Getting Away with Murder Chapter 3 - Playing His Game
- John Drake
- Apr 2, 2022
- 20 min read
Isabella and Zahira sat on cheap plastic chairs on the roof of the police station, looking out over the cityscape beneath them. Patrol cars came and went at a leisurely pace, contrasting with the frantic wailing of distant sirens. Isabella’s fingers squeezed absentmindedly around the smooth aluminum of a can of beer. She shouldn’t be drinking in the middle of an interrogation, let alone while on the clock, but she needed something to calm her nerves. Every cop did, now and then… and right now she had better reasons than normal.
“He’s a fucking monster,” she muttered, shaking her head and sipping from the can. She looked over to Zahira, who was focused on something in the middle distance. “How can God let people like that exist, Zahira?”
Zahira blinked as if waking from a deep sleep. “Huh?”
“Are you okay?” Isabella leaned forward and waved a hand in front of her face. “You seem kinda out of it.”
“I am. Sorry.” Zahira sighed. “It’s just — God, Isabella. The way he talks… like its nothing.”
“Freaks you out, yeah. Me too. I get it. Hey.” Isabella stood and knelt next to Zahira, cupping her cheek in a palm and turning the pretty middle eastern girl’s chestnut eyes towards her own. “We’ll get through this, right? Together. He’s just trying to get in our heads, screw us over. He’s getting off to it. Let’s not give him the satisfaction, okay?”
Zahira smiled. Isabella had always thought she was cute, with her full lips and puffy cheeks. The two women had nurtured a healthy friendship since being partnered together, and perhaps it might have gone even further if they had met somewhere besides the workplace. But romance within the department never ended well, and so they’d kept things strictly professional, albeit warm. But… Zahira had never dated men while they had been partner. She could hope, right?
“You’re right.” Zahira laid her hand over Isabella’s and gave it a slight squeeze before she stood, downing the last of her beer. “We’ll get through it together.” Still, her stomach twisted as she rose and began to walk back towards the door down.
Five minutes later, the detectives entered the dreary interrogation room once more. Grant was sitting exactly where they’d left him, still cuffed, staring straight at the door as if he hadn’t moved an inch. “Ah, welcome back, ladies.” He smiled warmly. “Eager for more already?”
Isabella shook her head disdainfully, pulling the chair opposite Grant out sharply from under the table and dropping into it. “Just get on with it, pervert.”
“Hmm.” He stretched his neck to either side and straightened up. “Well… since you insist…”
It was a while before the next time. Months had passed while I waited to graduate… months I kept feeling certain that any day there would be a knock at the door, someone coming to get me. Months since I’d first experienced the joys of my new hobby. I tried to go back to the old way… just fucking dumb, drunk college girls too stupid to know any better, but they didn’t satisfy anymore. Every night I found myself laying awake at night, thinking back, reliving the moment that the fat-titted lesbian bitch parade day had died. Nothing else could compare to dyke pussy, let me tell you. With these other women they could… enjoy it. They wanted dick in general, even if not mine in specific… and lesbians, like that pink haired slut, didn’t. I had seen the look of horror and disgust on her face, and thinking back on it was the easiest way to for me to get myself to cum in those few months. There was no risk of them enjoying it… and I was coming to face it that unwilling pussy just felt better. I needed more.
So, after I moved home to the big city, I made sure to prepare properly. I purchased a few pills from an old friend, bought some equipment… and then I started hunting. Let me tell you detectives I spent hours in club, watching oblivious women filter in and out as I considered my options. There’s a sense of power in stalking future prey, in seeing a hundred potential victims dance and party around you, knowing that you could end any of their lives and they’d be helpless to stop you.
But there was also still a trepidation inside me… I wasn’t confident yet to take what I wanted. It wasn’t until I’d been doing it for nearly two weeks, at nearly one in the morning when the frantic energy of the club had just passed its peak and was beginning to wane, that I found the will to make my move.
