Killa Season

by Sa'id Salaam

  "A brand new six year old!" The pastor practically screamed. "His seal is still intact?"

  Killa had no idea exactly what that meant but replied affirmatively, since it seemed to be a big deal to him. As soon as he said yes, he heard the man grunt from a climax. Again, Killa wanted to shoot him but knew what awaited would be so much more fun.

  "What shall I do with him? I took him to my cabin because I'm not sure." Killa sighed, earning his first Oscar.

  “Take me to him!" The pastor demanded urgently.

  "It's a long drive from here." Killa said into the partition.

  Let's go!" The pastor urged almost getting shot when he pulled opened the confessional door.

  Both men spent the two hour drive in the solitude of their own minds. Killa was amazed by the scenic view of the Pennsylvania Mountains. It was yet another confirmation of God's existence. Who else could make something so mighty and majestic besides the Most Mighty and Majestic?

  He planned to bring Kitty back here the first chance he got. Things had changed between them ever so subtly when he returned from New York. Kitty still had his heart and body but Sincerity ruled his thoughts.

  "No one on earth can hold you down like I can."

  Father Julious Miles had only one thing on his twisted mind; a brand new boy in pristine condition. In his sick circle of pedophiles, an unopened child was highly coveted. You could find some good used ones with low miles, but a new one!

  "Here we go." Killa announced, pulling the pastor from his disgusting thoughts. He pulled off the main road onto a tree-lined dirt road. The road was actually a driveway that ended in front of a custom cabin.

  “What's that smell?" Father Julious asked, wrinkling his nose to emphasize his aversion to the aroma.

  "Hogs. We keep them out back. They help dispose of the trash." Killa replied, leading the way to the cabin. He walked up the steps with the pervert right on his heels, eager to get at the boy.

  Killa unlocked the door and stepped aside to allow the pastor to enter. He closed the door behind them and locked it, tight. Father Julious scanned the dim room for his prize.

  "Where is he?" He asked, desperately. "Did he leave?"

  "Have a seat!" Killa demanded, pointing to the only chair in the room. It faced the only other object in the room, a large flat screen monitor mounted on the wall.

  Killa hit the button on the remote and the TV filled with the face of a cute blue-eyed, blond boy.

  “Yes, oh yes!" The pastor moaned lustfully. A second later a frown of familiarity contorted his face. It was that 'where do I know you from' frown.

  The hired assassin hit play on the remote and the face on the screen began to age progress forty years. Its owner smiled at what must be going on in his mind right now.

  "That's right! It's me; Allen, you remember me don't you?" The former victim and current client asked with a smile.

  "What's going on here?" The pastor demanded, attempting to stand. The gun pointed at his face requested he stay seated. Killa paused the video to explain.

  “The word in Arabic is Jazaa'ah. It can be used for good or bad, depending on what you've earned; reward or punishment, good or bad: Bad in this case." Killa relayed and restarted the recording.

  "Bless me father for you have sinned." The customer began. He started off slow and calm, growing enraged as he went along. "You betrayed me; seduced me. You molested me and fucked me! You made me suck your dick, you sick fuck! Have you any idea how badly that shit fucked me up?! Do you care? I grew up not knowing if I was gay or straight. I spent years and years in therapy. I lost my wife, my family! I was told I should forgive. Let go and let God, they said. But fuck that, I want revenge. Now you pay!"

  "I tried to help you! I showed you love, just like I've loved hundreds of boys like you!" The father pleaded. In his sick mind he actually believed it.

  "A-yo, you do now that's a recording don't you?" Killa laughed.

  "So what happens now?" He asked still confused about why he was there.

  "Now you die." Killa replied nonchalantly. "I'm going to kill you. Torture and kill actually."

  "Thou shall not kill!" The pastor demanded, jumping to his feet. Killa slapped him in his mouth with the broad side of his gun sitting him back in his chair.

  “Thou shall not kill but butt fucking little boys is cool." Killa growled. This was business but it just turned personal.

  Killa kicked and stomped on the pervert until he remembered his instructions.

