A predatory mind
Mood:  energetic
Topic: Woman of Evil novel
Excerpt from Woman of Evil
by Meliora Volens (copyright and disclaimer protected content)

It wasn?t difficult to subdue her, he found. She had struggled a bit but it was a natural response to his attack and he expected it; he?d done it often. A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him to keep on his toes and alert. Subduing her was only the first step, and she could still slip through his grasp.
His body pressed hers face first against the damp bricks, one hand covering her mouth ready to pinch her nose closed if she struggled again.
?Will you scream if I move my hand to let you speak?? He asked quietly behind her left ear. He could feel her heart pounding and her rapid breaths across his knuckles. She made little panicky noises in the back of her throat, although she seemed to be deciding what next to do.
?Will you scream if I move my hand, bitch?? He whispered again, this time with a little more pressure on her mouth and a squeeze against the wall. He felt a hot tear roll down the back of his cold hand and she nodded a ?yes? as best as she could.
?You have just saved your life? was all he could say; she was the first person to tell him the truth when he asked that question before. She cried and leaned her forehead against the wall then her body felt as if it deflated and he knew the fight had left her for the moment.
His mind raced through the steps of what to do next, they always said ?no? and then he would get to beat them senseless, then they stopped screaming and he could?oh, yes, then he could take them someplace special. He thought he should kill her for the inconvenience of making him think and find someone just as pretty instead, but she was to be taken alive; she was not his this time.
He flipped her around with a firm twist and clapped his hand back in place hard enough to hear her head thud against the wall. She didn?t even have time to suck in a breath. She rolled her eyes as if she might faint, and he pressed close again. There could be time for cracked heads later if he worked things right.
Tears dripped down his hand, and when her nose stuffed up she looked at him. Like car lights passing by the dark alley, her eyes flared in recognition of the situation anew, then immediately faded to abject hopelessness. He hesitated. He thought he would see the familiar panic flash across them, but there was none. So he waited.
Her body began jerking and heaving to breath and still she returned his gaze knowing somewhere deep in her soul that she was already dead. Another minute or two and she would die, and she simply looked at him, not even daring to hope he would allow her to live.
He nearly forgot to cup his hand and allow her to breath; the look in her eyes touched and aroused him so suddenly.
She said a muffled ?thank you? as she inhaled the second time, gulping her words back down into her lungs.
?For what,? he wanted to shake her and scream the words, ?for letting you live??
It was all he could do to keep himself from strangling the false gratitude from her throat. She blinked at him, a kind of distant, blank, hopeless look in her eyes. He slammed her against the wall a few times as hard as he could.
?Fucking, stupid cows?all you bitches.? And people wondered why he wanted to kill them. She had passed out sometime during his outrage upon her, and now she girgled a little when she breathed. He probably broke her ribs or something, oh well, it?s not like it?s the first time that?s happened.
He tucked her under his arm like a drunk girlfriend and dragged her to his car. He tossed her in the back seat, bound her hands and feet with quick turns of the duct tape and covered her with a blanket just for this very purpose.
It was an old patrol car, painted dark blue with the thick divider between the driver?s seat and the back passenger?s seat. There were no handles in the back doors and the spotlight still hung on the driver?s side.
He liked the thought that there was almost no escape from the back and often wished there were still lights and radio installed just for the fun of it. But everyday he was told to keep a low profile, and after a few years, he?d grown used to no one taking much interest in him.
In the beginning, after making a little mistake, like leaving one of a girl?s earrings at the site where he grabbed her, he was scolded.
?What? Do you want to get caught? Do you want to get locked up so you can?t hunt anymore? What is it? You tell me, because I don?t know what to say to keep you from making these little mistakes that will get you caught? the man said.
?The police are stupid. They don?t know it?s me and they?re not going to catch me,? he retorted restraining the urge to spit on the man?s thick Oriental carpet.
?Bullshit. The police now have several clues and when they get enough clues they *will* catch you. The prisons are full of men who thought the police are stupid and wouldn?t catch them. If you don?t clean up your act and stop leaving little trails straight to you, then all I can do is wash my hands of you, you are of no use to me in prison or dead.?
?Well, fuck you. I could kill you too.? He was angry, mostly because he was told to grab this girl or that one and hadn?t been allowed to hunt for himself since they met and he accepted the job.
