Baxter Savage: A Trilogy CAW 8.5 "Halloween" free porn video

cannibalism, death, murder, sex, rape

Introduction:

Baxter Savage, a serial killer seeking to right the wrongs in his past kills for peace of mind, to put at ease his morose ponderings and possibly manage the guilt he feels.

It's a short story, so be warned.

Baxter Savage: All Hallows Eve, Carving More Than Pumpkins - CAW 8.5


To derive a sense of pleasure from the screams, as blood curdling and fearful as you could possibly imagine, a mass of flesh lay in a crumpled pile beside the front door of Baxter's house. He systematically took chunks of it off the bone and deposited them in two different piles, with hair and without. His hunting knife peeled the tender meat off each bone until there didn't exist another morsel to salvage.

Murder became a pastime for twenty year old Baxter Savage, a skill he honed up to the present day and several years beyond his ability to carry out the desires of his depraved psychosis. But today, a turning point was reached. The last tether connecting him to his sanity was frayed and detached from what he dared to hold on to, a woman. Someone special to him. His reason for living and keeping a sane disposition. Losing her caused something to snap sparking off a killing spree which spanned for fifty years.

Today, we join him at an all too intimate setting with one of the last players eliminated, chopped and drained into a succession of buckets, woven baskets, colanders and mason jars. His mind reeled on an insane unrelenting delusion, that somehow by taking the lives of everyone who was responsible for his moral decline, he would not be blamed for any of his actions prior to and following the accidental loss of life of the only person he ever truly loved.

He gathered up the bits and bobs, throwing them into an ends bucket then rolled up the overlapped carpeting before he took it outside to his truck and laid it in the flatbed. Returning to the house, the bland scent of coagulated blood met his nostrils like a slap to the face. Luckily it was dark outside because he wanted the various containers to be stored beside the rugs instead of inside the house. Working alone, he took several trips to his vehicle loading the glass, plastic and metal meticulously.

Baxter created rows for each type of red human meat, head, arms, legs, chest, stomach, back, and individual jars for the victim's organs. "It'll keep cool out there in the meantime", he laughed before entering his house. After all, it was the day before Halloween. The days and nights were colder as winter threatened to approach. If any of this was going to succeed according to plan, it required an early start. He scrubbed the floor working up a profuse sweat and soiled his shirt in the process. Upstairs, the shower ran for exactly five minutes as his body was washed of any traces it carried from downstairs and the subsequent murders, quite brutal and messy to be honest.

The knife he used to dismember the man laid on the floor of the stall, bathing in his discarded lather to get itself clean. Mr. Savage stretched out and dressed in running clothes, a pair of shorts, muscle shirt and sneakers. He went back to his bedroom for a little rest and woke upon hearing his alarm clock buzzing. It was already two in the morning. Time for the show to start. His grogginess wore off when he recalled the jars. There was an old campsite in the mountains where he planned to spend a weekend and brought everything there along with a tent, firewood, an extra set of winter type clothes and enough lighter fluid to ignite his fire and the grill, with some charcoal briquettes.

He reached the site in record time, pitching his two person tent and using an axe to chop the carpeting into manageable pieces. Baxter fed them into the fire and brought it to a scorching inferno, having surrounded its perimeter with rocks, a little wood and the chunks of carpeting. All of it charred to ash before daybreak, hiding the bulk of his evidence. He continued burning up some of the ends and pushed the wood to the center as the flames smoldered to nothing. The grill was going with human remains searing to a crisp. Mr. Savage tasted the basted and seasoned meat, enjoying the way it rolled on his tongue.

Nothing compared to it, though a slight bitterness lingered after the first couple pieces were consumed. Halfway through his supply he decided to dump the rest inside of the fire pit, lit it again and watched the remainder disappear, shriveling as it did with the colander, baskets and buckets. The jars were placed back inside the flatbed as he made sure every last one of them was empty. "Now that that's done, I will take up my tent and head further up the mountain." He gazed toward the peak, steering away from the cliff's edge as he drove.

Baxter grabbed each jar and threw it over the side of the mountain, smiling pleasantly at each satisfying crash. He spent another hour watching the town peacefully waking from its slumber, seeing them from his vantage point. The only thing left to do was sacrifice himself and that would happen in due time. But now, he strolled back down the mountain to his home about a few hours away. "No one will figure it out" he chuckled to himself and left the campsite as it was, dirt was poured onto the fire with the logs tossed once again onto the border of the site, near where the curb normally would be along the roadside.

The fire was died out, his truck was spotless and he knew he had a couple phone calls to make. Affairs needed to be settled. Maybe he'd admit to it all beforehand. Who knows? The drive was relatively uneventful, leaving him and his thoughts to coexist.

On the way back to town, he spotted a diner which he, his wife and kids used to haunt frequently. Since killing his children in their sleep over a year ago, they in all likelihood still inhabit this place. Though, it didn't bother him enough to find somewhere else to go. One of his favorite waitresses Erin met him at the door, having seen the moment he pulled into a parking spot.

"Hi Baxter!" she cooed. "Want your usual booth?"

"That'd be wonderful." His voice was as bland and dry as the desert, unfeeling, unwaivering, just a stern droning groan that persisted as he spoke.

"What'll it be?" She asked as his coffee was poured.

"I was thinking about the pancakes. Maybe some bacon too."

"It'll be out in a few. Sit tight." She sauntered out of view, her freckled brunette self turning away from him.

When his food arrived, he was deep in thought. Rolling through every minute detail of his little expedition in the mountains. The screams of his victims decorated happy memories of taking each of their lives. Slitting the throats of youths, caressing the smooth canyon created by the sharpest blade he owned, his father's Bowie knife with a beautifully sculpted wooden handle.

The mass amounts of blood provided warm lubrication, the liquid sustenance drained into the clawfoot tub which he'd plugged up in advance. Seeing so much fluid, and the life leaving their bodies was too much. He remembered being overcome by the desire to fuck. To fuck something or someone in the heat of the moment. Murder always did that to him, since he left the Army. Innocent people didn't need to live their lives he often thought, they weren't doing anything significant anyways.

She touched his shoulder like the descending feathers of an airborn bird, light and barely noticeable until her fingers gently landed upon him. "Baxter? Are you alright?"

