A Sample of Pure Punishment by T.L Smith
Copyright 2014 TL Smith
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organisations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
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Cover image Copyright 2014
To all woman who feel like they are broken and not good enough. Remember being ‘normal’ is over-rated.
When you feel like, life is dark remember you are a light for someone else. When life gets tough remember you are loved and have so much to live for.
Never give up, keep on keeping on.
P.S. Kristy you are as strong as you are beautiful.
Note from the Author: Please remember this book is a work of fiction.
Who to kill?
You better open your door.
Cut or nick?
Don’t party too late.
Watch your gate.
My name is Kayla. Would you like to play a game with me? I promise to only make you bleed and possibly scream.
Are you ready for some fun?
I watch as the blood drips from his hands. I take joy in it, it’s hypnotizing. I want to sit here and watch as it creates its own puddle. Watch the beauty of the blood slowly trickle, while each drop falls. The sound is soothing and it calms my erratic heartbeat as I listen to it.
“Why are you doing this Kayla?”
Why, he asks? What a silly man he is.
“You’re scum. You think it’s fun to treat girls like a piece of meat?” I ask raising my eyebrows as a smirk appears across my face.
He notices and cringes while I play with one of the shooting stars in my hand, spinning it in my palm. He continues to watch me, waiting for what is to come because there is more and he knows it.
“You don’t know what you are talking about, you crazy bitch. Now let me go.” He winces as he struggles from the pain now shooting through his hands. There is a star embedded in each one. He’s like my own human dartboard. My heart does a jump while I watch him struggle and more blood oozes from his wounds.
The sick things I crave, I fucking love it!
“I could let you go,” I say as I tap my finger to my chin, like I’m contemplating the option, “but where would the fun be in that, pretty boy?” I throw the last star in my hand straight into his eye.
He screams and it’s like music to my ears.
The brain is the center of the human nervous system, controlling our thoughts, movements, memories and decisions.
The sounds of blades being sharpened brings my attention to the right. It’s such a sharp, distinct sound that can make some peoples blood run cold. Me, on the other hand, I love it. As I step into the secluded building, I see the man that directs me to what jobs I have for the night. You see, I do the jobs that no others want to do. I clean up the mess that murderers, rapists, degenerates, and the scum of the earth make. Men that are high and mighty that can get away with their crimes so easily, because they have the money to make their problems disappear. But what most of them don’t expect… is me.
My boss, Tyke, is a quiet man. Not one to talk unless it involves work. He sends me texts messages about where to meet or to give me my next assignment details. I have tried to seduce him, on more than one occasion, but he just isn’t interested. That gets on my nerves because you always want what you can’t have and I always get what I want.
I step into a private room that has no furniture, though is littered with blades, shooting stars and guns. You name it, it’s in here. Out of all these weapons, there’s only one that tickles my fancy. The shine and brightness of the stars with a skull embedded in the center. My signature blades.
Tyke’s back is turned to me and I take pleasure in looking at his fine physique. He doesn’t have the extreme muscles of a bodybuilder, but he does have the definition of one. His dark hair is tied back to keep it from falling into his face while he pulls the blade back to sharpen it, giving me a perfect view of his flexing muscles. I can just see a glimpse of the tattoo on his neckline that disappears underneath his shirt, on his perfectly toned back. He’s dressed in all black, the only thing I ever see him wear. It matches him. He’s dark and twisted like me. We’re two peas in a pod that have come together for a reason. One day though, I will have him.
I am a girl who gets what she wants, and I want him.
I will have him one day, and he won’t say no!
Not if I have anything to do with this!
“Where to?” I ask, hoping to take him by surprise. He knows all my moves and is always one step ahead of me.
“Law firm. I will text you the address,” he replies while keeping his eyes focused on the blade he’s sharpening. I want to ask him to come with me, but we both know I work better alone. I don’t need the distraction, especially one with his gorgeous body.
I walk out into the brisk night air and feel the cold starting to settle in. I look down at what I’m wearing and realize I can’t wear clothes like this for much longer, such a pity though because the men love it.
