Born Evil

Dear Readers:

My name is Louis Attoma, attorney-at-law. In my capacity as attorney for Ms. Sharon S___: I have been requested to send the following story to this site. I make no claims to it's accuracy or it's authenticity. In fact, I personally have never read this story and never will. Those also were my instructions.

Ms. S___ was an inmate on death row here in Dallas, Texas from 2005 until February of this year, 2013, when she was executed for the crimes for which she was convicted. This will explain to curious readers why there is such a gap in time between her previous writings and this one. My understanding is that this story was composed on a smart phone which prison authorities allowed her access to as a part of her final wishes. Why she asked me to send it instead of just doing it directly from her phone I cannot say.

I must also add that there has been some controversy in this matter as to Ms. S___'s execution. For those of you unfamiliar with this story, let me briefly summarize. Two days after the execution, one of the prison guards on death row disappeared without a trace. It has been alleged that this guard had developed a relationship with the prisoner over the months she had resided on death row. This I cannot confirm. In addition, one of the prison administrators, a Ms. Hanna Sinclair ,whom witnesses say bore a uncanny resemblance to Ms. S___ also was reported missing.

As has been widely reported Ms. S___ did not go to her death quietly. On the day of her execution she was reportedly incoherent and fought with her guards to the extent that they had to administer drugs to calm her down so that the execution could proceed. It was noted that she proclaimed her innocence and stated that a mistake had occurred. Most of what she said was incoherent babble and made no sense, probably due to her mental state and the drugs that authorities administered.

These events have produced some questions and theories as to what might have happened. Conspiracy theories have claimed all kinds of possibilities most of which are pure rubbish in my opinion.

Ms. S___ was cremated the day after her execution as per her wishes. This eliminates the possibility of dispelling some of the wild theories that have sprouted since her death.

My legal requirements are completed after this story has been posted. May she rest in peace and may God have mercy on her soul. Louis Attoma Attorney -At -Law

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Hello again my friends. If you are reading this then it is obvious that I am already dead. Ironic, isn't it, that all those people I killed along the way are now the cause of my own demise. Well, I guess I always knew this could happen to me. One fucking slip up and one enormous piece of bad luck and here I am.

Let me be clear. I do not regret one bit anything that I have done. If I had the choice to do it all over again, I would change nothing. Well maybe I would find some new and different ways to hurt my victims. Hmmm... there's always something new coming along. But never mind that.

For those unlucky few unfamiliar with my story, I refer you back to the previous so-called episodes in the "Born Evil" stories I have posted here on Literotica. They will help you understand this final chapter. Besides, it's always fun to read about murder and torture, don't you think? Especially when performed by me, a young, pretty female whom you would never think capable of such things. Even thinking about it makes my pussy wet and I was there, lol.

Just to recap the basics for you people too fucking lazy to read my other stories: I was eighteen years old when I discovered that the greatest joy of my life consisted in hurting and killing other people. Nothing in life is as pleasurable to me as the look and sounds that my victims produce as I torture them. Surpassed only by the joy that watching them take their final breath provides.

Do you find that shocking or disgusting? Well that's too fucking bad. I couldn't give a shit what you and the rest of the world thinks. This story, and my previous ones, are obviously not for you. But for those of you ready to join me on the last leg of my journey, welcome back.

So let's go back a few years to where the last part of my story left off. Seven or eight years ago, I guess.

I had bought that house from the family of that old woman I killed, remember? Secluded and perfect for my needs. Had a long trench dug in the backyard under the guise of planting a row of trees. Really it was a perfect place to bury my playmates after I was through with them. I think the count was fifteen at the time of my capture.

I think about them now, each of them a story in itself. The first of them you met earlier, that real estate saleswoman who thought she was looking at a future sale but was really looking at several hours of excruciating pain and death. She was lots of fun for me.

