Chapter 13

13

The Sandman

One week ago …

The blonde twitched with the first signs the tranquilizer had begun to wear off. The slight flare of her nostrils through the small breathing holes of the latex mask told him she could smell the gasoline in the bucket beside her. The only visible part of her face was her lips, which parted on a gasp. Her eyes remained concealed by black latex that also masked her long blonde hair and covered her body.

Aside from her thick, pouty lips, she no longer had any distinguishable features. She could be anyone he wanted her to be. A faceless doll, like the mannequins he’d once slept with at night. Only, the doll before him was warm and came with a hole in which he could bury his swelling manhood, many times throughout the night.

Long, slender legs jerked beneath the smooth black latex sheet vacuum-sealed to her body, where she lay trapped on a bed, knees bent, her thighs held frog-legged apart by the form-fitting plastic. Her hands had been placed flat to the bed at either side of her, completely immobile.

Every curve visible, teasing him.

The sheets came in a variety of colors—white, clear, red. Black was his favorite, though, and the hole for the head fit snug at the throat, to keep the air locked inside, so he could play with different masks. Some covering the mouth, some the entire face. In this case, he enjoyed the element of fear in having her eyes shielded.

He wore a full body latex suit, himself, but unlike the mask she wore, his offered cutouts not only for the mouth, but the eyes, too. Even his penis fit into a black latex sheath attached to the suit, which he’d buffed with lube—the mere preparation making him fully erect. He couldn’t stand the thought of touching her dirty skin, riddled with hair and dry bits that flecked off. The visual of fluids seeping out of her cunt made him want to gag.

The leather braids of his whip slipped between his fingers as he toyed with it, waiting for her to wake.

With a drowsy groan, she shook inside the sheet of latex in a poor effort to move about.

The first weak scream that passed her lips soured to a tearless sob. Latex squeaked and rubbed as she fought inside her bindings.

“Hello, Marnee.”

At the sound of his voice, she froze, lips trembling as her head, the only movable part of her body, blindly shifted back and forth, as though she searched the air for him.

Dipping his latex-clad finger into the gasoline, he dabbed a small drop beneath her nose, and she reared back, gasping through her mouth. “Regarding my proposition earlier …” He reached down to where the base of a red dildo stuck out of an attached condom he’d jammed into her pussy—a long latex balloon pocket he’d sewn into the sheet to keep the air from leaking out. With a gentle tug, he removed the plug for the small hole between her pried thighs, one he could scarcely look at, even when covered in the shiny black material, without shivering. “Which would you prefer? To be ravaged for hours, or burned alive?”

“Please.” Her voice carried a slur, broken by sniffles. “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

“Answer the question.”

“I want to go home.”

Whip in hand, he brought the leather braids down against her thighs with a resounding whack that echoed through the cold pole barn.

She cried out, while the latex concealed the marks of her abuse.

Bent forward, he ran his hands over the smooth black sheet and kissed her. Oh, the remorse on her lips. They all felt remorse at that point.

Her face scrunched with another sob. “Please … just let me go. I can’t … I can’t feel my arms. Or my legs.”

“No, you can’t. And you won’t. You’ll be paralyzed, either burning alive, or letting me fuck you. Your choice.”

“Why? Why can’t I—”

He silenced her question with a sharp slap to her face, kicking her head to the side. “Tell me which you’d prefer. The longer you procrastinate, the worse it will be for you. Can you even imagine how it would feel, having your skin burn inside latex without being able to move a muscle? How terrifying that would be, as it sticks to your skin.”

“I’m sorry.” Her body convulsed with a sob. “If I … did something. If I hurt you, somehow.” They all played that game—trying to appeal to some empathy that just didn’t exist.

“You’re really not. But that’s okay. Tonight, you will be made virtuous again. Now, tell me what you want. Fire? Or me?”

Only the whimpers and the downward curve of her lips served as evidence of her crying.

“I understand. I’ll grab a match.”

“No! Wait! I choose you!”

“Really? You’re not just telling me that? You’d really rather have me?”

“Yes.”

“I knew … I knew you were special.” He trailed a finger over her latex-covered face, catching the subtle flinch of her muscles. “Oh, Marnee, when I’m finished with you, your soul will be cleansed, and the world will be right again.”

“You’ll let me go?”

“No, are you saying you want to go? Were you lying moments before?”

“No, I wasn’t lying. I promise.”

“Good.” Cupping her cheek, he planted another kiss to her lips, taking in the feel of her latex against his. He’d lubed the mask beforehand to keep it from squealing during contact, as the sound often distracted him.

Round pert breasts stuck out through the plastic, so skintight to her body he could grab her hard nipple through it. He took a moment to grope them, studying her face for any sign of disgust. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s not your fault you’re turned on right now.”

