she kills for thrills

His eyes rolled back as his head lolled to one side and a sickening trickle of saliva oozed onto my beautiful black velvet coat as we made our way back to my lock-up in the hinterland of Newgate. As the doors rolled upward, my city trader with his bonus lifestyle was hearing but not seeing, responding but not registering. I was feral to his urban and although smart in his world, in mine, his intelligence didn't cut it to see what was coming his way.

I'd made a call to Lars to help me unload out of my car and into the lock-up. I couldn't handle this one alone. A diet of fast food and booze washed down with a sedentary lifestyle had left him puffy, flaccid and overweight and there was no way I could lift him on my own. I'd only text Lars the letter 'S' but it had fired his imagination and from then on my phone was buzzing with texts...Who...How...Where? Lar and I – we had a murderous sort of symbiotic 'understanding.' I did. He thrilled. He photographed. We disposed.

An hour ago this stranger was amongst friends in his seemingly safe, secure world. Now he was in our warped reality – a stuffed pig to the abattoir – a dead weight as we lifted him into the harness and moaning, but barely conscious. Together we frenzily stripped him bare of his designer clothing, his wallet and his dignity. The roho had made him lose bladder control and his strong, yellow urine dripped from the leather harness as Lars fastened the arm and leg cuffs so he was securely held on the harness. The last thing we wanted was escape and him blowing our cover. We were in for a long night because he had to be at least semi-conscious to partake in our little game. What fun was a game without a conscious participant!

Lars had brought some Smirnoff from the 24-hour shop and we sat drinking together in the dimmed light of the lock-up. It was a surreal tableau...he and I laughing, drinking and reminiscing about the circumstances of how we'd met. Then dancing half cut around this bloated manpig, strung up naked on a harness with the floor wet with urine. It was bizarre and wonderful and the insanity of it all made me feel vital and alive and individual. We were dangerous. We were so different yet so alike, buddies brought together by a bloodlust that ran deep in both of us.