Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

“I can’t do it!”

Stanley jumped back from the camera. “Yes, you can, Cindy, and you fucking will do it, by God!”

With that, he stormed over and raised his hand as if to strike her then stopped himself. His rage abated and his expression grew calm again.

“Listen, Cindy. We don’t have all night so I want you to listen closely to what I have to say. If you want to live to see your kids again I suggest that you do exactly as I say. I just don’t understand you gorgeous fucking women! Here you are, with your beautiful bodies and all the things you put yourselves through to keep yourselves that way. Then a man comes along and asks you to show him what you have and you suddenly clam up on him! Now does that make any sense? I’ve seen you in various stages of undress already, so what’s the big problem here? Ha! You didn’t even know that, did you? That’s because I’m good-really good. You haven’t even had an inkling that I’ve been observing you for the past two weeks have you? Well, I have. I’ve seen you in your bathroom taking a bath, in your bedroom getting dressed in the morning, and even in your pool skinny-dipping in the middle of the fucking night. And guess what-I’ve seen you screwing the mayor, too! Bet you thought that was some kind of big secret, didn’t you? I can tell by your expression right now that you’re shocked by all of these revelations, but like I said, I’m good. So I already know what you got there, Cindy, and I want to see it again. Now! So are you going to start taking off those clothes for me or am I going to have to fucking do it for you?”

Cindy was absolutely dumbstruck. She wanted to protest but realized it was useless. She looked around the room for a moment, as if to suddenly discover a miraculous way out of this situation, which she knew didn’t exist. She then looked at Stanley Jenkins in utter defeat and nodded her head slowly.

“Excellent!”

Stanley returned to the camera. He peered though the viewfinder once again and stared as Cindy Fuller removed her jacket. Her eyes avoided the camera when she let the jacket drop to the floor and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“Slowly,” Stanley commanded.

Cindy shot him a pained glance and with trembling hands mechanically undid her blouse, allowing it to fall off her shoulders to the floor. After pulling down her skirt and removing her pantyhose, she stopped and stared at him with pleading eyes.

“The rest, Cindy. Take off the rest,” he insisted, his voice guttural as he continued to peer through the viewfinder.

Cindy sighed in helpless exasperation and undid her bra. She tossed it aside, and with tears streaming out of her eyes, removed her panties.

“Excellent!” Stanley exclaimed. “Say ‘cheese!’”

An instant later, the camera fired-causing Cindy to flinch from the glare of the flash. The camera promptly coughed out a print with a whirring whine and Stanley pulled it the rest of the way out and stuck it into his pocket.

“How about a smile, Cindy?” he coaxed. “And take your hands away from your tits!”

He gaped at her as she hesitantly withdrew her hands from her breasts and let her arms fall limply to her sides. She was sobbing in fear and humiliation as she forced a weak smile that lasted only a second.

“Come on, Cindy, look alive! You know you’re enjoying this just as much as I am. Here I am, admiring that gorgeous bod of yours and it’s making me a very happy camper… You’re fucking pleasing me, Cindy! So give me a show-let’s see your stuff!”

At that moment, Cindy Fuller totally broke down. She started crying hysterically and slumped to the floor, no longer able to deny the pent up terror inside of her.

“Fuck!” Stanley shouted, running over to where Cindy lay writhing on the floor. He thrust his hands in under her arms and tried to force her up to her feet but she was like a dead weight. He let go of her and smacked her face hard with the back of his hand.

“Okay, Cindy. No more Mister Nice Guy. Get up on your feet or I’m going to kick the living shit out of you!”

Cindy remained motionless.

“Last chance!”

Cindy didn’t move.

Stanley brought his arm in under her chin and applied pressure, causing Cindy to choke violently. He held her in a vise-like grip for several moments, then relaxed his hold. Cindy coughed agonizingly and struggled to catch her breath.

“Are you ready to cooperate, Cindy? Or would you like me to finish you off now?”

She shook her head dismally. Stanley lifted her up to her feet and held her until she finished coughing. Then he said, “You’ve really pissed me off Cindy, you know, and I’m beginning to wonder just how much you care about your precious kids. Are you going to start playing ball with me or are you conceding the game?”

She forced herself to say in a broken hoarseness, “Okay, you win.”

Stanley Jenkins grinned victoriously. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

He returned to the camera and looked through the viewfinder. “Turn around, Cindy. I want your sweet ass to face the camera.”

Cindy turned around.

“Now stay there and don’t move a muscle.”

He stood back and flipped the switch for the self-timer, removed his coat, his eyes never for a moment leaving Cindy’s backside. Then he quickly pulled off his sweat pants, pressed the shutter release button, and ran over to where she was standing.

“Bend over, bitch!” he commanded, then shoved himself into her just as the timer beeped out the final seconds and the camera fired.

Cindy let out an agonizing scream and struggled to break away just as Stanley grabbed her hips in his hands and forced her down onto her knees, continuing to thrust himself into her. Moments later, he withdrew and spun Cindy around, pinning her down flat on her back. He plunged himself into her as Cindy tried desperately to push him off. But she was no match for him as she kicked her feet wildly and clawed him in the back with her fingernails.

“You’re not being a very willing participant,” he panted, staring at her with insatiable lust and malice. “I’m beginning to think that you truly don’t like me one iota!”

He suddenly grasped her breasts in both hands and squeezed them as if checking cantaloupes for ripeness.

“Don’t tell me this doesn’t feel good, bitch. Now are you beginning to see what you missed when you turned down Stanley Jenkins all those years ago? All I ever wanted was this-to fuck your brains out. But you were too good for me, weren’t you, Cindy? Didn’t think I’d be able to give you so much damn pleasure. Thought I was a fucking loser! But now you know. And now I know that you’re a fucking slut, just like all the rest. Big fucking teasing sluts who think they’re shit doesn’t stink. And to think that the only reason I was ever interested in you was because you resembled her so much. But you’re nothing like her-she has class. You are just a cheap imitation of the real thing, you bitch!”

In a sudden fit of uncontrollable rage, Stanley hammered her in the jaw with his fist, sending Cindy’s head reeling to the side. An instant later, he struck her again, this time nearly knocking her unconscious. Cindy moaned incoherently as Stanley sprung up onto his feet and ran over to where the nylon bag was lying on the floor. He reached inside and took out a three-foot length of lamp cord and raced back over to where Cindy lay half conscious on the floor. Her eyes were frozen in terror as he walked around her, forced her up into a sitting position, then drew the lamp cord around her neck from behind.

“Sorry it had to end this way, Cindy,” he declared as he tightened the cord around her neck. “But in spite of the great time I’ve had on our little date, I’m afraid that I’m still going to have to kill you.”