He returned his attention to the pills, rolling them back and forward between his fingers, wondering how his mind-set could have changed so much in so little time. He’d been going to start a new life, all this stuff had been in the past, but as he tried to conjure up the man that had stood watching the agent struggling with the lock only a stranger appeared to him.
It was impossible for him to think of a new life when the images kept bubbling up in him like they were now. The anger and the humiliation still fresh each time, never fading. No, he needed his revenge. It was the only thing that helped.
The pills certainly hadn’t. Ben gave them a last roll across his fingers and placed them on the sill in front of him. It certainly looked like Slavia wouldn’t be getting his great success story now. He almost felt like writing the Doctor a letter. Dear Slavia. Thanks for trying but sadly your pills don’t work. Just thought I’d drop you a line while I wait for my next victim to leave…
He wondered how many people like him the doctor had unleashed on the world with nothing but a vial of pills in their pockets.
He wondered and realised that he didn’t really care.
Maybe his note should be more of a thank you one. Thank you Slavia for not reporting me to the cops when I confessed all. This one’s for you…
Ben smiled to himself and pushed his eye to the crack again. No one was stirring. He stood and stretched, his joints crackling, and his grin spread a little wider as he saw the glimmer of red, out of the corner of his eye. Just a quick visit, he thought and the red began to spread…
No, no, no. He couldn’t afford it. What if she left while he was away? He shook his head but for a moment it looked like he wasn’t going to have any choice in the matter. The red kept spreading and spreading but then stopped and Ben breathed a sigh of relief. There’d be plenty of time for that when he was done. And by then he’d have a brand new plaything too. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he patted his pocket and felt the comforting outline of the key.
The brief glimpse of red had stirred his penis to life again and for a moment Ben stood rubbing it through his pants until his eyes fell on the khaki duffel bag, propped against the wall and it swelled to a full erection.
He walked over and picked up the bag. It made such a satisfying clink as he carried it back to the front window. He freed his cock from his pants and crouched down in front of it, pressing his eyes to the crack for one last look before he unknotted the drawstring.
With gentle strokes he began to wank as he removed item after item and laid them on the sill next to the pills. The thick roll of silver duct tape came first and he pictured tearing off a strip and twining it around her mouth. Then came the plastic ties and he saw himself securing her to the bed. Next he removed the large hunting knife in its sheath, slipping the buckle so an inch of the glittering blade slid free. It was pristinely clean. He only ever used it for the fear it evoked and to remove the clothes.
Ben sped up the rhythm of his hand as he removed the canvas knife roll and laid it on the sill. He slowly pulled the bow, his fist turning to a blur as the string dropped free and the canvas slowly unfurled. He glimpsed the first of the stained blades, the old blood crusted black across it and he began to cum, grunting with each spurt as they flashed before him. Each incision he’d made with every blade played over his mind as one by one they were revealed.
The large paring knife that he’d used on number four in St Kilda.
The strips that he’d cut had been so thin they were almost translucent.
The serrated steak knife.
The pooling blood as he scooped out the eyes of number seven in Preston.
The bloody razor blade and the intricate patterns it had sliced over number ten in Glenroy.
They were endless: the images. And the appearance of each knife was accompanied by fresh gouts of jism as wave after wave of excitement washed over Ben’s body. When it was finally over, he was spent, gasping and staring in disbelief at the sheer quantity of his cum on the wall.
The unfurled roll left them all laid out before him and he ran his finger over each of them as he pressed his eye to the gap again.
* * * * *
Although it was close to the last thing she felt like doing, Rachel had to get out of the flat. Her hangover only seemed to be increasing the longer she was awake and she knew she had to go for a walk or just do something. Burn off some of the anger before she did something stupid. Before she used it again; she’d sworn she wouldn’t use it again.
Staring at the remains of the phone on the bedroom floor and the dent its impact had made in the wall only fuelled her anger as she yanked on some clothes and stormed to the door.
And to top it all off the fucker had made her ruin her phone. Rachel hadn’t tried to fix it yet but the shattered circuit board visible suggested it was pretty much a write-off. Just another little irritation to add to the list, she fumed as she slammed the door behind her and stalked off down the driveway. Rachel forced herself not to look back at the pervert’s flat. She didn’t dare. It would be too easy to turn back if she did. Just turn back, march up to his door and start pounding. And when he answered she’d…
And then you’d do what? The voice broke through her fuming as she turned and walked blindly down the street, almost bowling over Theo who was just turning into the driveway. Three in a row, that won’t look half suspicious… The voice continued but was cut off.
‘Hey, watch where you’re going,’ Theo grumbled.
Watch where you’re going you fucking nosy old cunt, she felt like screaming but just kept walking.
‘Geez, you’re just as fucking rude as your boyfriend,’ Theo grumbled.
Rachel stopped dead in her tracks.
‘What?’
Theo kept walking, muttering away to himself.
‘What did you just say?’ Rachel called after him, her voice unbelievably hostile to her own ears. She realised she was losing it; that it was pointless to scream and rave at Theo. He was a man who thrived on that sort of thing.
Still she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Theo had sort of half-turned and was staring at her with one cocked eyebrow.
‘What? Now you want to talk to me?’ He puffed his chest up in indignation.
Rachel forced a deep breath; fought back the urge to leap on the man and claw at his eyes.
‘Look I’m sorry but I’ve had a bad morning. What did you say about a boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.’
A shrewd, calculating smile split Theo’s face and Rachel hated him so fucking much at that point. ‘Ha, sure you don’t. What, you think I don’t know what’s going on?’
‘What are you talking about?’ It was getting harder and harder for Rachel to control her irritation.
‘You certainly play the field don’t you?’ Theo’s grin spread a little wider, ‘Got a few on the board at the same time.’
Rachel knew that it was only giving Theo what he wanted, letting him know he’d upset her, but she couldn’t help it and blushed bright red; a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
‘What I do is none of your fucking business,’ she snapped.
‘Yeah, well you might want to tell your boyfriend next time you bring a new guy home. I saw him last night and he looked pretty pissed off.’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend…’ Rachel started through gritted teeth but her words trailed off and her heart skipped a beat as a new thought occurred to her. One that left her feeling jittery with sudden adrenaline. ‘Who do you think is my boyfriend?’