AN EROTIC STORY HOSTED BY IMPREGNORIUM.NET

It was one AM in the city, and Victoria was sound asleep in her bed. The man that was also in her bedroom was certainly not asleep. Gently, not wanting to wake her up quite yet, he removes the covers of her bed. Good, no needle marks. There she lay in an old t-shirt and pj bottoms looking like the image of innocence. Sure the breasts big enough to be a handful, flat tummy, firm runner's ass, and dancer's legs made plenty of dirty thoughts fly but something about the gentile breathing of her sleeping form was worth just silently and innocently admiring for some pregnant moments.

. . .

Okay, Done. First thing's first, check to make sure she really is innocent. The man can't help but smile as his father's voice rings in his head, telling him to not bother as black women are all whores. This is the 21st century his own internal voice says back, old men like his father were things of the past. It doesn't manner how many whores his father made him watch debase themselves, how many beatings he took as a teenager for showing interest in women that weren't exactly his own kind, or how many times he broke mom's fingers for reading something besides the holy book. His dad was an asshole, his opinion wasn't worth shit. Not that there was anything wrong with his own race. As the man said, All blood runs the same.

The man silently reaches into to a small carrying case he left at the foot of the bed, producing a small pen-light and a speculum. Quietly but with a swiftness that came with lots of practice, the pj bottoms are moved just so and the small plastic speculum placed just right to provide the view he needed. His cock stirred at what he saw, her hyman was still intact.

The hardest part was her arms and legs, it always is. The restrants can only stretch so far and you can only do so much to a woman's limbs before she wakes up. Carefully restrained and completely unaware of sleeping spread-eagle, definitly a sight that got his blood pumping. His heart pounded in his ears as the rest of the preperations whizzed by- cutting off her clothes to the best of his ability with tailor's sheers and taking off all his own, except for a ski mask donned specifically to muffle his voice. Time for the final touch, a ball gag and a blind fold are produced from the deepest parts of the carrying case.

The man crawls up to bed, not caring anymore whether or not she woke up as long as he was quick enough. The strong and sudden shaking of the bed begins to rouse Victoria from her sleep, but it's the ballgag going into her mouth that snaps her back to reality. For a moment she sees him, she's not alone but the darkness and the blind fold conspire against her. She tries to move but the restraints do their job too well and it's hits her like a ton of bricks when she realizes she's naked. The man begins working his way down to her feet, pressing their bodies together enough to send the message loud and clear that he's naked too. She feels him get off the bed for just an instant and hears him fumble for something.

In her mind she screams, 'Oh God, please don't let him kill me!' while she tries to beg him to just go in a last ditch effort to prevent the the taking of the virginity she managed to save all 23 years of her life but all that comes out is barely audible muffles. He climbs back onto her, feeling all his weight come crashing down like he was made of rock.

'This is going to hurt,' he whispers in her ear. Victoria didn't know what was scarier, the fact that he said it or the fact he said it without an ounce of sadism in his voice like he was just reading out the facts. She feels him shift his position, going up onto his knees looking down. If it wasn't for the sheer panic she'd almost be confused, what was he going to do?

Then she feels it, a knife slashing across her stomach with frightening speed. The cut doesn't feel very deep, but sheer terror makes it feel as if he stabbed clean through.

'Oh god, don't let him kill me!' she prays inside. As though the devil himself intercepted it the man lets the knife explore her body, slashing her again, and again, and again. . .

Somewhere else in the city a criminal profiler is pulling an all-nighter. There's a particularly nasty serial rapist out there he knows should have been nailed long ago, but the profile keeps coming up short. Four months on the loose with 7 rapes, and with probably every god on the planet receiving thanks for them being alive.

Some of it just makes sense. None of the victims have histories of intravenious drug use and all were virgins before their attacks. Maybe there's a Madonna/Whore thing going on but mostly it just seems he's avoiding disease. There doesn't seem to be a set cooldown period between rapes but if he's only raping virgins that just means he's not finding virgins as often as he'd like. No individual cut was any deeper then what was needed to draw blood but when there's 30, 40, or even 50 of them they become life threatening, one women almost dead from blood loss will attest to that. After each rape there's an anonymous tip from a disposible cell phone to get medical attantion for the victim. Okay, he'd prefer it if his victims lived to tell the tale- or at least admits the possiblility that he could be caught one day and doesn't want to face death row. Kind of weird for a rapist who does this much bodily harm to give that much forethought into the safety of victims but stranger things have happened.

