101 Psychos

#33 - Jane Ripper

Psycho #33 - Jane the Ripper -

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Oh, boys could be so foolish. It's easy to give them a false sense of security. A kiss and giggle later, followed by a compliment, most of them felt invincible.

Working as a hooker wasn't always easy, but I'd found a way to make it easier and more profitable. Times were tough, and sometimes you had to get creative.

"Oh, baby! Your so strong." I whispered faintly in a mans ear while his arms wrapped around me. "Common sweetheart, we can talk payment later."

Bingo. That was the winning phrase, the one that always got them to agree to buying my services. No price, and even if it was more than they had, they figured they could just walk away without paying. I didn't have a nasty pimp standing guard over me like the other girls working the strip.

Hastily the man showed me to his cheap, beat up car and drove me to his hotel room. The cab was filled with an awkward silence that my escort tried to interrupt.

"So... what's your name?" he asked nervously.

"Whatever you want it to be sugar." I replied while turning to him and smiling.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, "I was just wondering who's name I should be calling out later."

His comment would have made any normal girl blush, but those of us who worked the streets were desensitized. In our line of work we'd heard all kinds of dirty talk.

"Jane." I stated after a moment of thought, "And who's name should I scream out later?" I asked coyly.

He smiled, "How does Master sound?"

I puckered my face to show him how dirty he was before smiling and leaning in close.

"What would Master like me to do to him?" I teased.

One glance down showed me that he was aroused, and I decided to push his lust further by grabbing hold of the bulge in his pants. He tensed slightly and became even more focused on the road.

I giggled before turning serious again and whispering, "Or was there something Master wanted to do to me?"

"You'll find out soon enough." he replied smoothly.

I puckered my bottom lip and moved even closer to him, massaging his still growing bulge.

"Please Master, tell me what you want. I only want to please you."

He pulled into a parking lot then, a cheap hotel in front of us. The car shut off and I found myself staring at a faded, dingy door.

The man wrapped his hand through my long hair and pulled my face close to his, our noses almost touching. The action didn't panic me, alot of men reacted this way to lust. I smiled innocently up at him while he assessed me. As to what he was looking for I wasn't sure.

"We're here, get out." he demanded roughly.

"Yes Master." I answered faintly, causing his eyes to go slightly darker, reflecting his animalistic hunger.

I slowly slid to my door, and he released my hair. He fumbled with the key for only a moment before the motel room behind it was revealed and I was ushered in.

I only had a few moments to take in my surroundings while he quickly locked the door. In those few seconds I decided he was a tourist, traveling alone based on the few belongings scattered around. He was probably at the end of his life line, here to try his luck at making it big.

Suddenly my small frame was picked up and tossed against the wall, pinned there by my customer. He pulled my hair roughly and forced me to arch my back and push my body into his. I let out a moan, knowing that's what he wanted to hear.

I was surprised by the gentleness of the kisses he trailed down my neck and along my shoulder, as nothing else about him was. He ripped my shirt away violently and I briefly protested.

"Hey don't-" but I was cut off my his rough hand cradling my chin and forcing me to look at him.

"I'm your Master, remember. This is what I want." his tone was dark, so I decided to play along with his game.

In order for my plan to work, I had to keep him distracted with the thought of sex. I kissed him absent mindedly, and responded to his caresses out of reflex while my mind went other places.

Flashbacks of a life before I ran away from home flooded my mind. My father, the pervert leaning over me while his drunken hands fumbled over my body much like this mans did. It was always late at night, and too dark to see anything, but I can still taste his salty hand over my mouth to muffle my cries.

I heard the mans buckle as he began removing his pants, a noise any hooker can easily recognize. The sound took me away from my memories and escorted me back to reality. He was vulnerable now, and it was time to put my plan into action.

I kept the small, four inch folding blade tucked inside my skirt hem, a place the mans hands had yet to explore. While he fussed with his own clothes, I grabbed the knife.

The click of the blade locking into place caught his attention and he quickly looked up, leaving his throat exposed. I slunk up to him innocently and half naked, pretending there'd been no change.

"Is everything ok Master? Have I displeased you?" I forced my voice to sound small and fragile.

His worries were easily dismissed, and he stood up straight as I got to him. I wrapped one arm around his neck seductively and smiled. He was exactly where I wanted him.

Suddenly, I shoved the small knife as far as I could into the side of his neck. The mans eyes grew wide in shock as he shoved me back. My hand caught the back of his neck however, and my fingers gripped his hair. I pulled myself back to him within milliseconds, and gripped the knifes handle once again. As quickly as I could, I forced the sharp metal to slide sideways through the flesh and windpipe.

Blood splattered immediately and completely soaked my upper body, the deep red fluid still warm against my exposed skin. I pulled the knife through the remaining flesh as his body slumped to the ground with an audible thud.

The carpet was quickly covered in the thick liquid, which seeped deep into the fibers, staining the flooring red. He gurgled only for a few moments, before going quiet and staring blankly at nothingness.

Confident that he was dead, I sat down to complete the scene. Cutting of the manly parts was my calling card, the thing that set my murders apart from the others in the city. Both the twig and berries were removed, and I'd dispose of them later at a different location.

After I rendered the mans corpse useless to any necrophiliacs, I took a small business card out of my tiny pocket and placed it on top of his chest. This was the final step in setting the stage.

JANE RIPPER was written in a very feminine font across it. Of course it's not my real name, but it's good for theatrics. The guy should have read a local newspaper. Maybe then he wouldn't be making headlines.

I can see it now, I thought while showering and washing away the gore. Jane Ripper claims victim number thirty-three.

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