by Matt Shaw
Emma hadn’t seen the monster sleep with anyone who hadn’t been dead, or on the verge of dying. She was confident that it wouldn’t work but - at the same time - what did she have to lose by telling Hayley to give it a go? “You could try it,” she said. She couldn’t help but feel, had it been that easy, someone else would have done it long before they’d been snatched.
The two women rolled to one side (as much as the cages permitted) as the lorry came off the carriageway and navigated a roundabout.
“If he gets you out of the cage first,” Hayley said, “what are you going to do?” Emma didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. If he let her out of the cage first, chances are she was going to be bound to that damned chair and then that was it. He’d end her. “You aren’t saying anything,” Hayley said, pointing out the obvious.
“What is there to say?” Emma said. “I made a mistake and I’m going to pay for it.”
“You told me to stay strong. That was the first thing you said to me when we spoke. I needed to stay strong and you were going to get out of here with me. That’s what you said. Remember?”
“I do.”
“We need to stay strong. Not just me. We. We need to get out of here. Together.”
Emma bit her tongue again, the desire to scream out that there was no way out of there. The desire, no, need to tell the other woman that she was dead and that it was just a matter of time before she realised it. Maybe even to point out that - in actual fact - there was more than a strong possibility she wasn’t getting out of here either. They were both living on borrowed time. Emma’s timer just had less digits displayed.
The lorry jolted to a stop.
“This is it,” Emma said. Her heart rate quickened. Any minute now she expected the chamber door to open and the bastard to come in. She just hoped it would be quick - whatever he had planned. She waited. They both did. Chris didn’t enter the chamber though. It was just the two of them. The sound of their hearts beating fast and hard filling the air, filling the silence.
#
“It says it is quick,” Chris was standing in the aisle of the home depot. In front of him were various bags of cement-based products. Standing next to him was a young worker who looked as though he were fresh from school. “How quick is quick?” he continued, turning to the young worker. Chris was pointing towards a large bag of what advertised itself as quick-drying cement.
“About fifteen minutes, it can be dry. What is it for?”
“Fences. Neighbour reversed her truck straight into them and knocked them flat. Got the posts, got the panels - just need the cement. Can’t believe I forgot it, to be honest. Pretty obvious I would be needing some, right?”
The young worker smiled but moved the subject on as though Chris’s friendliness was making him feel uncomfortable. “Well it can be dry in about fifteen minutes, like I said, but if I were you I would leave it overnight after putting the posts in… You know, before you put any pressure on them.”
“But about fifteen minutes it should be pretty hard?”
“Yes.”
“That’s brilliant. Been meaning to do it for a week now but work has been manic. I wouldn’t mind but, the neighbour’s kid keeps coming into my garden as though it’s okay, you know? I don’t even know my neighbour. Up until the point she reversed into my fence, I hadn’t even spoken to her. And even now, I’ve only told her I’d be sending the bill,” Chris was purposefully making the story longer than necessary to annoy the worker. It saved him being asked further questions. It left an impression on the employee that he was just your typical, average-Joe who’d popped in to get some much needed Do-It-Yourself done. It left the employee with the impression of being someone he never wanted to have to serve again, for fear of hearing more stories that he simply didn’t care about.
“Anything else I can help you with?” the young man asked.
“You can come round and give me a hand doing it, if you want? The fences that is,” Chris laughed and gave the worker a playful tap on the arm, “It’s not like I’m gay, or anything. Not that I have a problem with that if it’s what you’re into.”
The worker smiled and looked around, hoping to make eye-contact with another customer who’d also need his help.
Chris smiled and gave him another slap, “I’m just playing. Relax. That’s it, thank you.” Chris didn’t wait for a response. He bent down and lifted one of the bags of cement and started off down the aisle towards the self-service checkout desks. At this stage, with a normal customer, the staff member would have asked how many posts the customer was installing and he would have informed him of how many bags of cement he’d need, to save them running out and having to come back. This was one customer he didn’t stop, or offer further assistance to other than the very basics. He turned and made a hasty retreat just in case Chris called him back.
As Chris turned the corner, and disappeared from the young worker’s line of vision, he couldn’t help but laugh. A young lady, another worker, smiled at him as he approached the checkouts where she was on duty; watching out for customers who may have needed her help as they processed their own transactions. Chris smiled at her too, and continued to do so as he set about putting the cement through on the first available till-point.
“Excuse me,” he called out to her. She walked over. A pretty little blonde thing. Like the young lad he’d approached earlier, she too looked as though she wasn’t that long from college.
“Can I help you?”
“I was just wondering if you had any bags big enough for this,” He nodded towards the bag of cement he’d just scanned through. The girl looked bemused. The bag the cement was packaged in wasn’t exactly flimsy and - more than that - it had two handles for easy carriage.
“No. Sorry. But look,” she took a hold of the handles on the off-chance Chris had missed them, “It has handles.”
