God thinks I'm funny. (Parts 1, 2 and 3) by Respect

-Part I-I like church girls. I guess that’s my MO. Won’t every catch me though, that “good girl” tendency is the closest thing to a pattern they’ll find. There’s always a pattern though. Constantly plagued by it. Even if you never have a pattern, never having a pattern becomes a pattern, right? Maybe I over-think it, but that’s what keeps me ahead. I definitely have one common factor in all my attacks though. I never let them live. For a while, I never left DNA evidence, but it became too much hassle and not enough fun. My face isn’t in any database though, I’d be dead if it was.

They found the first body yesterday. I used to burn the bodies, grind the bones, scatter the ashes, but then I got into spectacles. Found the girl with her legs, arms, and head cut off. Put each piece at the corner of a pentagram, left the body in the center. I’m not satanic, just thought it would be funny. Me and god have a very personal relationship. She likes to play games.

My current victim’s older than I like ‘em. But I need the money. Big ranch. Widow. Probably a gold digger. Neglected her security. Typical bitch. I take a picture of her daughters and tell her I’m going to rape them when they come home. I won’t, they’re both at college. But I like to play dumb so that my toys get to feel like they have some sort of edge on me. I like fighters.

She plays up all the “Don’t you dare!” nonsense. I guess she wants me to stick around. I won’t. I know that her neighbors are coming over for dinner, she’s probably hoping they’ll save her. Four hours. One hour of looting, two hours of play, and then I’m gone long before they’ll show up. Call them neighbors, but she’s so rich that they live miles away. No hope of them hearing her scream. And I’ve watched them. They’ll arrive right on time, like they always do. Good people.

I don’t touch the downstairs, ransack the upstairs. Not smart to try and pawn her stuff, so I ignore the jewelry. Find all the cash, take some food, some liquor. Stash it all in my truck. Now it’s time for some fun.

She’s not a bad looking old bag. Mid thirties, long brown hair, good complexion. Her body is tasty. Firm and mature, but not overripe yet. She’s got that elegant structure that women of her class tend to carry. Keeps herself in splendid shape, toned muscles with barely enough body fat to smooth it all out. I’m telling you, she’s really going to be delicious.

I go back to the garage. The contents of the freezer are strewn across the floor. Makes it sticky and wet. Gross. I untie the knot I had put in the handle of the freezer, open it up and stand back.

“Get out,” I order.

She gingerly exits, wary of the Colt .45 I’m holding. She adjusts the blazer she’s wearing and then fixes her hair. Cute. She seems civilized enough.

“Follow me, madam,” I order cordially. Turn and walk to in towards the kitchen.

She thinks she’ll make it out alive. She thinks I’m going to be a gentleman robber. Too many movies glamorizing villains, I guess.

In her enormous kitchen, there’s an island with a stove. I order her to climb on it.

“Lay belly up. Good. Give me your wrists.” She lays across the whole island and stove. I tie her with metal wire. Hard to break, but possible if you’re willing to slice yourself. More fun when things can be exciting. She obliges to letting me do her ankles next, I position her spread eagle.

“What do you think’s going to happen to you?” I ask casually.

“I don’t know,” she lies. White bitches always lie. Niggers and spics are more reasonable.

“I’m going to gobble you up, my little piggy,” I say. I search the drawers until I find cooking scissors.

She looks defiantly at me while I stroke all over her body with them. Up her exposed shins, across her skirt, zigzag up her blouse, brush her neck, stroke her cheek. Her body quivers slightly, but overall, she keeps pretty steady. I’m impressed, the woman has gumption. I open the scissors and put her nose between them and smile at her. She keeps staring at me, doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t think I’m evil enough.

I pull the scissors back, she lets the breath she had been holding go. I snip her arm to make her jump. She screams in surprise. It was just a small nip. Just to keep her scared. She’s trembling more visibly now. I start cutting off her clothes. Do it rough. Cut her a couple more times in the tighter spots. She screams each time and starts whimpering. Makes me get a little chubby.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she suddenly asks.

I pause. That was interesting. I suddenly like her a whole lot more. She’s taking an offensive, rather than pleading or complaining. It’s a two part question. One, it makes her more personal to me, she’s trying to get in my head. And two, if I say no, she’ll feel a lot more relief. Let’s see how this plays out.

“No. You’ll be my first,” I say with a wide grin. Her clothing falls to the sides. Black and red panties, black and red bra. Looking for a new husband maybe? I nip her on the side of her stomach one more time before I set the scissors down.