Luckily I was so strong from my hours of work in the gym that it was no problem to throw her lifeless body over my shoulder, carry her upstairs from my "special" room and toss her outside into the trench in the back yard. I covered her in lime and then buried her. Went back inside and had some lunch. Filling in a grave works up a girl's appetite.

Over the next several months it was more of the same. I would get the urge and go out and hunt.

It's never as easy as it might seem. I was super cautious in selecting my prey. It had to be someone with no known connection to me and contact with them had to be under conditions where it was very unlikely that anyone would remember me. You can't just meet someone out with friends and then talk them into visiting your house under some pretense. Their friends would remember. By the same token you can't approach someone in a smaller crowd because there's no safety in small numbers. You stand out more. Also, it had to be someone willing to visit you immediately. If you set up a time in the future, who knows how many people they would tell about it in the meantime.

I dressed very conservatively and attempted to make myself invisible. I always wore loose clothing so as not to show off my toned and athlete-like body. Little if any make up and mousy hair. It seemed to work, people looked right through me. As they always have.

The right circumstances always came around if you were patient enough. Two or three of the girls I met in bars. They had to be alone, the bar had to be crowded so that we wouldn't stand out. No one would look at me and suspect that I was a hunter, a predator. They felt safe with me.

One girl had just leased an apartment and was interested in a bedroom set I told her that I was selling cheap. Well she got to see my bed at least. After I had tied her to it of course. She damn near broke the thing the way she thrust and kicked around as I burned her nipples with a cigarette. Oh that was really sweet. Oh fuck yes.

Another girl was a home health aid. I told her my mother was in desperate need of someone like her and I would pay her whatever she needed. Of course my parents were both dead [thanks to me ha-ha] but she didn't know that. She gave me hours of pleasure before I finished her off by driving a large fork into her eyeball. Ummm, nice touch eh? After she died I ate out her pussy just to see if it tasted different. It didn't.

Then there was the religious student I met on the street one day. Told her I had a prayer group that met at my house and would she like to come? She did. She prayed. She prayed for me to finish her off after I had fucked her up but good. Made her do all kinds of wonderful and perverted things first. Like licking my asshole and fucking herself with her crucifix. It's amazing what a little pain will do to loosen some peoples morals.

Well anyway you get the idea. I was just delighted with my life. I had all the money I needed thanks to the inheritance I received from my parents after I had disposed of them. I owned this house which was perfect for my adventures in murder as I called them. Everything should have been perfect.

Something was missing however. In a large city like where I lived girls go missing every day so that there was never a big enough stink raised when I took someone. I longed for the excitement that my murders had caused in the small college town I used to live in. When people started turning up dead there, it seemed like the air on campus had been super charged with fear. It was intoxicating to walk around and know that I had caused that fear.

Now, nothing much happened. They were just missing but that didn't seem to be a big deal. One girl was featured on a local newscast but that was basically because her parents were rich and pillars of the community. The rest just went unnoticed. I guess the problem was that there were no bodies. That was what was needed to fire up the attention of these news shows.

But fuck, I wasn't about to start carting their bodies out at night and dumping them somewhere. Too dangerous. Maybe I could mail some body parts right to the news stations. How funny would that be if one of those bimbo blond cunts opened a package addressed to her and found a severed finger covered in blood. Cool...ha ha ha.

I figured that the police knew what was happening but were trying to keep it quiet so as not to cause panic. How the fuck could they not notice that 15 or so people were missing? Jesus were they that incompetent?

Oh yeah I did a couple of guys too. They were fun but I had to be more careful with them. Bigger and stronger than my usual female playmates, you understand. One I cracked across the back of his head with a baseball bat but he was unconscious for so long afterwards that it was a drag to have to wait for him to come to. When he did however I probably broke the rest of the bones in his body with that bat. He was so funny what with the screaming and crying, fucking snot running out of his nose and his pant legs wet with his piss. I stood over him laughing while I masturbated. What a hoot it was when I took a razor to his cock. He was pathetic and I loved every second of it.

