"Very nice," he remarked, tilting his head to one side as he judged the body, which lay butchered at his feet, "Give you four out of ten for that one. Getting better." He stepped closer to her, his hand trailing gently up her back; she shivered, her eyes involuntarily closing as she savoured his touch. His fingers ran round the line of her jaw and raised her chin to make eye contact, their eyes met and electricity jolted through her body. He smiled, her desire running through him like adrenalin, "One day child, not yet." She sighed sadly; her eyes fell to her victim. He tapped her lightly and whispered, "Until next time little one" before he turned and faded into the darkness of the forest.
She awoke the next morning, stiff from the night before. Her body ached with every movement she made, stretching slowly and carefully, she dressed herself, her mind replaying the events of the night, a surreal daydream to get the day off to a good start. Murder always turned her on, and victims she took died at the highest point of sexual bliss, it was the least she could do for them. They were giving her their life; she had to make sure they died happy.
She spent her day in school fantasizing, fantasizing about everyone she passed in the corridor, caught a glimpse of in the crowd. She wondered what it would feel like to take them, how they would react. She knew girls who called themselves sexual predators, but they were nothing compared to her. She really had the killer instinct. She wondered what it would be like to take one of them; it would be a challenge. Men were easy to excite, and most of them never thought she was really going to kill them. They viewed it as some weird sex game, in a way it was, but her games always ended in their demise. No one had survived an encounter with her.
She was tired after last night, but she wanted to take someone tonight. Just to see him again, he gave her the will to live; he gave her the gift to kill. She mused that if it hadn't been for her chance meeting with him, she'd be like every other 18-year-old girl in her school, guided by hormones into the bed of every narcissistic guy she knew, to be talked about incessantly, compared to all the others, with their bleached blonde hair and non-existent skirts. She liked not being like that, she would submit to only one.
The bell rang, resounding horribly in her head. She exited her class quietly, blending in with the crowd. They never gave her a second glance, as per usual. Ironic, for many who had passed among them, hers had been the last face they had ever seen. As she wove through the crowd, bag clutched to her chest, she spied out her victim.
Tall, shapely and moving with that unmistakable air of popularity-fed confidence, Daria watched her. She was beautiful, and she knew it too. Daria felt her body tense as she yearned for the taste of her. She followed her in the mass exodus from the school, tracking the girl with ease. The crowds thinned, she knew this girl. Vaguely. She lived on the other side of town; Daria knew when she would get her chance. They had to walk alongside the woods as they passed the bypass road. She'd grab her then, and then the games would begin.
Shadows sprawled lazily across the road and the girl crossed, walking under a canopy of drooping branches, Daria followed, her pace increasing as she quickly checked around for witnesses then lunged at the girl, dragging her, while gagging her mouth with her hand, into the undergrowth. They struggled for what seemed to Daria like an endless time, her chosen victim putting up a fight as she fought to get and stay on top, beating her into submission took a few minutes, but eventually she collapsed victorious on top of the gasping girl.
She paused as she caught her breath, pressing her full weight onto the squirming beauty spread beneath her. The girl's eyes were rolling wildly as she struggled and bit deep into Daria's hand. Pushing further over the girl's mouth, Daria reached for a stone, grasping it in one hand she raised it as high as she could, and dropped it heavily onto the girl's head.
The struggle ended, Daria prepared her victim. She reached into her bag, hardly equipped for what she had planned, but ever resourceful, she'd make do. Stripping the girl, she tore her clothes, each item probably more expensive than Daria's full outfit, into strips and laid them beside the naked canvas. Spreading the legs of the girl, she bound her ankles and wrists tightly together, making the ropes so tight that they cut into the flesh and sent her hands and ankles into a deep shade of purple. Tying a bundle of fabric together, she created a gag and pushed it firmly into the girl's mouth, binding it tightly at the back of her head.
Daria leaned back, and wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead as tried to decide how to address this subject. Reaching back into her bag, she withdrew both her blades, cheap and sharp, perfect. She twisted the blades round in her grip and gently pierced them into the soft flesh of the girl's nubile breasts creating two thin sanguine streams which followed the curve of her body, steadily increasing in flow as the blades dug deeper. Daria could feel the girl coming back around, she felt her own stomach flutter with excitement as she slowly withdrew the blades and sketched them over the girl's once pristine form.
Slipping one blade between her teeth, Daria moved the other down between the girl's legs, her hand moved in greedily, and with firm, circular motions she brought the girl an edge of pleasure to add to her pain. The knife, which had lay coldly on her thigh, now began stroking gently beside Daria's hand. The girl moved, in reaction to Daria's exploring hand, as it pushed further, and increasing pressure upon the blade until it drew blood which mixed with the natural fluids already flowing languidly down her thighs.
Daria moaned, she felt herself gripping to the girl's leg and her free hand momentarily danced over herself, raising a low growl in her throat, instinctive and predatory. Her eyes flashed to the girl's, which were wide open and rolling back to the lids, the combination of pleasure and pain sending her further over the edge. Her whole body was tense, responding to even the lightest touch as Daria brought her over in a crescendo of pleasure, ended with the sharp agony of the knife being driven home.
She pushed the knife as far to each side as she could, twisting it as she wrenched it from the now raging river of blood, which flooded over Daria's hand. The girl's body was shaking now; she was close to death, but not quite there. Climbing over her fevered frame, Daria perched herself on the girl's chest and drew the blade lightly across the girl's throat, their eyes met, and Daria continued to do this, the knife leaving bloodied lines across the throat, but none enough to cause any serious damage, as the girl gulped, Daria plunged the knife deep into the throat, sawing it across, splashing herself in the girl's blood. The body went limp beneath her.