I’d been looking for lesbians, of course… and there was one girl in particular that caught my eye. She was black, average height, neither notably slim nor well-endowed but she was drop dead gorgeous. More to the point, though, she carried herself with a certain bitchiness that was difficult to look away from. She sat at the bar alone, tossing her back-length mane of raven black hair about and scowling at any man who dared to approach like they were a personal affront to her. If they persisted, she would let them buy her a drink, but she got rid of them right after… never letting their advances progress any further. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be such a desperate man, throwing oneself at a woman that’s so clearly disinterested in any potential company, but I understand why they tried. She was wearing high shorts that hugged her ass and a low-cut tank top that exposed her midriff along with knee-high heeled boots, all over a full-body fishnet stocking. Everything she wore was in shades of black, complemented by matching eyeliner and lipstick. I would have thought that it wouldn’t how shown off as well with her skin but I would have been wrong.
Anyway, that got me interest… but I hadn’t been sure until the first woman came over to hit on her. Watching the difference in her reaction I knew I had found my next target.
I waited a few hours before I approached her with confidence and sat beside her without asking permission. She looked at me with a sneer, her dark brown eyes sizing me up disdainfully. “Not interested,” she said. She shooed me off with a wave of her hand and looked away. I wasn’t bothered by her dismissal, of course. I’d have what I wanted from her either way. I flagged down the bartender with a finger, ordering the both of us a drink. It was a busy night and a poorly lit room, and she was too busy glaring at me to notice as the tablet fell from my fingers into her drink.
“My name’s Grant,” I said, bumping the glass against her elbow. She rounded on me with a fierce frown, but accepted the drink nonetheless. “What should I call you?”
“You shouldn’t call me anything, simp.” She scoffed and raised the glass to her thin lips, turning to scan the dance floor again. “I’m not interested in your pencil dick.”
“And you think I’m interested in you, you flat-chested bitch?” I shot back.
You should’ve seen the look in her eyes… honestly detectives, I don’t know why you ladies get so insecure about the size of your tits. Maybe you poor dykes have it rough and women are more judgment, but the kind of tits that guys like is “existing.” She glared at me, balling up one hand into a tight fist on the bartop. She brought her glass to her lips and tossed the entire contents back, then grabbed mine and splashed my own drink onto my chest. A round of childish ooohs came from nearby clubgoers as she stood. “Asshole!” She stormed off before I could respond, heading straight for the restroom. I was left alone and wet with several bemused glances thrown my way, but that was fine. I didn’t move. Last thing I wanted was to be seen following her right away, and so I turned away from the bar and offered an apologetic shrug towards the crowd. I could be patient.
The crowd, however, could not… deprived of their entertainment I didn’t have to wait long for them to get bored and look away, returning to their dancing. Then I paid the bartender and slipped off to follow after her in silence.
The drug worked quickly, I knew… it wasn’t a date rape drug or anything like that. Instead it would just make her feel sick to her stomach, and relax her muscles… leaving her nice and helpless. I followed her with my eyes without approaching until she went for the back of the club. This place didn’t have separate men’s or women’s rooms… instead, it had a short line of individual unisex rooms, and I had made careful note of which one she’d gone for. She hadn’t neglected to turn the bolt in her anger, unfortunately, but the locks were cheap, and it took me barely two seconds to pull out my knife, slid it under the bolt, and work the door open. Then-
“You followed her into the bathroom?” Isabella asked with a shiver. “Creep.”
Grant arched his brow. “Jealous, detective? I imagine you’ve never had a man want you enough to follow you anywhere, whether you asked them to or not.”
“Hey!” Zahira stepped forward and slammed a palm onto the table with enough force to startle Isabella. She stared into Grant’s eyes, speaking in a low voice. “Focus, asshole. Continue.”
Anyway! She was standing up when I came in, leaning on the sink with her head in her arms, but she looked up when she heard the click of the door shutting behind me. She jumped a little and I noticed with pleasure that her posture was shaky, footing unsteady. That same fierce frown plastered over her pretty face, though. “What the fuck? Did you follow me in here, limp dick?” She jabbed a finger behind me. “Get the fuck out! I told you I’m not interested!”
“That’s no way to speak to a man that buys you a drink.” I held my hands up as if in surrender, but I didn’t move away from the door. “Maybe if you give me a kiss, I’ll forgive you.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a fucking kiss, scumbag!” She reeled back and threw her entire body into a punch aimed straight for my face. I’m sure it would’ve hurt, too, if she’d landed it… if she wasn’t already feeling the effects of the drug and no doubt having trouble seeing straight.
