Worship Me Part 19
By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com



Chapter 63

The information that Lt. Bowman had provided was for a serial killer who
targeted prostitutes and had claimed his fifth victim the day before we
returned from Hawaii. If his track record stood, he would be on the prowl for
victim number six this coming weekend. He always made his selection along
Hollywood Boulevard, so that's where I thought I'd sit and observe.

According to several witnesses, other prostitutes, the suspect was a large
man, 6'-2" or 6'-3," driving a white, late model, pick-up truck. 'Can't be
that many 'John's' cruising Hollywood in a white pick-up,' I thought.

I got a space on one of the corners of Hollywood Blvd. and waited. A few
working girls were milling back and forth in front of a jewelry store and a
camera shop. They looked bored except when a car would slow and stop. Finally
a pick-up, but this one looked yellow. A woman wearing something that looked
like satin short-shorts jumped in the cab and they were gone.

More cars, an occasional truck, but none that were white; I gave it another
half-hour, then drove home.

The next morning, Maria had the TV on in the kitchen and the lead story was
about the 'Hollywood hacker' having claimed his sixth victim. 'How could I
have missed him', I thought. I knew he'd be out there in a few days, so that
evening, I returned to watching for unusual behavior in a town known for
unusual behavior.

Chapter 64

On the third night of my 'stakeout', a white pick-up coasted to the curb on my
side of the street and stopped at the corner. I caught a glimpse of a large
framed man in the driver's seat. A petite young prostitute got in on the
passenger side and they began to drive off. I started my engine and followed
them, keeping a safe distance between them and myself.

The driver turned into the Slumber Time Inn and parked behind the office. The
Slumber Time was one of a number of low-budget motels along the boulevard.

I watched as a man about 6'-3", medium build, got out and went into the
office. The prostitute stayed in the truck. Business taken care of the man
re-emerged and with key in hand, they entered unit number 10, halfway down the
line of rooms.

The man flipped on the light and shut the door. Then I saw him pull the
security curtains closed. I got out of my car and listened at the door to
number 10. For the first 15 or 20 minutes, it was the normal sound of love
making; a lot of 'oohs,' and 'awws,' and heavy breathing, then there was a
lull.

Next, I heard the woman say, "What's that for?" and a garbled response from
the man. Then the woman again, her voice tinged with panic said, "No, wait,
stop!" at which time I quietly turned the handle on the door and pushed. The
spring lock gave and there on the bed was the man kneeling between the woman's
legs, a knife in his hand.

The look on the man's face was one of total surprise. The woman on the bed had
her eyes shut tight. The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but I
was already nearly to the bed. He turned his body slightly and held the knife
out in front of his naked chest as if to warn me away.

I stopped at the edge of the bed and quickly grabbed his wrist with my left
hand and pulled it down toward the bed while simultaneously balling my fist
and hitting him in the left eye, closing it almost instantly. "Ugh," he said.

Still holding his wrist, I looked at the woman on the bed and said as evenly
as I could, "Get out. Get out now!" Much to her credit, she didn't bother to
dress, but scooped up her clothes from the arm chair by the door and bolted
through it, pulling the door shut behind her.

Still with the man's wrist in my left, I walked back to the door and turned
the deadbolt and put the security bar across it. I had dragged the man off the
bed to reach the door. Now I looked him in his one good eye and said, "We
don't want to be disturbed now do we?"

"Who are you?" he asked. I wanted to say, 'I'm your worst nightmare,' but
thought that sounded too clich', so I said, "I'm Jane, and the LAPD has sent
me to take care of you. Do you understand, Jerry?" He was mulling this over as
I squeezed his wrist a little more and he dropped the knife. I kicked it into
the corner of the room.

I held up his left wrist, his hand now empty, and bent two of his fingers back
snapping them. He let out a cry of pain and began to cry. "What a wimp," I
said softly and broke two more fingers on his left hand. I let go of his
wrist, and he fell back on the bed clutching his left hand against his
stomach.

I quickly pulled my T-shirt over my head and slipped my shorts from my hips,
then my thong underwear. I folded my clothing and put it on the chair where
the woman's had been. I turned and stood with my hands on my hips watching the
man. I wanted him to get a good look at me, to admire my muscles and marvel at
my power. I wanted him to know he was going to die. A smile crossed my face.

I took a step toward the bed and the man tried to kick at me. "Stay away,
bitch," he said, and I grabbed his ankle, then taking it in both hands, I
twisted his ankle. Instead of rolling with my twist which might have saved him
some pain, he stayed motionless and his ankle snapped with an audible crack.

"Oh, I bet that hurt," I said as he tried to pull away, whimpering in pain. "I
could lie and tell you that sometimes I don't know my own strength, but the
truth of the matter is that I do know my own strength and you'll know it too,"
I said.

I put my booted foot on the edge of the bed and said, "Watch," and I flexed my
quads. I rubbed a hand across the smooth bronze skin. "Do you like that,
stud," I asked and not waiting for a reply, said, "Now look at this bicep." I
placed my elbow on my thigh and flexed my bicep. The 18-inch mound leaped to
attention. I stuck my magnificently long tongue out and flicked the tip of it
on my bicep. "Hmm," I said, "that's good."