?Yes. I expect you could. It would be the end of your brilliant career, but hey, you would have vengeance against me and it would only be a matter of days before you would be caught by my other men. Now you don?t think you?re the only one to work for me, do you? Oh yes, now you see the light. You?re right you wouldn?t go to prison if my other men caught you, what do you think they?d do to you? Do you think you would just be killed? I tend to doubt it, they?re pretty loyal to me, I believe they would be unhappy with you. What happened the last time you felt unhappy? Yes, that?s right, look at the ground, I still don?t think the police found all the body parts yet after that time.?
He still didn?t understand what the big deal was, but the man was very clear about what would happen to him if he didn?t ?clean up his act? so he?s been more careful since, if not happily so.
He knows he isn?t a particularly smart man. He?s been told all his life that he?s stupid or sick, but these things don?t worry him much anymore, he knows his special talents and after all, like the man says, it takes all kinds to make the world turn. He sits nearly calm again behind the wheel of the altered patrol car and knows himself invincible surrounded by bullet proof glass.
He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that she was sitting up, just as if she were taking a day trip to a distant city. No tears in her eyes or much interest in her surroundings, just sitting there as comfortably as she could looking more down than in any particular direction. It didn?t matter if she saw where they were going; she would not pass this way again. He smiled to himself at the thought and stepped on the breaks once in a while to see her slide to the floor, just for the fun of it on the long drive.
Generally, hunting calmed the noise in his head. Sometimes with a good kill, he could go days without hearing it. Often, like now, the noise was so loud he could hardly hear anything else and he didn?t bother turning the radio on full blast, it would not drown out the noise at all. Sometimes the urge to kill made him nearly blind to everything else around him. He heard of people seeing red and felt it must be something like that except he is color blind and doesn?t know what red looks like. He really shouldn?t be driving at all, except who gives a fuck if he has a license if he knows the ?stop? is always at the top and the ?go? is always at the bottom. The noisy people in his mind yell at him to stop when he can clearly see the light at the bottom is lit, but he slams on his breaks anyway because that?s just what one does when people in your head yell at you. There is always a bad thing that happens when the people in your head aren?t heeded.
The car behind him blares its horn and he flips them off with out looking in the mirror. He has his priorities and they don?t include more, angry, noisy people telling him what to do. Still nothing that he can see, the traffic is still stopped crossing his direction and the cars behind him screech angrily around him, but he?s not moving till he gets the go ahead: there?s always a reason for these kinds of things and he?s learned to have a little patience with it. He looked at the woman. She sat upright on the seat again and jiggled her knees up and down on the reflexes on the balls of her feet.
?What are you doing, stupid bitch?? he asked, beginning to feel angry there was no sign what to do yet.
?Trying not to pee in your pretty car, Sir,? she answered without looking directly in his face this time.
He knew she was kissing ass big time, but since it was likely the last car she will ever see the inside of, it might very well look pretty to her. He let it slide, it wasn?t worth it and he figured he might as well let her pee outside of the car rather than have to clean it up later when she was in the man?s hands. Besides, he could use a good piss himself.
He pulled the car to the right, cutting off someone turning around him, pulled into a vacant lot a block or so down the road, turning the car around to head out of the exit again and parked in front of some large rubble at the rear of the property. He walked to the door behind his, opened it and reached in, and hauled her feet toward him in less time than it would have taken her to swing them up onto the seat. She grunted but made no sign of screaming and before he cut the tape around her ankles, he pulled her face close to his.
?Will you scream now, bitch?? he asked with a threatening glint in his eyes.
?I?d rather tell you ?thank you? first. It seems to make you want to kill me more,? she answered.
?What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to die?? He was really confused by this one. And it did piss him off to hear her say ?thank you? to him.
?I?ve been waiting for you to find me.? She slumped a little, her shoulder resting against the back of the seat.
?Yeah, well, here I am you stupid cunt. You?ll die, and you won?t be so fucking happy then, let me tell you.? He jerked her around unnecessarily and cut the tape lose and slammed her heavily against the car above the rear tire.
He liked the girls who wore dresses, like they just asked him to reach up and tear their panties off. Or pantyhose, as the case may be. She was wearing neither. He looked under her skirt, draping it over her face to keep it out of the way, but sure enough, she wasn?t wearing anything under there.
?I guess you were waiting for someone, now weren?t you, slut?? he grinned in a twisted, angry way. Where is the fun of a little rape if there?s nothing to tear aside? ?Just piss. You don?t thrill me anymore, you fucking slut.?
