I don't like guys who like little girls, and the title character in this story doesn't either. This story is an erotic crime drama, and contains graphic depictions of murder, along with a bit of sex.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2014 by the author.
The Black Widow
Lisa pulled on the rope as hard as she could. As soon as she heard the faint gurgling sound, she began to climax. She was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, her right leg tucked under her crotch, her heel pressed against her clit. She rocked her hips back and forth ever so slowly, creating just enough friction to give her several powerful orgasms. The more intense her climax became, the harder she pulled on the rope. Soon, the waves of intense pleasure became too much for her to bear, and the thin rope was hurting her gloved hands, so she let it go and lifted her body up just enough to move her heel away from her now soaking wet pussy. She sat there for a few minutes, catching her breath, then she slid out from under the fresh corpse on her lap and got up off the bed.
“Thank you daddy, you were wonderful.” she kissed the corpse's forehead, noticing how quickly it got cold, no longer the warm, living flesh it had been just minutes earlier.
She went to the bathroom and removed her elbow length black spandex gloves, but left the latex surgical gloves on. She turned on the faucet and put a washcloth under the warm water, then she cleaned up all the cum, his and hers, from her legs and lower torso. She opened up her black leather duffel bag and went to work putting on her disguise. She put on the grey wig and the tattered clothes, along with a pair of dark, oversized sunglasses. She put her duffel bag in a ragged paper shopping bag, checked the room one last time to make sure nothing was left behind, then she slipped out the door. She hunched her shoulders and shuffled as she walked away from the back of the motel, into the alley and out to the street. She looked every bit like just another homeless bag lady as she walked three blocks down the street to the convenience store.
She shuffled into the convenience store and went straight to the ladies room, going in the handicapped stall and locking the door behind her. She changed quickly, taking off the tattered clothes and putting on a short pleated skirt and a fairly tight sweater that showed off her surgically enhanced tits. She put everything in her black duffel bag, checked her hair and makeup, then walked out of the store. She walked quickly and confidently on the way out, completely different than the way she had shuffled in.
The clerk saw her leave and wondered how he missed that hot piece of ass when she came in. He also hoped that the old bag lady that came in a few minutes ago wasn't making a mess back there in the shitter. “Fucking homeless people.” he thought.
“We got another one, boss.”
“ The Black Widow?”
“Looks that way.” Max said to his boss, the chief of detectives. Max was the lead investigator on a string of unsolved murders that had occurred over the last few years. All middle aged men, all found alone in cheap motels, all strangled to death with a thin rope, the kind that was sold as clothesline in every grocery store. The detectives referred to the killer as “The Black Widow”, because the men were always nude, and there was fresh semen at every crime scene. There was little in the way of physical evidence to investigate. The cheap motel rooms were covered with the fingerprints and hair of everybody who had ever stayed there, so those were always dead ends. They weren't even sure if the killer was female, but none of the victims had any history of homosexual activity, so they assumed it was a woman, and jokingly called her the black widow.
It wasn't so funny when the press got wind of their little joke and started publishing lurid stories about the black widow, highlighting the police department's inability to stop her. The police chief demanded action, telling the detectives there was heat coming from the mayor's office about the case, but all the political pressure didn't change the fact that there was little to investigate. There had been reports of a bag lady seen at a few of the crime scenes, but bag ladies and cheap motels go together like peanut butter and jelly. Just another dead end.
The victims seemed to have little in common. They ranged in age from 35 to 70, all different professions, mostly white but there was one African-American among them. Some were married, some were single. The only thing they did have in common was that they had all withdrawn large sums of cash from their bank accounts over the months before their deaths. Not one big lump sum, but maybe a thousand dollars a week for twenty weeks or so.
None of this was helping Max cut down on his drinking, as he had promised his ex-wife and fourteen year old daughter.
“Screwdriver, make it a double.” Max said loudly, trying to overcome the thumping noise from the loudspeakers in the club. The bartender didn't hear him, she didn't need to, she knew what to make as soon as she saw him walk in the front door. She always thought it was odd that such a big, powerful man like him, a cop no less, only drank fruity vodka drinks, as opposed to something more manly like scotch or bourbon.
