R. Pearle’s

Vulnerable II

The door of Room 713 burst open, followed by a rush of billowing snow that whirled around like shards of glass.

Set on the outskirts of town, the Kessler Motel is not exactly a classy establishment. The rats in the walls, cockroaches in the ceilings, and stains that never seem to go away attract only specific types of people. The place is a nest of drug addicts and prostitutes.

But there are others. Well, one other; only one person has access to Room 713, aside from the motel’s owner.

He walked briskly in, carrying a limp, slumbering form on his shoulder. Kicking the door closed with his foot, he dumped the body on the floor and shivered. Just about everyone in Sussex had the common sense to avoid the roads during the worst blizzard of the decade, especially at Midnight, until the roads were Cleared in the morning.

But this man had capitalized on their complacency.

He crossed the room, kicked the thermostat up to a sultry seventy-three degrees, and began to undress. His jeans were thoroughly soaked and his jacket hadn’t done much to keep his torso warm. Even the car’s heater had done little to warm him up, during the treacherous ride to the Kessler Motel.

Finally free, the man draped his saturated apparel over the edge of the bathtub and retreated to the bedroom once again, rifling through the bureau for a change of clothes. Being a ‘frequent customer’, the man had been allowed to make a sort of home-away-from-home out of Room 713. No other customer was permitted to stay in here, after all.

Having donned a plain white T-shirt and a pair of black slacks, the man turned his attention to the girl sprawled across the floor.

Finally.

This blond-haired teenage Goddess had captivated his attention for around six months, since catching sight of her in a bikini last June. What a tease she’d been. He’d always been so close to having her, only to be denied by circumstances. This was definitely a momentous occasion.

Rarely ever did he spend so much time focused on one potential prey. But this girl had the face of a doll and the body of an angel. He’d never even seen her naked. The rolling clouds of steam that perpetually surrounded her rendered the cameras he placed in her shower useless. She typically changed her clothes in the bathroom, rather than her bedroom, and somehow, she always managed to face away from the lens.

He didn’t even know her name. Rare were the moments when neither the girl nor her parents were in the house, and he didn’t dare break-and-enter while someone was afoot. Even when they did leave, the window of opportunity closed quickly. He’d almost gotten caught on numerous occasions.

Being a High School socialite, the girl’s schedule always proved unpredictable. When he expected her here, she always went there instead. When he went there, something would come up, and she’d go somewhere else.

But this perpetual torment kept him amused, kept him guessing. Whether she knew it or not, this girl was very, very clever. She’d kept him on his toes, always managing to find a new way to test his skills.

After all the waiting, here she lay, blissfully unaware of her predicament. All the effort that went into getting to this point only made it that much better; the man grew tired of women too predictable and easy to acquire.

Take Heather, for instance. A lovely little blond that was always left alone on Saturday nights. She was a fairly dim bulb, too—rarely did she lock her doors. The man just waited until she went to sleep, walked into her bedroom, and stayed there until dawn. That had garnered some attention on the local news, but they’d never caught him.

Just breaking into a house and raping the contents gets old after a while, though. Hence this little lass.

Tight jeans clung to slender, athletic legs. Firm, well-shaped breasts awaited him somewhere beneath her bulky pink and white winter coat. The cotton hat she wore had doubled nicely as a blindfold, even though the chloroform had rendered her unconscious. All she had to remember her boyfriend by were dots of rusty brown blood splattered across her shoulder.

It had been somewhat tricky. Her boyfriend was driving her home in this mess, and the roads were so nasty, they were only going about five miles per hour anyway. He’d waited at an intersection, and when they pulled up to the stoplight, he simply approached the car in their blind spot and put a bullet through the window. Sure, he’d run the risk of shooting the girl in the process, but her boyfriend’s skull had protected her.

Taken completely by surprise, the girl screamed, watching her boyfriend slump over the steering wheel as the contents of his head emptied onto the center console. It wasn’t much of a loss. Her boyfriend had been a muscle-headed jock and the brain matter that oozed between the seats had never been used very much.

With the girl in hysterics, the man rounded the car, tore open the passenger side door, and smothered her face with a rag. Once sedated, he confiscated her purse and she’d been transported to his car, parked nearby, and the rest was downhill from there.

Rolling the girl onto her back, the man unzipped her jacket, and then sat her up while he removed it. Contacting the motel’s owner was his main priority, but he didn’t want the girl catching pneumonia while made the call.

He worked the boots from her little feet, unbuckled her belt, and removed her pants. This had been a good idea: running his hands up and down those soft, pale legs, he noticed that her skin felt icy cold and wet. That would soon change; he could already feel the room warming up.

Leaving her clothes in a pile, the man stood and retrieved his cell phone from his jeans, and stood by the window. Then, he started dialing.

Outside, it looked like the end of the world. The neon-red ‘MOEL’ sign (one of the letters had burnt out long ago) was barely visible through the snowstorm. The night seemed darker than dark, and aside from his car, only two or three were in the parking lot, buried in snowdrifts.

“…Uh…yeah?”

Earl had been asleep, judging by the sound of his voice. “Earl? It’s me.”

“Me…? Oh, Kev?” A pause. Kevin heard Earl shifting on the other end of the line, and the click of a lamp being turned on. “What is it?”

“There’s a problem at the Kessler. A broken window.”

“The maintenance guys are all gone for the night, but that sounds serious. What room?”

“Room 713.”

Another hesitation. “All right, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

And then a click. Kevin ran his fingers across the panes of glass, which felt like smooth ice. He and Earl always spoke in code anyway, but tonight, codes were particularly important. What few cops lurked in Sussex would surely be monitoring the radio frequencies—in case they ‘happened’ to overhear someone talking about a drug deal, or something of the like—and after all this work, Kevin wasn’t about to let a bunch of bored pigs ruin his fun.

