The Adventures of Béla, the Vampire Girl
Book 1: Target Girl
Part 1 - Chapter1 - The Slasher
Matthew met her at the Target Club. Angela had short-cropped red hair, bright green nails and eyelashes to match. She stood there waiting for his order, looking at him like he was a tempting and illegal afternoon snack.
They liked each other right off and he flirted with her all evening. When it was her turn to go on stage, he whistled and applauded like everyone else, but he watched her face – not her tits or her bare ass.
By the end of her shift, she agreed to go out with him, and he brought her here, to his private little dungeon, a basement room in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district two miles outside of town. There wasn't anyone around for miles.
Of course, she tried to run as soon as he stopped the car. But he was very athletic and she was terrified – too terrified to concentrate on running, or even defending herself. She actually had a gun in her purse, but she fumbled it and he easily, laughingly, took it away from her. Then he'd dragged her into the building, kicking and screaming.
He liked these young girls to fight him. Once inside his concrete sanctuary, he actually turned her loose. She immediately attacked him, trying to subdue him quickly. He loved to watch girls fight for their lives, so he never tied or gagged his victims. The longer they fought, the more he was able to terrorize them before he cut them up.
After the first few moments, Angela broke down and simply backed into a corner, whimpering, and let him rape her. He took a long time cutting her up, listening to her scream. She begged, she pleaded, she promised him everything, but she didn't fight. Matthew was so upset with her lackluster performance that he butchered her corpse, chopping her into little pieces and tossing them into the street on the other side of town in a trash bag.
A week later, Matthew went back to the same strip club, determined to get a pretty girl with some fight in her this time. He found a really nice package - a tiny black haired girl that was so intoxicating, so full of life, he knew that butchering her would be the single biggest thrill of his life.
She was small; they call it 'petite', about five feet tall. Her olive skin, black hair and eyes indicated an exotic background. She could have been an Arabian princess. 'Béla,' she said her name was, had an adventurous look in her eyes that said she liked getting into trouble. He would give her more trouble than she wanted.
Wearing only a G-string and black mesh stockings, she sat, straddling his lap. "What would you like to do to me," she whispered into his ear, "if we were alone, and you could do anything you wanted?" Strangely, he felt compelled to tell her the truth.
When he did, she'd pressed her naked breasts against him and kissed him passionately. Then she sat up, undulating her hips and belly in an incredibly sexy manner that he'd never seen before.
"Like this?" she asked, almost whispering. She sensuously raked a fingernail up her belly, from her pelvis to her rib cage, leaving a red welt on her skin as she ground her hips against him. Her face was flushed, her breathing heavy. Her eyes glowed with excitement as they gazed steadily into his. He was sure she'd just had an orgasm, right there in front of him, straddling his lap with her sexy legs.
He watched her dance on the stage, fascinated with her, imagining little rivulets of blood running down her torso. Afterward, she invited him into a special room in the back to act out his fantasy, offering to be his personal Target Girl. He declined, suspecting it to be a trap. He reasoned that if she and the slut Angela had been friends, she just might be attempting to find and catch Angela's killer on her own.
Later, he caught her in the alley behind the bar on her way home, beat her senseless and brought her here, to his basement lair. When she woke up, she fought him fiercely, scratching, kicking and biting. Slashing her with the knife just seemed to excite her into fighting harder. It was almost as if being cut with a knife excited her. He anticipated a wonderful time carving her up.
The little stripper was hunched down, holding her side where he'd been able to sink his blade three or four inches into her sweet, soft flesh. Blood dribbled through her fingers where she held the wound closed, trying to keep it from bleeding too much. She was breathing heavily, watching his every move warily.
They circled. Surprisingly, the girl seemed to grow stronger as the seconds went by. Within a minute, she was completely ignoring her wound. It even appeared to have stopped bleeding.
She dove under his guard, actually attacking him, grabbing his knife hand and pushing herself in close. She sank her teeth into his jaw, tearing flesh and muscle from his face. Then he twisted her around so that he was behind her, his arm wrapped around her head, his knife hand coming in from her right side, sinking the blade deep into her belly.
Béla twisted back around, the movement pulling the slippery knife out of his hand, and bit into his neck with her teeth, the knife still in her belly. Matthew savagely pushed her away and landed heavily on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. She cried out in agony as he pulled the knife out of her and raised it over his head to plunge it into her chest. As he began the downward stroke, he realized that she'd passed out from the pain.
He'd never known a pretty girl who had fight left in her after he'd slashed her precious face or body once or twice. Most girls were so vain that they would rather be dead and beautiful than alive and scarred. What they preferred didn't matter. When he was finished with them, they were not beautiful. But they were very dead.
Looking at her lying beneath him on the floor, Matthew realized that she loved to fight, and she'd fought savagely. She had closed with him several times, allowing him to score with his blade in order to viciously rake his face or body with her teeth and nails.