  You know some of the shit on this list, I wasn't gonna do. It's going a bit far, even for me, but fuck it. I'll get over it, you won't."

  The sniveling coward put up some resistance as Killa stripped him of his clothing. He dragged the naked man into the kitchen where a morticians table awaited. Killa hosted him up and strapped him down. He opened the satchel of supplies and donned a pair of rubber gloves and got to work.

  "Oh God, no! Please!" The pastor pleaded when a yard long wooden dildo came into view.

  “Bet them little boys said the same thing when they saw your wood." Killa retorted, taking position over the man.

  In one hand was the dick shaped stake and rubber mallet in the other. Killa lined up the tip with his rectum and swung the hammer.

  "Yeeeeooooowww!" The pastor screamed, shrilly from the pain.

  “Yeah, I bet." Killa laughed. "Dude you missed your true calling. You shoulda been an opera singer." The preacher yelped with each pound from the hammer, pushing it deeper into his body.

  "You're killing me." He said pitifully.

  "Uh..yeah! Duh." Killa chided. He stopped impaling the man because he didn't actually want him to die; not just yet anyway.

  "Shit!" Killa grimaced at what was next on the list. He shrugged like 'oh well' and removed a pair of wire snipers from the bag. "You took a piece of your victims every time you touched them." Killa said, explaining the next phase. Jazaa'ah indeed.

  Father Julious didn't even complain when Killa began removing his fingers one at a time. The huge stake in his ass even over shadowed his toes being cut off. Next came his lips, nose and ears.

  "Not doing that." Killa giggled at the next item on the list. "Good news, you get to keep your dick!"

  Killa opened the back door and tossed the severed body parts out. The appetizer caused a near riot as the huge hogs fought to devour them.

  "Now comes the fun part." Killa announced eagerly, as he unstrapped the man.

  "You're a killer, murderer. You are going to burn in hell." The pastor wasted some of his last breath to proclaim.

  “Well yeah, I may be a murderer but I never made partners with God. I can be forgiven, you should worry about your own soul. So take a few seconds to get right with God cuz in a few seconds you going to be right with God."

  Killa grabbed the portion of the wood not in his ass and pulled him off the table. The hogs were in a frenzy as he drug him toward the door. The pastor begged, pleaded, and called on everyone and everything except God when he got shoved into the middle of the ravenous pigs.

  "Oh shit!" Killa exclaimed in shock as they began to eat him. He giggled again and crossed off the last item off the list when one of the hogs bit his genitals off. He watched for a while until one of the animals ran off into a corner with the man's head.

  "Well, that was fun." He laughed as he turned away.

  Ever the professional, Killa methodically removed all traces that he was ever there. Once he was back in his car, he called to report in. The task he hated most of all.

  "It's done." He announced when the call was answered.

  It always irked him not to have a face to go with the voice. What was worse was the sarcastic undertones the man laced his speech with.

  "As directed?" The voice replied, intently.

  “Of course. I'm a professional." Killa snapped curtly.

  "Very good. I just sent thirty seven five to your account."

  "Thirty-seven five? Why the short" He asked of the twenty-five percent reduction in his
pay.

  "I decided to fine you for that unauthorized business in New York." The voice chided, grating the killer's nerves.

  "Fine? Unauthorized? Son, you got me fucked up! I'll kill anybody.....anywhere, anytime I fucking feel like it." Killa shot back. "Just because we do business together, doesn't mean you own me. Never try to son me again."

  "Ok see, that's where you're wrong. You are a part of the organization that I run. I do own you. I'm daddy and decided to cut your allowance. Next time I spank that ass." The voice stopped as its owner waited for his come back, but none came.

  Killa didn't argue with dead people and the dude was as good as dead. He had made up his mind to murder him the first chance he got.

  "Don't worry son." The voice resumed with a verbal pat on the head. "The next one is a double header. A cool hundred grand. You can buy that pretty girlfriend of yours something pretty."

  The line went dead before Killa had a chance to respond. It was probably for the best though since he didn't have anything nice to say. Like the saying goes, 'Let those who believe in God and the last day either speak good or remain quiet.'

