Sinfully Addicted

The Chase

This was always my favorite part; the chase, and I always thought; if there is no chase, what's the point in the kill?

 He tried screaming for help, but that wasn't going to help him; we were in the middle of nowhere; no people around for, at the least, one hundred and fifteen miles; he wasn't going anywhere; no one was coming to save him.

"Stop, please." He wailed, I cackled as I ran faster, the wind tousling my long ivory hair, slightly, he tripped on a large tree root, he groaned, and tried to get up, he was way too slow for my liking.

I stood over him, crushing my heel farther into his chest, he spat, "Stop, why are you doing this?"

I laughed, this alluring, ambient sound, that peaked his curiosity, slightly, "They always ask why do I do this, why them, why now, and then they plead, 'No, please, I have a family.', 'I have a wife and kids.', and once, 'I just got a dog for my mother.' What the fuck? I don't care if you have a wife or kids or dogs or cats or parents or a life."

"You'll never get away with this." He snarled, I chuckled.

"Like I haven't heard that before." I stepped away from him, waiting for him to get up, he didn't right away, then he slowly stood up, before cautiously asking, "You're letting me go?"

I scoffed, "Nope. You have five seconds to start running." He heard what I said, but instead charged at me, "Ohh, you shouldn'ta done that." I whispered into his ear as he tried to get his arms around me, I quickly spun to behind him, put the knife to his throat, he expected me to kill him right then and there, but instead, I stabbed him in the side, pushed him away from me and spat, "You have three seconds."

Then he turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, I smiled widely as I ran after him; my long legs working to my advantage; I quickly caught up to him in a matter of seconds, taking my dagger, I sliced it through his shirt and down his back.

He groaned, but I wanted him to scream, I wanted him to beg for his life, I wanted him to scream for more, I wanted him to scream my name and beg me to kill him.

He lied there, and didn't do anything, he was pretending to be dead so I would leave him there and he could escape, I chuckled at this, did he really think that I couldn't see past his facade?

I untied the rope from off my cherry tree that I used last time, there was dried blood on it still, I grabbed his wrists, tied one end of the rope to the tree and tied his wrists together on the other end.

I started humming to myself as I made my way over to my small tool shed/garage that I had in the middle of my property, I unlocked the door as I laid eyes on my red four-wheeled motorcycle, I grabbed my trusted, rusted, thick linked chain, and then drove back over to...Phil? Was that his name?

It didn't really matter much to me, what his name was, he wasn't going to live much longer, anyways.

I hooked my chain unto the back of my motorcycle and then hooked the other part into, sure, I'll call him Phil; Phil's back wound.

He screamed violently, I moaned in delight at that luxurious sound, this was what I did this for, that feeling, that rush, that heart-pounding desire to feel that magnificent feeling of hearing their pain and taking their life.

I hopped onto my bike, and drove in the opposite direction, so Phil was spun around and dragged by the chain, by my bike, his anguished screams was like an orchestra was playing right in front of me, it was the most beautiful sound I could ever imagine.

This was the kind of thing you'd have to experience to understand, but once you get past the small fear, if you have that fear, most people don't if they're into this lifestyle, when I first discovered this was the life for me, it was an interesting time.

It was like skydiving, you just have to jump without thinking, otherwise you won't at all, I smiled at the thought of my first kill.

I laughed then because of the analogy I used is basically what I did, except I went skydiving and pretended to be the instructor, and instead of giving them parachutes, I only gave them backpacks with bricks in them, and pushed them out of the plane.

Four of them died, but one was still alive, so I held her in my arms, pretended to soothe her, as she was suffering, she was already dying, but it didn't matter, any kill is still a kill.

So, of course, I was wearing gloves, my favorite, velvet black elbow length gloves, and grabbed a thick broken tree branch and stabbed her, right in the heart.

I didn't even realize that I had driven almost to the main house on the property which was about forty ish miles from where I was originally.

I jumped off the bike, went around and found that somehow Phil was still alive, interesting, but most of his skin was gone, just gone.

"Huh, that's a new one." I said more to myself then to him, even though he was obviously weak, he lifted up his head.

Phil looked me straight in the eye and spat, no that wasn't the right word, harshly, yeah that's better, "Why...why don't you just kill me already?"

I smiled at him, he was obviously confused by this, "Because, think of it like this, Phil, most people like foreplay, okay, so this is my foreplay and well, as you can see, I like a lot of foreplay before getting down to it."

He sighed, not like an annoyed or angry sigh, but like a sad sort of sigh, it made me feel bad for him for a minute, but then I just put my hands on either side of his head.

"Wait, can I say something first?" Phil asked, he didn't tense up when I put my hands on him, he was ready for death.

I waited, after a moment, he said, "My name's not Phil, it's Allen, can I know your name before I die?"

I was surprised, that was a question I wasn't asked before, and I was pretty sure his name was Phil, but I obliged anyways, "My name is Dextra Pennywell." I told him and then I swiftly broke his neck, thus ending his suffering and filling my body with delight.