A groan drew Kevin’s attention to the girl. She lay on the floor, struggling to move. Long ago, Kevin might have become flustered, thinking she was waking up. But this activity is normal; she wouldn’t be coming to consciousness for another fifteen or twenty minutes. The drug he’d given her worked like that—as the brain activity returns to normal, it’s manifested physically.

Calmly, Kevin collected her in his arms and brought her to the corner of the room, which he’d prepared for this moment long ago. He sat her down in a sturdy wooden chair and pulled her arms around the back, crossing her wrists and binding them to a crossbeam with a zip-tie. Kevin found her boots and stripped the laces from them; with these, he bound her ankles to each leg. Finally he retrieved a roll of duct tape from the bureau and smeared a silver strip across her luscious lips.

Next, he stood back, and admired his work. The girl’s head was slumped down on her chest, still wearing the winter hat, but Kevin pulled it up a bit so she’d be able to see. A power-blue t-shirt outlined her gently swelling breasts, the straps of her bra barely visible through the fabric. Clinging to her hips, a pair of cotton panties with a tasty cherry on the front; soft white socks with pink on the toes and heels adhered to her feet.

When thinking of how he wanted the girl to awaken, Kevin wanted to do something unusual, something new, something shocking. Something that would horrify her and get her little heart thundering in her chest, force the adrenaline to pulsate through her veins, and render her a pathetic, quivering victim before his awesome power.

It had taken some time, but eventually, a police-station scenario sprung to mind. So, he’d surrounded the chair with lamps—the lampshades removed—and aimed a couple of desk lights directly at where her head would be.

Slowly, he walked around the unconscious young woman, turning on the lights, until her pale body seemed to glow beneath their hot glare. Already the girl was sweating a bit, as the heaters were doing their job very well. Once awake, she’d be sweating bullets. Kevin couldn’t even imagine that voluptuous vixen covered in a glistening sheen of perspiration.

Sitting here wouldn’t do Kevin any good. Sure, he could use smelling salts to bring her to, but that seemed too lazy. This girl had caused him too much trouble to start cutting corners now.

So, he bundled up again, and stepped outside for a cigarette.

The wind whipped across the parking lot with relentless fury. Sussex seemed absolutely inhospitable tonight. Taking a drag, Kevin thought of Earl. Knowing that something awaited him in Room 713, Earl had probably left his house in a hurry, without bothering to eat or shower.

Strangely, though, as Kevin watched the hard particles spiraling around his body, and the translucent white waves criss-crossing the whitewashed pavement, he wanted something to happen. Maybe Earl’s car will break down and he’ll freeze to death. Maybe he’ll go a little too fast and plummet into a ditch. Maybe he’ll hit a patch of black ice and go spinning off a bridge into the bitterly frigid water.

Kevin took another drag. Why am I thinking this? He thought. Were it not for Earl, he wouldn’t have Room 713. And this room had served he and his guests very well through the years.

Like the glittery prom queen tied spread-eagle to the mattress, her pretty dress in shambles, being raped by a stranger instead of allowing her Prince Charming to have her virginity with consent.

Like the black-haired gothic girl, her arms and thighs streaked with the scars of self-mutilation, who seemed to have turned over a new leaf after being flogged mercilessly.

Like the ugly duckling from chess club—the one that looked simply gorgeous when she took her glasses off—bent over the desk and taking male genitalia up her backside for the first time.

Kevin lit another cigarette off the one in his mouth and rubbed his crotch. His prick was dripping with anticipation. The nameless girl would be better than any of them, Kevin knew—hell, she was already better.

He lost track of time, though he must have stood out there for twenty minutes, chain-smoking cigarettes. But what else could he do? To return to Room 713 prematurely would be a disaster; he’d never be able to take his eyes off the girl. The tyrannical urge to masturbate would win out after a while.

Kevin flipped his cigarette into the snow bank and watched a plow go by on the Interstate. Then he turned on his heel and re-entered the bedroom.

What a glorious sight to behold. In Kevin’s absence, the girl had regained consciousness, and become mostly awake. Her eyes were wide and desperate and her entire body looked tense—when Kevin stepped in, her head snapped to attention.

Like a newborn kitten, the girl mewled softly into the tape across her mouth. Kevin smiled to himself. She might have been screaming, but the gag stifled it, and besides—the wind howled with such fury outside, nobody would ever hear her scream. Not tonight.

The silver gleaned in the harsh glow of the lights. The color had returned to her face; her cheeks glowed a soft pink. Her eyes were like mirrors—glossy and bloodshot. The way her hands were bound forced her back to arch a little bit, causing her to puff out her chest enticingly.

For a moment, Kevin paused, scratching his chin. Oh, how he longed to lunge at her, throw his body onto hers and smash the chair to pieces; to claw her clothes away like a rabid animal and plunge his stiff cock into her depths over and over again; to run his tongue over every square inch of her supple naked body and taste all that she had to offer.

But, rather than let his hands roam her body, he let his imagination run free. Kevin stepped into the sphere of blinding light that surrounded the girl and clutched a wad of her hair, provoking a pathetic squeal that caused his prick to lurch excitedly.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, bitch. We know what you’ve been doing.”

Hyperventilating, the girl stared forward, frozen in place, and then turned her eyes to his.

“Mmmpphh…” She whimpered.

Kevin scraped the edge of the duct tape free, but didn’t remove it yet. “Scream, you fucking cunt. Go ahead. I’ll off you like I did your boyfriend. You remember that? You remember his head blowing up next to you?”