So life was good even though I wasn't getting the public attention that I deserved. I was completely confident that I would never be caught. And I never would have except...

My mind kept drifting back to my high school days and Miss Johnson. For those of you who haven't read my earlier stories [what are you waiting for?], Miss Johnson was a teacher at my school who had basically raped me throughout much of my senior year. She loved to abuse me sexually and used physical abuse and intimidation to keep me coming back.

I can still feel the sting as she would slap my face in order to keep me in line. When she was sure that I was compliant enough to suit her, the sexual games would begin. Nothing was too perverted for her. She loved tongue fucking my little teen aged asshole and pussy and would make me do her too. She fucked me with a strap-on dildo and then made me lick off my pussy juices from it. She even took me to her house with her a couple of Saturdays and spent most of the afternoon abusing me.

Don't get me wrong, I learned a lot from her. The sex was ok, I didn't mind it but what I really was doing, even then as an inexperienced 18 year old high school student, was taking a master class in sadism and control. I saw how she controlled me with physical abuse and mental intimidation. For her, unlike me, the physical pain she inflicted was just a means to an end, the end being the sex. For me it would soon be the opposite. I would make my victims do all sorts of sexual perversions with me but that was just the warm up. The pain I could inflict was the real highlight for me.

So I admired her but after a while I was pissed off that our roles were reversed. I wanted to do her but I didn't yet have the ability and knowledge to make it happen. I had not yet killed and I wasn't ready to take that step at that point in time. So I endured her abuse until I graduated that June. She told me that if I ever spoke of our time together there would be drastic consequences for me. I believed her.

It kind of always bothered me that she had dominated me so completely for so long. Over time it had become like an itch that grew worse the more you scratched it. I began having fantasies about how it would be to do her, my old teacher [in more ways than one]. Finally during one of my "dry" spells when I hadn't found any playmates, I asked myself "why not?"

It had only been about two years since I graduated so I didn't think that she would have transferred or anything. Just to be sure I parked in the far end of the parking lot of my old school where I could see the teacher's lot and waited. Sure enough she pulled in about 30 minutes before first bell. I smiled. There you are you fucking bitch.

I drove off and went to her house. It was in a perfect location for what I had in mind. It sat back off the road and the nearest neighbor was far enough away so that they wouldn't hear any of the lovely noises I was apt to cause. I had been here twice before when she had me over for a Saturday morning rape.

The second time she had been so eager to get me inside that she had locked her keys in the car. Luckily for her she had a spare house key that she hid under a rock off to the side of her entrance. She had let us in and called AAA to come and unlock her car, her greedy fingers already working on my pussy as she made the call. I was banking on her being a creature of habit. She was, the key was there.

She didn't have an alarm system the last time I was here but if she did I knew that I had plenty of time to get away. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, listening for the telltale sounds of an alarm. There was none.

Smiling I wandered through the house, re-acquainting myself with the layout and the locations of all the exits. I opened all her drawers to make sure there were no weapons hidden anywhere. I went through her bedroom and found a box sticking out from the foot of the bed. I opened it and inside there was a large dildo and a photo album. Hmm, dirty pictures?

I didn't think much could surprise me these days but the photos inside caught me off guard. There were pictures of girls from our school, mostly nudes, some in interesting sexual positions. Miss Johnson was in all of them, a big smile on her face. Well fuck me, I thought. I guess I wasn't the only girl she had raped and blackmailed.

I flipped through the pictures and boom, there I was. I was spread out on the bed and Miss Johnson had her face in my ass. She was looking at the camera and anyone could tell that she was enjoying herself immensely. I had never had a clue that she was taking pictures but there they were. I'll be goddamned.

I sat on the bed trying to absorb this information. It occurred to me that all I had to do was send these pictures to the police and she would lose her job and probably end up in prison. Or, I thought, I could blackmail her and make her my sex slave. Trouble was, she'd probably like that, the bitch.