I pull up outside the law firm. It’s quiet, only one light is on. Just what I was hoping for. I check my message from Tyke and confirm that I have the right address. My clients don’t want people to know they’ve called a prostitute. They usually try to keep things on the down low, which is great for my line of work.
I knock three times to let him know I’m here. I push my boobs up even higher in the scarlet red dress I’m wearing. My knee-high hooker boots suit the outfit perfectly and are ideal to hide my weapons. My long hair is tied in a knot hidden under my blonde wig, which is flowing down my back, and my blue eyes are shining with happiness of what is to come. As I pull my hands free from my breasts, the door swings open. I’m met with a man that’s in his fifties and reeks of alcohol. I give him my best fuck me smile and he steps back so I can enter the building, his eyes never leaving my body. His hunger for me is clear, because he doesn’t even bother to lock the door. He follows after me to what I presume is his office. His hand reaches out and he taps my ass. I pretend to squeak in excitement, which he laps up like a dog.
“I can’t wait to bury myself in you, sweetheart,” he says whispering in my ear.
I want to throw up in my mouth; this man is repulsive. “Few things to sort out first handsome,” I reply, putting on a thick accent that I know men love.
“I have your money. I don’t want to talk. I need it hard and fast. Your boss said you were fine with rough sex?” He looks me up and down and I contain the shiver of disgust creeping all over my skin. Trust Tyke to throw me to the wolves and tell this repulsive man he can have his way with me. I may just have to smack Tyke for this. I look at this man and try not to spew. He reeks and it’s revolting. He’s wearing a suit that’s seen better days and his office looks like he’s been living in it.
“Rough isn’t a problem, handsome. I like it rough, even a little bit of blood is good,” I say referring to what is to come.
Lust is written all over his face, but I’m not talking about what he likes, more along the lines of what I like. I’m not talking about him hurting me and breaking my skin, neither of which will ever happen. I gaze up at him under my long eyelashes and give him my best seductive smile. He thinks he is getting lucky. I grab a strand of my fake blonde hair and twirl it in my finger and then run it through my lips, his eyes never leave my mouth.
“Money first, handsome,” I warn as he steps closer with a look of lust in his eyes. He reluctantly pulls out a few thousand dollars that are required to spend the night with me and places it in my awaiting hand. I pocket the money in my breasts without even counting it. I pull my dress down slowly dropping it to the floor, revealing my toned body and plump breasts. His eyes bulge at the sight of me standing before him in nothing but a red lace bra, racy G-string, and hooker heels.
“How about we play a game?” I ask trailing my hands down my breasts to my stomach. He’s now fully undressed and standing in front of me naked. His body is disgusting and I can feel the bile rising up in my mouth. He nods his head in encouragement and I place my palm on his chest, pushing him back into the chair behind him. I push my breasts into his face and reach down to get his belt and tie that are on the floor. They are perfect.
Once his hands and legs are tied, I stand tall in front of him and then sink down onto his lap. He’s hard, but his cock is so small I have the feeling that even if I did fuck him, it would do nothing for me.
“You like to fuck naughty women?” I whisper close to his ear to which he happily nods his head at me. Stupid fucker!
“You like to hurt women, don’t you? You like to beat them within an inch of their life?” he nods to my first question then clicks with the second one. He leans back and takes a good long look at me. My gig is almost up. I climb off his lap and pull my dress back on while watching his shocked expression start to register what I’ve just said.
“Why are you here?” he asks struggling to get free. I don’t answer him, and sing him a song. He stares at me like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I’m already there.
“To help you. I’m here to help you, Larry,” I say, walking around him with a smile on my face. He struggles some more, but it’s no use. Tyke taught me how to tie knots that no one can escape from. And I’m that fucking good.
“I don’t need your help. If you let me go now, I won’t come after you,” he says, trying to threaten me.
It won’t work.
“That’s nice and all, Larry, but I’m afraid you won’t be walking out of here tonight.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. He starts to struggle, but it’s no use.