  When Killa tossed his phone on the passenger seat, he noticed the recently deceased had left his phone. The man was so eager to get at the little boy.

  ‘You so nosey." Killa sang, teasing himself as he went into the phones picture gallery.

  The car swerved violently as the gross graphic images muled kicked him in his conscience. It was full of grown men with small boys. The pedophiles actually had a group where they shared pictures and videos of their conquest. They also occasionally shared little boys. He heard the warning and threat about his un-authorized killings but fuck that. "All yall niggas are dead!" He vowed.

  Chapter Five

  Doc had stepped his hunting ground up by selecting 'LA Discotecha.' It was a Costa Rica's premiere nightclub modeled after the legendary Club 52 in New York. He had decided to take murder to the next level, so it was only right to kill a better class of woman.

  The local strays he killed from the surrounding villages barely raised an eyebrow. He longed for the infamy and notoriety of his former client. He now viewed Xavier Forrest as competition. He planned to surpass his numbers so he had some killing to do.

  Doc scanned the room taking in a new face with every flash of the pulsating lights. The dance floor was jam-packed with sweaty young bodies moving to the thunderous music pounding from the huge speakers. She spotted him in the flash of the strobe before he saw her. The attraction was mutual albeit for different reasons and they both approached.

  “Hola, coma te llama?" Doc asked offering up one of his pearly white American smiles.

  “My name is Bonita." The future corpse said in perfect English. "And yours?"

  "Why I'm Doctor...um, just Doc." He stammered, realizing that we've never used his name before. "Just call me Doc."

  "Please to meet you Doctor Doc." The pretty raven-haired young woman laughed, showing a set of pearly whites herself. Her red lipstick made a start contrast against her white skin. She was perfect. She would be missed.

  "Would you like to come to America with me?" Doc asked flashing another smile.

  "Ha! What a pick-up line! I bet that works very well out in the villages but here in the city, not so much." Bonita laughed.

  She was right too because in the impoverished towns and villages an offer to go to America will get you laid. Doc had been using the American dream as bait to lure girls to his bed and then kill them. Besides a distraught family member or two, on occasion those girls went unnoticed. Bonita Flores was the daughter of the Chief of Police. Yeah, she was definitely going to be missed.

  "Actually, I was referring to the Hotel America where I have a room." Doc said dangling the room key as proof.

  "Why didn't you say so? I would love to go to bed with you." Bonita cheered. Her and her friends were Costa Rican socialites. They hit all the hot spots each night, leaving with foreigners or rich locals. It was almost a contest of sorts for the young sluts. Sleeping with rich and famous men earned cool points in their morally challenged club. An American doctor would be a nice notch in a well-notched belt.

  The couple left the club hand-in-hand like an actual couple. They stole kisses and gropes as they walked over a few blocks to the hotel. It was mobile foreplay, like getting head while you drive. The upscale hotel was busy, well-lit, plus all the security cameras worked. If one were keeping score, this would be mistake number one: A hard, fast ball right up the pipe for strike one.

  "Wasn't that the policeman's daughter?" A nosey clerk asked in rapid fire Spanish, as she multi-tasked. Her first job was as a hotel clerk but she worked part-time minding other people's business.

  “Yes, with another man! Third this weekend." Her co-worker replied. "This one is an American." She added, remembering checking him in, in his real name.

  This wreckless move of being spotted and identified was a looping curve ball for strike number two.

  Doc reserved the room in advance so all of his supplies were already laid out and in place. He was so excited about taking his new hobby to the next level, he decided to skip the sex and get straight to the main event until Bonita dropped her flimsy dress that is.

  "Oh my!" Doc exclaimed at the sight of her young body. Two heavy breasts stood proudly at attention on her chest like soldiers. The pale white mounds were topped by pretty pink nipples and her thong was the same shade of red as her lipstick.

  "You like?" Bonita giggled quite pleased at the reaction. Se stepped out of the thong as Doc nodded his head like a bobble head doll.