Then the mistakes start. Normally a serial rapist or killer stays within their own race and sticks to a set age but there was a 15-year-old victim, a 37-year-old victim, and a very random age scattering pattern in between. Even more bizarre the only racial patten here is never the same racial make-up twice in a row. The last victim was a japanese college student, so the next victim will not be japanese and probably be old enough to have graduated from college already but that's all they know. The first profiler thought this was symbolic of something, now they're pretty sure the unsub is just telling them he doesn't really give a shit. The unsub is obviously deeply hematophiliac, sexually aroused by blood. The last profiler assumed a vampire fetish but that lead turned up empty. The two fetishes tend to go together but they don't have to by any means.

So maybe he doesn't drink the blood but he sure leaves it around, so much that the victim's blood drowns out any chance of getting any DNA from the rapist. They're not even sure if the unsub uses a condom or not, too much blood ends up inside the vagina to ever check. So far there's been no pregnancies but that could just mean the one victim that did turn down EC for religious reasons was lucky.

The profiler sighs, pulls out a bottle of vodka he's not supposed to have, and pours himself a stiff drink. If he could just figure out how the fucker finds so many virgins in this day-and-age and how he gets them to sleep so soundly he might be able to sleep soundly himself. Pouring himself another drink, he gets back to work.

Victoria stopped physically fighting it seems like forever ago. He never cut her very deep so a little corner of her mind held out hope she'd live but he had cut her so much the rest of her just cried. He'd slashed her face, her arms, her stomach, her breasts, her thighs, just everywhere. No cut was deep but she could feel the blood oozing out too fast.

The man stopped slashing and almost with reverance put the knife to a side. Victoria's shell shocked mind registered this, morbidly curious what he would do next. She feels him lean over and his hand begins exploring her face, her neck, just allover her body and covering it with her blood. He pulls the hand back she hears a sloppy wet sound, followed by a new shifting of wieght.

Suddenly it feels like a sharp stab in the gut and not with the knife. Her hymen didn't even slow him down. Victoria almost can't believe it, she's lost her virginity to a rapist who's using her own blood as a lubricant! The man lays down on her, squeezing more blood out of her and coating himself wherever they touch. She feels him thrust painfully like there wasn't anything weird or sick about this at all.

Within minutes he's snorting and grunting while Victoria is barely managing to stay awake.
The man grunts out in a muffled voice, 'Figured you won't mind if this is a quickle' as his thrusts become more savage. Soon he stops and convulses with what she thinks is his orgasm, but with all the blood forced into her by their fucking she really can't tell. Finally he collapses, breathing heavy like a man who just ran a marathon.

'Damn babe,' he manages to breath out. He pulls out of her and it feels like he reached for the knife, to which she winced at the idea of the incoming kill stroke.

It never came. Before she has time to think about what's taking it so long she hears her shower running and blissfully she passes out before he decides to put her through more hell.

The man doesn't take a very long or thourough shower, just enough so he won't stand out so much on the trip home. Another satisfied customer he chuckles to himself as he begins gathering up his things. Just as he hoped, you don't lose that much blood without passing out at the drop of a hat. The blindfold, gag, and restraints are the first things he gathers back up. With his clothes back on there's soon just two things left to do.

First he pulls out a digital camera and takes a few pictures for the collection, 8 satisfied customers indeed.

The second involved the 'Burner' he holds in his pocket. Walking out the door and shutting it behind him he counts down in his head. Give it a few minutes, then anonymously call for an ambulance. Sure he could leave them to die but that's what the old man would do, and we can't let the old man have his way can we?

----------

It had been 3 years since the man disappeared from the face of the earth, not that it had helped Victoria sleep better. Sure now she was doing okay but the complete psychological breakdown felt like he stole a year off of her life. When she was well enough to read about him she poured over everything she could find about him. The newspapers had called him the 'Good Girl Slasher' because the only link anyone ever found between his victims were that all the others, like her, were drug-free virgins before their attacks. Rapes she corrected herself, euphemisms would probably only hurt her mental state in the long run. She was still in the hospital when he took his ninth victim- but then he just stopped.