He shook the memories away and looked up at her. His eyes held tears which wouldn't fall or form. She sat briefly across from him and watched his expression. It changed from one of anger, to happiness, to one of intense fear.

"Let me know if you need something else, Bax. I'll be at the counter."

He stared at his plate and began to eat. It was a painful exercise, forcing his jaw to chew the rubbery texture. Every motion of his mouth brought him back to those thoughts.

His wife had stumbled upon him, in the process of carving up his own children. There were buckets in their basement sorted as they had been earlier, hair or no hair. He completed his efforts and threw the final couple pieces where they went. The resulting scream scared him. She would tell. He'd be found out and everything would go wrong. The people who were after him would finally find him. And he couldn't have that, now could he?

She climbed the stairs two at a time, rounded the doorway at the top and tried to shut the wooden obstruction on him. He stabbed the only thing between them maniacally in the hopes that she'd let go. She did with a howl and collapsed on the floor in a heap.

"You are a dumb bitch to run. You understand that, don't you?"

"Please! I won't tell anyone. I swear."

He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her clear off the tiled floor, staring at her like a man possessed. "I don't believe you. Already you screamed when you saw me. Already I've had to chase you. What guarantee do I have that you won't tell a soul? Wait. Don't answer that. I know a way to make sure you don't say anything. Help me carry the buckets from the basement. Then we can talk about whether I let you live."

She crawled to her feet and passed him, both husband and wife walked to where the scent of coagulated blood and wet, moist flesh wafted up to them.

"Don't hesitate. Do what I told you. Grab the smaller bucket and walk upstairs. I'll be right behind you."

She contemplated escaping for a moment but his footsteps grew louder on the stairs and by then it was too late.

"Out to my truck. Set yours on the flatbed, then wait for my directions."

He watched her, the front of her dress was torn. That apparently was where he'd stabbed her, luckily it was a mere surface wound. Baxter joined her and pushed his wife ahead of him through the driver's side door, since the other side was broken and had been for years, it kept everyone inside the car until he wanted them out.

"We're going for a ride. Buckle up."

She cried to herself, not saying a word to him the entire journey.

They arrived at the campground, where he ushered her out of the truck. "Grab your bucket and follow me." They walked together to a small clearing where wood logs and some kindling waited. He rubbed a stick together with another, sparked the pile and tossed a log in the middle. Once the flames were licking the cool early morning air, he ordered her, "Pick out a piece from your bucket and throw it into the pan." Over the center about a couple feet above the lick of the flames was a makeshift wok. He added a little oil, some parsley and a few cloves of garlic to simmer.

She hesitated until he brandished his knife. The small meat patty slapped the metal, searing as he smiled.

"Another, Marie. Choose eleven more which should be everything in that bucket."

His wife added the rest of what was there. He turned each one around with a pair of tongs, letting it saturate the mixture of herbs and spices at the center. There were two plates, onto which he distributed a few of the steaks. To the untrained eye it resembled hamburger, at least initially.

"Now, take the fork and knife. Cut a piece, chew and swallow it. Tell me what you think of it."

He taunted her with the knife in his hand, the Bowie, and saw her consume not just the first bite but several more after it. She seemed to enjoy the taste, her eyes warmed and even asked for more once she finished.

"I'm glad you like it. You will live, if you don't want more I won't force you."

"It's bitter at first, but as I continued to eat I got used to the aroma."

He sat closer to her and sheathed his knife. "Do you promise me that you aren't going to tell anyone what happened tonight?"

"I promise, Baxter."

He got up from his seat, paid the bill where Erin was waiting for him at the counter and headed back home to his wife.

When he arrived, screams filled the void between himself and the short corridor adjoining the house and garage. It couldn't be his wife because the noises sounded immature. Baxter slowly approached the walkway and turned the handle, gently pushing back the only thing keeping him from seeing inside the room.

A sturdy wooden chair, high backed and rectangular sat with its rear facing the door. There were ropes tied around the person sitting in it which kept them from turning towards him. She had long blond hair and was wearing a cute purple dress, with ankle socks and no shoes. because of how she was bound, her ankles and knees remained parted enough to afford him a good peek at her panties. They seemed to be a velvety black color. Her faint womanly scent permeated his senses, taking him on a trip down memory lane.

Bax had turned sixteen that day. A girl he lived next to his entire life came over for a birthday party. It wasn't anything special, just a handful of kids, an empty house and a conveniently open bar in his basement. He remembered seeing her, every time felt like the first time. Her eyes burned a bright blue, clear as a summer sky. She hinted as much that she liked him and today was the day he would make his move.

The two of them went upstairs to his bedroom, having consumed at least a couple drinks. She didn't expect him to be so forceful as he pushed her down in the hallway, took her wrists behind her back and bound them with a pair of his older sister's handcuffs. These were enough to keep her subdued. His hands searched beneath her skirt, finding the object of his desire expertly. He slipped a finger inside her softness and moved it the length of her slit. The tip of his tongue swirled around her puckered asshole, enjoying how she nervously squirmed in an attempt to crawl away.

His hand came down across her cheeks, spanking her, using his full force to redden her ass. Tears fell and no longer was she moving.

"Baxter? What are you doing?" He recalled her saying.

"What I've wanted to do for years."

He lined himself up with her hips and shoved his cock up her glistening twat, tearing her cherry selfishly. She cried more as he stuffed every inch inside, pulling her back and forth on him. His fingers grasped her throat from behind and yanked her back off her elbows. Her gagging noises caused her cunt to tighten and restrict his movement drastically. He was close, so so close to cumming but she was losing consciousness. Her nails dug into his skin, peeling away an entire layer but he wouldn't relent. Even as her eyes bulged and the last gasps of life told him to let go he was unable to.

His load poured out like fresh paint, his fingers untwined themselves from her neck and the softening length of his manhood plopped unceremoniously out of her drooling hole.

She didn't move for an entire minute.

Her eyes had rolled back into her head and he found himself contemplating a way to get rid of her body.

He dressed and went to his room, fetching the knife he kept out of his bedside table.

She coughed. Just once and gagged again as the life came into her. There Baxter was kneeling over her with the weapon.

"Are you okay Abby?"