He laughed and faked embarrassment, “Of course it does. Can you believe I just walked all the way here struggling with that?! Didn’t even notice the handles.” He was lying. He knew it came with them. He also knew they wouldn’t have had any bags strong enough to contain it. He just wanted to talk to her, this pretty little girl. In his head, he was already thinking of Emma’s cage as needing to be refilled. Another companion for his journey around the country. The girl smiled at him and walked away to help another customer whose till point was screaming at them, saying they needed assistance. Chris watched her for a moment before turning back to his own transaction. Cute face, clear skin, blue eyes, natural looking. Cuter arse. He licked his lips and paid for the transaction with cash pulled from his bulging wallet. It was always cash. Never card. Too easy to trace.
The till thanked him for his business and reminded him to take his goods. He laughed.
“Excuse me?” he called to the girl once more. She turned to him, same smile as earlier.
“Can I help you?”
“Do many people come here, buy something, and then leave without their goods?”
The cute assistant frowned at him, puzzled by his question.
He explained, “Just the machine… When you’ve finished paying for your stuff - it reminds you to take the bits and pieces.” The girl frowned again. He laughed as he realised he was making an idiot of himself, “Don’t worry about it. I guess you had to be there.” He shook his head and walked off.
“Sir, don’t forget your cement.”
8.
I closed the chamber door. I was brimming with excitement as I dropped the bag of cement onto the floor in front of Hayley’s cage. As it slammed against the floor of the trailer, it kicked up a layer of dust causing Hayley to cough. Emma was being extremely quiet. I couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d think she wasn’t there if she didn’t say anything. A quiet woman attracts no unwanted attention? It’s a bit too late for that. She had asked for this. I walked over to her cage and kicked it; letting her know I was standing there on the off chance she had gone deaf since I had last visited. She flinched at the
sound of my foot against the metal bars. I asked her if she was ready. I asked her if she had anything to say. She didn’t respond. Same process as before with regards to collar locked around her neck and pulling her from the cage. She fought against me but not nearly strongly enough to stop me from doing what I wanted. Usually at that point I would have put her on the chair and attached the collar’s lead to the wall (also locking it into position). Not this time though. This time I pushed her back over the cage (back on cage, breasts facing the roof) and secured her to it by wrapping the collar’s lead around her - and the cage - a few times before clamping it to itself. She pulled at it and I watched for a moment, making sure it wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t. She wasn’t.
I took another collar and lead from my small box of tricks and pulled Hayley from her cage. At this stage of my road-trip, I was frustrated with the lack of progress I’d had in maintaining a good relationship with the people I’d chosen to come with me. They always look so promising but things soon turn sour and I end up having to kill them. I thought, if Hayley could see what I was to do to Emma, it might encourage her to behave for the duration of our trip. I knew why the girls rebelled. They were trying to get their freedom. The irony being - if they tried to last the distance with me - they’d have eventually got it when my reign came to an end. As I keep saying over the pages, it can’t last forever. At some point someone will stop me. The police are investigating the murders, according to the newspapers I see in service stations and the broadcasts on the radio as I drive. It’s only a matter of time. I get found, they take me away. They rescue the girls. But - no - they get impatient, the girls that is… They get impatient, do something stupid, and I have to teach them a lesson. Such as what was happening with Emma-Jane now. The girl who was scared to suffocate.
I told Hayley she had to watch what happened. She’d get to read the pages that I write now too, to make sure I recount an accurate story, but - yes - she also got to watch it live. By doing so I really get to drum it into her head that she needed to behave. She had to do as I asked or she could suffer the same fate. Well, not the same fate exactly. I can’t repeat myself within the book, but I’d find something equally horrible for her to feel. With her secured, I turned my attention back to Emma. I asked if she regretted her past actions. Not just the potty incident. That was the icing on what would be an extremely bloody cake. I meant everything: the potty, the time’s she’d screamed at me when I walked into the room, the points where she had argued with me (if only for a short time) when it came to reading the book. She told me to fuck myself and do my worst. Question: Why would I fuck myself when I can be the last person she ever gets to fuck? Go out with a bang, as they say.