  "I like, I like very much!" Doc replied and moved on her. In one swift motion he scooped her onto the bed and put his tongue on her lips, the lower pair.

  Ole Doc sucked several orgasms out of Bonita causing her to curse in two languages. The vagina was frothy and hot when he finished with it. He could see the ripples of heat waves from that hot Spanish box.

  The little purple pill Doc took had his little pink dick rock hard. He shoved himself inside and speed humped to a quick nut. His erection stayed intact so he kept right on going. The little whore got more than she bargained for as the doctor fucked her raw.

  "No mas! Por favor, no mas!" Bonita pleased in Spanish as English had momentarily escaped her.

  "Ok baby." Doc relented and slumped down on top of her. He began kissing her long, pretty neck. He was prepping it for surgery. "Let's take a shower."

  "Ok Poppi." She agreed eagerly, even though she really wanted an ice pack for her throbbing vagina.

  The super sharp knife beside the tub caught Bonita's eyes as she followed Doc into the shower. Doc adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature once they were both inside. More friendly kisses were passed back and forth as they washed each other affectionately.

  ‘Turn around." Doc instructed and Bonita quickly obeyed. As he washed her back, he slipped a hand out the tub and grabbed the knife.

  Bonita leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Almost as if offering herself for sacrifice. Doc took a deep breath and mentally looked down at the line he was about to cross. He exhaled and crossed it. Her head came off so quickly and easily, she didn't have a chance to put up any resistance. The body fell to the bottom of the tub as Doc turned to head face-to-face.

  “Wow, still pretty." He marveled at the body-less head. The flat eyes were still open half way but the light of life was gone from them. Her mouth was gaped open from a scream that never materialized.

  Doc thought twice about sticking his still erect penis into the mouth. He should have thought three times and maybe he wouldn't have done that nasty shit. The man fucked the dead head until he came. Then watched his semen run out of the severed neck.

  After wrapping the head in plastic, he placed it in his bag. He was taking it with him. The amateur murderer wiped the room for prints which was really quite futile, especially since he left her box full of cum like a present for the crime lab. He should have put a bow on it too. Doc passed t
he same cameras that recorded his entrance as he made his exit.

  Strike three! He was about to be called out. The novice may have been a killer but he was no Killa!

  Chapter Six

  "Hey baby!" Kitty practically screamed when she took Killa's call. It was the first time she had heard his voice in weeks.

  Killa had been down in Mexico murdering cartel members for the last month and was missed. The black mob had sent him down to stir up shit between rival factions. He had been given the green light to kill in whatever manner he chose. He chose a hot machete to slice and dice men and women on both sides. He stirred up so much s hit that the two cartels engaged in all out war. That allowed the Black mob to fill the void.

  "Hey ya self lady. Whatcha up to?" He replied just as happy to hear her voice as she was to hear his. They were as giddy as teenagers.

  "Nothing, sitting here doing keagle exercises and thinking of you." Kitty purred.

  "....Um...damn, I forgot what I was about to say." Killa laughed. Thinking about the way Kitty would squeeze him with her vaginal muscles made him so hard so fast he felt light headed.

  "Oh guess what?! I lost twenty pounds!" She gloated triumphantly.

  "What, you can't find your purse?" Killa, the comedian quipped. Most people never saw this soft, tender side of the murderer. He didn't do 'I love yous' but if he loved you, you knew it.

  “Ha,ha. I do miss that tongue, but not for the jokes." Kitty lied. She loved his jokes and he had a mean vagina eating game. "I bought a new dress mister man, so you're gonna have to take me out on the town when you come home. When are you coming home?"

  “I'm on my way as we speak. I was hoping for a nice quiet night at home. We can sit in front of the fire, sip a little wine? I can use a nice stiff brush and brush the naps on your neck."

  "You are on a roll today, baby!" Kitty laughed. "As romantic as that sounds, I'll pass. I wanna go dancing."

  "What Kitty wants Kitty gets." Killa agreed. Kitty treated him like a king so he had no problem returning the treatment. Fair exchange is no robbery.