The sheet shook with her sob, as he fondled her. The bed’s steel frame had been bolted to the floor, so as not to shift around with even the most vigorous movement.

“Do you like how that feels, Marnee?” One of the things he most enjoyed about the latex, particularly against his cock, was that it enhanced the sensation of touch. With the added lube and scent of rubber on the air, he could hardly contain the pre-cum warming the inside of his sheath.

A whine escaped the woman, the only reaction she could muster with her body still paralyzed, but she nodded. “It … feels nice.”

The shaky quality of her voice betrayed her, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in making her feel good. Touching her was his own delight, not hers. She was one of the chosen, and she should feel grateful for what he intended to do.

“Well, since you’ve been so honest with me, it’s only right that I’m honest with you. Not everything I do to you is going to feel nice. In fact, you may experience excruciating pain at some point. But nothing like being burned alive. I promise.”

She broke into sobbing again, and he stroked her shiny, black skull.

“Shhhh. You made the right choice, Marnee. Tonight, you will accept my seed. I will fill your body with it, and you will be mine. My beautiful possession.” Of course, none of his ejaculate would truly end up inside of her, as it would remain trapped inside the sheath, but the act itself represented his possession of her.

He pushed to his feet and made his way to the foot of the bed. Legs spread apart, her clitoris sat somewhere beneath the sheet, and thankfully, he couldn’t see it. Nausea churned in his gut at the thought of his dick rubbing against the ugly, discolored flesh. The idea of such a thing sickened him, and he looked away as he pushed his hips forward. In a blind attempt to find her hole, he jabbed his tip into her, cringing at the realization he’d hit her clit.

Warm walls sucked him inside, the balloon like a hot glove gripping tight to his cock.

Lying perfectly still, she cried out, while he rocked into her, and with a few easy thrusts, his mind was lost to the softness and the overpowering scent of latex that put him at ease.

“You can’t fight me, anymore. You can no longer reject me, Marnee. I can do whatever I want to you. And I promise you, I will.”

* * *

Hours passed. He’d already had his way with her twice, her body still frozen in the latex, accepting his swollen cock as she milked his precious nectar.

As he entered to have his way with her again, he pushed against her throat, squeezing it. She gasped and moaned, while his body heightened toward climax, and when he orgasmed a third time, she didn’t make a sound.

Curious, he released her, head tipped as he studied her for any movement.

Blue gaping lips and her motionless chest confirmed he’d strangled her to death already. As connected as he could possibly be. The ultimate possession of another human being. Almost God-like.

He bent forward to listen for breath and heard nothing. Still, he didn’t pull out of her. He quite liked staying there a bit longer, and settled down on top of her body, resting his head on her cold, stiff breasts.

So beautiful.

* * *

Fine grains of sand slipped through his hand as he stared down at her empty sockets, from where blue eyes once stared back at him.

He hadn’t meant to kill her so quickly. He’d merely gotten caught up in the moment, excited at watching her struggle to breathe while he fucked her. But he’d hoped to keep her until dawn, and two hours remained until then.

The ruffling of leaves whispered around him as he poured the sand into her eyes, while she lay on a bed of frost-coated foliage he’d piled beneath her. The sand made it easier to look at her, made her less terrifying.

From the ground beside her, he picked up a half-bloomed Queen of the Night he’d clipped from his greenhouse and set it carefully in her crossed arms. Always the same way, because consistency was everything.

He’d scrubbed her vagina clean, douching her insides with oxidizing bleach so as to destroy any evidence he may have left there. Afterward, he dipped her whole body in a tub of pure bleach and a small bit of lye he often used when tanning animal hides.

With the FBI’s involvement, he couldn’t be too careful.

Staring down at her pale, dead face, he felt the compulsion to kiss her, to stroke an ungloved finger down her now-clean face, but he knew better. She’d be scoured for evidence, and the small clues he’d already made a point to place were to be the focus of her murder investigation. He didn’t need any small trace fibers getting in the way of his signatures.

Besides, he could rest easy, knowing she would always be his. From that night on, and forever, her body, her entire being, belonged to him alone.

She was pure. Clean. No longer tainted by her paltry principals that made her a snobby bitch.

No. She’d become virtuous and delicate as porcelain. No one else would ever lay claim to her. Every piece of her belonged to him.

He lifted the pickle jar filled with formaldehyde solution and Marnee’s beautiful blue eyes. His only wish was that he could always remember how breathtaking they looked with her tears.

His little flower had blossomed that night. Had chosen him over everything else, and had taken him with her into eternal sleep. A piece of him would forever live within her.