The girl shuddered, and choked on a sob. Then, she nodded gently, her hair pulling against Kevin’s curled fingers. He paused, and then tore the tape free.

Gasping and coughing, the girl’s head fought against Kevin’s fist, to no avail. But, she didn’t scream. “Wh…what did I do? Who are you?”

He was tempted to slap her, tell her that he’d be asking the questions. But she had the voice like a hundred harmonious chimes tinkling in rhythm. And the tone of her voice told him everything: this girl is afraid for her life.

Kevin threw her head to the side and went to the bureau. He’d stashed her purse on top of it. Then he returned to the girl, standing in front of her, so she’d be able to watch this stranger digging through her privacy.

He didn’t find a license, but he did find other things—a library card with her first and last name, and a student ID that identified her as a Sophomore in High School. In her wallet, he found a staggering amount of money—three Jacksons, three Washingtons, and a Hamilton—which he promptly returned to the wallet. He wanted her to know that her money wasn’t what he was interested in stealing.

Otherwise, there was just a key chain that had more colorful doo-dads and stupid trinkets than it did keys, a few receipts, and a credit card in Daddy’s name. He found a pink cell phone, dotted with preppy stickers and filled to capacity with contacts.

“Am I under arrest…?” The girl ventured quietly. “I get a phone call, right? May I have my phone call, please?”

What a polite, proper young lady! Kevin thought to himself. All the better to corrupt. The girl must have known she wasn’t under arrest—after all, cops don’t usually blindside cars and kill their drivers—but Kevin didn’t care; she could think whatever she wanted. It would keep her guessing, keep her honest. Besides, Kevin wanted to play with her head, after she’d spent so very long playing with his.

“No,” he replied tersely, walking to the bedside drawer and producing a notebook and a pen. As he returned, he dragged another chair, which he planted about a foot before the girl. “You don’t get a phone call.”

As Kevin predicted, his response perplexed the girl. “So…why am I here? Why did you take my pants off?”

“Enough questions!” Kevin snapped. Frightened, the girl sat up straight, her eyes wide and anxious. “First, you’re going to tell me some things. Answer truthfully. You’ve been in our database for a long time, and if you lie, we’ll know.” He leaned toward her, and narrowed his eyes. “If I were you, I wouldn’t lie. Do you understand what I just told you?”

The girl nodded, but Kevin shook his head. “Say yes or no. Do not nod. You’re going to be taped.”

“Y…yes,” the girl responded, her voice quaking with terror.

“Good. Now, let us help you get some things off your chest. Spell your first name.”

Clearing her throat, the girl swallowed hard. “J-A-C-K-I-E.”

“Now, your last.”

Again, she spelled it out, clearly enunciating every syllable. Kevin wished that he actually was taping Jackie.

“Address.”

Droplets of sweat were forming on Jackie’s brow now, dripping down her supple face and landing on her breasts and thighs. “137 Lafayette Boulevard in Sussex.”

“Very good. Social security number.”

Kevin’s pen paused at the third line, beneath her name and address. Annoyed, he looked at Jackie, who was nervously grawing on her lip.

“Umm…what organization are you from…? The FBI? CIA?”

Kevin sighed heavily and stood. Jackie panicked.

“Please! I’m not lying about anything, I just want to know what I did! Please!”

Ignoring her, Kevin fished around in his pocket for his switchblade and leaned over Jackie’s body. With one hand, he snatched the nape of her neck and tilted her head sharply forward, making her watch his other hand shear her shirt open.

Jackie didn’t move throughout the ordeal. She simply stared, wide-eyed, mouth agape, as her t-shirt parsed and fell open. With a quick snip, Kevin slit her bra between the cups, causing her plump, firm breasts to spill out.

While Jackie wasn’t looking, Kevin licked his lips. Her tits were everything he imagined and then some. Perky and round, her breasts beckoned to him, her soft nipples just begging to be pinched and tugged. Sure, he could push the chair over backwards and manhandle the girl as she lay helplessly beneath him, but refrained. He was having too much fun getting in her head.

Mortified, Jackie just stared at her bared breasts, struggling to figure what ‘government agency’ could possibly have the authority to do this to her. Kevin leaned close to her ear. “Who I am is not important. You’ve been abducted and you aren’t going to be saved by anyone. Cooperate or you’ll regret it. Now, do you understand?”

Jackie nodded, but then stopped abruptly. “Yes…” Her voice was high-pitched, as though she bordered on tears. “I understand.”

Kevin returned to his seat. “Social security number.”

“Zero, zero, seven…six three…zero one eight.”

***

For several minutes, Kevin interrogated her, meticulously transcribing everything she said. He’d spent months memorizing everything he would ask her: parents’ names, grandparents’ names, years spent at her present address, what school she attended and the classes she was taking, as well as grades she got in them (straight As). He had her recall all the boyfriends she’d ever had, and what she’d done with them sexually (little to nothing). He made her read the numbers from her father’s credit card aloud.

Then, he got to the nitpicky stuff. The type of soap and shampoo she used (which he already knew anyway), the perfume she wore. He pried as deeply into every aspect of this woman’s most personal details as he possibly could. Jackie told him her shoe size, bra size, her height and weight.

By the time Kevin finished with the exhaustive interrogation, Jackie had become something of a robot. Her eyes stared blankly forward, glazed and expressionless. She answered every question truthfully and bluntly.

“Your age?”

“Fifteen…one-five.”

“Birthday?”

“July thirteenth.”

When Jackie finished reading off every name in her cell phone—numbers included—Kevin couldn’t take it any more. Basically, he owned Jackie now. Every facet of the girl’s life was written in the notebook—which Kevin forced her to read aloud.

…For the ‘microphones’. Surely it had nothing to do with his desire to force this teenager to truly grasp the sheer extent of Kevin’s obsession with her.