"That was. Awesome. I'm still cumming, put your finger inside and you'll feel me clench."

She took his hand with both of hers and guided him, grabbing his hesitant digit like a young child might, but in her soft tunnel instead. He grew hard instantly. A teenage libido is a wonderful thing.

And there, this doppelganger sat, bound and gagged for his amusement.

Marie entered the room and smiled, leaning on the door frame. "I don't suppose you like your present?"

"It's wonderful. Truly. But who is she?"

"The daughter of Abby Roslin. I think the two of you lived next to each other."

"But how did you know?"

"I listen when you mention things, Baxter. Funny story though. I was at the store earlier and I got to talking to her mother about one of those new products, I forget which, but she mentioned having a daughter that needed to be kept busy for a few hours until she got off work. So I volunteered and there she is. We just barely arrived before you."

"I don't know what I did to deserve this."

"You have kept me alive and will let me keep this child, that is all you have to do to repay me."

"And she's mine for the taking?"

The girl on the chair shrieked through her gag and craned her head up at Baxter, who was mischievously smiling at her.

"Yes. I actually made up that story about talking to her mother though. The girl was playing with our oldest daughter and I gave Eliza a few bucks to turn a blind eye."

"Nice one. You're learning."

He touched the girl's slender face, parting her lips with his thumb as the tip of it slid along her tongue. She obediently opened her sore jaw which for the first time wasn't occupied with the gag.

"Don't bite me or I will chop you into mince meat, I swear. I've done it before."

"What do you want from me?"

"Put your lips around my cock and relax. I'll guide you through it and if you do a good enough job, I'll let you return home alive. You don't want to know what happens if you do this wrong and I am not about to tell you."

She was shocked by its thickness but willingly slackened her jaw, receiving his prick inside of her throat as he slipped it past her uvula.

"Keep your head straight. And I better not feel your teeth scrape me. Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded, feeling his prick easily slip down, blocking her airway.

The harsh scraping of her teeth greeted him coldly. She was nearly out of breath and the grating sharpness shook him out of the daydream which sent him crashing to the reality he wished would go away. His anger boiled over and Baxter tossed Stephanie clear across the room. She curled into a ball, sobbing pathetically as he lunged for where her tiny frame attempted to hide, behind a cubby hole underneath the stairs. To say she was small isn't fair to her. Compared to most young women her age, which roughly was old enough to drive but not buy alcohol in any country she wasn't in any way unnaturally petite. In contrast to Bax, she certainly lacked his musculature and overall weight.

"Nooo! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Marie looked on hungrily. "Carve the bitch up!"

He gazed at her on the floor, her eyes darting to and fro between the two of them. She kicked the empty space beneath her feet as he lifted her higher and higher.

"What did I say about feeling teeth? Do you fucking remember or are you as dumb as your mother?"

It was a lie. Her mother didn't define the word stupid. She was submissive and a hot little slut when he wanted her to be, once she was properly trained which didn't take but a couple days.

The girl had been crying but with this man's hands clutching her throat, she couldn't respond to his question. "I-I.."

He let her feet touch the floor and loosened his grip on her neck, asking her to answer him.

"I was dying. I didn't have control over how my body reacted."

"Yeah, yeah. Likely story. You women are all the same."

His wife came to attention and now stood right beside him.

"What are you talking about? You women? Like we're cattle or something? Where the fuck do you get off?"

The pain greeted him like the times his father used to beat him to within an inch of his life. He fell to the floor and endured more pain. In his wife's hand was a cattle prod. What it was doing inside the house was beyond his scope of reasoning. She laughed, belittling him and made sure Stephanie was alright before the two of them went into the kitchen.

Eliza must have heard the commotion, or at least a larger commotion than she usually drowned out with her music and descended the stairs. "Daddy? Oh god! What did mom do to you?"

"I'm a-alright-"

"No you aren't. Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"She broke the skin dad. You're bleeding. I don't think she shocked you, that's a knife wound."

Eliza had whispered the entire time, seeing her mother cleaning the knife she used of its blood. A demented smile decorated her face, more so than her husband's. His daughter stirred for a moment enjoying the heightened senses that being angry gave her. Baxter managed to sit up and handed his daughter a side arm he carried and nodded once.

She disappeared into the kitchen.

*One shot*

What sounded like Stephanie begging for her life pleased him before he heard a second shot. Eliza helped her father to his feet, though he stumbled. Seeing so much of their burgundy life force draining onto the tiled floor was surreal. His wife had a hole between her eyes where, post mortem, her eyes attempted to follow the bullet's trajectory and consequently crossed. Specks of brain matter spattered the cupboards where she'd been standing. Stephanie unfortunately hadn't died from the first shot and still clung to life.

Seconds before Eliza fired, the girl must have ducked down because it scraped the side of her head. Their kitchen table was on its side and behind its shelter he assumed Stephanie believed she would be safe. Baxter took the weapon from his daughter and grabbed a can of gasoline. Slowly, he covered the kitchen with the pungent fluid and circled the overturned table.

"Grab your things, Eliza and put them beside the truck. You have a minute to take whatever you wish to keep. I have to finish the job on Stephanie. There can be no survivors. On my mark. And mark."

*Another shot*

Stephanie dropped onto the floor as her head leaked warm blood and added to the huge puddle.

His daughter ran upstairs, scurrying for the few items which meant the world to her. One of them was a photo album. Another, her diary. Her stuffed pig named Mr. Gordo, some of her negligees, underclothes, shirts, jeans, shorts, every piece of clothing which fit inside of the duffel bag was forced into it.

She tossed the bag out of her bedroom window and left it open, returned downstairs and rummaged through her mother's room for their safe. It was small and they stored it beneath the bed, under a panel of the hardwood floor. She unlocked it and took the jewelry, cash and bonds. Again, Eliza opened a few of the windows enough to let the oxygen in. Her dad was running toward the front door and grabbed her wrist.

"Get in the truck! We have to clear the block."

He peeled out, speeding down past his neighbor's houses. The loud bang shook the ground they were driving over. In his rear view and the side mirrors, night turned to day. The sky lit up and their own house as well as the two next to them, on either side, blew up.