I make the final cut to the throat. It’s all it takes, and blood starts oozing down his neck. Pride swells in my chest when I look at the scum in front of me now wearing my signature mark
Larry’s a bad man. He has raped and murdered three girls, all at the ripe old age of eighteen. Being a well-known, sought-after attorney has let him fly under the radar and get away with his heinous crimes. Scum is the only word I can use to describe him.
There are no pain receptors in the brain, so the brain can feel no pain.
It’s Friday night and my dorm is quiet. Everyone is out partying, starting his or her celebrations for the long weekend. No one else is as stupid or desperate as me to pass all of their exams. I’m what some may call an over-achiever. I need the best grades to graduate, so I can move far away from the hellhole I call home. I had no parents growing up. My grandmother raised me as best she could after my parents both died in a car accident. I was only ten years old. My father was an only child and my grandmother adored him. He was a smart man and was the CEO for multiple banks. My mother was, ‘off her rocker,’ as my grandmother so eloquently puts it – I just say ‘looney.’ She would often say she never understood why my father fell for my mother because they were such polar opposites. I was staying at her house the night of my parents’ accident and I’ve never left. And my grandmother never left the bottom of her bourbon bottle. Death does crazy things to people.
So here I am, cooped up in my dorm room with a textbook almost the size of Texas. I slam my head on the desk, ready to give up on this impossible equation I’m working on when there’s a knock at my door. I look up. I’m hoping the person on the other side is just drunk and has the wrong room, but when the knocking continues I know that’s not the case. I groan as I push myself up from my cramped desk that’s situated at the end of my single bed. I should really look into finding a job and getting a bigger room somewhere more private. So on nights like this I’m not disturbed.
I look down at what I’m wearing. My old yoga pants have seen better days and my shirt is from my high school track team. I shrug my shoulders. It doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing. I don’t dress to impress. The person at the door is more than likely my blonde, busty roommate who can’t keep her legs closed.
As I pull the door open I’m met with a breathtakingly stunning man standing in front of me. Some might say he looks like a rock star. His long hair is dark and tied back. His black jeans are tight and fit him like a glove. His fitted shirt shows his defined body for my viewing pleasure. He is quite a sight, but something I’m not interested in and don’t intend to be interested in for a very long time. I have priorities and those do not include gorgeous rock star men with amazing bodies, who stare at you like they can see through your façade. The one you try so hard to keep in place. You know the strong façade, the one where you think ‘I got this,’ when really you’re crumbling inside and screaming to break free. Yep, whoever said life was like a box of chocolates needs those chocolates stuffed up their ass.
“Oh sorry, I was looking for Kayla,” dark rocker boy states. I have no idea who he’s referring to. My roommate’s name is Leanne. So I do the only thing my brain has the functioning power to do and I slam the door in his deadly, gorgeous face.
I sit back down at my desk and open up my textbook, the one the size of Texas, and push my glasses back up my nose. My hair is an absolute mess, with my long dark locks falling down onto my shoulders. I start on the next question and the knocking starts again. I choose to ignore it for a good portion of time until I can’t handle it anymore. I slam my book shut and stomp over to the door like a nutter on crack. As soon as I rip it open, I come face to face with Mr. Rock Star smiling at me.
“I’m very busy, what do you want?” I say folding my arms across my chest. He looks me up and down like he’s trying to work something out in his mind before he decides to answer me.
“What’s your name?” I want to laugh in his face. He just asked for another girl and now he’s here trying to ask for my name. What’s with that?
“That’s none of your business. Now, I have studying to do and you’re interrupting me, so please leave,” I say and start to shut the door in his face again, but he places his foot in the way of the door, preventing me from shutting it.
“You’re seriously studying on a Friday night?” he asks, sounding shocked.
“Yes! I seriously am. Now please leave.”
He looks at me again, his eyes serious, removes his foot and nods his head before walking away. I’m standing in the doorway watching his retreating form when Bianca steps out of her room directly across from me. For some strange reason, she’s made it her mission to torture me. This is for reasons I just don’t understand. It isn’t out of jealousy because my body is grim compared to hers. She’s what guys fantasize about. She looks to where the dark rocker guy is retreating and then looks back to me. I shiver knowing something awful is about to come from her mouth.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that, country. Go and crawl back into your box before I put you back in there,” she says sneering at me while she walks past me, sashaying her hips. I close the door and lock it. I do not need Bianca trouble tonight.