I wanted no part of the police though, that was for sure. I had too many of my own sins to even consider sending them anonymously. Besides, I wanted her for myself. I picked up the dildo and examined it. She probably looked at her trophy pictures as she fucked herself with it. I could smell pussy on it.

I took it into my mouth and tasted it. Yup, tasted like pussy. She probably had used it this morning. Horny bitch I laughed to myself.

What the hell I thought. I stood up and slid down my jeans and panties. I lay back on the bed and fingered myself as I sucked on that dick. When my pussy was good and wet I spread my legs wide open and slid it inside of me. It was huge and took a minute to get used to. I slid it in and out slowly, liking the way it felt. Slowly at first and then with increasing speed I fucked myself harder. I thought of the religious girl I had done and how she had fought against me when I fucked her with my strap on. Ummm, that had been so nice.

My cunt was so wet that the slurping sounds of the cock sliding inside of me filled the room. It took just a couple of moments for me to cum and it was a good one. After I had recovered I put it back in the box. I hoped she would be able to smell my pussy on it but who knows. I removed all the pictures of me from her album and left. I had seen everything I needed to see. Now I just needed to figure out when to do her.

I thought about it carefully over the next week and finally made my decision. No point in my being subtle with her, I thought. I would pick a time when she would be coming home alone and when she came inside I would be waiting for her. What a lovely surprise it would be when one of her former victims came back for a visit.

Oh yes! I couldn't wait to see the look in her eyes when I did her. I wanted to hear her squeal in pain and humiliation and then beg me to stop. Oh, but there would be no stopping just more and more of the same. Pain, screaming, and blood ...lots of blood. Fuck, I couldn't wait!

I sat a block or so away from her house in a rundown strip mall and noticed that she got home from school about the same time most nights. Perfect, I thought. As long as she didn't vary her routine, the next evening I would be waiting for her.

I planned out what to take with me and what exit to take if for some unexplained reason she came home with someone. I went over my plans again and again. Like I always said, I was careful about everything.

The next day seemed to last forever as I waited for the time to come to put my plan into action. I was wild with anticipation and I had to constantly remind myself to breath deeply and keep my cool. This would be different from my past hunts. This time I knew my prey and it would be on her territory.

I bought a five gallon gasoline container and after filling it, put it into the trunk of my car. I had decided to burn her house down much like I had with my lawyer's house after I had killed her. Gets rid of any evidence and I always liked the idea of leaving nothing more than a pile of ashes behind. Maybe when I finished playing with her I would pour some gasoline in her pussy and light it up. Watch her jump and twitch around the floor in agony. Umm, that would be fun!

So around noon I drove to her house, let myself in and stored the gasoline container and my backpack with my tools in a closet. I rechecked everything in the house and left. I didn't want my car in her driveway when she got home so I drove down to that strip mall and parked it there. When I was done with her it would be dark and I could grab my backpack, torch the house and walk out to my car before anyone even knew the house was on fire. Sweet! Just had to be careful the no one saw me walking into her house. Even some asshole driving by just might remember a girl with a backpack after the paper or TV newscast reported the fire. A girl can't be too careful these days.

I put on a gray hoodie and locked my car. With the hoodie on and sunglasses I was as anonymous as possible. If you had driven by as I was walking along you would never have taken a second glance. Even if you had what would you remember? A faceless, colorless figure such as you see a hundred times a day in any city in the world. Perfect.

There was no one around as I approached her property. Quickly, I ducked into her yard and walked up to the door. I rang the doorbell and waited. Odds were a hundred to one that anyone else would be there but I wanted to make sure. No one answered.

I retrieved the key under the rock and let myself in. The house was cool and quiet. I checked each room to be sure and then went to her kitchen. She had several large knives there and I took them and placed one in each room just out of plain sight. Insurance in case of a struggle that got out of hand.