“…And everything you just said,” Kevin confirmed, as Jackie finished reading off everything written on the three pages. “Is, to the best of your knowledge, accurate and true?”

“Yes. It is accurate and true.”

Kevin sighed and set the notebook aside. “That concludes the first stage of our investigation, Jackie. I’m willing to offer you a break.”

“The first stage…? You mean, there’s more?”

“Yes. I can either give you a little rest, or you can decline and we’ll just get started now.”

“No,” Jackie said, shaking her head. “I want a break. …May I be untied?”

Kevin thought it over for a moment. Untying her would be risky. But, Jackie had been obedient. “Very well. But do not attempt to leave this room. Do not approach the windows. You may go to the bathroom for a drink of water or whatever. If you use the toilet, do not try to flush any evidence. We have cameras in there, too.”

“Evidence?” Jackie queried, watching Kevin stand and walk to the bed. “Evidence of what?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, Jackie. If you’re clean, you’re in good shape. But if you’re trying to hide something, I’ll find out about it, one way or another.”

Without any further questions, Kevin went about his business, simply retrieving a pair of handcuffs, snaking it around the center post of the bed’s headboard, and leaving them on the pillow. “I’m going outside for a bit. By the time I return, you’re going to be laying on your back, on the bed. Cuff your wrists. Before you do that, though, remove your shirt and bra and leave them with your other clothes. I won’t be long, so don’t dawdle.”

Kevin returned to Jackie and cut the shoelaces, admiring the deep red indentations they left around her ankles, and cut her zip-tie away. Cautiously, she brought her hands around in front of her, and rubbed her wrists, warily eyeing Kevin.

But he ignored her, and stepped outside for a smoke.

II

The blizzard showed no signs of stopping. It was around quarter past three in the morning, it had snowed all day, and Mother Nature still had a bone to pick with the little town of Sussex.

Jagged clumps of ice had accumulated on the windowpanes, and Kevin could barely see the girl moving around inside. That was okay. If he couldn’t see her, then she couldn’t see him. And he loved to watch women go about their business, completely oblivious to what lurked outside.

The bathroom light flipped on, and Jackie’s silhouette entered, disappearing behind the door as she closed it. A few minutes later, she emerged, and cautiously approached the bed. Kevin secreted himself against the wall to the side of the window when she glanced outside, causing the peeling paint to scrape against his shoulder, frozen solid by the weather.

Still oblivious to what was truly going on here, Jackie crawled onto the bed and lay on her back. She almost fed her hands into the cuffs, when she realized she hadn’t followed Kevin’s every command; sitting up quickly, she peeled the tattered t-shirt and bra from her torso and tossed them out-of-sight. Then she lay back and manipulated the cuffs around her wrists.

If there was something that Kevin loved more than tying up a girl for his pleasure, it was watching a girl tie herself up for his pleasure. Until this moment, it had only happened once.

Sarah. Sweet Sarah. Sarah had been a victim from about a year prior. Kevin watched her night after night, tying herself up and indulging her kinkiest fantasies with a dildo. He suspected that she had a rape fetish. Truth be told, he didn’t really want to ruin her nightly ritual by breaking in while she was tied up and capitalizing on her helplessness.

Kevin pushed the image from his mind. Sarah had been a redheaded porcelain doll, and rivaled Jackie in beauty. Whom had been more beautiful, Jackie or Sarah? Hell, Kevin knew where Sarah lived—why not bring Jackie there, kidnap Sarah, and make them do stuff to each other?

Pausing for a minute, Kevin debated with himself about whether or not to have another cigarette, and flicked it into the parking lot. One of his favorite fantasies was to corrupt a girl to the extent that she became just like him—what could be more erotic than watching a beautiful woman holding a soaked rag over the face of another beautiful woman?

But that seemed like an impossible ideal. That was part of the deal he had with Earl: when Kevin finished with them, he sold the girls to Earl, who would then sell them to other parts of the world.

Shrugging it off, Kevin turned and entered the motel room once more.

He couldn’t have not looked at Jackie. It was one of those sights that draws the eye straight to it. Jackie had become like a Greek Goddess, the kind sprawled across sofas while servants fed them grapes, but in a deeply perverse sense. Clad solely in panties and socks with her hands shackled high above her head, Jackie had a certain elegant erotic allure that Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her lip quivered softly and despite her ponytail, tangled strands of beautiful blond hair protruded from beneath her hat. Her entire body seemed to shimmer with sweat. One knee was crossed over her thigh, concealing her panties from view, as though she suspected what would soon be happening to her. Or, it was a subconscious gesture, brought on by her absolute vulnerability.

“Is this okay?” Jackie said quietly upon his arrival. “I did it, just like you said…”

“That’s fine.” Kevin cut her off abruptly.

“So…what happens now?”

Open up. Accept what’s coming to you. Scream a little bit, because you look much sexier with a gag.

For a lady as graceful and naturally beautiful as Jackie, such a crude, incriminating response seemed inadequate. Keeping her in the dark about what was really happening here truly added to the atmosphere, and Kevin didn’t want to give it up just yet. So, rather than climbing onto the bed, yanking her thighs open, and falling atop her, Kevin wandered into the bathroom and found a tape measure. On the way by, he noticed that the toilet water had turned gold, and the faucet dripped from recent use.

“We need some specs about your body, Jackie,” Kevin announced, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Your grooming habits, the measurements of your body, and so forth.”

“I already told you all that…”

“First, I have to make sure you weren’t lying. Secondly, you didn’t tell me everything. There are certain things about yourself that even you don’t know. But we will.”

