Frederick Hamilton - Spare Key

He pushed the blade more firmly this time. It took two hands. It sank through flesh and gristle. It grated against bone. His penis throbbed as he watched it slowly emerge from the other side. The blood flowed down over her ankle in a slowly increasing river.

Her back arched off the table, she froze in an agonising rictus. Blood and jism sprayed from her mouth as she screamed long and loud. Her breasts were framed perfectly against the red hue of the background, the nipples stiff and erect. He decided he’d work on them next.

But first finish with the foot…

He began to saw, yanking the knife upwards. The sound of grating bone filled the air. He got the blade up a centimetre and it jammed. He tore it free and studied the gobs that spattered on his apron for a moment.

Vomit bubbled from her lips.

He smiled as he returned to the bench and let the knife clutter back among the tools. He picked up the metal shears and returned to her. She’d passed out so he slapped her back awake before he returned to her feet. He locked eyes with her as he opened the blades. She mouthed something that looked like no.

Three snips took care of the remaining join. The crunch of the bones forced a dribble of pre-cum. She passed out again as he levered the two sides apart. Two toes to the left; three to the right. He studied the inside, his hand, finally freed, slipping back beneath the apron.

Yes there would be plenty to keep him occupied until morning… plenty indeed… for a start he would use the skewers on the breasts…

* * * * *

Rachel sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall ahead as she cradled her wounded hand. She had no idea how long she had been there after she’d locked and chained the doors; no idea how long she had basked in her seething anger. She knew she should really bandage her hand again but couldn’t force herself to move.

Occasionally the voice would chirp up: some sort of justification or a suggestion to call the cops, but Rachel clamped down on it quickly. She was beyond hearing the voice of reason at this point…

… It had gone too far for that now.

She felt like screaming. Like smashing things. She just couldn’t stop each indignity from spiralling through her mind, looping to and fro, feeding back into her anger; restarting, over and over again.

It was beyond anything she could tolerate. Beyond it all. She had to fucking do something about this. She just fucking had to.

And that fucking old bitch! It looked like she had another shortcoming to add to that bitch’s list. She’d whined enough about the fact the spare key to her flat hadn’t been in Thea’s belongings when she died but never even mentioned she still had a spare key to Thea’s flat.

TO MY FUCKING FLAT!

The thought made Rachel’s blood boil and naturally segued into one of the fenced-in building site down the road where construction had been halted for a good three years now. A thought of the bundles stacked inside the concrete tube and a thought that there was plenty of space for more…

But that’s really what you wanted all along isn’t it? The voice chirped up.

Oh fuck off! Rachel screamed in her mind. This isn’t what I want. I just want to be left in peace. I just want people to be a little fucking considerate…

Really? Would they ever be considerate enough?

‘Oh, fuck off.’ She said it aloud this time, spitting it out viciously and the voice beat a hasty retreat.

Something was definitely going to be done.

She just needed to calm down first. In the state she was in she was going to do something stupid. She needed to focus, get control, but the anger was ever present. Boiling away inside her.

‘Fucking pervert,’ she hissed it as she pictured his stare and finally her paralysis broke. She lent over, reached down and slid the box from beneath the mattress.

She just needed to blow off some steam. Get herself thinking clearly again. She’d have to be so damn careful this time.

Rachel scooted herself back up the bed, dragging the box with her. When she was lying back against the pillows, she levered the lid off the box and set Walter down beside her. She lifted her hips and dragged off her tracksuit pants and underwear in one motion, kicking them free as she lifted out the first of the photo albums.

She ran her fingers over her cleft as she laid it down on the bed beside her and flipped open the cover. She rubbed as she studied the pages, her pussy moistening and spreading at her touch. She reached for Walter and twisted the base; felt him vibrate to life beneath her fingers as she turned the page, feasting her eyes on the photos, slowly bringing Walter up, trailing him along her thigh, the buzzing tingling her skin.

Some of the tension began to finally eke out of her in the face of her growing arousal.

She turned another page and slid Walter in, gasping out loud and wishing she’d taken the time to heat him up a little first.

Just blow off a little steam , she thought as she flipped another page and pictured the key hanging on the hook in the drawer.

Just get myself thinking clearly again.

DAY 5

Rachel didn’t look back as she locked the door and headed down the driveway. Despite her fatigue, she felt exhilarated. Her anger was still there, bubbling away beneath the surface but it had lessened somewhat after the lengthy session with Walter and the photo albums. Lessened as the realisation had grown that yes, she was going to do this.

She hadn’t slept at all the previous night. She’d spent the time sitting on the bed, staring out past the half-wedged-open blind. Staring and waiting but he hadn’t made an appearance.

So instead Rachel had sat and stewed.

The voice had made a few, last-ditch efforts but had finally given up with a disgusted sigh and left her to it. She had sat and thought and watched as the sky gradually lightened outside.

When the alarm sounded, she’d stood and slowly walked over and turned it off. Then stowed Walter and the albums back in the box and slid it safely under the bed, pleased that there was only a slight tremor in her hand.

After dressing mechanically her hand had been scabbed and crusted with her blood so she’d washed and bandaged it again. Then she’d gone and packed.

And as she hefted the overnight bag and settled the strap more comfortably on her shoulder, Rachel ran a mental list of its contents and a smile broke across her face as she made her way down the driveway.

She could feel his eyes on her the whole way.

* * * * *

Ben watched her go; his eye pressed to the crack as he rolled up the canvas and stuffed his knives back in his duffel bag. One by one he fed the other items in as he watched her walk out of view. Watched the way her figure shifted beneath her clothes, the erection hot against his thigh as he imagined it being revealed to him in its fullest. When he would remove more than just the clothes; strip it right back to the bare bones. He watched her until she was out of sight and then turned and sat in a crouch with his back to the wall as he knotted the drawstring of the duffel bag.

He sat and waited, staring down at the bag as he listened intently. He wanted to make certain she was gone this time; didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Although she was in her uniform, it was best to be certain. There were niggling doubts in his head about the bag she had slung over her shoulder – was she going away? Did she somehow suspect and was going to stay at a friend’s house? He pushed them out of his mind though. It didn’t matter how long she was gone for. Once he got in, he could wait.