He dropped a Hamilton on the bar, “Keep it.” he said as he took his drink to a seat near the stage.
“Alright guys, put your hands together for the beautiful 'Lacy' on our main stage.” the music dimmed as the DJ announced the next dancer, and encouraged the men get a table dance from the sexy ladies, and to tip the waitress and bartender. Soon the DJ turned off his mic and started the next song.
Max smiled when he saw the next stripper racing up to the stage. She was a few seconds late, but as soon as she climbed up the stairs and got on stage, nobody would care. She was one of the best looking girls at the club. Petite, with long strawberry blonde hair, beautiful full lips, great legs, and a very nice set of fake tits. Her name was Milan, like the town in Italy, but that was only her stage name. Her real name was Lisa.
He really liked this girl, he saw her dance several times a week, but never spent any money buying table dances from her. He never bought table dances, the girls all knew he was a cop, so they wouldn't get very close to him if he did. That was fine with him, he just liked to watch anyway, and sometimes he'd buy a drink for a girl so she'd sit and talk for a while.
He knocked back his drink, finishing it quickly, then motioned to the waitress to bring him another. Soon the song ended and Milan stopped dancing, picked up her top and walked down the stairs next to the stage. “Nice to see you again, officer.” she said to Max as she walked up to his table, putting her bikini top back on right there in front of him.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I'd like to, but one of my regulars is here. Maybe later?”
“Sure thing, Milan. I'll catch you later.” Max watched her dissappear into a dark corner where the real action took place. His attention was soon diverted by the waitress delivering him another double. “Here you go.” he handed the waitress two Lincolns, and took a big sip. He was starting to feel that nice warm glow, he began to relax and forget about his job, his alimony payments, all the stress in his life, and just watched the girls as they came and went, dancing topless on the stage in front of him.
“Terry, would you call Sasha and Milan to the bar please?” Todd said to the DJ. Todd was the day shift manager. He was one of the youngest managers working in Big Tony's clubs, and he was pretty good at his job. He still took it seriously, having only recently been promoted from his previous position as the doorman at another club.
During the next break between songs, Terry the DJ did his usual patter, then at the very end, “Sasha and Milan to the bar, please. Sasha and Milan to the bar.” he turned off the mic and turned up the volume on the music. Getting called to the bar meant that the manager wanted to talk to the dancers about something, usually it meant that the dancer was it trouble for getting too close to her customer.
“Thanks, Terry.” Todd said. He was standing between the DJ booth and the bar when Sasha came up to him.
“What now?” she was annoyed at getting in trouble for doing the same thing every girl did every day, but she knew it was part of the job.
“Keep your hands where I can see them. That cop's here, and I don't want any trouble.” Todd actually liked Sasha, even if she was a bit bitchy sometimes. She was one of the older girls on the day shift, and had been a stripper nearly as long as he'd been alive. She was 40 years old, but still looked good, and rarely caused serious problems.
“Max is cool, he doesn't care about what we're doing in the back. He's not vice, you know.” Sasha said impatiently. Todd was costing her the twenty dollars she could be making during this song.
“I know he's not vice, but he's still a cop. Just be a little more discreet, OK?” he smiled at her.
“Yeah, whatever.” she rolled her eyes and walked back to the dark corner where her customer was waiting.
“Was I a bad little girl, daddy?” Milan asked him, smiling sweetly.
“Cut the 'daddy' shit, Milan. I'm your boss, not your daddy.”
“Sorry, Todd. What did you call me up here for?” she was more serious now. She liked the fact that he didn't like being called daddy.
“Keep your hands out of that guy's lap. You know better than that.”
“OK, boss. I'll try.” she went back to her customer.
“Did you get the room, Daddy?” Milan asked as she started dancing in front of him, facing him with her hands on his shoulders so she could whisper in his ear while she rubbed her knee up and down on the front of his pants.
“I did just like you said, baby. I got us a room in the back, so mommy can't see us.” he was a 55 year old dentist who had only recently started frequenting strip clubs. He came in a few months ago with another dentist and absolutely fell in love with the place. For a few twenty dollar bills, he could have the attention of any of the thirty or so beautiful young girls who worked there. He soon became a regular, and was totally smitten with Milan.