With that, Kevin extended the tape measure and examined her body, trying to decide on a sufficient starting-point. Jackie’s body seemed so perfect, how could he possibly decide?

One flaw drew his attention. Earl had never been too meticulous about cleaning the motel rooms. Between the carpet and the disgusting tile floor of the bathroom, Jackie’s socks had accumulated a great amount of black grime, tracing her toes and soles. Compared to the rest of her impeccable body, this blemish detracted from the overall voluptuousness of the virgin vixen.

“Raise your left foot,” Kevin ordered, selecting the left one because it was her left knee that sheathed her crotch. Jackie complied, elevating her leg to about a forty-five degree angle. Kevin worked the sock free, replacing tarnished white cotton with a supple pink sole.

Cradling her heel in his palm, Kevin measured her foot—from the nail of her big toe, to the center of her heel—and then set the measuring tape aside to write it down. Then, he repeated the process with her second toe, and then third, all the way to her pinkie-toe.

Next, he leaned forward and smelled the bottom of her foot. “What kind of lotion do you use on these?”

Still hypnotized, Jackie answered quickly. Kevin wrote this down, too. He measured the width of her sole—across her heel, across her arch, and across the ball—and recorded these measurements as well. Placing her foot aside, he told her to lift her other foot, and replicated the procedure.

Now clad in nothing but her underwear, Jackie’s visual appeal was indescribable. Torn between maintaining his ‘government agent’ character and eschewing the façade to rape her here and now, Kevin straddled Jackie’s ankles and set about measuring her legs—ankle to knee cap, knee to thigh, and so forth---while trying his best to conceal the prominent bulge between his legs. Jackie seemed very detached and removed from reality, but whether or not she realized the extent of sexual gratification Kevin received from violating her in this way, he couldn’t tell.

This particular humiliation had been an impulse; Kevin hadn’t thought of it earlier. But given how arousing it was, painstakingly logging every dimension of her perfect body, he was glad the idea had come to him. Overlooking her cunt, Kevin used the measuring tape on Jackie’s belly-button and nipples, measuring their respective diameters in centimeters; he jotted down the length of her forearms, palms, fingers, and even fingertips.

“Is this really necessary?” Jackie inquired, after a prolonged period of silence.

“Yes. Close your eyes.” With that, he set about measuring her eyelids.

“Why? Why do you need to know all this stuff?” She prodded.

“You’ve been selected for a very specific reason and purpose. It is very important that every intimate detail of your existence—mentally, physically—is known.” Kevin took the tip of her hat between his thumb and forefinger, and peeled it off her head. “Turn your head.”

Wordlessly, Jackie did, and Kevin pulled the scrunchie free. Her glorious blond hair spread wide over the pillow and created a halo effect around her beautiful features. With these last few measurements—a dozen strands of hair, randomly selected—Kevin couldn’t take it any more. He longed to put the last nail in Jackie’s coffin, so-to-speak: he yearned to enact the most despicable humiliation he could think of.

Brushing the hair from Jackie’s eyes and stroking the crest of her hairline lovingly, Kevin leaned over her face and stared down at her. Biting her lip as only frightened teenage girls can, Jackie looked up at him like the high school boyfriend she’d just consented to lose her virginity to.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Kevin said soothingly, “We just have a little bit more to do. Then, I’ll have everything I need.”

Without awaiting a response, Kevin stood and walked around the room, collecting pillows. Jackie watched quietly from the bed.

“I wish you’d tell me what I did wrong…” Jackie lamented softly. “I mean, I don’t want to know anything that I can’t know, like if you’re a top-secret agent or something. I just want to know why I deserve to be here.”

Setting a pile of pillows on the mattress, Kevin seized Jackie’s ankles and pivoted her, exposing the center of the bed. “You’ll figure it out, soon enough. That’s the problem I have…I can’t tell you why you’re here, not while I’m being recorded anyway.”

As Kevin began piling the pillows on the bedspread, one atop another, Jackie glanced to the side and considered his response. “So…” she began, whispering very quietly, “…what if you turned off the microphones?”

Frowning, Kevin looked at her straight in the face, ensuring that he had her attention. I can’t, now! He mouthed.

That hit her. Her expression divulged the very moment her little heart broke, thinking that her words had removed all possibility of learning why she’d been abducted. Kevin went about his business.

When he’d stacked about a dozen pillows on the bed, Kevin collected Jackie’s feet once again, lifted them, and carefully manipulated her body so her bum came to rest atop the stack. Ultimately, her waist was elevated about two feet higher than her head.

“Um…what are you doing to me…?” Jackie ventured with a voice like breaking glass. She knew something was terribly amiss. Only one aspect of her body remained to be exposed, and by now, she must have figured out that this last step of the ‘process’ would involve it.

Kevin spread her legs, arranging her body into the shape of a broad ‘Y’, and then anchored her ankles to the bed frame with rope. The effect was near-agony; Jackie couldn’t close her legs even a slight amount, and her thighs were strained so much, she couldn’t open her legs either. Furthermore, Kevin bound her ankles so far from the headboard her arms were unyieldingly taut.

Being an aficionado of bondage, Kevin had accumulated an almost encyclopedic knowledge of positions, and in his opinion, this took the cake. Jackie couldn’t move, at all. Her legs were splayed as lewdly as he could possibly splay them, her pussy sat upon a pedestal of pillows, and she could do absolutely nothing to prevent him from doing exactly as he wished.

Aflame with lust, Kevin rushed to the corner—where he’d had Jackie backed against the wall earlier—and collected a few of the lamps, as well as dragging the table to the foot of the bed and angling every desk light directly between her thighs.

Already the treatment had affected Jackie. How must she feel? Kevin wondered. Being utterly immobilized, violated in almost every conceivable manner, and now being treated like a specimen in some twisted medical experiment? It must have been hell.

