about what I’m about to show her to care. About what we are about to do. I’m so excited I can barely contain myself.
“You’re getting a playmate”, I told her. “I’ll bring her over to see you. You just stay there and relax. We’ll be back again soon.”
I watch Bone stand behind Maude at the door to the bedroom. He winks at me. “I’ll take it from here.”
He’s erect, the savage! Maude turns to me a
ll lust and nervous excitement. I watch them push open the door slowly, the world close in.
Chapter 18
Maude
She’s spread out on the bed, naked, arms bound together and hooked to the wrought iron headboard with a loop of knots that look like they’ve been tied by a trawler boat fisherman. Her legs are wide open, and I can see the intricate folds of her pussy, the pink meat of the delicate skin inside. In her mouth is a gag of balled up fabric that upon closer inspection, I realize are her panties. Her eyes dart from me to Christopher, and back again. Is this who I’m going to see die? Is this the value of life?
“Bone”, I mutter. It’s not a sentence and it’s barely even a word.
“Soon”, Christopher says. The look on his face seems to suggest he didn’t expect her to be here. He turns to me.
“This is for us”, he says excitedly, as though he’s suddenly realized it.
I’m in my own snuff movie. I’m not part of this. I’m a participant, but I’m not part of this. Jasper says you can never unsee what you’ve already seen. I can never unsee her. Why can I not stop looking?
I watch Christopher go to her. I watch myself join him too. I’m a participant, but I’m not part of this. I’m a passerby caught in someone else’s famous photo. I’m a reflection in the eye of the Mona Lisa. I’m an audience member at the theater the lead shares a brief moment with. I’m not here to break the fourth wall. I’m not here at all.
And then. Her skin so soft and supple. The way she is bound and positioned, like some kind of human sacrifice. The way her eyes dart nervously about the room as though begging for us to join her. Begging for us to please her. It’s erotic. That’s what it is. This whole fucking thing. It’s erotic. Even the room smells erotic. The shadows that hide the frayed carpet. The old bed, the fogged up windows. Her pussy. Her purpose.
I trail my hands across her belly, brushing the skin lightly. I can’t help myself. It’s warm inside there. I trace the veins up her arms, feeling the blood pulse below the skin, wild and erratic. I want that life spilled out all over the carpet. I want her drained until there is nothing left. I want to see all of this in her eyes, like a universe shutting down, until there is nothing left but a pair of glassy marbles in waxy skin.
Christopher has removed his trousers and mounted the bed, kneeling now in between her legs. His thick cock pushes insistently at the fabric of his boxer-shorts, desperate to be released. Wherever Bone is, Christopher isn’t waiting for him. I need no encouragement to join him. I lift my T-shirt over my head and slip easily out of my jeans. I may be a virgin, but I’m not prepared to let it hold me back. Her eyes go to me and without needing to hear it, I can tell she approves.
Christopher wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. I can feel the edge of the mattress press into the skin below my knee. These are the details that matter.
“Touch her”, he says, nodding encouragingly. “Touch her pussy like you want yours to be touched.”
I trail my hand from her kneecap up her inner thigh. As I do so, I feel Christopher’s fingers on my skin, working their way towards my panties. I part my legs slightly to accommodate them. We lock eyes, her and me, as my fingers glide delicately across her pussy lips. Back and forth, gently like that he goes. Careful. Considerate. Practiced.
“You’re so wet”, Christopher says, a wedge of cotton caught inside my lips, as he teases my hole, the stub of his finger gliding back and forth across my slit, from my asshole up to the fat nub of swollen nerve endings that make out my clitoris. Every so often he teases at the edge of the fabric, the hem that traps my sex inside.
I can feel it crawling up my back. I can see it reflected in the charge bound up below me. There is a thin bead of sweat on her skin, rolling between the swollen mounds of tight sensitive skin that form her perfect breasts. Mine I take with my free hand. Out of the cup of my bra pops my hardened nipple. I squeeze it and feel a rush of energy bend my knee forwards.
My finger is at the edge of her pussy hole, and I can tell she is desperate for me to push it inside her. I tease it instead, nudging at the warm edges every so often but careful not to break inside. The longer I wait, the better it will be. She’s just as wet as I am, just as horny. Christopher watches on, his cock throbbing against the tightened fabric of his boxer-shorts, a patch of pre-cum darkening the cotton where it hugs his form. I want it.
I want it in my mouth and in my hands. I want it inside me.
It’s Christopher who takes off my panties. It’s not because I’ve done it to her, nor because I’ve asked him. It’s because he knows it’s time. He doesn’t take them all the way off either, but it’s better like that. He lowers them to just above the knee, and I watch how excited it makes him to see the stickiness in the gusset hold them momentarily to my pink, swollen pussy lips. In return, I lean forward, and with him lifted up onto his knees, I pull his boxer shorts down and release his magnificent cock.