She was wearing jeans. They were stained from where she’d had a couple of accidents during the day-light driving hours. She didn’t smell as fresh as she could have done but I didn’t care. A cunt is a cunt is a cunt. I grabbed the tops of her jeans and pulled them down with a sharp tug. A once-white thong tainted yellow. I pulled it down as well before ripping both her knickers and her jeans away from her legs. She kicked out with her feet, as though that would have stopped me. I caught an ankle in each hand and stopped her from thrashing around as I moved my body between her legs and pressed myself against her stinking pussy. She was screaming at me; yelling all sorts of obscenities but it didn’t matter at this point. She could shout and scream as much as she wanted. I wasn't going anywhere and nothing was going to stop me from doing this. I unbuttoned my own trousers and withdrew my hard cock. I told her - as I pushed against her- that I was going to be the last man to cum inside of her. She looked at me with tears in her eyes yet I don’t think - at this point - she’d put two and two together; the words I said and the fact there was quick-drying cement behind her ready to be poured into her cum-filled cunt. I spat in my hand - a large amount of clear saliva - and rubbed it on my cock and across her pussy before pushing into her. She squealed out in pain, like she wasn’t quite ready for it yet but it didn’t deter me. As I thrust backwards and forwards, I turned to our spectator to make sure she was watching. She was. Her eyes fixed upon what we were doing and - was that an aroused look on her face? I asked her if she was turned on and she said she was. What happened next surprised me. She reached down with her hand and pulled her short waitress skirt up. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I continued fucking Emma. Here she was - this girl I’d snatched from her place of work - and she was now fingering herself. Her middle finger deep inside her pussy, her eyes glued to the sight of my cock slipping into and out of Emma. I smiled to her. Emma’s screams seemed to be muted to me now. A glimmer of hope that at least one of my girls was a smart choice and that - maybe - I wouldn’t have to snatch the cute blonde from the home depot store. At the time of writing, by the way, I hadn’t. She is probably still safe and sound at work or else she’s now at home with her family. Or, by the time I finish this segment of the book, I’m headed right back to where she was in the hope of finding her once more? Time will tell. If you’ve got your hands on this book, you’ll simply need to keep reading.
“Keep fucking her,” Hayley said to me. I wasn’t sure if it was a request or an order but I continued right up until I ejaculated inside her. I pulled out and my spent cock swung back onto my jeans and a trickle of my cum dribbled from Emma’s cunt. Emma was no longer screaming by now. I wasn’t sure whether she’d recently stopped or whether she’d been more subdued for a while now. Tears were streaming down her face regardless. I turned to Hayley who looked to be on the verge of climaxing herself; two fingers fucking her own cunt hard and fast. A look of lust on her face. She asked me for permission to suck my dick clean, even said I could do the same with her fingers. I walked over to her and she opened her mouth in anticipation. I told her to stick out her tongue; an order she followed. Further proof that I’d chosen the right girl to come on this trip with me. I didn’t feed her my cock though. I’d seen too many films where that ended badly. I wiped my cock clean with my hand before sharing the cum and pussy-juice with her, by allowing her to lick my hand. I couldn’t help but notice what seemed to be a look of disappointment in her eyes. Part of me considered writing this part of the book differently, as to how it played out, for her benefit. A little reward to her for wanting to get involved and not try anything stupid. I thought about extending the scene by describing how I’d made love to her. That way, when she got to read it back, she’d be treated with how it could have been between us. A little something for her to think about until the day we finally do get to fuck, if that day ever comes. The only reason I haven’t is because everything else in this book is true. If I put one falsity into what I’ve done, people could end up challenging all else I’d written. Beside, this isn’t her chapter. What happened there was merely an added bonus. This was Emma’s chapter.
I looked down to the mess dribbling from her dirty looking gash. She kept squeezing, forcing a little more cum to trickle out, as though she were offended to even have it in there.
“How does it feel to know that no other man will cum in that sweet, sweet pussy of yours?” I asked her as I reached for the bag of quick-drying cement. Her face was a picture. She immediately realised what was coming her way. Half a bag full of this poured up her cunt, along with half a bottle of the water kept in the chest. I set the bag down on the floor just in front of her vagina and ripped the top clean off. By this stage she was panicking and asking what I was doing. Actions speak louder than words and I took a handful of the cement mixture and shoved it into her cunt with enough force to ensure that at least some stayed. Emma screamed as I piled another handful inside her, and a third. A quick glance to Hayley and she’d stopped what she was doing. Her eyes wide with fear. A fourth handful of cement shoved into Emma until her undercarriage was caked. I jumped up and fetched one of the small bottles of water - half of which I tipped into her (and the cement). I sat down, on the floor, and watched as the water started to mix with bits of the concrete powder. I could only imagine how it was mixi
ng with my semen inside of her. I still had a fair amount of the cement left but I hadn’t finished with her yet. I just wanted to watch this dry inside her, sealing her up in the process. I wanted to know if it were possible. That damned curiosity back again… A look at Hayley, even she was curious. At least, I believe that was the look upon her face. I could have been mistaken of course.
#
Chris set the pen down into the centre of the book before moving both book and pen across to the other seat. He was back up in his cab, still parked up in the furthest corner of the home depot’s fairly busy carpark. Patrons were coming and going beyond, yet none of them gave him - or rather his lorry - a second glance. He was one of many parked up. For all the customers cared, he was just another delivery driver.
Chris glanced at the clock in the centre of the cab’s dash. He had been writing for nearly thirty minutes. The shop assistant had told him that the cement would possibly be dry within fifteen minutes. Time to tell, he thought. He opened the cab and jumped down, slamming the door behind him and locking it with the fob in his pocket. Without a care in the world, he made his way back toward the rear where - once again - he let himself in. A quick squeeze down the side of the fake cargo boxes and he let himself into the chamber.