Swiftly finding his knife, Kevin climbed up on the bed, absent-mindedly rubbing himself through his pants. The time for foreplay had long since passed. Sooner or later, Jackie would figure out why she’d been taken here, what Kevin intended to use her for.

With practiced expertise, Kevin slipped the blade beneath Jackie’s panties and cut the hip-sections away. The front of the panties fell open like a trap door, and there it was: the succulent bald flesh of this angelic teenager’s bare vagina.

Months of waiting led to this single magnificent moment: Jackie’s cunt, the very essence of Kevin’s quest, the Holy Grail of teenage rape. Nothing could have spoiled the moment; Kevin damn near creamed his pants in the ensuing seconds.

Usually, he’d start fingering his captive’s pussy, toying with her clit to provoke some lubrication. Masturbate her a little bit, turn her on, scar her innocent mind with sexual guilt. Then, punch through her lips and bury himself balls-deep in her passage.

But Jackie was different. Jackie’s predicament had the atmosphere of a twisted research experiment, and like it or not, Kevin couldn’t drop the character he’d created of himself. So what would ‘Agent Kevin’ do, he wondered.

Taking a pussy lip between each of his thumbs and forefingers, Kevin opened her pussy wide and leaned into her, snorting up the warm waves of feminine odor like cocaine. How must it feel, how must it feel? Entirely motionless, with her precious vagina gaping wide and facing the ceiling?

Keeping her lips parsed as wide as he possibly could, Kevin fed two fingers into her. There wasn’t anything sexual at all about this; he simply pushed until he found her cherry. “You’re very much intact, Jackie.”

No response. However, when he opened up her pussy again and licked her damp lips, Jackie jerked against her restraints, startled by these new and mortifying sensations.

“You’re not a secret agent, are you…?” Jackie’s voice sounded distant, far away, like an echo of an echo. “This is rape. You’re raping me right now…”

Kevin didn’t bother to reply. She could think what she wanted. Pulling her lips apart again, Kevin pressed his mouth against her flesh and buried his tongue in her depths. Again, he didn’t do it to arouse her—though she might have been aroused anyway—he just wanted to see how deep he could stick it inside her.

“Unnnh!” Jackie whimpered as the stranger’s tongue probed her.

No longer did this constitute humiliation or even torture. Oh, Kevin had Gone well beyond that; there weren’t any terms for what he was doing to that girl. Jackie would never be the same again; Kevin had caused very extensive psychological damage from which she would never recover. From what he could ascertain, Jackie was trying as hard as possible to remove herself from this situation; he wouldn’t be surprised it she became a schizophrenic or something of the sort.

“You can’t do this…don’t do this…” Jackie babbled, watching Kevin kneel between her legs and pull his pants down to his knees. Not only did he ignore Jackie’s wishes, Kevin made certain that he didn’t look at her face. Whatever Jackie thought about herself, she’d been proved wrong: Kevin stared at her vagina, the only thing she was worth.

“No….unhhhh! No!”

Kevin leaned into her, pressing his cockhead against her pussy and slipping slowly in. “Relax, woman. This is all part of the investigation. You have to be very thoroughly ‘investigated’!”

The comment oozed with sarcasm, and Kevin couldn’t hide his sneering smile. Jackie moaned mournfully. The awful truth was slowly sinking in, as the man’s rigid prick worked its way inside her. She’d told him absolutely everything about herself, been honest about it all, and in the end, he was just a rapist that lied to her.

Just a rapist.

Her pussy clamped on Kevin’s cock as he shimmied his way through Jackie’s passage, desperate to dislodge the foreign, unwanted member, milking precum from the cock in the process. But it maintained its steady inward pace, until it found her virgin barrier.

“In order to complete this investigation,” Kevin narrated, poking in and out at Jackie’s hymen, “I’m gonna have to get rid of this, woman. You probably shouldn’t scream. There aren’t any microphones or cameras anywhere in here, but you might wake the neighbors, so I would have to punch you until you pass out.”

In his peripheral vision, Kevin could see Jackie’s face, but didn’t give her the satisfaction of recognizing her humanity by looking at it. Still, he could tell she was very, very pale, and her deadened eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Were she not so warm and wet inside, Kevin might have mistaken her for a corpse.

Gently, he pulled back. Punching into her cunt and shredding his way through her innocence would awaken her. Gritting his teeth in anticipation, Kevin waited—waited—for the perfect moment…

…Knock knock.

Someone at the door drew Kevin’s hypnotized gaze. Infuriated, he paused, letting his engorged prick throb inside Jackie’s pussy for a moment, debating what to do and wondering who in their right mind would interrupt this momentous occasion. Someone with a death wish, obviously.

“Earl! Shit!” Kevin hissed to himself. He’d forgotten all about Earl. Had it really been an hour already?

Another knock. Kevin glanced at the window. The blizzard had abated just a little bit, but under no circumstances would Earl be content with waiting outside while Kevin raped a girl. If nothing else, Earl wouldn’t mind watching; he didn’t mind sloppy seconds.

Hopping off the bed, Kevin pulled up his pants and started for the door, casting at the girl laying on the bed. She didn’t move, she didn’t look around; Jackie simply stared at the ceiling, the empty shell of a teenage girl once bright and full of life.

“Who is it?” Kevin called out.

“It’s me.”

Recognizing the voice, Kevin opened the door, and Earl stepped inside. Obviously, Earl had a key, but at least had the common courtesy not to interrupt. Of course, he wouldn’t have been happy.

“Holy fuck!” Earl cried, immediately turning his attention to Jackie. “She’s a hottie, huh? You fuck ‘er yet? Bet she’s got a tight little ass.”

