Lena – The new Killer Generation!
by behappy9999@yahoo.com
 


I have to work carefully - my father made that clear to me. My father is a
contract killer! But for certain jobs, a woman is simply more suitable than a
man. I like to kill - it was obvious that my father would introduce me to this
profession.

My father got my first job from a client who had used his services several
times. It was about a writer who stole the client's ideas. The writer should
die - but not have a pleasant death!

Exactly the right assignment for me was my father - I should practice the
knowledge I had learned from him for the first time on a male target. I was so
happy about this opportunity - and yes, a little excited.

The writer was an easy victim - cock-driven and apparently horny. Well, no
wonder with his looks. But something like that must not stop me. I have to
hide everything - my father finally relies on me!

Seducing the victim was not difficult. At just 18 years of age, I let a man's
body breathe hard when I saw it. Without wanting to show off - I just look
awesome! My breasts are medium-sized and firm, small nipples with firm nipples
and my private parts adorned with a nice black triangle. The men seem to be
going crazy.

Said and done. After I "tore open" the writer it was not that difficult. He
couldn't wait to go to his house with me. The poor fool didn't know that I
wanted to be a contract killer and that this should be my journeyman's piece.

Did I mention that the writer looked ugly? But something like that mustn't
influence me, says my father. My father relies on me - the client relies on my
father.

And I successfully used my body as a weapon. Not the only weapon - I still had
a knife with me. This was taped to my back. When the writer and I fucked the
tape came off and the knife attached to the back fell off. It wasn't planned
that way!

Nothing works in reality as it is planned in theory - my father preached to me
over and over again. Be flexible - have a replacement plan or just improvise.
I didn't have a replacement plan - after all, I hadn't planned that the knife
would come off my back by itself.

Long story short - I grabbed the knife and stabbed the man's upper body
several times. His eyes looked incredulous when I made the first stitch. And
while I stabbed him I continued to ride on his stiff cock that I had absorbed
in me until it stopped.

My victim eventually died and I continued to ride him - until I suddenly had
an orgasm. Only then did I slide off my blood-smeared body. The bed looked
like a battlefield - and I left it as the winner. My father trained me well.
Even if not everything went as planned - the end result speaks for itself!

My father actually wanted to help me dispose of the body. But since I killed
the writer in his own house, I didn't know what to do now. It cannot be
avoided - I call my father on my unregistered cell phone and only pass on the
information "at his home". No names, no addresses - just the three words
mentioned.

"Come home" - my father was also brief. No names, no addresses - just the
three words mentioned.

I showered the blood of my body in the bathroom of the now dead writer - the
idea stealer -, got dressed and left the scene of the crime unseen. The client
will be satisfied - the writer did not have a pleasant death. But I don't
think death is pleasant.

My father was waiting for me in our living room. Did I mention that I still
live with my father? My mother passed away 10 years ago and my father raised
me alone. I am proud of my father.

We both sat on opposite armchairs and I started to tell everything from the
time I left our house to the point of re-arrival. I know that my father values
"�"�every detail. Every little piece of information can be important! My
father calls this conversation - my first not "exercise talk" - a debriefing.

After listening to me, he congratulates me on my first successful killing. I
am very proud of my father's praise. He is a contract killer and appreciates a
good job.

Then we go through it point by point. The loosening of the knife from the back
leads my father back to the fact that before I left I took a shower and used a
fatty lotion. Apparently I didn't dry my back carefully. A point that I have
to pay more attention to next time!

The next morning my father leads me to our basement. There is a room there
that is locked as long as I can remember. Now my father opens it with a key,
turns on the light and lets me enter.

In the simple basement there are two large wooden cupboards, decorated with
carvings. "These are the trophy cabinets of your mother and mine," my father
says to me. I am confused - what is a trophy cupboard and why does my dead
mother have one?

"My sparrow" - my father uses this form of address only when it gets very
emotional - "You are now of legal age and carried out your first murder. It is
time that you learn more".

We sit on an upholstered couch that is also in the basement right next to a
table and my father tells me that my mother was also a contract killer. They
got to know and love each other at work when they both received an order to
kill one and the same victim - albeit from different clients. And as luck
would have it, they were both on site at the same time. Was it really a
coincidence or had a higher power brought my parents together?

I consider myself a person who is not easy to amaze - but I have to process
this information first. "If that's all too much for you right now, we can go
on at a later date," my father offers me. I shake my head "please keep
talking".