I stepped out of the way easily, catching her around her midriff and tossing her back towards the toilet seat. “You missed, slut.”
She answered me with a primal snarl, shoving herself back to her feet and going to ram her shoulder into my chest. Again I dodged her, this time catching the back of her shirt and pulling her back into me. I squeezed her against my chest and bit at her ear, one hand coming up to squeeze her tits. Despite her rage, I could feel her trembling against me, and I’m certain she could feel my cock stiffening within my pants.
“Help!” she shouted. “I need help in here!” She went to drive her elbow into my side, but I shoved away before the blow could connect. She caught herself on the wall and turned unsteadily to face me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes unfocused. “H… help!” Her voice was weaker than it should have been. “What… what the… Did… did you… drug me?” She was breathing hard, even her smaller breasts heaving as she blinked several times. “F-fucking…”
I couldn’t help but laugh as she came at me again, struggling to keep her balance. No one could hear her over the pounding music… I could barely hear her in this room over the way the music throbbed and swelled. I stepped backwards and watched her flail for a moment, her posture hunched as sweat began to break out on her clammy skin. Instead of a punch, she tripped, and the club girl ended up leaning weakly against my chest, clinging to me for support.
I could’ve stripped her and had my way with her right then. The drug had taken its toll and she was practically helpless, despite the angry mutterings she was able to squeeze about between confused groans. But she’d insulted me earlier, and soiled my good shirt, and I felt like getting some revenge first. I grabbed a handful of her hair and peeled her off me, holding her up at arm's length. She hiccuped, eyes glassy and mouth gaping. I drew my fist back, lined myself up, and smashed it right into her bitchy face.
She cried out as she crumpled away from me, landing in a heap on the floor. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins now, the blood swelling into my cock and my knuckles tingling with the feedback from the punch. Again I had that sense of power, of dominating this pathetic woman that had thought herself the better of me. She groaned and rolled onto her side, clutching at her face, and I walked around her and delivered a sharp kick to her gut.
She retched as she was knocked onto her back once more. I straddled her hips and grabbed the hem of her shirt in both hands, ripping it open with a snort of effort. To my pleasure, the whore had no bra underneath, her pale breasts held in only by the criss-cross fishnet of her stocking. To my delight those nipples were pierced, and I grabbed one of them between my fingers and pulled until she screamed. “Shut up.” I hit her again, hard across the face, and felt the crunch of bones fracturing against my fist. Her scream turned to a gurgling moan as she spat blood, her pink tongue hanging loosely from her gaping mouth as she rolled her head dumbly to either side.
My hands wrapped around her slender throat, constricting her breath. She didn’t react at first, but after several seconds she seemed to finally realize she was being choked and brought one hand up to scratch loosely at mine. I grabbed her wrist and pinned it under my knee, then resumed squeezing the life out of her with both hands, leaning in close and watching the way her glazed eyes roamed across the ceiling. Her mouth flapped open and closed uselessly and her tits bounced up and down as she tried to buck me off. I have to tell you, officers… it was intoxicating. I nearly killed her right then… But I hadn’t come to the club just to kill. I relaxed my hold on her throat and pulled her up to her knees as she sucked in a wretched breath, quickly undoing my belt and pulling my cock out.
I slapped her across the face with my meat, smirking as she flinched back. That right there… that reaction was exactly what I was looking for. Instinctively recoiling in disgust… it was perfect. “Suck my dick, cunt.”
I was patient, you know. I wanted her to actually do it herself. But when she finally caught her breath enough to answer me, all she said was, “No. You… suck… mine.”
“Hah!” Isabella snorted, clapping her hands as she laughed. “I like her!”
“I’m sure you do.” Grant’s smile never faltered. “I liked her very much, too. So, detective… will you ever let her parents hear this recording? I’m sure they’d love to know how I beat and raped their dead little girl.”