“Oh, that's good daddy. I don't want mommy to catch us. Did you bring my present?”
“I sure did, baby.” he tapped on the bulge in his front pocket. A stack of fifty Franklins. Five thousand dollars. A lot of money, even for him, but that's what his little girl wanted in exchange for spending the evening playing with him somewhere more private.
“You remember where I told you to meet me, daddy?” she had given him the address of an old, abandoned warehouse a few blocks from the motel.
“I have it right here.” he tapped the pocket on his shirt.
“I can't wait to play with you, daddy. I love you so much.” the thicker she poured on the little girl act, the more the old men loved it, and the more she hated them for it.
The song ended and she stood up. “I'll be there at seven. Don't be late, daddy. You know I get scared when I'm all alone.”
“I'll be there, sweetie. I can't wait.”
When she drove up to the warehouse at seven-thirty, he was already there. They never stood her up. Never. She always made them wait on her, enjoying the power she held over them, even if she was just wasting a bit of their time. Little did they know how precious time was for them, and how little of it they had left.
“Sorry I'm late, daddy. I got a little lost.” she lied. She had been at the casino, pissing away the money her last daddy had given her.
“That's OK. I was getting worried about you, I'm glad you're here now so we can go play with each other.”
“I can't wait, daddy. Can I rest my head on your lap while you drive? I want to be close to you.” she didn't wan't to be seen in his car.
“I'd like that, sweetheart.” he drove the few blocks to the motel, parking in front of the room.
“Are any of mommy's friends around?” she asked with her head still resting on his lap.
“No, baby. There's nobody here but us.” he opened his car door and they both went inside quickly.
She was pretty sure no one saw them. She had cancelled her plans before out of an abundance of caution if she ever saw any possible witnesses.
“I have to go potty, please don't leave me, daddy” she knew there was no chance he would leave her alone.
“I'll wait right here for you, my little baby girl.” he sat down on the edge of the bed.
She took her duffel bag in with her and changed clothes. She came out five minutes later dressed like a twelve year old. A twelve year old with big fake tits and pink elbow length gloves. Her hair was in pig tails, she was wearing a short skirt and a pink tank top. She put her duffel bag on the nightstand, sat on his lap and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek.
“I have a confession to make, daddy.”
“What's that pumpkin? Have you been a bad little girl?”
“I'm sorry daddy, I let Tommy from next door put his hand in my shirt and feel my titties. I know I shouldn't have done that. Please don't be mad at me.”
“I'm not mad at you honey, but you know I have to give you a spanking so you won't do that ever again.”
“Please don't spank me daddy. I'll be good, I promise.” a tear ran down her cheek.
“I'm sorry, baby, but you must be punished, or you won't ever learn to behave like a proper lady. Stand up and lay on daddy's lap.”
“I'm sorry I'm such a naughty little girl, daddy.” she laid across his knees.
He lifted her skirt up over her ass, seeing the pink cotton panties she wore. He put his thumb in the waistband and slowly pulled them down to her thighs. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, baby.” he said as he spanked her bare ass.
“Ow daddy, it hurts.” she whimpered quietly.
He spanked her again, harder this time. Then again. “I know it hurts, baby, but I have to punish you when you're bad.” he spanked her again and again until her cheeks were pink. “OK, sweetie. It's over now. Let daddy dry your tears.” he pulled her underwear back up and let her stand up. “Would you like to get in bed and cuddle with daddy?” he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Oh daddy, can we?” she reached out to undo his belt, opening his pants.
He stood up and his pants slid down his legs. He took his shirt off and stood there in his underwear.
She got on her knees in front of him and pulled his underwear down. His cock was pointing right at her face. He was rock hard, thanks to the little blue pill he had taken while he waited in his car earlier.
“Oh my goodness daddy. Your weiner is way bigger than Tommy's.” she looked up at him, smiling sweetly. “Can I touch it?”
“I'd like that, baby. You can kiss it if you want to.”
She reached out and touched it with her gloved fingertips, slowly running them up and down his shaft. She rubbed her index finger over his pisshole, smearing his pre-cum all over his fat mushroom head.
“You won't tell mommy if I kiss it, will you daddy?” she wrapped her fingers tightly around the base of his shaft, feeling it pulse with his heartbeat.