How it worked was, the gasoline he drizzled so carefully on the floor ignited a few fuses and those in turn exploded, wrecking their property. It was reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes by the time anyone had sense enough to call the fire department.

Father and daughter, what was left of the Savages made it out of the state before anyone suspected a thing. They were assumed to be casualties of the fire until everything was sifted through. Eliza and Baxter fell asleep somewhere near Reno, Nevada on the side of the road. The night's events were a passing thought upon awaking, though even that didn't matter anymore. He needed nothing else to keep him going, the love of his daughter proved its strength as soon as his killing spree resumed.

She shared in his particular pastime, murdering her fair share and spending hours next to her father learning to peel and gut their victims like a professional. Eliza never looked back on her life and regretted a thing, not for a moment. It suited her just fine.

This arrangement lasted a couple decades and probably still goes on today. I've lost track of the Savages in my travels, being happy enough to not count myself among their victims. What fun is getting away with murder if no one knows your story?


Baxter Savage II: Leaving it All Behind, Halloween Night


Baxter and Eliza drove on, pondering their next destination. A diner appeared in the distance and it happened to be the place he'd been to just a night before. Erin greeted him in the parking lot, her eyes shrouded in fear. She was usually lighthearted and tonight something was amiss.

"There's somebody inside! He has my parents held hostage behind the counter. Luckily I was outside having a cigarette near the street when they arrived and I thought better of going back when I heard their screams. Please help Baxter!"

Her bottom lip quivered and she was shaking. So this is fear. She looks so helpless but I can't take advantage of her. No. Not yet. He leaned his head on hers, took her hands into his own and promised that he would settle things inside. Eliza entered ahead of him ready for battle. One of the men lunged forward from a booth, her fist went for the man's gut and blood began to pour onto the pristine tile floor. She churned and pushed the knife in her hand, working it further upward. He fell a moment later with his guts slithering out of the new orifice his daughter had created, her weapon now gleamed a bright red and all of the life in her eyes melted away.

"You wanna try me?"

She growled. An unearthly guttural roar escaped her, one like Baxter himself never dreamed she could muster. Another of the guys popped up from beside the counter with a shotgun aimed toward her. Her wrist disappeared and he was clutching his throat desperately. A carved wooden handle was jutting out from the side of his neck, another flew through the air and chopped a chunk of a third guy's face off as it pinned him to the wall by his temple. Baxter moved quickly, severing the ropes that bound Erin's parents together. They were dead already. He rose with his knife and cornered the last man.

This one had the nerve to aim his semi-auto at Baxter's face.

"Go ahead. SHOOT ME MOTHERFUCKER! COME ON!"

He grabbed the muzzle and pressed it to his forehead.

"DO I HAVE TO PULL THE TRIGGER TOO?"

The man was petrified. His jeans were getting more saturated by the second.

"You. Have picked. The wrong person to screw with. The WRONG person."

He held the guy off the ground and turned him around, grabbing his ankles tightly.

"Liz? Grab the door. I'm carrying him out. We need answers and I'm sure my knife is sharp enough to get them."

The two of them exited with the crying criminal. Baxter's gait was slightly off but he managed to keep the guy from squirming. They found a tree and Eliza stabbed the man in his feet, pushing two separate blades through his ankles. He screamed like a little bitch. For taking lives, he would lose his but not yet. Not until they found out why.

Eliza took his arms and tied them to the tree using the same rope that had kept Erin's parents bound and most probably fearing for their lives.

"I want to know and you're about to tell me. Why?"

"Oww! I can't feel my-!"

He was cut off by a harsh slap to the face.

"I don't GIVE a FLYING FUCK what you feel! I ASKED you a question. Why?"

She complimented her question with another slap.

"We broke out of prison and this was the first place we saw. I-I didn't know they would go and kill anyone. We were here to get some money and leave. That was the plan."

He stopped talking once Eliza kicked him in the stomach. She took another knife out of a holster around her ankle. Erin stood back about fifteen feet, watching the two of them. She took off the man's shirt, tearing it off at the seams until his chest was bare.

"I've been told, this is going to be painful. With all of the nerves I plan to avoid cutting I will make sure you feel everything."

She caressed his abdomen with the cold metal and gently made a cut, taking a small chunk out. From there she carved him, meticulously peeling away the layers as his yelling filled the forests around their establishment. As she knelt in front of him, her father collected the pieces in two buckets again sorting them. Hair and no hair. A quiet malice filled her, causing a morbid smile to affix itself to her full pouted lips.

Their captive was beginning to bleed but the trickle was nothing. It would leave him awake and alert for many hours. Eliza undid the man's belt, tugged down the jeans and saw his manhood wetly flopping in the unseasonably warm weather, still saturated in both urine and caked on dirt.

"I bet I can get him to scream a little more."

She whispered to her dad and put on a pair of latex gloves. Her clenched fist stroked his soft cock, lovingly massaging its length as it swelled. The coldness of her blade burned, passing through his skin. Eliza retained a devilish grin, easing the knife this way and that and watched it slice all the way through. More blood poured out, bathing him in warmth. She tossed the wrinkled stub of his prick into a bucket and began to press the tip of her weapon to his chest, stabbing him repeatedly until he ceased to move or make noise. Ninety seven wounds later, she stood and left her weapon in the grass beside the tree.

Baxter stared at his body in disbelief. Any good father would be proud of his daughter and rest assured, he was no exception. He'd taught her well. She even provided them with a snack for later on, of course after it was first smoked and cured. And they were at a diner so that process would be relatively simple.

He heard Erin retching near another vehicle and approached her cautiously. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail around her face. She must have noticed him there, staring and tried to respond.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"That was horrible, what you did to that man."

"We did what needed to be done. One of those bastards took your parent's lives. I went to untie them and neither was conscious. There were signs of strangulation, it set me off."

"I haven't mustered the courage to step inside. But are you sure they're dead?"

"I've seen a lot of this kind of thing Erin. I'm sure. No one that does something so despicable deserves to live."

"The two of you aren't any better."

"I'm well aware, trust me. And when the time comes there will be a solution. But until that day I will continue on like none of this matters."