She squatted with her feet wide and let loose a thundering stream. It was kind of erotic to him to see her pissing there, her skirt over her head, arms still taped behind her back. He quickly whipped his short, thick cock out and aimed his piss at her shaved pussy. She jumped and squeaked at the surprise then relaxed and continued her release. He stood close enough to hit her full force without it bouncing back on him and it was the first time he felt pleased with something this ?sick? in a long time. He thought of pissing on her face, but figured the man would be able to tell even if she were dry by the time they got there.
He jiggled himself at the end and realized he had half a hard on, and decided if she were going to be so cooperative and willing to die, he might as well get his kicks while he could. The noise in his head subsided a bit and he knew he was on the right track now.
He stepped to the side keeping an eye on her and reached under his seat for the shammy he kept there. It was oily and filthy, but at least he wouldn?t get piss on himself, and he wiped her roughly with it, giving her a painful squeeze in the front.
He always thought a shaved pussy looked better than a hairy one and there wasn?t often a good chance like this to see one alive. He generally preferred warm and dead, however one can?t have everything one wants all the time.
He kicked her feet wider apart so she was completely off balance and depended on the car to keep her upright and she bent her knees a little to keep them from straining so much. Her lips just hung there and he guessed she must have had a lot of use to be that loose.
What a fucking slut, he thought and yanked them wide with both hands. She screeched loudly, but stifled herself as best she could.
He didn?t realize how painful that would be; he always thought girls had little or no feeling there, when he thought about it at all. The noise in his head was nearly quiet now, the early morning traffic easily drowning it out.
Thinking he could cause this cunt pain made his hard on a little longer and thicker. This might be something to look into, maybe there were pains he could give that wouldn?t leave marks. He thought of cutting the lips off for a souvenier, but remembered that he only did that with is own prizes.
He stretched them out in different directions, watching the little ball near her pee hole twitch and spasm when he did. She was breathing in pain, but kept herself from making much sound. That probably saved her life too; he liked causing pain almost as much as he liked causing death.
She certainly had a big damn hole there, that?s for sure. He shoved four thick fingers up there and found it sticky and wet.
?Shit, bitch, what the fuck is this? Are you peeing on me now?? He was offended for a moment until he realized she was shaking her head ?no,? and as much of a death wish she might have had, he didn?t think she would dare pee on him. Besides, she should be empty by now. ?Well, what the fuck is this shit, then?? he asked shoving up inside her and twisting around fairly easily.
?I like it,? she choked and held her breath for several seconds, tears sliding down her cheeks and collecting in the wrinkle of her skirt gathered under her chin in the brightening morning breeze. Then it occurred to him. It hit him like a hot wind from the desert. She was alive, she had feeling in her cunt, and he?d always had to use baby oil or something when he fucked his prey. It just never occurred to him that a female would make her own oils until now. That was a pretty handy thing to know, maybe he could make a girl really oily and kill her while he fucked her next time, he wondered. He?d have to think about that, it sure would save money on baby oil. Oh, duh, sometimes he really was stupid, oil made for pushing babies out, not from babies. He might be slow, but he gets it eventually; nothing is impossible to understand, the doing something about it is an entirely different story. His left hand gave his balls and half awake cock a final caress through the seam of his jeans and he popped his right hand out and wiped it with the back end of her skirt. Well, time to think about that on the drive, time is wasting and he hated the man yelling at him when he was later than expected.
He shoved her back in the car, in the middle of the seat and taped her left foot to the side of the frame of the divider dissecting the car in half near the joint between the front and back doors.
The ?leg room? in the back seat was significantly shorter than the front, partly to make a few inches room for the strong divider and because anyone in the back didn?t need to feel all that comfortable. He slammed the door shut and did the same with her right foot on the other side of the car. Her skirt still over her head in the front and her cunt very exposed to his view. He sat in the driver?s seat again, turned on the car, and adjusted his mirror. He could just see into her cunt over the top of the seat and since there was no time, it would have to do. He turned on the radio; it was too quiet inside his head now.
He pulled back onto the road amid the commuters and headed back in the correct direction. He glanced back often and realized he didn?t need to strain so much after a time. He wasn?t sure, but he thought she might have scootched back a couple inches to assist his view. What a fucking slut, he thought. He?d never met a woman so agreeable to rape and death before. It almost pissed him off again, but it made his cock hard instead.