That gave her pause. Her laugh died in her throat as she stiffened, fixing him with an angry glare. “You’re a monster, Grant. I’m going to enjoy it when they execute you for for this… when they use this confession as the noose. I’m going to sit in that room, and I’m going to volunteer to push one of the plungers… and you know what, rapist? I’m going to pray. I’m going to pray that mine is the one that kills you.”
He laughed. “You’re such a fiery woman, detective,” Grant said, adjusting himself in his seat and not seeming to be very bothered. “You remind me of her, you know. She had a lot of spunk to her, too, at least at first. Until I put her in her place.” He looked her over and licked his lips. “Then she was filled with a very different kind of spunk. You’d be the same, I think.”
Isabella shivered. She could feel him undressing her with his eyes, imagining what he’d do to her. She didn’t want to think about it. “Watch yourself,” she warned. “I already have enough material to put you behind bars. There’s nothing keeping me from walking away right now and getting you back on trial.”
“No?” He cocked his head innocently. “But if you walk away now, the families of my undiscovered victims will never get any closure. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
She glowered at him, but said nothing.
“Not to mention I thought you wanted to execute me,” he said with a smirk. “What’s the lowest number of murders a killer has been sentenced to die for in this state? Three solid confessions? Right now you have one. If you want, we can stop, but…”
“Keep going,” Zahira said quietly.
Grant smiled. “As you wish, detectives. As long as you keep listening, I keep confessing.”
Anyway… I’m sure she felt very proud of her defiance, the goth bitch. Happy with how she had stood up to the big bad abuser. That lasted about until I broke her jaw on my fist.
She spun as I struck her, landing face down against the grimy bathroom tile, but I gave her no time to rest. Just as soon as she’d hit the floor I pulled her back up by her hair, pulled her limp jaw wide open, and shoved my shaft down her throat.
She retched, her hands coming up and scrabbling against my thighs as I pushed myself as far down as I could go. Her body fought me, gagging and coughing with full-body spasms that made her throat squeeze pleasantly around my shaft, and her tongue pressed insistently against my cockhead in a vain attempt to push me out that only sent tingles of pleasure through me. Every time she gagged it would push me back one inch, and I’d tighten my hold on her hair and force myself back in two. I glared down into her glassy eyes the whole time, watching them flick and dart about in panic as her makeup ran down her dark cheeks in ragged black tears.
Finally my balls slapped against her chin. She was growing weak, unable to breath past my girth, her legs splayed out haphazardly beneath her and her hands slowly sliding down my thighs as frothy spit dripped down onto her bare tits. I sighed, relishing the way her struggles pleasured my cock, and finally pulled back.
As soon as she gasped in a breath, I forced myself into her once more. I pistoned her throat with angry grunts, grabbing the back of her head with both hands and using her to jerk myself off… knowing just how helpless she was to bite really did it for me, you know? Her neck bulged out obscenely with every thrust, and her tits swayed and bounced against my knees every time I pulled her against me. Her face, once so haughty and clean, was a mess of spit, tears, and snot, the mixture dripping wetly down my balls and splattering against her tits until they glistened in the ruddy yellow bathroom light. A ring of black lipstick formed around the base of my shaft, messy streaks of it running up and down the length.
She pounded her fists against me, but I barely felt it. All I felt was the sweet, wet grip of her throat convulsing over my cock, the tight pressure around my tip every time I shoved it down her gullet, the shivering moans and shrieks of her muffled voice as she struggled to form words. I dragged her across the floor and fucked her face into the wall, pounding the back of her head against the hard tile just as I slammed my groin into her face. Whether from the lack of oxygen or the battering on her skull, she eventually lost the ability to fight and let her hands fall limply to her side. She sat dumbly on the floor with her legs bouncing limply between my spread feet, eyes fluttering back into her head and tits jerking under my balls, the only signs of life her increasingly infrequent wet retches and the occasional twitches of her hands.
I felt myself grow close, and I pulled out of her with a loud groan, tossing her face down onto the floor and jerking myself off over her curled up, coughing form. I didn’t want to just cum down the bitch’s throat and choke her on my dick, you see. I wanted her to recognize that I owned her.