She heaved and Baxter was there to hold her hair away from her face. With a free hand, he tried his best to comfort her. Spending the past couple decades occupying their diner left an indelible mark on him. It was comfortable there. Erin helped to make every visit worth taking the trip because she was personable. Even in his worst bouts of anger and frustration, she extinguished the fire that frequently burned in his heart. A constant need to kill that never was sated and wouldn't be until every single one of the responsible people no longer lived.

His hand moved down and up the length of her, lingering on the small of her back. She trembled against his body. Every last tear fell as the sickened feeling in her stomach subsided.

Eliza passed them and walked inside of the establishment to get cleaned up, also to bathe the tools of their trade in warm water and soap. Baxter held her, the scent of the woman's femininity halting all of the murderous thoughts coursing through his mind along with the blood in his veins. He actually felt normal. She glanced up at him, a lingering drop of moisture dwelt on her cheek which he carefully wiped away using the heel of his palm.

"Did you want to come inside? Maybe find some closure?"

"What else is there to see? My parents are gone. I don't think I can go in there again, at least not yet."

"Okay."

They sat on the flatbed of his truck next to each other and she rested her head on his shoulder, her chest swelled as he heard the nervous breaths she took.

"It's going to be alright, Erin. We'll stick around as long as you need. Maybe help you clean up the place and dispose of the extra meat, enough to keep suspicions to a minimum."

"Yeah. That sounds good. Um. Where am I gonna stay now that my parents are gone?"

She went quiet and waited for his answer.

"You can follow us on our journey. We plan to head somewhere further north, in the mountains. I own a cabin up there and it is stocked to the gills with supplies. Plus we have a general store a ways down the road, so whatever we need is usually easy to buy."

"I will have to close the diner then. I don't think I can run this place on my own. Maybe one day I'll come back here and reopen it. Or one of daddy's friends will take it over, if I can call them. D-do you have a phone?"

"Here."

It was a disposable reloadable phone but it would do the job. He carried several of them at a time, make a week's calls and throw it out with the time exhausted. Repeat as desired.

She held it in her hands and pressed the buttons, using her thumbs. Erin leaned her head on him again and spoke in a low whimper.

"Yes. Evan? This is Billy's daughter Erin. Yes. Um, my family's fallen under hard times and we need someone to take over the ol' diner. Yes, this might be a permanent thing. Well, okay. Our propane is set for about five or six months too. Paid and everything. We have food in storage for another three months. You will? O-okay. The keys will be in the flower pot next to the door. Okay. Thank you Evan. Bye."

Baxter took the phone gently and slipped it into a pocket.

"So he will keep your family's place open?"

"Yep. I just didn't want all of our supplies to go unused and he's a good friend of my pop. So I trust he'll do as he says."

Baxter hugged her closer and brought the knife as well as Erin to the diner. He handed the instrument to his daughter and checked on Erin's parents again. They were unresponsive and weren't breathing. She knelt beside them, picking up the money which was scattered around and under their bodies. The register was opened and she picked out a succession of bills. He watched her count it all out. Then, she grabbed a coffee can off the top of a shelf and spilled its contents on the counter. Erin counted this new amount of bills, added it to the wad she already made and smiled faintly.

"I left him with twenty dollars in small bills. The rest is mine to keep. It's for our journey, like you said."

She stuffed it into a pocket of her purse and picked that up from a shelf behind the counter.

"Those guys weren't here for money, Bax."

"But the guy earlier claimed they had broken out of prison."

"Then why is our register ahead by twenty dollars? These people were customers or posed as them and probably did originally want money. I'll bet anything that my father refused to hand anything over, closed the register and encouraged one of them to try and open it."

"After that, they tied them up and strangled them because neither would give up their hard earned money."

"Right. And he kept the money they handed over too."

"I wish I could have known him better. I mean, we used to shoot the breeze when my wife wasn't here and I didn't have the kids tagging along but I didn't know him."

"I'm sure the two of you were like peas in a pod. My dad was as thick-headed as they come. He didn't take no for an answer."

"That is me. I like things my way and don't like compromising."

"I can see it in you." Erin took a breath and thought out her next words very carefully, nibbling her bottom lip as she answered. "Let's try and get this place clean. I'll help move the men out but I can't scrub the blood. I have a weak stomach."

"Eliza can show you an easy way to get them outside. I'll clean up the stains in here. Do you have a mop or something in back?"

"There's a closet to the side, near the bathrooms. Use the white bottle for soap and turn on the knobs for water. You'll see them. We have sponges too and bleach."

With that, Eliza came over and showed Erin where the bodies were to be placed. There was a patch of grass off to the side and they piled the three men in a criss cross pattern.

"You can go inside if you'd like. I don't think you want to know what I'm about to do."

"You're right. I don't want to."

With that, Erin disappeared back to the diner and sat on the steps lighting a cigarette. She dragged hard in it letting its smoke fill her lungs before she exhaled. Relief came to her after the second puff.

Baxter appeared in the doorway and took a seat beside her, his own cig hanging out of his mouth.

"Most of it is gone. I just had to get behind the counter. Your parents are in the last booth now because I wanted to get everything clean. Just the walls are left to scrub and we'll be back in business."

He pulled the smoke into his lungs and leaned on the step behind him, smelling her again. The urgency of her arousal tempted him. His cock began to creep up the leg of his jeans, swelling, growing stiff as he imagined the two of them making passionate love right there in the briskness of night.

She placed her hand daintily on the inside of his thigh, tracing the outline of his cock through the rough fabric. He was lost in another world. Caring didn't dawn on him until she'd withdrawn her fingers and sat there finishing the last of her cig. Bax leaned toward her face with his eyes focused on her lips and offered his own in return. She met him, barely an inch or two from connecting and stood leaving him waiting.

"Soon. Not yet. I have to know more about you Baxter. I'm not an objective, I am the goal you should strive to reach."

Eliza passed them once they decided to go back inside, carrying two buckets. She used a sink in the back and washed everything again, setting many of the pieces on a sheet pan and basting them before it was placed inside of the preheated oven. Her knives were washed in soap and warm water, allowed to soak for about a minute and dipped into an antibacterial solution before she put their sheaths on. All except for one.

