The Venus Complex

by Barbie Wilde

  He whipped around and I shot him pointblank right between the eyes. He didn’t even have time to get surprised. There was a small muffled explosion, more of a “pfffft” than a bang. I hoped that Elene would just think that Frank had farted. I caught him and lowered him to the floor, as I didn’t want any additional noise to alert Elene.

  I looked at him lying there, dead as the proverbial doornail. At least it had been quick. I put the gun back into my coat pocket and moved off in the direction of Elene, my ultimate prey.

  The candles were still alight. She was lying on her stomach on top of the covers, her face pointed away from the door, fortunately for me. She was snoring ever so delicately. I shed my clothes and the gloves in the corridor. I was as naked as Frank now, except for the mask. I put on a condom and padded into the bedroom, my cock getting harder with every step closer to my goal, my Elene. I had five silk scarves in my hand, which I dropped by the side of the bed.

  I got into bed with her. I was in bed with Elene. My fantasies finally realized. I reached out and stroked her ass, smooth and rounded. My body was electrified by the very touch of her. I moved closer and lay right next to her. I smelled her sweet sweat, a mixed whiff of alcohol and Chanel. I put my hand between her legs and touched her pussy, still wet and ready. Elene woke up a bit. She mumbled something under her breath. I caressed her gently. Her head still buried in her pillow, Elene responded to my touch. I snaked my other hand around her to grab her breast. I was almost lying on top of her now. She couldn’t have lifted her head up to see who was on top of her if she wanted to, but why would she even suspect that it wasn’t Frank coming back for a second course? Anyway, I could smell alcohol on her, so she was probably befuddled by drink and sex.

  I tweaked her nipple and continued to tickle her pussy. Elene opened her thighs and I moved in between her legs. I slid my cock inside her and she seemed to groan from the bottom of her very being. I fucked her slowly, sensually, taking my time; each thrust long and leisurely, the opposite of machine-gun Frank. Elene liked it. She encouraged me. She told me that she loved it like that. She called me, “Baby.” She said, “Oh, yeah, baby. That’s good.” I lifted myself up a bit and she opened her legs even wider. I put my hand around and fiddled with her pussy from the front. She liked that a lot. I breathed in her ear, careful not to let the rubber material of the face mask touch her skin. I was surprised that she didn’t notice that I smelled differently than Frank, but maybe she was too far gone to notice. Also, I had made a point to not wear any distinctive after-shave or deodorant.

  Soon, probably because she had already been primed by Frank’s vigorous fucking, Elene came. Yes, I made her come. I heard her cries of pleasure and they sounded different to me. I knew that it was because of me that she was having an orgasm, not Frank. I slowed up a bit and leaned over the bed and picked up a scarf. I took one of Elene’s arms and brought it up behind her. She asked me what I was doing, but of course, I didn’t answer. I took her other arm and tied her hands behind her back. She started to laugh, can you believe it? She said, slurring slightly because of the booze, “What do you think you’re doing, Frank?” I took up the other scarf and using both hands, slid it down the pillow.

  As soon as it came in contact with her forehead, Elene lifted her head to look at it, which is what I was waiting for. I pulled down the scarf to mouth level and gagged her, quick as a wink.

  Well, that caused a violent reaction. Elene tried to squirm around, but it didn’t do her any good. She thrashed her legs, but I didn’t budge. I was still deep inside her and she was pinned down on the bed. I put my hand on the back of her head and squashed her face into the pillow. Boy, did her legs kick then. I waited a minute, until the fuss died down a bit and then I let her up for air. She was trying to say something but I couldn’t understand her, for obvious reasons. That’s when I started to fuck her in earnest again. She still couldn’t see who was on top of her. I wonder if she had an inkling. Maybe she just thought that Frank had gone a bit crazy. I fucked her and she came again. She couldn’t help herself.

  After a while I wanted a change, but I had to make sure that Elene wouldn’t escape. I grabbed another scarf from the floor and then slowly withdrew. I was still on top of her, so she couldn’t kick me. Then I slid down her body, keeping her immobilized. When I was low enough, I pinned her ankles together and tied them up. Then I could finally get up and look at my masterpiece.

  She rolled over on her back and for a moment, didn’t compute what the picture was. What had happened to Frank? Had he gone berserk? Who’s this guy in the mask? I could see in her eyes that she still couldn’t comprehend what was going on. She tried to scream, but it was useless with the gag in her mouth.

  I got back on the bed and straddled her waist, my cock standing proudly at attention. I bent down, putting my hands on either side of her head and whispered in her ear, my voice low and unrecognizable. I said, “Your boyfriend’s dead and so will you be if you don’t do exactly what I say.” Elene went very still then. Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head, not believing what was happening to her or what had happened to Frank. “Let me show you,” I said.