“I won't tell mommy. I promise.” he pushed his hips forward a little, eager for his little girl to put her pretty lips on his throbbing tool. He hadn't been this turned on in years, if ever.
She pursed her lips together and pressed them against the very tip of his cock, made a kissing sound with her lips, then she pulled back. “Can I kiss it again, daddy?” she looked up at him while stroking his shaft.
“You can kiss it as much as you want. You can lick it too, you can put it all the way in your mouth if you want to.” he felt like he was going to cum soon, whether she sucked him or not.
She licked the underside of his knob with the flat part of her tongue, like she was licking an ice cream cone. “Your weiner tastes so good, daddy.” she licked all over his head, then she moved forward to take just the head into her open mouth. She closed her lips around it and sucked gently.
That's all it took. He tensed up and began spurting his hot, sticky cum in her mouth. She sucked even harder now, swallowing and stroking with her hand at the same time.
“Oh fuck, baby!” he grabbed a pig tail in each hand and pulled her down on his cock until he felt some resistance. “Yes, swallow daddy's love.” he thrust in and out of her mouth, filling her with more and more cum. He stopped moving suddenly and just held her there, feeling his orgasm wane in her mouth. After listening to her breathe through her nose for a minute, he let go and pulled his cock out. It was still rock hard, thanks to that little blue miracle of modern science. He pulled her up to her feet and hugged her tight. “You made daddy feel so good. Would you like me to make you feel good too?”
She was already beginning to feel good, not because she'd just swallowed this disgusting pervert's cum, but because act one was over and act two would be over soon, then she could get to her favorite part of their macabre little play, act three. Too bad for him he hadn't read the script.
“I want you so bad, daddy. Please make me feel good.” she broke their embrace and laid down on her back on the bed. She lifted her legs and pulled her pink panties off, then she opened her legs and reached down with her hand to spread her delicate little pussylips apart. “Come here and give me a kiss, daddy.”
He got on his knees between her legs and began sloppily licking her ladyparts. He hadn't eaten out many women in his life, and didn't really know what he was doing. He tired of this pretty quickly, after all, he was paying her five grand, he didn't feel obligated to make her cum too. He took his mouth off her snatch and moved up to mount her.
“Oh daddy.” she sighed as he entered her.
He thrust rhythmically into her for a while and pretty soon he began to cum again. He couldn't remember the last time he came twice in one hour, it must have been 30 years ago or more, but this little girl made him so hot, it was almost like he was fucking his own daughter, like he had always dreamed of.
After he finished, he laid on his back beside her, breathing heavily and weezing a little. “Did daddy make you feel good, baby?”
“Oh yes, daddy, you were wonderful.” she lied. He was actually a piss-poor lay. She sat up against the headboard. “You're always so tense, daddy. Sit here in front of me and let me rub your shoulders.”
Usually he got a massage before his happy ending, but he wasn't going to turn down a shoulder rub from his little girl. He sat between her legs with his back against her chest.
“Scoot down a little, daddy. That's better.” she had him right where he needed to be. She began rubbing his shoulders and his neck, feeling him relax in her talented hands. She took her right hand away and reached into her duffel bag on the nightstand. She wrapped the rope twice around her right hand, then put her hand back on his shoulder. They never felt the soft rope in her hand as she massaged them. She took the other end of the rope and wrapped it around her left hand. In one swift, well practiced motion, she looped the rope around his neck, pulling it tight, and hooked her ankles over his elbows, pinning his arms down to the bed. “Goodnight, daddy.” she said calmly.
He struggled, kicking wildly, but was unable to scream or move his arms. He thrashed around, pulling her up off the bed just a bit, but she held on tight. Pretty soon, the thrashing slowed, then stopped altogether. She waited another minute before folding her right leg under her crotch. Now it was time for her happy ending.
The faint gurgling sound they always made really got her going. She had heard it called the 'death rattle', and it was said to be the sound the soul made as it leaves a dying body. She didn't believe in souls, or spirits, or even God. How could there be a God when people were so cruel, and treated each other so horribly?
She pulled the rope tight as she had her multiple orgasms, then she cleaned up, got dressed and snuck out, five thousand dollars richer for her trouble.