My father - to whom I am even more proud than usual at the moment - gets up,
goes to the two closets next to each other and turns around. "Both your mother
and I have a habit of keeping a trophy from every victim. There is no set
pattern - anything that comes to mind".

He takes a key from his pocket and opens his closet and opens the closet
doors. There are several shelves in which there are different sized boxes. In
the right area there are several items of clothing of different types.

Then he reaches into his pocket again and pulls out another key. "Here my
sparrow" his voice trembles slightly and I think I see a tear on his face
"open your mother's closet". I also get up, receive the key, and open my
mother's closet. The same layout as in my father's closet.

"If you want, you can open the box and look at the contents," he murmurs
softly. I am totally agitated. Did I mention that I consider myself a person
who is not easy to amaze? My father did it. "Better not today - I have to let
it all sink in here first," I reply in a voice that is even slightly husky.

My father locks both cupboards and puts the keys back in. "I already have a
beautiful wooden cupboard in my eye as a trophy cupboard. Let the whole thing
go through your head. When you have made your decision we will talk about it".

With these words we leave the basement, my father switched off the lights and
we go back to the ground floor. "If you change your mind - I hang the key for
the basement and the trophy cupboards on the key board.

I find little sleep that night. Not that my first successful assignment had
robbed me of my sleep - the fact that my mother - like my father - should have
been a contract killer worries me more. Is it in the genes that I also want to
kill and now take the same career?

Since I don't get enough sleep anyway, I go to the basement early in the
morning after taking the keys from the key board and enter the room with the
trophy cupboards. I open my mother's closet and carefully examine the
contents. There are blazers, blouses, skirts and pants and some handbags.
Women's shoes are also on the floor of the closet.

On the left side of the cabinet are some shelves, on which boxes of different
sizes are standing. I start with the big box - various items like irons,
poker, shoehorns are in one box, another box contains books, records (!) And
video tapes. Also in the other boxes I open are all sorts of everyday objects.
A pattern is not recognizable to me, however.

On the top shelf are two small boxes, both labeled "Caution - Fragile". I take
the first box from the shelf and put it on the table. The second box follows
immediately. These two boxes are sealed with an adhesive strip (the other
boxes only had the lids closed).

I carefully remove the adhesive strips and open the lid sides. Both boxes are
covered with a thick foam mat from the top and sides (and probably from the
bottom). The content appears to be very sensitive. After removing the upper
foam mat from the first box, I can see a glass container with a lid. The same
result with the second box.

Now I want to know! I lift the first glass container out of the box and put it
on the table. It is filled with a clear liquid and there is something in that
liquid. Then the second glass container follows from the other box. This also
contains a clear liquid and here too there is something in this liquid.

Only now do I take a look at the first glass container. I'm actually not
scared. But when I see what is floating in the glass container, I jump away
from the table and let out a low cry.

A cut male acorn floats in the first glass container! I approach the table
again, inspect the second glass container - and again I give a small cry. A
fully preserved penis and testicles float in this container!

"Your mother has always had a strange kind of humor," I hear my father say
from the basement door. Without hearing it, he entered the basement. "These
trophies are different from all previous trophies. Your mother's job was to
kill a rapist whose father holds a high position in the judiciary.
Unfortunately the father had the bad luck to visit his son at his house that
day and to surprise your mother when she carried out her assignment. So she
castrated and stabbed the son (rapist), also stabbed his father (judge) and
severed his acorn".

I put the closed glass containers back in the box and close them again. Then I
put it back in the designated space in the closet, lock the closet and give my
father the key. I admit it - the sight of the individual glans and the penis
with testicles scared me - but also excited. I know what trophies I want to
collect - acorns!

My trophy cabinet will be delivered at the beginning of the following week. As
an additional gift, I receive from my father ten jars with screw caps and five
canisters of 2 liters of preservation liquid. Now I'm waiting for my next job!

Weeks pass without an order being made for me. Had I already mentioned that
the client of my first assignment was very impressed by my work? At the agreed
fee there was a bonus payment. This is of course very good for my
self-confidence. Not that I lack it!

Then suddenly a new order arrives at my father's house. The client wants a man
to be murdered. Just the right thing for me. I get a dossier of the target and
immediately start to study it and draw up a plan for the execution.

The victim was a fifty-year-old man from XXX in Lower Saxony. Entrepreneur,
widowed, father of a thirteen-year-old son (Martin), city councillor and
represented in several associations on the board.