I give up studying and crawl into bed. I take my glasses off and see my hazel eyes in the reflection of the mirror hanging from my roommate’s bed. I cringe when I see myself and can’t help think what rocker boy must of thought. I wonder what it would be like to just stop caring for at least a night and have fun. Maybe get laid instead of reading about it in trashy romance novels that are far from real. I want the feel of a man suffocating me with his body, taking things from me that I don’t usually give. I want to hit that big O. I think I need that O before I go insane.
I turn over and set my alarm for the next morning, knowing I need to get up early and go for a run. I like to run; it helps clear my head of all my thoughts. Believe me, I think way too much for a girl my age. I should be doing the fun things in life like partying, dancing and dating. I lay in bed thinking of things that my mind shouldn’t dwell on, cases in class that we are currently working on. I wonder how someone can become so sick and twisted and want to take someone else’s life? I wonder how they sleep at night and not have nightmares of what they have done?
I turn to my side and look at my cell, a pang of loneliness hits me. No one ever texts or calls me. Maybe tomorrow I’ll start to make an effort. Maybe.
The capacity for such emotions as joy, happiness, fear, and shyness are already developed at birth. The specific type of nurturing a child receives shapes how these emotions are developed.
The cool night air sweeps over my skin as I walk towards the music. It makes my nipples peak in my skinny little shirt, showing enough cleavage to make most men go hard. My boy shorts have half my ass hanging out and my riding boots complement my outfit. I see men lingering on the front lawn looking at me with desire in their eyes as they take me in while I sashay my hips to the entry door. I hear their catcalls of approval as I fix and arrange my breasts in front of them for their viewing pleasure.
The smell hits me first as I enter – alcohol, smoke and men. Just what I’m after, just what I need. I set my eyes on my first target, a man that I plan to bend to every desire that I have flowing through my sadistic brain right now. I need to be fucked. I need this. I need the need to be gone from my body. I set my eyes on the man that I plan to use to sedate the desires that are coursing through me at this very moment.
He’s tall and lean, not overly muscled, but definitely has looks going for him. Right now, he’s eye fucking me while some skank hangs off of his arm. I call him to me with my finger and he comes willingly, shrugging the skank off while making his way to me.
Once he reaches me, I instantly smell the liquor oozing from his pores. He’s trashed. I just hope his cock is up for the job; otherwise, I’m on the lookout again. I start to walk and don’t turn around to see if he’s following, because I know he is. They always do.
I walk to the nearest bathroom and don’t shut the door as I enter. He does. I look at myself in the reflection on the wall and strong blue eyes are staring back at me. Mine. I turn around when I feel his breath on my neck. I push him back because he’s not in control of this situation. I am. I point to his pants and tell him to drop them. He does without as much as a bat of my eyelashes.
“Sit,” I say pointing to the toilet and he does, without hesitation. Good boy!
Unzipping his jeans, I take in the size of his cock; not bad. It will do me just right. He takes a condom out and starts placing it on. He struggles in his drunken state and I lean down with my mouth to help him. My lips circle the top of his cock and I push the condom down with my teeth. He groans when my mouth touches his shaft and I stand up and drop my shorts to the floor. I have no underwear on, knowing what my plans were for tonight, easy access and less time wasted taking clothes off means more time for getting my release.
He’s hard and trying to reach out to me. I slap his hands away and stand tall, still with my shirt on. I walk over to him and smile my most seductive smile before I straddle his lap. He looks pleased with what he sees. I tease my pussy over his dick to get myself wet while he groans and tries reaching for me again. He gets the same response as before, I slap his hands away. He groans again, either from pleasure or frustration I’m not sure, but I don’t really care. I pull my breasts free and place them at his mouth. He begins to suck and bite greedily as he latches on. I am instantly wet. I grab his cock with my hands and position him at my entrance. As soon as I have him there I bury his cock inside me to the hilt as I throw my head back from the ecstasy and the feeling of power coursing through me.