There was a brief flurry of speculation but one idea came through more then the others. When a serial rapist like him mysteriously and suddenly stops it's 99 times out of 100 because he's either in prison for something else or dead. The thought of that bastard lying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere bleeding out until he died definitely brought a smile to her face, no point in lying.

Three years of therapy, almost all of the first year spent in a mental hospital, and last night was the first time she felt good in a man's arms. She met Scott in group therapy and their own little joke was that they were literially crazy for each other. She felt sorry for him, at least what brought on her breakdown was a one time thing. The stories she heard about Scott's father, from girl-talk with the therapist no less, made him into a complete monster. It was no wonder Scott's mind snapped. The only person she felt sorry for more then Scott was the guy Scott stabbed for wrecking his car. Sure he should have been watching where he was going but beyond that his only crime was a resemblance to Scott's father, nothing more.

They'd been dating for almost 6 months now, Scott always being supportive and understanding. The scars from her knife wounds probably upset him but he didn't let them disuade him from her, that was the sweetest thing anyone could have done. It was morning now, the morning after their first time and what a time it was.

'Morning beautiful.'
'Oh Scott, I had no idea it could feel that good.'
'Honey, I found both your clit and your g-spot. You never stood a chance.' He boasts, receiving a pillow to the face for the joke. Yeah, it was funny and she couldn't help a giggle- but for she was hoping for something a little more romantic for the morning after her first consensual time.

Sharing the remaining pillow they lay silently, cuddling in an the morning-afterglow.

'I did have a question though, Vikky.'
'Yes Scott.'
'You know one of my self-destructive behaviors was a series of one-night-stands. But last night, you eh. . .' he says with an awkward pause, 'you took off the condom and asked me to cum inside you. What was that?'
Victoria pauses and what she says next seems to be pretty painful, 'You know how police sometimes leave details out or lie in news briefs to help with their investigations?'
'Yes.'
'They lied about his condom use. During my breakdown we found out that he had impregnated me and I was in no shape to decide what to do, so my parents chose for me. I have a son.'
'They chose to put you through that? Those assholes!'
'No Scott, I forgave them a long time ago. Joshua is being raised by friends of my mother on the east coast. I never have to see him if I don't want to.'
Scott's anger seemed literially written all over his face, but Vikky stood her ground and cuddled closer.
'I guess last night was so I could pretend you were Josh's father, not him.'
That not-so-subtle hint of ego rubbing seemed to do the trick and Scott at least looked like he let it go. That was enough for now.
'Oh, then don't worry about it. In fact if you want us to go bareback from now on I have no problem with it.'
Content, Victoria drifted back to sleep.

Ha! He knew it. He wondered where the kid ended up, now a little acting he's set himself up to breed her again later. It was true that 'The Good Girl Slasher' did stop at 9 victims, because after stabbing the jackass with the pickup who looked like his dad he got some help. He was smart enough to sell his rapes as one-night-stands to his therapist but other then that he finally got to put some issues with his father to rest. How long's it been since he heard his voice in his head?

The 'Good Girl Slasher' was gone but the 'Incubus' was up and running. At least that's what he hoped the papers would call him when they figured out his attacks were all from one guy. Something cool and edgy like that would be awesome. They'd never connect him to the Slasher rapes now. Who's ever heard of a serial rapist who's attacks became less hazardous to his victims over time? Nobody he had ever heard of.

Another thing he found out was true. Find a woman's clit and g-spot and they don't stand a chance. The 'Good Girl Slasher' was lucky to hit 9 taps of the ass, 'Incubus' is 11 bitches and counting. No need for just virgins anymore- virgin-like does just fine, faithful housewives and bible college students. The trick was to fuck 'em as long as he could while hitting their sweet spots and doing as little damage otherwise as he could get away with. Follow that little strategy and hit those spots long enough and they have to cum. It's like sneezing, they just have to cum. The best part is if that type of woman cums enough on their rapist's cock they'll convince themselves they disserved it- and any consequences afterwords. Hell, he makes return visits and as far as he knew just one of the housewives has reported anything at all.

And the last bit of genius, tricking one of his sluts to hook up with him. The one that surprised him with just how sexy knocking up the sluts really was. If they did connect the 'Good Girl Slasher' with the 'Incubus' they'd never look for him here. Maybe he didn't love her, but being with the first slut he bred and her none the wiser- fuck that's erotic. Now, about breeding-whore number 12. . .