This man, Michael, seduced a sixteen-year-old girl, had sexual intercourse
with her and then dropped her like a hot potato. The girl could not cope with
this shame and committed suicide! Clearly, this pig deserved death!!

The dossier is already quite extensive - but as my father says, you can never
have enough information. A several-hour internet search revealed some
interesting facts. Nothing that would be relevant to the order at first glance
- but you never know.

The next day I drive with a rented VW Golf to XXX. First, I get a general
overview of the arrival and departure routes in the village, find out where
the police station is located and then enjoy a slightly digestible lunch in a
small restaurant.

Then I drive to the victim's house. I turn into the street where his house is
located and drive slowly - but not too slowly to notice - along the road,
looking to the right and left.

About 100 meters in front of the house, on the right side of the street, I
notice a young red-haired woman leaning against a bicycle, looking towards the
house.

I pass her without stopping and continue on my way. A glance in my rearview
mirror shows me that she still stands leaning against the bike and looks
towards the house.

On the next right-turning road, I drive the rental car to a free parking lot,
take my briefcase and go back to the street of my next victim. I look
carefully around the corner and see the young woman who has been watching the
house, sit on her bike, turn around and drive away in the opposite direction.

The road looks like extinct. No traffic and no cyclists or pedestrians to see.
Well, it's summer holidays and in this beautiful weather many people certainly
take advantage of the opportunity to go on a trip.

I have arrived at the house and entered the property. At the front door, I
press the bell button. Very quickly the front door is opened. "Martin?" asks a
male voice before the front door is fully open.

My victim Michael stands in front of me. I'm amazed - he looks like he hasn't
slept for days, has edges under his eyes, a three-day beard and his shirt
looks clean but the tie doesn't sit neatly.

"Who are they - what do they want?" he bluffs at me. "My name is Lena Meyer
and I actually wanted to apply for the advertised internship in her company.
But I have the impression at the moment it probably doesn't fit," I reply with
a firm voice.

His facial expression relaxes" "Excuse me for my behaviour. Please kick in,"
kicks me aside from the door and invites me to his house with a hand gesture.
I enter the house and he closes the front door behind me.

With another hand gesture, he points to a room - I suspect his study - and we
enter that room. He sits on a chair behind his desk and points to a chair in
front of his desk with another hand movement.

"You have to apologize for appearance and appearance. But my son Martin hasn't
come home since the day before yesterday. I am very concerned and hoped that
he lost his key and is at the door," he tells me.

His 13-year-old son Martin is missing? This information changes the course of
action I am planning. Actually, I just want to make contact with Michael, get
him away from his house and then kill him. His child should not be present
while I murder the father.

'I'm very sorry for them. I think it's better if I leave them alone - they're
with their son with their thoughts, which is understandable," I sympathise.
Michael shakes his head "it's good when I distract myself". Well so - I calmed
him down!

"So you would like to apply for the advertised internship in my small company?
I think that's very nice - and that they imagine it personally instead of
sending their application by post or mail - gives them a first plus point in
my eyes," he says matter-of-factly.

I nod, open my briefcase and take my pre-prepared "Practice Application
Folder" from her. I get up, walk around the desk and hand it over to Michael
with my left hand. When he receives them, I hit his larynx with the edge of my
right hand without warning and smash it.

His facial expression seems completely disenchanted. The application folder
falls out of his hand, both hands reach for his neck. He roars, his facial
expression distorts. He gets up, staggers and falls to the ground. His body
cramps and twitches on the ground as he slowly suffocates.

I look at his death struggle without any emotion. At last, the body lies
motionless. Now the time would have come to take my trophy. But since I can't
rule out Martin, his thirteen-year-old son, will be back soon. It would be bad
enough if he found his father dead - but then mutilated in the genital area -
no, that must not be allowed to happen.

I go into the hallway and take a jacket that hangs on the wardrobe. In the
study where the body is lying I cover michael's face and torso. I leave the
study, not without first having packed my "Practice Application Folder" back
into my file folder, close the study and leave the house with the key.

As I sit in my rented VW Golf, I breathe vigorously. Job done. I have had to
deviate from my original plan - but the end justifies the means and in the end
only the end result counts! The journey home is uneventful and I am looking
forward to the follow-up meeting with my father.

More stories from me: Alina - her first and second kill / Maha Alexandrova
Peskovic / Espionage and death / The death whore