eyes now, a sudden shudder of excitement riding his spine as he envisioned the glow, orange flames leaping from room to room inside the large colonial he had called home for the first fourteen years of his life, as his parents perished among the blaze of their own ignorance and shame.
They had been his first kills, and they had deserved it, every fiery tortuous moment.
He'd been on a trip of self-awareness and discovery ever since, his understanding of his place in the world, his purpose revealed to him with each succeeding sacrifice. Every woman he'd ever taken and dominated since killing his parents a teacher, as well as a pupil. Every woman was stronger than his mother had ever been, yet, unlike his father, wholly controllable and powerless by virtue of gender and inferior status.
Like her last name, Slany would be a breath of fresh air, his star pupil, sweet and innocent, yet strong and indomitable, a totally new challenge.
His penis throbbed with the possibilities of her forthcoming surrender, the pleasure he would get from hearing her beg for his favor, watching her squirm in her shackles, knowing that he held the power of her existence in his hands.
Soon, very soon.
Usually, he waited six months to a year on a new job before he initiated contact and took his trainee. The pickings at every previous job were so slim, the wait and his patience demanded the wait. Now, the waiting had become a part of his ritual, a habit he had not been able to break—nor did he want to—not since his fifth kill while at his third ad agency in New Jersey.
Except the anticipation, the desire to master Slany Breeze, experience the energy of her obedience, the warmth and heat of her vagina enclosing and complementing his perfect penis, had caused his current break of protocol.
He glanced over a shoulder at the bound woman, gagged and supine on the soft leather backseat of his custom sedan. Her hazel eyes were large in her face, glistening and defiant above the duct tape covering her full lips as she stared at him.
He reached behind him, comfortable in the knowledge that no idle passers-by could see her through the dark tint of the car's windows, and smoothed a flushed cheek with the back of his hand. His stomach pitched with excitement and anger when she rudely flinched from his touch.
He backhanded her, saw the shock in her eyes, then listened to the rewarding sound of her whimpering behind the tape. "You should be satisfied I allowed you in the car. I could have put you in the trunk." He glared at her, waited a beat, then took a deep breath.
He hadn't meant to lose his temper, rarely showed emotion or became violent with a trainee, at least not so early in their relationship, and not outside the bounds of his training and their ultimate merging.
He was instantly sorry for his outburst, but he'd had to make her see, teach her now who was boss so she would know how she needed to behave with him from now on, so she would know the best way to please him for as long as their time together lasted.
Gaining his wrath would only shorten that time, and he had to make her see that displeasing him, forcing him to dispose of her too early, was not desirable for either of them, but especially not for her.
21
Gracie C. McKeever
"Now, let's start again, shall we, Kate?"
She stared at him, finally nodded at his cold silent look.
Her anger was as palpable as her fear, each suffusing his limbs with electricity. He was anxious to chain this one down, had been waiting months since he had first seen her visiting the offices of DMT in her capacity as one of the agency's oft-used freelance photographers, his desire to take her, own her almost as strong as his desire for Slany Breeze. That they were similar in looks and temperament, despite Kate Delaney's chestnut hair and smaller stature, did not escape him.
That she resembled all the women he had ever taken and trained, and to a superficial extent, his mother, did not escape him, either.
"You
They had been his first kills, and they had deserved it, every fiery tortuous moment.
He'd been on a trip of self-awareness and discovery ever since, his understanding of his place in the world, his purpose revealed to him with each succeeding sacrifice. Every woman he'd ever taken and dominated since killing his parents a teacher, as well as a pupil. Every woman was stronger than his mother had ever been, yet, unlike his father, wholly controllable and powerless by virtue of gender and inferior status.
Like her last name, Slany would be a breath of fresh air, his star pupil, sweet and innocent, yet strong and indomitable, a totally new challenge.
His penis throbbed with the possibilities of her forthcoming surrender, the pleasure he would get from hearing her beg for his favor, watching her squirm in her shackles, knowing that he held the power of her existence in his hands.
Soon, very soon.
Usually, he waited six months to a year on a new job before he initiated contact and took his trainee. The pickings at every previous job were so slim, the wait and his patience demanded the wait. Now, the waiting had become a part of his ritual, a habit he had not been able to break—nor did he want to—not since his fifth kill while at his third ad agency in New Jersey.
Except the anticipation, the desire to master Slany Breeze, experience the energy of her obedience, the warmth and heat of her vagina enclosing and complementing his perfect penis, had caused his current break of protocol.
He glanced over a shoulder at the bound woman, gagged and supine on the soft leather backseat of his custom sedan. Her hazel eyes were large in her face, glistening and defiant above the duct tape covering her full lips as she stared at him.
He reached behind him, comfortable in the knowledge that no idle passers-by could see her through the dark tint of the car's windows, and smoothed a flushed cheek with the back of his hand. His stomach pitched with excitement and anger when she rudely flinched from his touch.
He backhanded her, saw the shock in her eyes, then listened to the rewarding sound of her whimpering behind the tape. "You should be satisfied I allowed you in the car. I could have put you in the trunk." He glared at her, waited a beat, then took a deep breath.
He hadn't meant to lose his temper, rarely showed emotion or became violent with a trainee, at least not so early in their relationship, and not outside the bounds of his training and their ultimate merging.
He was instantly sorry for his outburst, but he'd had to make her see, teach her now who was boss so she would know how she needed to behave with him from now on, so she would know the best way to please him for as long as their time together lasted.
Gaining his wrath would only shorten that time, and he had to make her see that displeasing him, forcing him to dispose of her too early, was not desirable for either of them, but especially not for her.
21
Gracie C. McKeever
"Now, let's start again, shall we, Kate?"
She stared at him, finally nodded at his cold silent look.
Her anger was as palpable as her fear, each suffusing his limbs with electricity. He was anxious to chain this one down, had been waiting months since he had first seen her visiting the offices of DMT in her capacity as one of the agency's oft-used freelance photographers, his desire to take her, own her almost as strong as his desire for Slany Breeze. That they were similar in looks and temperament, despite Kate Delaney's chestnut hair and smaller stature, did not escape him.
That she resembled all the women he had ever taken and trained, and to a superficial extent, his mother, did not escape him, either.
"You
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Dell Magazine Authors