“Why?” she gasps as cut forms.

“Because I need your money and you’re so beautiful. I want to rape you, but it wouldn’t be safe to leave you as a witness, now would it?”

I grab her bra and yank hard. Her torso rises generously until her wrists pull tight against the metal wire. She exclaims at the unexpected pain. The plastic hooks in the back snap and I let her torso fall hack agains the stove. I shove the bra up, it’s still connected by the straps, but loose enough to move out of the way now.

Her breasts are a let down. I’d say they’re a good thirty-eight C, but they’re too saggy from having children. Ugh, they’re gross to look at. Wish I’d left the bra on. I slap her hard out of angry disappointment.

She oofs and then talks some more. “But you’ll probably get caught. Don’t you have something to care about? What will happen when you’re locked up?”

“No. The only thing I cared about was my dog, Bingo. And he just fell off a cliff.” This conversation isn’t as fun as I thought it would be. I need more crying to get me hard.

I touch her panties, but hesitate, thinking how loose and nasty her pussy’s gonna be. Why couldn’t she have a little daughter? Even those collge sluts of hers would probably have haggard cunts. I need something fresh. Next girl I rape’s had better be a virgin. Maybe a preteen.

I pick up the scissors again and cut off the lacey panties. Ugh. Just as I thought, pussy lips spilling out. It looks loose. I wonder how much I can fit in there. Actually, that’s a good idea.

“What’s you’re name?” she asks, still trying to figure someway out of this.

I’m tired of listening to her. “Listen bitch. If you say another word, you’re going to regret it.”

I haven’t done anything too horrible yet, she’ll take the bait.

“I just want to-”

“That’s it!” I shout over her idiotic voice. I grab a pepper grater off the counter. One of those big wood ones that you turn to grind the pepper. One of those thick ones. I ram it into her disgusting pussy. She screams and it tears. I smile and start to get hard again.

“I warned you. Now say something else. See what I do.” She keeps her mouth shut this time. “Good,” I say.

I decided I’m just going to fuck her asshole. I usually like to cum in their pussy, because then they worry about being pregnant. Not that it matters, they’re all dead. But I still like to see that look in their eyes. I’m still not hard enough to put it in though. It’s about time I inflicted some serious pain on this old cunt.

I grab the scissors and snip off the tip of her nipple. She screams in surprise and pain. I start working the pepper grinder in and out of her. I grab the tit I just mutilated and squeeze hard. Blood pours out. It’s funny how much blood comes out of a bitch’s tits. It gets all over my hand. I wipe it on her face.

“Stop! God please stop! Pleaseeeee! No more! Stop! Stop it!”

That’s more like it. My dick gets hard. Anal hurts. Especially if the girl’s an ass virgin. But this bitch had to piss me off. I want to make her suffer bad. Grab a chair to stand on while I fuck her, and then drop my pants. Before I stick it in though, I grab the scissors again. Shove them in, hold the handle with two hands, cuz it’s hard to operate scissors under such great resistance. I open them inside of her. Snip. Snip snip snip. She screams bloody murder. Nobody will hear.

I pull out the scissors and ram my cock into her.

“OH GOD! AHHHHHH! STOP STOP STOP! NO MORE! PLEASE! OW OW OW OW!”

She starts choking on tears and mucus. I reach up with one hand and throttle her throat. Got the scissors with the other hand. Snip. There goes an ear. Snip. A chunk of her cheek is missing. I take my hand off her throat and open the scissors wide. Put them on her neck.

“UNNHHHHHHH,” I moan as I cum. Feels good. Glad I didn’t have to kill her to get off. Have you ever had a girl lose bowel control on your cock when you kill her? Feels so awesome. But not this time. Maybe with that virgin, next time.

“Mmmmmm, didn’t expect to cum so fast with your old ass,” I say. It’s true. I usually take much longer. I’ve still got about an hour and a half before I need to leave. Good. Gives me time to set up how her body’s found.

“Why…” she whimpers. “Why…”

They ask “why” a lot. I try to come up with creative answers.

“FOR BINGO!!!” I scream in anguish. “Bingo… poor poor Bingo… DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT’S LIKE?” I scream at her. “HE WAS MY FAVORITE DOG. NOW I ONLY HAVE TWO OTHERS. THERE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THREE. THREE!!!” She doesn’t laugh. I don’t know. It’s funny to me, I guess.