I ride his cock like I’m running a marathon. He has given up trying to touch me because each time he does I slap his hands away. I don’t want him to think he has control because he doesn’t. This is all mine for the taking. He’s just a lucky passenger along for the ride.
I come hard all over his cock. I don’t know if he’s come or not because honestly, I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I stand up and use one of the hand towels to wipe myself down and then pull my shorts up. He looks up at me in a daze as I push my tits back into my top. I throw the towel over his exposed cock before I pull the door open. I’m instantly met with the skank from earlier that was hanging off of him, and she doesn’t look happy.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asks, obviously knowing the answer to her stupid question.
“Fucking,” I reply honestly and she’s not impressed. But someone behind her is, and he’s laughing so loud my attention is drawn from skank girl to him. He looks at me with a smile on his face while he continues to laugh and I smile back for some strange reason.
“You just fucked my fiancé you stupid slut.” I avert my eyes from laughing man and straighten my shoulders as I come face to face with her.
“Maybe if you serviced your man right he wouldn’t be dipping into other ponds, bitch.” Cue laughing man again. The bitch turns and gives a death glare at laughing man then turns to me with a raised hand. She isn’t fast enough though and I catch her hand mid-slap. I squeeze her hand so hard she yells out in pain.
I step closer to her and I smell her overwhelming perfume as I whisper in her ear, “Do you want to play with me, pretty girl? I’m pretty sure I could make you come ten times harder than footy boy in there could.” She flushes at my comment and turns her head away from me. She doesn’t say anything else while standing there, so I decide to leave. It’s time for me to have some more fun tonight.
As I walk out to the dance floor, I see a girl who looks vaguely familiar. She smiles and I walk over to her. With a drink in one hand I stand in front of her swaying my hips. She joins along easily and soon we are bumping and grinding on the dance floor. Women aren’t usually my thing, but sometimes I do like to play. I really prefer the hardness of a cock, but a woman’s tongue is something that can make you scream.
One of my legs is positioned between hers as we dance. She’s rubbing herself on me, taking great joy in the friction. I stop moving when I feel eyes on me. It doesn’t deter my drunken friend though as she takes it to another level and palms my breasts. We now have an audience building. Men stop to watch and some palm their cocks with their hands.
But I can still feel eyes on me.
I turn looking for the source of those eyes and I’m met with laughing man’s face looking directly at me with the stare from earlier. One I can’t quite work out, but one I intend to decipher as I pull myself from the blonde who’s fondling my breast.
I make my way over to him, keeping him in my line of vision. His eyes penetrate me and rake over my body from top to bottom. Just as I begin to close the distance between us, my arm gets pulled and I’m jolted backward. I turn away from those eyes and stare at a girl who should not be placing her hands on my body at all.
It’s the girlfriend or fiancée, whichever one I don’t really care. She goes to throw a punch to my face and she has an audience. I duck her punch and stand behind her. I kick her knees in and watch as she topples to the floor. People start laughing around us and I turn looking for those eyes, noticing he’s gone and so has my mood.
During the second half of a child’s first year, the prefrontal cortex, the seat of forethought and logic, forms synapses at such a rate that it consumes twice as much energy as an adult’s brain.
I want to bang my head on this desk or slit my wrists. Either one I’m contemplating at the moment. How can one class be so boring? Is it really necessary? We are studying criminology, not math problems. All I can see is my professor, who is dribbling shit at the front of the classroom, to which no one is paying any attention. Some are on their cells and others are flirting with each other. Me, well I’m sitting at the front of the class by myself contemplating suicide.
Five minutes left till we can leave and the professor introduces a detective that can help us with our case studies. I don’t look up and instead continue to study my book. I’m trying to work out how to solve a math problem when someone steps in front of my desk. I slowly rake my eyes upwards and I’m met with a man in a clean-cut black suit with no jacket and a badge attached to his pants. I move my eyes up further and looking back at me is the man that was at my apartment a few nights ago. He’s standing in front of me with a weird look on his face. A look I can’t figure out. I don’t know whether to avert my eyes or just take him in. He looks at me one last time before he winks and walks back to the front of the class and our professor introduces him.