Well, it was fun while it lasted. Upon Earl’s arrival, Kevin’s well-nurtured ambiance had been smashed to pieces. Earl might as well have just said Hey, we’re rapists, time to have sex!

Fury boiled in the pit of Kevin’s stomach.

“Fuck’s this?” Earl’s voice seemed to make the room shake. Kevin looked to see what had attracted Earl’s attention. “The bitch been keepin’ a diary or somethin’?”

In his hand, Earl held the notebook, upon which Kevin had transcribed the girl’s soul. In some ways, Kevin had consecrated the notebook, and here his employer stood, thumbing through the pages with fat, greasy fingers.

“Don’t worry about it…” Kevin said, uncertain of how to respond. How could he explain Jackie’s importance to him? How could this gargantuan ape of a human being understand the finer elements of what happened in the motel room that night?

Earl tossed the notebook aside. It skidded across the table and thudded to the floor, bending one of the pages. Kevin flinched at seeing this, and moved to retrieve it.

“Oooh, I’m ready for this…you clean ‘er up or somethin’? The girls are usually pretty slimy by the time I get here.”

“I haven’t fucked her yet.” Kevin’s every word was laced with bitter fury. Earl scarcely noticed; he was too busy unbuckling his belt.

“You’re givin’ me a virgin? Holy shit, Kev, I didn’t know you had a surprise for me tonight!”

Something clicked in Kevin’s mind. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was just lust, bordering on critical levels. But if he didn’t do something, Earl would fall on top of Jackie, and turn this perversely romantic occasion into a vulgar fuckfest.

“Well, what can I say,” Kevin said, casting a few furtive glances around the room. “I’ve had a lot of fun in this room. I guess I feel like I’ve always been searching for something, and now I’ve found it. Her name is Jackie.”

Furrowing his brow, Earl turned to regard Kevin. “I don’t care what its name is! Now, you gonna let me enjoy this, or you gonna talk all touchy-feely while I’m trying to get off?”

Shrugging, Kevin gestured down at Jackie. Earl didn’t notice that Kevin wasn’t looking at him or Jackie when he did so; his gaze was centered on something else in the room.

“Mmm-hmmm! You’re a fresh one, huh sweetie?” Earl cooed in a gruff, hungry tone. He fisted his cock with one hand and played with Jackie’s breast with the other. “You’re gonna be a good one. Maybe you should be gagged? I got a big dick, baby, a real big dick! Trust me, you’re gonna be screaming real soon!”

“You need a gag?” Kevin said from behind Earl. For the first time in a while, Jackie lifted her head, dazedly looking at the pair of rapists looming over her. Her eyes widened in horror; the first man—the one that had interrogated her—wasn’t holding any gags.

Earl didn’t see it until it was too late.

“Yeah, gimme a gag…” He turned his head.

“I don’t want to hear you talk anyway.” Kevin brought his gun up, expertly aligning the barrel with Earl’s eye, and pulled the trigger.

Perhaps under different circumstances, Jackie could have been an actress. Her reaction to what happened next was like something out of a Rob Zombie movie. The bullet incinerated Earl’s eyeball and punched out through the back of his head, taking thick, gelatinous wads of brain matter and shattered bone with it.

Blood exploded across the bed, spraying across Jackie’s naked body. Her mouth agape, Jackie could only watch as her near-rapist’s body knelt in place for a moment, and then tumbled atop her. Earl’s hollowed head fell onto her chest and drained across her breasts and arms and stomach. His cock, still hard but rapidly losing girth, slapped against her pussy and nearly pushed inside.

Jackie screamed. This wasn’t any ordinary scream. These were the screams of a woman pushed well beyond hysteria and just beyond insanity.

This took Kevin by surprise. He stood with the smoking gun, trying to believe what he’d done, and suddenly Jackie’s shrieks had his ears ringing. He dropped the gun to the bed and stumbled to the side of the bed. Slapping a palm over Jackie’s mouth didn’t do the trick; her mouth was open too wide and her shrieks were deep and guttural, animalistic. Her voice probably would have given out after a minute, but Kevin didn’t have that long.

Keeping a hand across her mouth, Kevin clamped his fingers around her throat, choking enough of the life out of Jackie to calm her down. The veins in her face became grotesquely engorged.

Finally the sounds abated to a gurgling, rasping whimper. Jackie’s mouth open and closed like a fish out of water and she gasped for air. In his frenzy, Kevin wanted to kill her too. He could feel her throat muscles working overtime, desperate to clear the obstruction that wasn’t there. Jackie’s eyes were becoming blurred and lifeless, and Kevin had never felt so powerful.

But he relented, and released her throat. He didn’t know why. Earl was dead, so he couldn’t sell her. But did he want to? Kevin had never considered what would happen if he kept one of the women he kidnapped. How hard could it be?

Staring down at Jackie, Kevin knew beyond a reasonable doubt that she’d been irreparably traumatized. Earl hadn’t been the only one to die just now. The girl turned her head, and stared at him expectantly, though she said nothing. Her eyes burned holes in his very soul; he’d never forget that image.

Kevin grabbed wads of Earl’s ample body fat and dragged him off the girl’s legs, dumping him to the floor.

“Okay, okay…” He mumbled to himself, pacing back and forth. “What do I do, what do I do?”

The easy option? Killing Jackie, and probably himself, too. Let the cops sort out what happened here.

But he couldn’t do that. Jackie had become everything he wanted, the forbidden fruit of his every fantasy. A woman without a mind. A robot, a breathing mannequin. How could he give that up now?

An idea struck him. Kevin turned, and looked at Jackie. She lay as still as a corpse, staring at him. She didn’t blink. He could still save her!