While she say there, coughing and soaking in my cum, I leaned down and tore her shorts off, ignoring her mumbled complaints and weak attempts to kick or push at me. Her wallet fell loose, and I picked it up pulling out her driver’s license.
“Aliyah? That’s your name?” I shook my head and tossed the wallet aside. “You dress like a slut. I’m sure your parents are quite proud.”
Panting heavily, she cracked an eye open and blinked up at me. “I won’t… be talked down to… by a rapist.” Her words were slurred and barely understandable… the drugs and the broken jaw combining to make her speak almost nothing.
“Not just a rapist.” I pursed my lips and squatted down beside her. “Also a killer.”
She didn’t say anything, only continuing to glare. It impressed me, really, her ability to keep some semblance of pride despite her face being slathered in spit and runny makeup and her lower jaw askew. I prodded her with a finger, causing her to wince as I disturbed her bruised face. “Beg for your life.”
She couldn’t spit, but she found the energy to raise a hand and flick me off.
“Hmm.” I nodded, working my jaw side to side. “I’ll make you beg.”
I grabbed her hand before she could pull back, pulling it into my chest. My other hand came up and wrapped around her extended middle finger, pulled back, and snapped it like a twig. A loud groan came out past her lips, but she refused to give me the satisfaction of a scream, and so I stood and dragged her roughly towards the toilet. She seemed to be getting some of her strength back, kicking and scratching at me, but I barely felt it past the rush of adrenaline as I hauled her up onto her knees and shoved her face-first into the murky toilet water.
Bubbles splashed up around her as her ragged black hair swirled through the water, her hands slipping off the edges of the toilet bowl in a frantic attempt to push her head up. “Ready to beg yet?” I growled, raising one hand high and delivering a stinging slap against her ass. She jerked, a muffled shout barely audible from within the toilet, and I grabbed the hem of her shorts and tore them down to her knees, exposing her tight ass laced with fishnet. I spanked her again, harder, the impact sending a sharp ripple across her asscheek, and this time I gave it a hard squeeze, relishing the toned muscle under the soft fat.
She began to kick at me, her legs flailing out in every direction. I grabbed at the fishnet around her thigh intending to use it to spread her legs, but with another powerful kick the stocking came clean off in my hand.
I sighed and pulled her head out of the water, ignoring her ragged coughing and wheezing. “Ready to beg yet?”
“F-fuck—mmf!”
I wrapped the stocking around her throat, pulling back tight and making her eyes bulge. Just as she opened her mouth wide to try and gasp in air past the makeshift garrote I pushed her under the water again, grinning at the powerful convulsion that rocked through her body beneath me. I lined myself up behind her, my dick bouncing off her ass as I spread her thighs with my own, but it was impossible to get inside her with how hard she was fighting me.
“Hold still, cunt!” I slammed my fist into the back of her head, dazing her just long enough that I could push my cock into her pussy. She wasn’t wet, and god she was tight, and the sounds of her gurgling shrieks more than made up for the lack of lubrication as I clenched my jaw and began to fuck her with short, powerful thrusts. Blood dripped down the inside of her thighs, followed soon by a slight trail of glistening wetness as her body surrendered to its purpose, easing my passage.
Finally she got a grip on the toilet and, pushing with all her might, managed to lift her head out of the water.
“Please!” I pushed her down again, but she resurfaced a moment later. “Please let me go! I’ll beg!” Another dip into the water, and another frantic struggle to breathe. “I’ll do anything! I’ll be your slave!”
“Told you I’d make you beg.” I grinned, putting more weight on her head and forcing it back under the water. I’m not sure if she could hear me, but I leaned down to hiss my next words nonetheless. “And you’re already my slave.”
“You fucking sadist,” Isabella spat. “You were never going to spare her, were you?”
Grant blinked, his eyes refocusing as the question broke his reverie. “Well, I suppose it was possible… but not after I got started, no. That would’ve defeated the purpose. Let me tell you something I learned, Detective…” He smiled at her. “When I fucked that nameless, irrelevant little pink-haired jizzrag in that filthy alley it was hot… but I hadn’t intended to kill her. Hadn’t realized I would need to. Hadn’t been thinking about it. This time, I was thinking about nothing else… and let me tell you, there is a difference. There is nothing, nothing in the whole world as liberating as raping and hurting a bitch you know you’re going to kill. It’s like, nothing at all matters anymore, except in how it made me feel. It was magical… and once I realized that, no… there was no chance of her being spared.”