When the snacks were done, she took them off the pan with tongs and placed them in a container. What they had been cooked on was scraped clean and washed by hand until it shined. She grabbed the buckets and the single plastic food storage box, walked out to the truck and arranged everything in such a way that it would be safe for travel. Baxter returned to the pile of their uninvited guests and helped Eliza dispose of the remains deep within the forest, roughly five minutes in.

They returned giddily, laughing like naughty children and he asked Erin if she was ready to go. She nodded and he welcomed her into the car through the driver's side door, staring as she maneuvered awkwardly to find the seat. In the shuffle she took a bag of her things from their makeshift apartment in the back and now held it on her lap. Eliza took her seat next to Erin and Baxter closed the door behind him. His headlights came on and the three of them were on the road.

He talked with both girls and engaged them in conversation, enough to help the time pass and to keep him awake as well.

"We're almost to the halfway mark, ladies. If I remember correctly, there should be a rest stop where we can all get showers and possibly some sleep before the final leg of our journey."

He pulled in and saw the lit up sign. 'Joe's Truck Stop' it read in glowing red letters. They got out of his side and walked up to the door. There was old Joe sitting at the desk, his beard grown out and gray.

"Hey Bax! Long time, no see. What's going on?"

"I'm traveling again, Joe. Every so often I need to spend time up here and catch the bearings, you know? City life isn't keeping the ol' noggin up to snuff."

"I hear you. That's why I run this place. It's the only place still running except Jerry's in East Melshin. If you're up that way, stop by his ramshackle eatery. The wings are worth the trip!"

"I will. Right now, we need a room here. Is there anything open?"

"For you, of course. We have a double room and a single. The rest are being occupied. Which would you like?"

"What do they run?"

"Double's one fif'y and the single's one even."

"We'll take the double. I have a few dead presidents I'm sure you'll like."

He pushed them across the table and took the key.

"It's number five. Be careful on the boards outside number four, they're loose. Been meaning to get them fixed."

"Will do. See you in the morning, Joe."

They continued along the perimeter and found #5. Inside were two beds and a simple side table between them with one lamp, a television affixed to another table at the foot of the beds against the opposite wall and wood panelling all around the room.

"Do you want to share a bed with each other or me?"

Erin spoke up and said she wanted her own, which was fine. Eliza went into the shower, closing the door tightly behind her. Bax sat on one bed with his shoes off, pants folded neatly atop the television and he was looking over at Erin who was facing him on the other bed. Her legs were parted to reveal the juncture of her thighs and he took the bait.

She smiled, caught his eye and moved her knees a little further. He grew larger and her brown eyes were glued to the sizable tent in his jeans. Baxter looked as she knelt in front of him, touched where his cock was uncomfortably pressing against and squeezed it briefly before they heard the shower turn off. Erin stood, entered the bathroom and had her turn in the shower.

Eliza sat in bed next to her dad and gave him a smile.

"I had to wash out my panties and laid them on the furnace in there to dry. You don't mind if I play with myself some before we go to sleep?"

"Of course not. I'll be headed in the shower soon, and it's a natural part of every woman's young life to do so."

He distanced himself from the feelings he bore and shifted them to Erin. Under the premise of brushing his teeth, he went around the corner and asked to come in. She didn't say a word so he cautiously entered and announced his intentions.

"Just coming in to clean up before bed."

She said a soft "okay" before he heard the faintest sloshing sound above the din of running water and couldn't think of anything but what Erin was doing behind the glass partition. He took his cock out and began to work his hand up and down, leaning on the counter as he stared in her direction. Her actions worked to a fervor and he felt himself letting go. A thick torrent of his cream fired out into the palm of his hand as she turned off the water.

The fair skinned brunette saw the deplorable position he was in and smirked ear to ear. She crawled on hands and knees to him, took his hand in both of hers and ran her tongue through the syrupy layer of creamy film coating his palm. Her lips parted and she started to clean the source of all his romantic ardor. Baxter was left feeling confused. She stood and wiggled her pert ass at him, dried off and dressed as much as she was able, taking her sweet time to hand wash her panties. They were placed on the furnace also to dry.

He pulled up his jeans long enough to shut the door, then stripped down and took his shower.

The girls involved themselves in somewhat of a conversation. By somewhat, I mean traditionally speaking it was an ask and answer type of thing.

Erin hesitantly started a line of questioning about what brought the two of them to where they are.

"Well, my mother didn't like that I spent a lot of time with daddy. Outside of work, she never got to see him because I kept him busy."

Eliza winked and Erin thought she knew what it was for.

"What do you mean busy?"

"I was constantly getting into things around the house. One time, I broke his computer password and he caught me looking at porn."

"Did he have to discipline you?"

"I wanted him to, but it ended up where he sat right down and looked at it with me."

"That's odd."

"Not exactly. We were close, too close by some people's standards. I've seen my daddy's cock so many times when he was in the shower. I'd look and imagine him touching me all over, then planting his seed in my belly."

"But isn't that wrong?"

"Yes. In the eyes of the majority it is frowned upon. Daddy doesn't show any interest in me. I could be naked in front of him and he'll hold eye contact for the length of our conversation. His restraint is impressive, but one day I'll get what I want."

"I guess if it makes you happy, who am I to say you shouldn't. As long as no one gets hurt."

"I don't mind a little pain every now and then."

Erin dropped their back and forth when Baxter came out of the shower.

"What are you girls getting up to?"

He said, rubbing his hair with a towel. Other than his shirt he was dressed and for good reason.

"Nothing!" both said in unison.

He pulled a shirt over his bare chest and tossed the towel into a pile near the bathroom door.

"We need to rest up. I'm setting out in eight hours, which will be eleven in the morning. Each of you take a bed. I'll stay on the chair."

The women got under the covers and in the darkness of their room, he noticed Erin's eyes watching him settle in. She smiled and went to sleep. Eliza was out in minutes, not having noticed the exchange between her father and their newly acquired member.

Baxter woke to a dark sky, checked the clock and saw 5:00 flashing at him. Chronic insomnia meant being awake when most people were still sleeping. Erin stirred and groggily sat up in bed. He saw her walk over to his side and hugged her as they stood in front of a window.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"No. I can't sleep sometimes. I usually have a night light so I'll probably be awake with you."

"There's light outside. See? A few streetlights are on now. Do you think you can sleep a couple more hours, here with me?"

"I'll try to."