“Detective Black is here to help answer any questions you might have for your case study.” My eyes gaze up at his name and a shiver takes hold of my body. I don’t know why a complete stranger has such an effect on me and to be honest I don’t want to know why.
Hands are raised automatically as soon as our professor steps back and Detective Black takes charge. You can tell by looking at him that he’s a man of authority. It oozes out of him. You can feel the air shift when he’s near you. Your back straightens like you have to be on your best behavior. I listen to his voice while each person takes their turn asking numerous questions and scenarios as to what would happen and how it could happen. I get so lost just listening and I just sink into my chair.
My mind is in overdrive with the numerous questions from the students about murderers, rapists and even car accidents.
How do they do it?
What is the motive?
How do you determine if it’s an accident or deliberate?
My mind starts to wonder…
“Who is my special girl?” she asks me gazing at me with her wide hazel eyes that match mine.
“I am, Momma,” I answer and look around for Daddy.
“And what does Momma’s special girl do when Momma says hide?” I don’t want to answer her. I hate hiding, especially when I have to hide for a long time.
“Kristy, what do you do?” Her hand wraps around my arm tighter and a squeal breaks loose from my mouth.
“I stay until you come get me,” I reluctantly reply while keeping my head down.
“Good girl. Now let’s go and climb the highest tree we can find and see if we can fly,” she says jumping up and down clapping her hands. Sometimes I think my momma is the best mom ever.
I snap back from my daydream to notice everyone is leaving. I have no idea why I remembered that day. It was the day I ended up in the hospital with a broken leg from jumping from the highest tree. When my father came to the hospital, he was not impressed. I recall him yelling and screaming at my mother. Two days after that day I was sent to my grandmother’s house and never saw either of my parents again.
I pull my bag up and place my old laptop in it. I hope to make a fast escape so I can have lunch before I have to go back to my dorm to study. As I stand, I notice Detective Black is still in here and his eyes are boring into mine. I try to ignore it and continue packing my things up. As I turn to go, my name leaves his mouth and it stops me dead in my tracks. I can’t face him. I don’t know why, I just can’t.
“Was I boring you?” I can hear his footsteps edging closer to me. I look down at my worn Converse and take a heavy breath, trying to think of a plausible reason as to why my mind had wondered.
“No, not at all, everything you said today will help me tremendously,” I lie… straight up lie. Oh God, I’m going to hell.
“See, for some reason I have trouble believing that answer, but you can rectify today’s lack of participation by taking me to lunch,” his voice is getting closer and I know if I turn around he will be directly behind me.
“That’s not appropriate, Detective Black,” I say the first thing that jumps into mind. Shut up, think before you speak.
“Oh, but it is. You see, I could tell your professor that you were sleeping in class and he would fail you on your assignment simply because you were not participating in some of the things we discussed today. If you were, you would’ve noticed it was directed to the case you are working on right now. So, I think we should discuss that and at the same time grab something to eat. Do you disagree, Miss Wilde?” His breath is nearly on my neck. I haven’t moved and I haven’t faced him. My hands are fiddling with my bag strap trying to come up with a good reason to get out of this and not fail the class. I can’t afford to fail because I’m on scholarship. I rack my brain and I can’t think of anything. I’m stuck, forced to endure lunch with another human being who is bribing me. Just my luck!
“Okay,” I mumble, just above a whisper.
“I didn’t hear you correctly, Miss Wilde.” He’s taunting me, I know he is. I get the courage to turn to face him and when I do I’m correct, he is directly behind me. So close that if I step one foot closer I will be on him. I pull my bag to my front and take a step back; I don’t want him in my space like this. It’s overwhelming. God, he is overwhelming. I can smell him; his breath, his cologne, and his strong scent invading my senses, making me think of what it would be like to be touched or even held by a man. It’s all just so overwhelming.
I try to think of an excuse that will get me out of it and nothing comes to mind. I’m drawing up a complete blank. God is not on my side today. I look up to his eyes before I answer him and I can see the amusement in them. He knows I’m struggling and he also knows he will get his way.