The news, that Alex has been found in the old janitor's shack, has top billing on the college's morning announcements email. It's the talk of the lecture halls over the course of the day, your fellow students gossiping about how she'd been found spread-eagled on a dirty mattress, how she'd been covered by a thick layer of cum. An aura of fear pervades the campus, nearly everyone has their head on a swivel, but perversely also excitement.
No one knows why Alex or Jessica or Selene have been killed, what drew the attention of their murderer. Nobody wants an ugly death though, St Grace's practically hammers the third precept of the quote often attributed to James Dean into its students. You're no different to the rest of them, squeezing into tight jeans and figure-hugging blouses.
The route from your dormitory to the school buildings goes through a forest. You're returning from the evening lecture, thoughts on a party you'll be attending later, when you sense a dangerous presence looming behind you. Its large shadow eclipses yours, threatening but also thrilling, and you increase your pace nervously. The presence follows you though, you're too scared to even try and glance back.
Large masculine fingers wrap around your neck, lift you effortlessly into the air. You struggle in protest, feeling your nipples inexplicably harden, and try to scream, only squeaking escaping from between parted lips. You shudder, eyes rolling, and your limbs flail as you expire, the last you feel being the pop of your throat being crushed.
Your killer carries you into the forest, propping you against a tree before stripping you. Only the bruises on your neck mar your beauty and your killer grins as he leers at you. Casting aside his clothing he kneels and pulls you onto his cock, gripping your waist as he manhandles you like a toy. He stares into your dull eyes as you rise and fall, leans in to kiss your slack lips.
He can feel his climax approaching, using you with a rough attitude, and pulls out just as the first bursts of cum blast from his cock. He makes a line from your pussy to your forehead, heavy and dominating, before leaning back, admiring his handiwork. After a moment he stands, using rope to bind your wrists together and then throws the remainder over a high branch before tying it around the tree trunk.
You're left to hang, sway slightly in the breeze, with cum dripping from your cooling flesh. It'll be you making the headlines when you're discovered.
No comments:
Post a Comment