  I got off her and stood up. I leaned over and dragged Elene to the edge of the bed. Then I picked her up in my arms and took her to the kitchen. The fridge door was still open and the light showed Frank splayed out, cold and lifeless on the floor—an ever-widening pool of blood surrounding his head like an infernal halo. Elene took one look and started screaming behind the gag. I said to her, low in her ear, “Do you want to join him?” She shut up.

  I took her back to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. I whispered, “You behave and do everything I tell you to and you just might survive the evening. Do you understand?” Elene nodded. I said, “Your boyfriend annoyed some people, but they don’t have a beef with you. If you talk too much, if you say anything to help the police, then you will end up as dead as him. Do you understand?” She nodded again. She was crying and moaning. I didn’t care and I was amazed that I didn’t care. It felt good. It felt like I was in control again, that Elene had finally come down to Earth. Venus had landed and I was the powerful one now. I was the god. Mere mortals beware.

  I tied Elene’s ankles to the legs of the bed and then just stared at her. Stared at her wide open and helpless. I just stood and stared for a good five minutes, drinking in her complete vulnerability. Then I walked around the bed, continuing to just look. I think that got her more scared than seeing Frank dead. She was groaning, but not with pleasure. Finally, I got on the bed and just caressed her. Gently, to allay her fears. After all, I wanted something from her and I wanted her to give it to me willingly. I traced her nipples with my fingertips, barely touching the surface of her skin. I fondled her most delicate areas with utmost sensitivity for a long time. Then I lifted the mask away from my mouth so my lips could have free reign. I spent at least twenty minutes on each nipple: playing with them, licking them, teasing them and tenderly biting them. I kissed every inch of her body. By this point, Elene was reacting in spite of herself. I sucked her pussy. (But not before cleaning her thoroughly with a washcloth to expunge any Frank residue.) I spent a lifetime down there, because I was aching for her to come. I knew that if I could make her have an orgasm in these circumstances then I would have triumphed over her. I would have conquered her utterly and completely.

  I laughed when she finally came. I could hear her behind the gag and she was in seventh heaven. Elene had an orgasm with the stranger who had just murdered her boyfriend. Analyze that, Doctor Sheppard.

  I desperately wanted to hear her cries of pleasure. I whispered in her ear again, “If I remove the gag, you have to promise not to scream. If you scream, I will hurt you. Can I take out the gag?”

  Elene nodded. I took out the gag. She started to say something, but I put my hand over her mouth. “You have to understand that I am in control here. Don’t speak unless you are spoken to, O.K.?” She nodded again. I didn’t want to give her a chance to be
witch me with any of her voodoo psychobabble.

  I took my hand away. She looked at me, but could only see the grotesque mask. I said, “Tell me to kiss you.” She obediently said, “Kiss me.” How long have I waited to hear those words? I dived in, my tongue plunging deep down. She made little noises of sexy suffocation. I came up for air and looked at her. I never loved her more than at that moment and I never hated her more either. I hated her for the noises of passion that she had made with Frank and, at the memory of it, the blood rushed up to my face. I was glad that she couldn’t see behind the mask.

  I entered her again, this time with no grace, just with anger. She cried out and I was back in my dream with the Devil’s rusty cock and Elene on the floor crying because I was hurting her, but I didn’t care. I just stuck my fingers down her throat to shut her up and I fucked her. Elene bit my fingers, which I liked in a perverse way. She was always a feisty girl. I took out my fingers and kissed her again.

  I stopped after a while and withdrew. Elene was panting. She called me names, none of them “Baby.” She was disobeying me, but it didn’t bother me. I untied her legs and, luckily for her, she didn’t try to kick me. I helped her up and made her kneel on the bed, sitting back on her heels, legs wide open. I knelt behind her and fondled her breasts with one hand, fiddling with her pussy with the other and nibbling the back of her neck at the same time. She loved it. She lost herself.

  Elene was the ultimate slave girl: arms still bound behind her, breasts sticking out, chest totally exposed, captured, her mate murdered, but forced to fornicate with her conqueror. She looked just like a detail from French Romantic artist Eugène Delacroix’s famous painting, The Death of Sardanapalus (1827).

  Now it was time for the pièce de résistance. I gagged Elene again, picked her up and took her out to the dining room, that very same place where only a few months ago I had enjoyed that charming little meal with her. I placed her in a chair while I cleared the table. I hadn’t bothered to tie her legs up, but she was too exhausted and frightened to run away. After the big table was cleared, I laid her out, tying her arms out as well, so every limb was tied to a table leg. I brought the candles in from the bedroom and placed them around her.