Quickly, Kevin returned to Jackie and untied her, using the blankets to wipe as much blood off her as possible. Eventually, the bedspread became too smeared with warm, gooey blood to do any good. Kevin untied her ankles and freed her wrists. Jackie didn’t try to escape, or struggle; she simply lay on the bed and stared at him. She didn’t even close her legs until Kevin closed them for her.

Helping Jackie to her feet, Kevin wiped the sweat from his brow and led her to the door. Sure, she was naked, but didn’t even make a peep when he led her barefoot across the jagged icy surface, or around the back of his car ankle-deep in snow.

She just stared quietly at him.

“Get in, Jackie. We’re leaving,” Kevin directed, popping open the trunk.

Jackie still didn’t respond. The frigid winds tore at her unprotected body, and Kevin could see traces of blood in her footprints, though he didn’t think it was Earl’s blood.

Rolling his eyes, Kevin lifted the girl out of the snow and tucked her into the trunk, arranging her body into the fetal position. She only moved a little bit, and that was her head. Jackie wanted to look at him, and nothing more.

Slamming the trunk shut, Kevin lit his last cigarette and returned to the bedroom. Sure enough, there lay Earl, right there on the floor. In a way, Kevin had been hoping it had never happened. He wished nothing had ever happened; he wished that he’d just kidnapped Jackie and taken her home instead, where he could torture her forever.

But no. He’d taken her to Room 713, and Earl had ruined everything.

Kevin had known for a very long time that the Kessler Motel was a poorly-constructed hellhole. A great big deathtrap that hadn’t been fit to live in for years.

In other words, a fire waiting to happen.

Lacking any gasoline, Kevin would have to be creative. The curtains would do; they were so old and ancient and dry with dust, they’d go up in an instant. The sheets were probably too thoroughly soaked with blood to be of any use; he didn’t even know if dried blood was flammable.

But the walls were thin and papery, and the frame was made of wood. It was a gamble, but Kevin could do it. He could make everything that happened here go away.

Swallowing hard, Kevin made a beeline for the bathroom, lighter in hand. He lit the towels and the bathmat—even the toilet paper in the holder, and the extra ones in the cupboard.

Quickly he returned to the bedroom, listening to the rising flames crackling and sizzling in the bathroom. He lit the curtains—four in total—and, for good measure, set fire to the bed. He flicked his cigarette right on the floor, and although the carpet wouldn’t burn, he figured it would once the room got hot enough.

And the room was becoming very hot indeed. His heart thundering in his chest, Kevin found his gun, and tucked Jackie’s purse under his arm. Though he considered taking an extra set of clothes, he refrained; Kevin needed to get out of this room as soon as possible, so he just opened the drawers and set fire to them all. With Jackie in his captivity, he wouldn’t be needing clothes for a while, anyway.

Turning on his heel, Kevin started for the door. Pillars of fire stood on either side, flanking the windows. He didn’t have a lot of time.

But he stopped. Desperate, he looked over his shoulder, at the notebook sitting on the table.

Guilt overwhelmed him. Unless he wanted to go to jail for the rest of his life, Kevin couldn’t return Jackie to her family. After all, the cops would probably guess that she’d been here—a dead jock in the middle of an intersection, and a burning motel, all in the same night?—so to give up Jackie would be to incriminate himself for two counts of cold-blooded murder.

Therefore, the only record he would ever have of what Jackie had been before this night lay there, on the table. Three pages of it contained a human life. Based on her reactions, Kevin doubted that Jackie would ever speak again. Besides, she might have been traumatized so badly, she wouldn’t remember any of it anyway. He could probably go out to his car, show her the notebook, and ask her if she recognized any of it. She’d probably say ‘no’.

No, she’d probably just stare at him with those haunted hazel eyes.

Knowing he’d be unable to forgive himself if he left the book behind, Kevin sprinted to the table, snatched Jackie’s Soul, and went crashing through the door. Flames licked at his body and the heat was unbearable, but once he stumbled out into the unforgiving wind, he felt much better.

Strolling swiftly to the driver’s side door, Kevin hopped into the seat and slammed the door shut. The trunk was silent; he couldn’t even hear Jackie moving back there.

For as long as he felt safe, Kevin watched the fire engulf Room 713. He pictured Earl’s corpse, still warm with leftover life, slowly burning to a crisp. The interrogation chair, the bed, the lamps, everything—it was all disappearing behind a thick wall of luminescent orange.

It would take some time for the fire department to arrive. The Kessler Motel wasn’t equipped with smoke detectors (Earl’s idea of saving money), so the responsibility of calling the fire department would fall to the two or three junkies in the other rooms. And more than likely, none of them actually had any idea where they were—just that it was burning down around them—which would give Kevin a substantial head start.

He turned the key, tossed Jackie’s purse into the passenger seat, and looked through the pages of the notebook. In a way, it had been fun, almost childish, like playing tie-up games. Kevin was the righteous policeman, Jackie the seedy criminal.

Strangely, Kevin almost felt like crying. He hadn’t fucked Jackie. Interrogating her had been so much fun. Why did he have to make it into so much more…?

Setting the notebook aside, Kevin let a teardrop dribble down his cheek and thought about that girl in the trunk. He couldn’t have that kind of fun with her anymore; she probably didn’t have the mental faculties. If watching two heads explode that night hadn’t scarred her mind, being choked had probably caused brain damage. She’d never react the same way again.

Kevin looked at the notebook and wished he could have the old Jackie back. All that remained was a three-page memory, and Jackie’s body: living, but empty.

She lay quietly in the trunk as Kevin pulled onto the interstate, crying softly. He wanted the old Jackie back, but all he could do now was fuck her.