Ahriman: The Evolution of a Serial Killer 1 - Sex Stories

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Ahriman: The Evolution of a Serial Killer 1

Date: 7/20/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Bondage and restriction, Cruelty, Drug, Extreme, Horror, Male/Female, Masturbation, Rape, Torture, Violence, Written by women, Author: gl0771, Rating: 87.5, Source: sexstories.com

From the little she could see in the darkness, Liz guessed it was at least ten thousand square feet. He pulled up in front of the door and said, "Stay, please." He waited for her nod before getting out and walking around the car to let her out. She took his hand, her eyes still on the house. When he shut the car door, he pushed her up against it, calmed the glee that filled him at having her at his home, and placed his hands on either side of her, looming over her in the darkness. "I need to know," he said softly, "exactly what you are expecting out of this night." His voice was tight with desire and need. She shivered and looked up into his dark eyes. She swallowed thickly and whispered, "I want you to fuck me." He grinned. "Right here? On my car?" "Yes, please." She tried to raise her hand to touch his face, but he stepped back with a grace befitting a panther. "No." He held out his hand, and she took it with a pout. Without another word, he led her inside his house, pausing briefly to reset the security system. Then he took her to the kitchen. "Another drink?" "Sure," she said, looking around. "Vodka straight up." "Kauffman okay with you?" "I don't know. I've never tried it." "Well," he said, as he poured the smooth, clear liquid into a glass and handing it to her, "this is true Russian vodka. The best in the world." "Thank you," she said, taking a sip. "Wow, this is amazing!" "I know." He watched her as she drank for a moment, and then he took her hand again. "Come, ... let me give you the tour. Finish your drink first, please. I don't like food and drink outside of the kitchen or dining room." "Sure thing," she said, downing the vodka and setting the glass on the counter. "Big place you've got here," she said as he led her to the basement and stopped in front of a steel door. "Do you live here alone?" "Yes. My great-great-grandfather built it after striking it rich in the Gold Rush of 1849. Now I'm the last of my family to own it." "The last?" "Yes. I am an only child, and I have no children myself. Something I hope you can help me with." "What?" She yanked her hand away and spun to face him, but she lost her balance. Just before she went down, he grabbed her and turned her around so she faced the door. She struggled briefly and then went limp. "Behind this door," he said softly, "is my masterpiece. It is where you will be staying for the foreseeable future." She tried to fight him, but the Devil's Breath was starting to kick in, and her brain wouldn't work like it should. He keyed in the code to unlock the door and heard the hiss as the hydraulic locks released. The door swung slowly open, and he dragged her inside.. He dropped her to the floor where she landed with a thud. "Stay there," he growled. Keying in a different code, the door closed, and he waited until he heard the locks reengage before turning back to her. She was in a pile on the floor, looking like a messy lump of trash, and he felt the rage inside him build. He was safe now, ...