His finger slips inside me easily. Moistened by my cum, it penetrates easily into my asshole too. As he teases the toughened skin of my button tight anus, threatening every so often to dip his finger inside, and then finally, emphatically doing so, I nearly come.
His cock is thick, and almost impossibly hard. Pre-cum continues to ooze out of a hole big enough for me to push my tongue into. I lean over, rub him against my lips and do just that.
There are noises coming from her that sound like mild panic. Turned away, I could be forgiven for thinking there was a trapped animal in the room with us, wounded and near to death. It’s amazing how close panic sounds to excitement. It’s incredible the noises we make when we are on the edge of an orgasm.
Christopher could ram himself into my throat, but he doesn’t. He’s careful with his movements, happy to let me take control. He tastes incredible. His finger in my pussy is unbelievable. I’m on the edge and we’ve only just begun.
“It’s time”, Christopher says. “It’s time for me to fuck her.”
I pull myself off his cock, making sure to give it a damn good suck, just in case I don’t get the chance again. With his hand still wrapped around my pussy, he turns to look at me. I see fire in his eyes, like he’s been possessed. It’s frightening and compelling all at once. It’s like looking into the eye of the storm, knowing that in doing so you’ll never see anything else, ever again. It’ll rip you apart. Tear you from limb to limb. Change you. The most beautiful things in the world always do.
“Guide me”, he commands, shuffling himself forwards, closer to her convulsing pussy. She has her eyes closed now. I like to think that if her arms weren’t bound, one of them would be resting across her face, hiding them even further. I take Christopher’s cock - his bone - and lead it towards her.
It feels like I’m connecting two lives. It feels like I’m the catalyst for this, that I’m greater than the sum of my parts. I tease him and I think he likes it. I rub him into her clitoris, and then I place him at the edge of her pussy hole, holding him back momentarily against the desire, or need, he has to push himself inside.
Then I let go, and I nearly come, watching him disappear inside her. She does her best to scream. I can tell she is tight, but Christopher is much more forceful. Any resistance he feels is quickly dealt with. I put one foot up on the bed and open myself up even further to him. As he stabs her with his swollen meat, I push my pussy down onto his hand, and feel two of his fingers drive themselves inside me.
His fat balls slap against her asshole. A sheen of cum sticks to his shaft, while the pink skin of her pussy clings around his pole like a fish’s mouth. Every so often I touch him, just to make sure he is real. I grab at his cock, and I make him fuck my closed fist on the way to her hole.
I touch her too. I pull at her nipples, smack her ass and guide cum that drips down from her pussy hole into her tight little anus. With my finger fully inside her I can feel his cock. It encourages him too, because as soon as I’ve done it, he takes his fingers out of my pussy and jerks them up inside my as
shole. It hurts a little. I’m tight like that, but I don’t want him to stop. The pain just makes it better. I can tell that by the way he fucks her. I can tell by the way she pushes her pussy onto his cock, and the way she screams out for more.
When he’s pounded her pussy to his liking, and she’s seconds away from coming, he pauses, pulls deliberately out of her hole and stands there regarding her, with his free hand on his hip, his head bent slightly to the side and his cock throbbing so much it’s moving up and down all by itself. The only thing he doesn’t stop moving is the fat finger that’s jammed inside my asshole.
“I’m going to fuck your asshole”, he says. “Are you ready?”
It takes me a moment to realize who the question is directed at. A moment more to realize the question isn’t really a question at all.
Christopher climbs off the bed. He moves in behind me, kicks my legs out and pushes me forwards.
I feel a hand on my back slide across the curvature of my spine. I feel his cock prod me insistently.
“Choke her”, he says.
My deep breathing is not an adequate response.
“Put your hand around her neck and choke her”, Christopher says again.
We are to her side, angled in the right way for me to lean forward and put my hand around her neck. Her throat feels softer than I expect it to. I dig my finger into the soft tissue under her jaw and squeeze. Her eyes pop open, the pupils wide.
A knee buckles into the bed, tilting me towards her slightly. Christopher rights me, spreads my legs as wide as they will go and pushes his thumb against my hole, testing my readiness.
I’m ready. I was ready for him from day one.
There is cum still on his cock from her pussy. I feel it sticky against my anus. When he pushes, I squeeze harder, the tips of my fingers turning white. Fuck I’m tight.
“Fuck you’re tight”, he says, echoing my thoughts. “Squeeze harder. Squeeze until you see her eyes turn red.”
