Monday, November 2, 2009

Part One, Chapter Three

Alex knows he has to keep moving, but sometimes it is hard. He gets so distracted when he has someone to play with that he neglects to heed his six hour rule and move from one location to another. Occasionally he finds perfect places, abandoned campgrounds, unfinished subdivisions, and so on, where he can hole up for a day or two at a stretch, but this is uncommon.

As soon as the ketamine took over her nervous system and she was in his van, he secured her. He didn't even notice his damp underwear as he secured her wrists to the slave bar with manacles and her ankles to two secure points on either side of the cargo bay with handcuffs and short lengths of chain. It spread her legs open in a lewd invitation, but he didn't think of her that way. He never had sex with his victims. Well, there had been that one time, but it was an accident, so it didn't count. His sexual satisfaction, such as it was, and it was secondary at best, came from the other things he did to them, not from fucking them. Why put himself inside them when he could put so many other things inside them instead? There was nothing he wanted to do to Liz while she was unconscious, since she wouldn't be able to appreciate it. He put a ball gag in her mouth, double checked the locks on her cuffs, and then climbed into the front of the van. He reached back and pulled the curtains closed. These divided the driver's compartment from the rest of the van, and served the double purpose of hiding what was in the back and keeping blood from getting into the front of the van. He cleaned or replaced the curtains often.

He drove to where he had left his car, just a few blocks from where he rented his basement apartment. He triple checked that Liz was secure and then climbed out of the van. He walked the few blocks to his former home and let himself in. Anything that mattered to him was already packed in his car, and he always traveled light. It made no sense to accrue possessions when he might have to move at short notice and his most prized possessions were his memories anyway. He made sure he hadn't left anything behind, sprayed the room in isopropyl alcohol, and lit a candle. This room had served him well. While he never brought anyone back here, it had been a quiet place for him to reflect and enjoy his memories. He would miss it, a bit, which was more than he could say for his last few residences. Portland had been good to him, he decided. He would try to repeat his successes here as much as he could.

When he returned to his vehicles, he hooked his car up to the tow hitch on the van. After a moment's reflection, he grabbed his laptop computer from its place in the car's trunk. He drove to a coffee shop and used the wireless connection to log into Craigslist. He looked up vacation homes. He was able to find a vacation cabin on the Columbia River in Camas, on the Washignton State side of the river, and he booked it for two nights, using a credit card that could not be traced to him. Part of the problem with spontaneously deciding to do such things was the lack of planning, but being able to spend the weekend at a set location instead of moving around would be perfect.

Then, he hopped on the highway and drove up I-5 to the Portland Airport. Here he found a hotel that offered airport parking and left his car in a secure lot, paying in advance for 72 hours. Then he turned his van north and crossed the river into Vancouver. There he turned east toward Camas, following the Columbia River and the state line. In Camas he picked up the keys to his rental cabin and got a bite to eat at a small drive-in. When the cashier handed him his change and told him to have a good night he grinned and said, “Oh, I will, thank you.”

He ate in his car, not wanting to abandon Liz for too long so long after her sedation, but she did not wake up.

He continued east out of Camas and spent the last hour following the river watching for a turn off that he wound up missing twice. He was distracted because Liz had started to wake up in the back and when he was searching for the turn in to the cabin, she had been trying to scream through her gag. He had been aroused the whole drive to one degree or another, but had shown enough control not to look into the back to see her. He deliciously tortured himself, delaying the pleasure of seeing her struggling, writhing against the chains and locks, and the satisfaction it would give him.

He pulled the parking brake on the van. The cabin looked small and cozy, and certainly as isolated as described. It would certainly do the trick.

“We're gonna have a good time, Liz,” he said, calling out over the noise she was making. She was quiet for a moment, shocked at hearing her name called, probably still disoriented from the drugs. He took a deep, satisfied breath as she started trying to scream again. “No one can hear you, Liz,” he said, conversationally. She did not seem to believe him.

Alex knew better than to try to move someone who was struggling, so he shot her up with a smaller dose of ketamine to make her pliable and quiet.

He did a quick check of the cabin. It was small and the kitchen was largely out of date, but it was warm and dry and small and far from anyone else. He was happy with it. The bed had convenient posts that would come in handy.

Liz was sleeping soundly when he got back to the van. First he got his bags out from under the van seats. One held his equipment, the other held several changes of clothing. He took the vans inside and prepared the cabin before bringing her in. First he put a tarp down over the bed and secured it in place with bungee cords stretched under the mattress. Then he put plastic down on the floor around the bed. He pulled all the blinds and curtains, making sure they were secure and completely blocked the windows. He put his personal toiletries and towel in the bathroom. He put his food in the kitchen. After another once over, he brought Liz in from the van.

He disconnected her cuffs and shackles and carried her inside, trailing the hardware. It would fasten just as well to the bed as it had to the inside of his van. He laid her on the tarp, and grew more aroused at the crinkling plastic sound. His body had learned to associate that sound with very enjoyable activities. He wrapped the bedposts in bubble wrap to keep the cuffs from wearing grooves in them and then attached the restraints to the posts. He needed an extra pair of hand cuffs for her left hand. Again, she was spread out before him. He stood and looked at her, dreaming of what he would do to her. He came again just watching her.
Alex went and took a shower before she woke up. When he was finished he shaved his beard and gave himself a buzz cut. Add a hat and glasses and he would look like a completely different person. He turned up the heat so he could walk around naked. He carefully slid a condom on to keep from leaving anything behind. Ordinarily, if he were in a strange location, he would also wear gloves, but he didn't want anything to come between Liz and himself. Not this time. He would just have to clean carefully when he was done. Not that anyone would ever find a trail to follow here anyway. But it didn't pay to be sloppy.

He went through the cabin to see if there was anything interesting to play with, anything he hadn't used before. He found kitchen matches, and he smiled. He had not played with fire in a quite a while. He remembered the last time he had played with fire and his smile grew. He was inspired. He was sure there would be a few other implements in the cabin that he could have fun with, but he would look for those later, when he got bored with what he had. He decided that other than his favorite knife, he was going to try very hard to avoid using anything in his equipment bag. That was an exciting idea. There was a poker beside the fireplace that looked very tempting. For that matter, a fireplace would come in handy for disposing of other items later as well.

He turned on the stove, listening to the click of the primer as the gas kicked on. The flame burst forth and he watched it dance as the element began to heat. He found a table knife and slid the blade between the coils on the element. He put a hot mitt on his hand and waited until the element was starting to turn orange. Then he carefully removed the knife and carried it into the main room.

She was still asleep, fragile and vulnerable. He got harder as he got closer to her, the knife practically sizzling in his right hand. She had the few extra pounds of someone who was mostly office-bound and a few stretch marks. He didn't mind. He found the perfect place, a creamy, flawless piece of skin just to the left of her belly button.

Alex placed the point of the hot knife flat against her skin and listened to the sizzle. He held it there until she woke up and started to scream against the gag. He pulled the knife away then, and strings of skin came with it, thin and plastic-like. A smell hung in the air, almost like bacon. He knew he was ready to come again.

She was still disoriented, he could tell, as he head moved back and forth, trying to make sense of where she was and her sudden pain. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat in her eyeline. Eventually she focused on him, her eyes huge and panicked.

“Hi, Liz.” He held up the knife. “See this little bit of pink there? That's you!” He sat back in the chair and made himself more comfortable, assured that he had her complete attention. “Now, we have lots to talk about.”

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