“Why even bother trying to make her believe you would, then?” she asked with a disgusted shake of her head.
“Why not?” Grant could only shrug and smile. It infuriated her, that smile. “She was only there to get me off. Am I not allowed to play with my food? It wasn’t like she was going to get to stick around to be annoyed about it… and I would get to enjoy the horrified, helpless look in her eyes for a decade. More than a fair trade, no?”
I think you can understand that I didn’t think to look at my watch while her body was squeezing me, but I can say with certainty that I spent at least the next half hour fucking that slut into the toilet. The rush of power was… is… intoxicating, arousing — I could’ve pumped her full of cum within thirty seconds if I’d wanted to. I was loathe to waste such an opportunity by rushing through it, though. So I paced myself, fucking her with a steady, measured pace, allowing her to breathe every minute or so to ensure she didn’t break until I was ready. She begged me every time, offering everything she could think of. She offered me money, offered her womb, told me she could pick locks or lure other women in to serve me in her stead. She swore she would never tell a soul. She would have, I’m certain - You can never, ever trust a bitch. It didn’t matter. Even if every promise was entirely true, I would’ve done her all the same. After a certain point I just stopped listening.
She was nothing like the first girl. The girl I’d snuffed in the alley months ago had been skinny and weak, noteworthy only for the tits she’d been born with. This one was fit, strong, with a toned body marked by tattoos and old scars. She put up a fight, but drugged as she was I barely had to even try to subdue her… she was completely at my mercy now, and I exploited every part of her. I caressed my hands up the smooth curve of her back and the flat lines of her belly. I smacked her tight ass, groping and squeezing it and pulling her asscheeks apart to watch the way they bounced on my cock. I pinched her nipples as they were squeezed between her chest and the toilet rim, twisting her piercings until she screamed.
And of course I fucked her, detectives. Our hips connected with wet, meaty slaps as I plunged my cock deep into her pussy, groaning in pleasure as her clenching walls slid over my shaft. I don’t know if she enjoyed it and I don’t care. The wet squeeze of her cunt, its warmth, the shuddering of her body beneath mine, the thick femme nectar that dripped down my balls and pooled between her ankles along with the blood of her rape, I rode every sensation on a wave of ecstasy that lingered just under orgasm, slowing my pace whenever I came too close to climax.
When I finally came I did it with a mighty groan, pulling her stocking taut around her throat and laying my entire weight on her back. Her legs kicked out behind me as my balls tightened and I pumped the first rope of thick white cum into her pussy, constricting her lungs with my weight. I grunted as I packed my load deep into her womb, pulling back a couple inches just so I could slam inside once more, feel the impact of her ass against my groin and grind against her, driven by an instinctive need to get my cum as deep into her as possible… knocking her up the way every cunt, dyke or not, want meant for. Not that it mattered for this one. Whether I impregnated her or not, by the time I came down from my high she was barely moving. A few seconds longer and she had gone still.
I stepped back to admire my work, cleaning the excess cum off on her dark skinned, bruised ass. The goth bitch had been all but stripped, her shorts hanging around her knees and her body stocking ripped in several places. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her head bobbed gently in the toilet water, legs splayed wide at an angle that would’ve been painful if she was still alive. I found myself staring at the thick dollops of my own cum welling in her cunt and dripping down the inside of her leg in a thin trail.
There’s really nothing I love more than seeing my own seed leak out of a freshly killed cunt.
I kept her driver’s license… my little trophy to remember her by. I pulled my pants up, washed my hands and face, and peeked out the door. Finding no one waiting, I slipped out and left her there to be found — or used — by whoever used the room next. Wouldn’t matter to me… by then, I would be gone.
A heavy silence hung in the air as he finished. Isabella leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms under her breasts and tapping a finger irritably as she glared at him. Grant arched a brow. A few seconds passed, and no one said anything. “Nothing to say, detective?”
She didn’t answer him.
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