The Traveler

Warning: this story contains graphic rape and murder. Don’t read it if this isn’t your cup of tea.



Conversely, if this is your cup of tea, so much so that you think you should try hurting someone in real life, please reconsider, as you are too stupid to get away with it and too soft for prison, where you will be raped more savagely than even my twisted mind could imagine.



If, however, you are somewhere in the middle, then please enjoy…



The Traveler




It’s funny how some of my most enjoyable kills have been planned in a matter of days or even hours. I was in Rio de Janeiro two years ago on business without a thought in the world of rape and murder. That would soon change, though.
When I got to the hotel I found myself at the back of a small line of guests waiting to check in. In front of me was a pair of young women, American by their accents. They were both hot. The blonde had spectacular legs (on display in a pair of running shorts) that ended in a pair of tiny sandaled feet. The Asian, also sandaled, had a stunningly perfect face, although I only got to see it briefly when she turned and looked around. She bore a ying-yang tattoo on the small of her exposed back. As I waited I enjoyed the view, idly considering the pleasure two such ripe fruit could give me. Still, I had no intention of actually enjoying them.
“You ladies will be in 105,” said the concierge, handing them two key cards. “You can park right in front of the room.”
“That’s convenient,” said the amiable Asian.
After I checked into my room I went down to the pool to relax, expecting a few retired vacationers perhaps, but looking forward to drifting off in a beach chair with a drink in my hand. Imagine my surprise when I found the pool area overrun by boisterous young people. What I had failed to realize was that it was Spring Break, and the city was flooded with rich young Americans. It seemed that only the attractive ones were allowed to participate, as everywhere I turned I ran into a bare-chested, ripped young man with a backwards-turned baseball cap or a slender half naked girl with jiggling breasts. Annoyed, but determined not to surrender the pool, I found an empty chair and sat down with my drink.
Twenty minutes later I was roused from half-sleep by female voices very near. I opened my eyes and sure enough, the same two girls were planting themselves right next to me. They had changed into bikinis, affording me a very generous view of their flesh. Keeping my head straight, I let my eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, drink them in.
“So, what are we going to do tonight?” asked the blonde, rubbing sunblock (which I could smell) over her chest.
“Well, I’m meeting that guy at eight,” said the Asian, “so you’ll have to find something for a few hours.”
The blonde smiled mischievously. “I’m going to get laid,” she said.
“Are you now?” asked the Asian with a laugh. “And what if I bring my guy back? What are we going to do then?”
The blonde considered that for a moment. “Tell you what,” she said, “first one to land a guy gets the room for the night. So if I come home and find the Do-Not-Disturb sign on the door, I find somewhere else to crash, and vice-versa.”
The girls agreed on this deal, and I began to plot. It meant one of them would be alone for the entire night. I didn’t know which, but I didn’t really care because I wanted to fuck them both. That would be insanely dangerous, though. It would be hard enough to keep one girl under control, then smuggle her corpse out where it wouldn’t immediately be found, without doubling the risk. But I knew I could manage that part with one girl. The biggest problem was going to be getting into their room.
While I thought about that, I took a side trip to buy some supplies. A box of condoms and a pair of latex gloves from the pharmacy, some duct tape, a pair of gloves, and a length of fishing line from a sporting goods store, and finally a pair of padded pink handcuffs from an adult boutique. Fortunately I was in the habit of always bringing my stun gun with me on extended trips, so I already had that in my room. Satisfied that I had everything I would need, I drove my rental car back to the hotel where I could keep an eye on my prey.
As I entered the lobby I was still undecided as to how I was going to get into the room. Two ideas had occurred to me. Number one involved force: I could simply break the door in. That was out of the question, not only because of the unwanted attention it would bring, but also because I probably wouldn’t be able to do it. Number two involved cunning: I would talk my way in. That was looking like my only option. I would have to say I worked for the hotel, maybe as a maintenance man or room service. The more I thought about it, though, the less likely it seemed that my victim would fall for such a story.
Just as I was deciding to scrap my half-formed plan, the solution presented itself to me. There was a new concierge at the desk. One of the young men from the pool approached him.