  There she was, the perfect vision. A veritable banquet of sexual goodies. On cue, Elene started to WRITHE against her bonds. Well, it had to happen, I guess. Maybe it’s just an instinctual girl thing. I admired her for a few minutes more and wondered, “Do I really want to do this? Do I want to kill my love object? Do I really want to fulfill my ultimate fantasy? Because if I do, then where do I go next?”

  So, I didn’t. I didn’t kill her, although I was sorely tempted. I was content with teasing her with the carving knife that I found in the kitchen, tracing the sharp point across her skin, her body trembling with dread and anticipation. I enjoyed dropping hot wax on her nipples and genitals and watching her squirm with pain and delight. I relished sucking her toes, sucking her pussy, sucking her tender nipples. I was happy to torture her with exquisite and dangerous sensuality. I was gratified by the muffled noises of ardor I heard, by the lascivious undulations of her sweating, shining body, by her multiple orgasms. I licked the perspiration sheen from every part of her body, reveling in her flavor, the taste of passion and fear. I took her again and again. I was a glutton at the feast.

  For hours, I fucked Elene without allowing myself to come. It was agony, but I had to do it. I had to prove to myself that I could be the depraved high priest to her fallen Venus. I pleasured her until I couldn’t stand it any more and then I allowed myself to explode inside her. How desperate I was to shoot my sperm into her unprotected pussy, to leave a new bad seed for prosperity, but this wasn’t the time to be careless. It was bad enough that I was leaving her alive.

  I longed to mark her in some way: to tattoo a love poem on her thigh with the knife perhaps, or to bite her and draw blood. I wanted to leave something for her to remember me by, but self-preservation again stepped in. The greatest satisfaction of all was that I knew that she would always remember me. She would never forget our evening together. It would live in her mind until the day she died. That is a kind of immortality, I guess.

  When I had my fill, when I had taken everything that I could from her, when I had drained her life force from her to the point that she was as limp as a wet noodle, I took Elene into the bathroom and immersed her in a full bathtub. This brought her back to life again and prompted some spectacular struggling and splashing, as she no doubt thought that I was trying to drown her. I was only trying to get rid of any trace evidence, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I dried her off and took her back to the bedroom, where I tried to make her as comfortable as possible, considering she was trussed up prettier than a Christmas present.

  I leaned down and whispered to her, “Don’t forget what I said. You don’t want to end up like your boyfriend. Oh, and thanks for the memorable night. I’ll never forget it. Neither will you, I’m sure.” I blindfolded her, shut the door to the bedroom and left Elene to her thoughts.

  I cleaned up, as always, with a thoroughness that I am sure that my ex-wife, if she were alive today, would have wished I had exhibited during our marriage. I made a special effort to clean the wooden floors in the bedroom, kitchen, dining room, bathroom and adjoining corridors, as I knew that one could be identified from footprints as easily as fingerprints.

  I left the house at 3:30 AM. I was sure that Elene would be missed sooner rather than later, so I wasn’t worried that she would starve to death. I could safely never worry about her again, unless I wanted her to star in my fantasies. But that’s unlikely now. I think that I need a new love object. Someone who won’t betray me.

  I drove to the airport, switched cars and then went back to the Whispering Winds, dropping the gun in a handy storm drain on the way. I will take a little nap and then leave at around ten in the morning. I intend to pay my bill in cash so there will be no credit card trail. Then I will drive westward, ever onward, ever upward.

  ENTRY 111:

  I spent a leisurely week traveling to California, my next port of call for my new Project of World Rage Assassination.

  Just as an experiment, just to see if I still had the magic touch, just to see if I could maintain the tricky proposition of keeping two Projects going at the same time, I picked up a prostitute named Tanya in Rapid City, South Dakota. I easily performed my miracles on her. I changed my M.O. slightly by not exhibiting her indoors at the fabulous Dunworth Berdell Motel on Neck Yoke Avenue, where I had decided to rest my bones that night. Instead, I left Tanya beautifully displayed in a woodland glade off Lafferty Gulch Road within spitting distance of the Mount Rushmore Monument. I felt so patriotic as I left, having added enhanced beauty to the surroundings of the stirring, grandiose, granite sculptures of our most notable Presidents. The tender ministrations of Mother Nature would work their wonders and change Tanya into something more than just a woman. Mother Nature and I would make her into a new Venus, one of many goddesses and gods to come.

  I am a tiny soul lost in a sea of other tiny souls,

  Like the stars in the Milky Way …

  So many stars that it hurts your eyes.

  What does it matter if a few twinkle and fade out to oblivion?

  There are always millions more to take their place.

  Comet Press is an independent publisher of horror and dark crime.

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