He unzipped his fly again, and pulled his cock out over the teeth. He reached for the paper towels and baby oil on the floor of the passenger side while waiting for the bottom light and laid a couple in his lap. He often masturbated in traffic and had the technique down to a fine art.
Driving at a steady crawl away from the down town district of the city with one hand, he squirted a nice stream of oil on the head of his cock and already felt relaxed and stiff with the smell. He cranked the radio a little louder, that was a bitchin? song.
He looked back again and realized she moved her hips a tiny fraction with the movement of the car and the music and it made her pussy lips look a lot like a sideways mouth trying to talk to him. It was almost freaky, but it was kind of fascinating at the same time. The song ended and he turned the radio down a bit again, but she continued to move and wiggle her pussy lips. He realized she was doing it on purpose for him to watch.
?Okay, that?s about the sluttiest thing I?ve ever seen,? he said out loud, without much knowing he had spoken. His left hand adoring and caressing the baby oil into the skin of his cock and hairless scrotum, he absently made a note to himself in the back of his mind to pick up a personal waxing kit on the way home from cashing his pay next week.
?What other slutty things can you do, you fucking cunt back there??
She didn?t speak, but pulled her cunt closer to the glass, lifting her ass off the seat several inches. If there had been a way, he could have easily reached over the seat and slapped it hard. The oils warmed his palm and made slurpy sounds as he stroked harder and squeezed his balls up around the base of his rigid cock from his ass hole. He thought he would like to punch her cunt a few times, maybe break the bones there, but then remembered he wouldn?t be able to kill her.
His cock went limp and he decided to beg the man to kill her when they got there; she was too much of a slut to live. He readjusted the mirror and wiped his cock off, tucking it comfortably away again.
?Fucking slut, can?t even make me cum,? he grumbled to more to himself than anyone, and spit as he dropped the used towels out the window, the traffic significantly thinner by the second.
He drove through the state line, then another, stopping for gas and something to eat a few times. She was allowed to pee in a tiny windowless toilet in an abandoned station, but otherwise he just pulled to the side of the road and watched her piss on the ground again.
Since picking her up he?d seen nothing but sluts all over the place. One he wanted to fuck while suffocating to death, another he wanted to fuck while slitting her throat, and still another he wanted to fuck while she dangled between trees by her neck so that she would strangle much more slowly as he lifted her up in the air with his powerful cock. Most things he knew were physically impossible to do with a slut body, but it made his cock twitch and strain against his jeans and that was a comfort to him on the long drive.
?You know you?re alive when you?ve got a hard cock and a cold beer,? he heard his father say in the back of his mind. The noise was getting louder again; he knew he was nearly there. He drove through the tall gates and around the circular drive past the traditional oaks and to the stables and pastures at the left of the Colonial style house.
The stables still have some horses and dogs, but not as many as more than a century ago when the place was first built. He lived above them, but that wasn?t where he was headed this time. Farther down the service road between the pastures and the mansion lawns, he drove to the edge of the woods where ruins of former house slave quarters still leaned and weathered in the setting sun.
He knew these acres like his cock and liked living here. It was quiet most of the time, in contrast with his mind, and sometimes he could hear the neighbors across the lake throwing another coke party or whatever they did. He couldn?t see the lake from here; it was just on the other side of the trees where the service road was too thick to enter anymore, but sometimes the wind brings people?s voices to him as if they were standing on this side. This evening it was quiet.
He looked around before opening the back car door. The house stood at a fair distance and the newly set sun still reflected in the upper windows, but there were no lights on. Only the timed lights along the walkways blinked one or two at a time, looking something like a runway calling planes to land. He thought someone should be home by now, but pushed the thought aside, he was a little later than he planned and wanted to get this bitch secured before heading to bed.
She seemed too tired to fight at all and even walked under her own power around the darkening grounds behind the ruins. He felt like shaking her or shoving her, but the drive had taken its toll on him, and he just didn?t feel up to the task of fighting with her if she resisted. He reached up on a ledge formed from a broken chimney and found the all-weather flashlight housed there. It still worked well, although he noticed he might need to charge the batteries soon. He roughly led her along a path that dipped into the trees not far from the cottages and turned left suddenly at an enormous elm, counting his paces nearly unconsciously, and stopping in front of another huge tree. It was nearly pitch black in the woods now.
