1. Ahriman: The Evolution of a Serial Killer 12


    Date: 8/6/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Anal, Ass to mouth, Authoritarian, Blowjob, Cruelty, Domination/submission, Extreme, Horror, Male Domination, Murder, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence, Written by women, Author: gl0771, Rating: 88.9, Source: sexstories.com

    The doorbell woke him with a start. He looked around the room, but Kaneez and Samil were both gone. He bolted out of bed and raced down the stairs. Kaneez and Giolla were in the kitchen, Kaneez cradling Samil, their eyes wide and frightened. He was pleased to see Giolla had not removed the dildo from her cunt, but he had no time to reward her. He stormed toward them and hissed, "Downstairs! Now! Not a sound!" They ran down the stairs, and he followed them. He unlocked the bitches' room and shoved them inside with a warning to stay completely silent. Everything in the basement was soundproofed with the most expensive industrial-grade materials, but he couldn't take chances. Regardless of who was at the door, he had no desire to go to jail. He didn't know if the person at the door was a Girl Scout selling cookies or the FBI, but he wasn't about to let anyone see two naked women in his kitchen, especially since they were both missing persons, with a third downstairs, not to mention the two bloody whores in the ritual room. He went back upstairs and took a deep breath before going to the door, banishing Ahriman temporarily and forcing Drake to the surface. Just as he opened It, the person on the other side rang the bell again. He grimaced, glanced at his watch, and saw that he had only been asleep for two hours, so he didn't have to pretend to be tired and irritated at this interruption. He leaned against the doorframe, stared at the man on his porch, and yawned, covering his ...
    mouth with the back of his hand. "Can I help you?" he asked, making the simple question sound more like, "Get the fuck away from my house and let me get back to sleep." "Drake Atherton?" the man asked. He was just about an inch shorter than his own six three height, with salt and pepper hair and brown eyes that spoke of having seen some horrible things. "That's me. What can I do for you?" The man pulled a card from his jacket pocket, and he took it, barely keeping a sneer off his face as he scanned the cop from head to foot. One of his shoes he had kicked off earlier was probably worth three times as much as this idiot's entire outfit. "My name is Detective Glass. I'm involved in a missing person's case involving Elizabeth Avery, and the bartender at the Violet Stick Bar said that you knew her." He frowned. "Elizabeth Avery? I don't think I know anyone by that name, Detective." The man gave a small smile. "You may have known her as Liz. That's usually what she went by." He nodded. "Oh, her. Yeah, I met her once, but that had to have been almost a year ago." He smirked at the cop. "I took her out to dinner, but we didn't really hit it off. I only saw her that one time." "Did you bring her back here?" "No, we ate at Delmonico's, found out we pretty much had nothing in common, and I took her home. That's the last I saw of her." The man looked over his head into the house. "Is there anyone else here who I could talk to? Just to see if they know anything?" "No, it's just me." He ...
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