I put my foot back on the floor and stood up and rubbed my hands down my body
from my shoulders across my breasts to my ribs and down across my abs.
Continuing downward, I felt my slender waist, pelvic bone and fingered my
clit. I ran my index finger into my vagina and then held it out to him.
"Here," I said, "suck this."

He didn't respond, only watched me through his one undamaged eye. I smiled and
said, "It would go better for you if you co-operated, Jerry, now I have to
teach you a lesson." I held his jaw in the palm of my right hand and slowly
began applying pressure. Soon, he was whimpering and then there was the sound
of the bone cracking. I can only imagine what that felt like.

"Pleath, no maw, pleath, don't hurt mes anne mow," he pleaded through his
broken jaw. "I don't understand you," I said, "poor baby," and patted him on
the side of his jaw so that he pulled away.

"Jerry," I said, "I don't want you to think that I want all the fun. Here, hit
me," I said, pointing to my stomach, "go ahead and hit me." He did, and I
said, "Do it again, Jerry, harder." He balled his fist and hit me again in the
abdominals. "Pitiful, Jerry, just pitiful, one more try," I said. It was like
hitting a side of beef. He swung with everything he had, and then fell back on
the bed, exhausted.

"Poor baby," I said, "you look like you could use a break," and I knelt on the
bed between his legs.

Chapter 65

Jerry was still moaning and in some distress. I took his penis between my
thumb and forefinger and held it up. It couldn't have been much over 4-inches
in its flaccid state. I let it drop. "Wow, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry," I said, "And
what will we do with this? You don't give me much to work with, you know." I
began to stroke his shaft and soon it began to respond. "There, that's better,
Jerry," I said.

"Pleath, thop," he begged. "What," I asked, "faster?" And I stroked faster,
pounding my fist into his balls on the down stroke. "Pleath, it hurths," he
said through his broken jaw. "More?" I said, "you stud, you," and I quickened
the pace. He climaxed, but I continued pummeling his cock. After several more
minutes, I slowed the pace and stopped. I was pleased to see that his cock was
red and raw with a purplish bruise near where it met his scrotum.

As I had done to several of my other male victims, I grasped his scrotum in my
hand and squeezed. He let out a yell like I had just put his balls in a vise,
and that's essentially what I had done. "Shh," I said, clamping my other hand
over his mouth, "Be quiet, Jerry".

I got up from the bed and stretched; my shoulders and traps dancing. "I need
to take a piss," I said, "and I'm going to use your mouth as my personal
toilet, would you like that?" He began an incoherent mumble and I said, "I
have no idea what you're saying, but I think you said, 'sure, Jane, I'd love
for you to piss in my mouth." and I moved his body so that his head hung over
the edge of the bed.

Straddling his face, I began to piss. I reached down and held his nose so that
he'd have to breathe through his mouth. He tried turning his head, but I held
it firm with my thighs. Much of my piss ran onto the floor, but I know he
swallowed some. "Excellent, Jerry, now I'm going to increase the pressure and
fracture your skull," I said and began to apply my pressure. He slapped at my
massive thighs, but I continued to apply pressure until I felt his skull
crack, his slapping becoming weaker and weaker.

I got off his face and using his shirt, which was on the floor, dried my clit.
I stuffed his shirt into his mouth as a gag. I lifted him off the bed and from
a distance of about five feet, dropped him on his back. He landed with a
sickening thud. With the fractured skull and landing on the not so padded
carpet, his head had taken on a misshapen egg shape.

I went to the chair and pulled my T-shirt back over my head, then wiggled into
my short shorts. I put my thong underwear in the nightstand drawer. I walked
back over to the body on the floor and said, "Well, Jerry, I think my work
here is done. Thanks for the entertainment." I left the room, leaving the door
open.

Chapter 66

I got back in my car and took out my cell phone. I hit my speed dial for Lt.
Bowman's private line. "Bowman," he answered. "Good evening lieutenant," I
said, "I have a pick up for you." "Ahh, Jane, did you find our serial killer?"
he asked. "Yes, I did, he's at the Slumber Time Inn on Hollywood Blvd., room
10," I said, "I caught him in the act of trying to claim another victim."

"Did he put up much of a fight?" he asked. I laughed, "They always put up a
fight, but so far, I haven't met a worthy opponent," I said. "Let's hope you
don't, Jane," he said, "I appreciate your work." "Thanks, lieutenant," I said,
"By the way, I left a present for you in the nightstand drawer. Enjoy. Good
night, lieutenant," and I hung up.

I waited until the first black and white rolled into the parking lot. The
officer was slow getting out of the car, I noted. A cream colored unmarked
police car pulled in next to the uniformed officer. The driver got out, a
short rotund man, 'no doubt Lt. Bowman', I thought. The two men entered number
ten.

They stayed in the room about five minutes when Lt. Bowman exited, my thong in
his hand. He put it under his nose and inhaled deeply. I smiled to myself.

He stuck the underwear in his suit jacket breast pocket.

As he got in his car, I silently pulled out of the parking lot and headed
home. Another mission accomplished.