He stepped to the right of the tree and pushed the brush aside with one arm while shoving the woman into the darkness beyond. The entrance was hand carved into a large boulder that had probably fallen from the tall hill bracing the property sometime before much technology had been invented. Through the rock and into the hill was a well worn path that told of many decades of use in recent times.
They had found cases of rum and whisky stockpiled near the inside of the cavern and legend has it that bootleggers had traveled these parts undetected for many years. Deeper in the various sub-caverns they found evidence of many other peoples living inside, probably run away slaves and perhaps natives before that. None of that interested him much, except it was always dry and warm enough and no one outside could hear.
He fondly remembered the electrician who had wired the caves for heat and light from the house. His bones are here behind a stone wall near the back of the hill. He twisted a knob and the power flickered and buzzed into light.
In the middle of the large space sat the man. He stopped as if frozen for a moment then casually turned off the flashlight as if he had known the man was there the whole time. The woman made a strange sound and sank to her knees, and he bent to drag her up and continue his course, but the man spoke.
?Leave her,? was all he said. He could see by the look on the man?s face that he was in no mood to discuss the matter. Then it occurred to him that they knew each other, the woman and the unfathomable man.
?Fucking good goddamned thing I didn?t kill her. Could at least warn a man that he?s being watched. And she?s a slut too; just ask her about how she flapped her cunt lips at me the whole way here.? He paused, the man just looking at him without saying anything more.
?Fine then; I?ll just be a good little bastard and go to bed then.? He slammed out of the caverns the way they came and disappeared into the deepening night.
The room was lush in spite of its location and appeared more of an octagon shape than actually round. The walls were paneled in thick woods of various stains and carved in grotesque forms and sinister shadows in what looked like a history of the macabe all around. Some of the panels had tiny cut mirrors embedded in them like a shimmery mosaic. The floors were polished wood and fitted without nails or pegs and covered with large carpets of various shapes and design, all rich and thick. The ceiling domed at the top as if it had grown there to support the hill; roots dangled into the otherwise empty space well above the height of three tall men.
Works of art and books lined the walls and if she hadn?t known better she might have thought she walked into an eighteenth century study in a manor of a Lord, except for the torture devices on the flat of one large wall behind the stern man.
He sat at a carved mahogany desk with a thick leather top. Quills and writing instruments of all sorts neatly organized near stacks of parchments and paper. All fashion of glittering objects placed at the edges that caught the eye and led one back to the man himself again.
He was typical and unusual all at the same time. At one breath he seemed like an ordinary fifty-something year old man, grey a bit at the temples and still firm of body. In the next, he seemed to melt and drift as if he were an illusion or a changeling which transformation could only be seen from the corner of one?s eye.
There was an aura of power and strength about him which his apparent attitude alone could not explain. He seemed ageless and immutable while sitting there utterly still.
If she hadn?t felt so exhausted and defeated she might be terrified of him by now. Plus, she did know him.
She?d seen him often, both in her dreams and out in her daily life. He was only a glimpse, not even a shadow, but she knew he was there. Yes. She finally knew he had been there.
?You know they had me taking drugs so I wouldn?t see you anymore. Now I know why they didn?t work,? she said softly, almost to herself, almost too tired and uncaring to speak. She didn?t even bother to raise her head and look at him, she knew he heard her.
?I wish you weren?t real? she whispered.

He knew she thought that if she only loved him a little bit more, a little bit less selfishly, he would learn to love her and he would be changed forever. They all thought it. After a few centuries he learned it was true; they had each changed him forever, by only their love. Of course he remembered the first time, he believed he did, but it was so long ago and he?d prayed for it to be different so often it just might have happened that way.
All the faces and names blend with the sensations over time and he could have told the same story a million times and think he just thought of it at that moment. And it was nearly true, he still did not believe in love any more now than the first time, he remembered that.
They simply didn?t comprehend that he was not human, so perfectly was he fashioned for their minds. He played with them too long before destroying them, he knew this, but it was obsessive, this emotional love they all felt. He understood the very old; they recognized him and most seemed relieved to go. And the very young had really no idea what they missed and never skipped a beat. It was the humans in between, those who bargained and begged and beguiled and berated him, those he enjoyed the most.
?Welcome home my precious baby woman,? he said as she finally slumped to unconsciousness on the floor.