Erin sunk her head onto his chest and went increasingly limp as sleep overtook her. He cradled her body against his and rubbed her back softly, feeling the tendons and muscles relax under his ministrations.

Sometime later, Eliza was awake and crept to the bathroom. In his arms, he sensed Erin was waking up and continued to move his hand in small circles along the small of her back. She parted her knees facing him, held onto the ends of her dress and gradually pulled it higher on her hips. He was speechless. Seeing her creamy white thighs, now bare, exposed to the daylight made his cock harder than it had been the night before.

Erin took one of his hands in hers and ran it along the inside of her thigh while they held a gaze.

"Isn't it soft? Hmm? Do you want to touch me? I'll bet your cock wants to be in me. He's all stiff and swollen in your jeans."

She grabbed the bulge and played with his zipper. He obediently held his hand where she left him, memorizing her face. Every freckle, how her expression changed while her hands teased him mercilessly, changing from a blank slate to one of awe and surprise, muted though still there underneath a faint smile.

Erin's fingers tugged on his zip, barely enough to budge it. Baxter groaned and felt the teeth opening. Each click caused his heart to beat quicker, every fiber of his being was focused on the sound. She welcomed his manhood into her smooth, cool palm, feeling its heat between her fingers.

"You've got a big one." She whispered as her hand bobbed slowly. "But I do need to know a few things, still."

"Okay. Ask and I will tell."

"What happened to your wife?"

"Be more precise."

"Why isn't she traveling with the two of you? If you have such a good relationship with your daughter, wouldn't something like this make her jealous?"

"She isn't a factor anymore. My wife left us."

"For another man?"

"No. In pieces."

Her hand increased its pace, churning him like she was making butter. Well, it is spreadable and is best served warm. He stuttered out the next answer, feeling precome dribble out of his urethra.

"Did you kill her, Bax?"

"I had to. She killed our two sons."

It was a lie and he knew it. He in coldblood killed his sons and wife a year ago.

"You'd better be telling me the truth or I will stop what I'm doing."

She worked him to the brink of his orgasm and squeezed around the crest, pressing his urethra in with her thumb. He couldn't shoot his load and it was painful.

"I-I killed them. They were keeping me from enjoying my pastimes. Only my daughter understood how important killing was to me."

Erin loosened her grip and stroked him again, massaging his precome into the bulbous head of his cock.

"You can come for me now Bax. I want to have breakfast nice and warm, right in my tummy."

She knelt and replaced her hand with her lips, slipping them over his shaft easily. He tried to distract the thoughts but was unable to. Her talent made him shoot a copious load down her throat, gasping all the while. She took him to the back of her throat and cleaned him off before standing to kiss him on the mouth. His hands ran up the backs of her thighs and grazed over her full ass, holding onto it tightly. Erin sat in his lap, spreading herself vulnerably over his shriveling cock.

"If you got it up for me, I'd let you put it in me."

"Put what in you?"

"Do I have to say it?"

"If you want it that badly, the words should roll off your tongue."

"But I'm a good girl." She pouted innocently.

"Even good girls are bad now and then. Tell me that you want me to put my cock inside of you."

"I want. Your. Cock. Inside me."

"Insist that I do as you've asked and repeat the first statement with passion."

"Please Bax? I want you to put your cock in me!"

He massaged her backside, parted its cheeks and ran his finger over her virginal asshole.

"No. I don't think you want it badly enough. I can't feel your words, your desperation. I want to know how much you want my cock. Beg me, Erin."

"Please??? Please put your cock in my pussy?? I'm so horny right now that I'll lose my mind if you don't fuck me."

"That's the spirit, love."

He held onto her bare ass and guided her onto his cock. She cried sadly as he stretched her, filling every nook and cranny of her narrow hole. Erin wasn't expecting him to be so thick. Bax bounced her on his lap, her creamy wetness polished his veiny shaft lovingly and the sound of her whimpering brought him off. She barely mewled louder than a polite whisper into his ear but it was more than enough.

The pangs of his orgasm disturbed the cadence of their lovemaking. His thighs spanked her ass audibly, seemingly disciplining her for making him wait. Erin was crying as her climax hit. Her sobs and the sudden tightening of her pussy around his throbbing cock sent him over the edge. She felt him coating her insides warmly, clenched as firmly as she found herself and drizzling him with her own juices to compliment the mess already sticking to her inner walls.

Erin's cheeks were pressed snugly to his balls, he kissed her on the mouth and enjoyed the last twitches of life escaping his prick. She got off him and sat on the bed while he dressed.

Coming out of the bathroom, Eliza had been on the phone again. She hadn't heard a thing either of them were up to because she was putting her own plans into motion.

She greeted them and put on her footwear, waiting until her father stood to speak.

"I think we should hold off for a few minutes. I'm sure the roads are treacherous and-"

"We have a schedule to meet. No one is deterring me from that, not the weather, and most certainly not you Eliza. I don't know why you were on the phone in there but trust me. I will find out."

He saw that Erin returned from the bathroom with her panties.

The three of them went out to the truck. Baxter pushed Erin into the seat from his side and stopped Eliza before she could follow suit.

"Give me that phone."

She outstretched her hand. He snatched it and slapped her across the face.

"Don't disobey me. Or you might get what it is you've been wanting all along and I guarantee you won't like it as much as you think you will."

He shoved her towards the truck and got in behind her. They drove nearly in silence for the next thousand or so miles to the Canadian border.

Each of them got out of the vehicle and were subject to a pat-down. Of course, Eliza's extensive collection of knives drew their suspicions.

"I'm an avid hunter. We even have some of our smoked meat in here. Try it. I've personally cooked it and it's basted for extra flavor."

One of the guys took a small piece and bit into it. While initially bitter, most people develop a taste for the unique essence of human beings. He asked for another piece as did his partner. They ended up splitting the snacks between the three of them; Eliza and the two guys. As they ate, Baxter distracted himself with Erin, pressing her into the opposite side of the car as they kissed. His hands wandered up her dress and explored what was there to be.

She felt him move aside the groin of her panties and his cock found its way inside of her. It delved deeply, causing her to squirm in his grip. Her ass was exposed to the brisk afternoon air and he made no attempt to cover her up as he sought to fill her again with seed. She was powerless to stop him from playing with her asshole and driving his cock to the breaking point inside of her pussy.

"I want you, Erin. I'm sorry I can't control myself."

She cried again and gripped his prick tight, her sopping wet hole making him succumb to the temptations of her womanly curves. He tensed up, cramming himself to the hilt inside as Erin hugged him. Her legs were splayed and she felt the jumping of his cock firing stream after stream of cream sauce.

He withdrew reluctantly and quickly made himself decent. They made themselves seen again before anyone realized anything. Eliza tossed the container onto the flatbed and the three of them continued on, with well wishes from the border patrol guys.

Erin was quiet for most of the trip, her pussy stirred after their tryst and wanted a release of its own. They pulled up onto an access road where the cabin sat in the distance.

"There it is, ladies. What we've traveled for an entire day to find."

It stood on a twelve acre plot, one of those was used to build the house. Complete with a weight room, Olympic sized indoor pool and an arcade in which there are two lanes for bowling, a batting cage and a half sized basketball court. They pulled up its gravel driveway and parked in the garage.

Baxter stepped out and ushered the women inside the house. Erin took a seat in the spacious living room, kicked off her shoes and turned on the television. Eliza was busy in the kitchen cooking actual food. They had plenty of canned items, some instant items, and the occasional real food like produce and baked goods.

It had been long enough since they ate a meal together. He watched his daughter cook to ensure she wasn't trying anything funny. She stood at the stove, stirring a sauce and he came up behind her.

"I bet you would love to feel a real cock inside you. That's why you tell me how many times you play with yourself, isn't it?"

"This isn't the time for talking like that, dad."

"What better time than now? I want you to tell me who you called before I take it upon myself to redial the last number on your phone. Or I swear I will do things to you that you never dreamed I could and I'll make you hurt."

His hand slipped into her jeans and fondled her pussy, diddling its wet mouth.

"The thought of raping you right here in the kitchen because you won't answer me is looking more and more promising."

She shivered against him and continued to cook like her cunt wasn't being manipulated.

"I assure you, the two of us will be better acquainted than I was with your mother's corpse before I carved her up. You'll meet the very same fate if I don't get the truth."

He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down, her panties were tangled in their fabric leaving her standing there bottomless. His hand cupped her mons and parted the folds, rubbing her hardened clit using his middle finger.

"I was. I was calling a. A guy that said I'd be innocent of all charges if I gave you to him."

"That wasn't so difficult, was it honey?"

"Now that you mention it, I do feel like a burden has been lifted off me."

"Who is this guy you spoke to?"

"He's a secret agent."

His fingers sank inside of her pink folds, her father swirled around her clit and gspot as she tried to explain.

"He said his name was Mark. Mark Henkenson."

Baxter knew his daughter would come and increased his pace, getting her off as she stirred a quick sauce leisurely as pasta came to a boil in a pan next to them. Eliza was coming hard all over his fingers, begging him to stop stroking her sensitive clit because her climaxes would continue until he did. And that was his objective. She was a mess when he finally relented and took off his jeans, letting her see the next instrument of her torture.

"I can't believe you fucking outed me to the feds. You are certainly your mother's daughter, through and through. And here, I was under the impression that I could trust you with my life. That we were birds of a feather and shared a pastime together."

He knelt where she laid limply, grabbing her ankles in his hands. His daughter pushed on the floor, every effort was made on her part to escape his clutches but it was to no avail. Baxter saw everything through. If typecast as a lunatic who instinctively murders dissidents, no one could in good conscience say he didn't think every action through.

She watched her ankles sit atop his shoulders and felt him grab her ass roughly. He lined her up with his hips and rammed himself inside, fucking her coldly. Eliza was sure her father would kill her, if not by abusing her small cunt then with the selection of knives overhead in the cutting block.

"I love how you can't take all of me. And that expression of pain and suffering on your face is a delight to me. You know, your mother was tiny too in that department. I frequently stuck my prick in her ass to teach her a lesson but I'll leave your butt alone. You disobeyed my instructions, Eliza and I haven't heard much of an apology. I guess you don't value your life."

He forced himself inside angrily, banging her cervix to reinforce his words.

"You're just like your mother. Only good for one thing and you can't do that right either."

She wrenched to the left and came out with a knife. He didn't pause, simply laughed in her face.

"What the fuck do you think you're gonna do? Kill me?"

He grabbed her wrists and pushed back on them, guiding the tip of her weapon towards her own chest.

"It would be smart to let go now, Liz."

His cock punched her insides like a fist, knocking the wind out of her and with it her resolve. She kept her hands around the handle and shook her head in denial. He pressed the tip into her chest, piercing the skin barely.

"I was gonna keep you, Liz. My beautiful baby. If you want to go, I can't stop you."

"Don't kill me daddy! Please don't! I'll be good, I swear. Anything! I'll do anything you ask of me to make things better. Don't. Kill. Me. Please???"

By this time she was hysterical. The knife was puncturing a centimeter or two and she was afraid to die. Baxter pulled out and left her on the floor, returning to the stove to finish cooking. She didn't stand and instead laid with her knees spread loosely, sobbing to herself. He didn't flinch and focused on the meal, ignoring his only daughter.

When finally, Eliza tried to gain her footing he ordered her to stay on the floor and pushed her hips back to the cold tile.

"We have to conclude our punishment, sweetheart. Don't move and I'll promise it won't hurt as much as it should."

He portioned the food in three dishes, set them on the place mats and called Erin into the kitchen.

"Dinner, love. My daughter and I will be back to have ours. We have to have a little chat together upstairs."

He grabbed Eliza by the arm and forced her up the stairs.

"Walk, you stupid bitch!"

She crawled up each step, unintentionally wiggling her ass at her ornery father. He grew impatient and carried her the rest of the way over his shoulder. They disappeared into his bedroom where he tossed Eliza down on his bed.

"Elbows and knees. Keep your hips in the air and don't you dare move unless I tell you to."

He loved how she shivered as he ordered her to strip first.

"I don't want those clothes on you. Give your ol' dad a show, start with your shirt. I haven't seen those melons since you got them and I think I'm half of the reason you are on this earth, so I deserve to see them."

She stood the