Disclaimer: The following describes fictional acts, including the murder of a real person. The person or persons in question are NOT dead; this is just a fictional story from the mind of the author. You have been warned.
It had been six months since that night in Nashville. The night that I will never forget. The night I brutally ended Carrie Underwood. The charred remains of the house she lived in were still standing in the lot. Her husband in a deep depression following the funeral. Her friends still in disbelief as more nauseating details of her brutal death come out by the week. Everyone knew my name, They were looking for me, wanting to slice my throat to shreds like I did hers.
I disappeared immediately following the act. My wife knew nothing about my whereabouts. Friends and family publicly disowned me. Fans of Carrie wishing to send me to hell. Of course, I didn’t disappear without a plan. I made my way north until I arrived where I needed to be…Wyomissing, PA. Why did I choose this particular town? Well because it the hometown of one of Carrie’s best friends, Taylor Swift.
After the thrill of what I did to Carrie, I needed more. Since I was now labeled a ‘killer’ in the public eye, what’s the point of stopping? I’ll be in jail forever if they find me anyway, why not just kill off more bitches so that if they catch me, they’ll just kill me sooner.
I sat in the woods, watching Ms. Swift’s house and waiting for her to arrive. I could tell that she was out on tour or something as she has not come back home in over a week. I was about to head back to my hideout when a pair of headlights blinded me. I ducked down behind the bush and looked on. The Ferrari pulled into the driveway and the lights went out. The outside lights of the house automatically came on as she stepped out of the car.
Taylor Swift stood there in a long black skirt and a white blouse with her hair done up. If she had been wearing thin glasses, she would have been dressed identically to a librarian. She looked mainly like a bitch who needed a good fucking before she died in my hands.
I waited outside her house for the inside lights to switch off. It was four in the morning when her bedroom light switched off, so I grabbed my bag and made my way to her house. Without making a sound, I broke my way into the rich little bitch’s house. I immediately noticed the large amount of rich-and-famous-girl things sitting around the house. Expensive awards lined the dark walls, large oil paintings of random bullshit hung. Pictures of herself with other famous assholes and cunts were everywhere. I saw a TV almost the size of my hideout in the corner with an obnoxious stereo system attached.
As I headed towards the stairs, I could hear the young girl snoring from her bedroom. She was definitely the loudest snorer that I had ever heard.
“Go ahead Taylor, dream your final dreams.” I said to myself
I slowly snuck my way up the stairs, careful not to make any sounds to awake her. I made my way to her bedroom and I peeked inside. It was dark but I could make out the bitches body lying on the bed, free of covers.
I pulled out a rag from my pants, the same rag that I used to chloroform Carrie for the first rape. I poured a bit of chloroform onto the rag and tiptoed up to the sleeping girl. As I got closer, I saw the pink nightgown she was wearing. The gown was very tight fitting and, even in the dark, showed her slender figure that I had wanted to abuse for the last six months.
I jumped on to the bed and pressed the rag against her face. Her entire face was covering it, not allowing her to see my face. After a few seconds, Taylor’s body stopped fighting me and slipped into unconsciousness. I turned on the lamp to give myself a better view of her. I pulled her gown up to get a glance at her pussy, which was unsurprisingly shaven clean. I flicked her clit hard with my middle finger, making sure she was knocked out.
I pulled my handgun out of my bag and placed it on the night stand. I sat next to her and waited for her to awaken. I lightly stroked her hair while rubbing my own crotch through my jeans. She slowly slipped out of her sleep and looked up at me. I clamped my hand over her mouth, preventing her from screaming. I could tell that she recognized my picture from the news; she instantly knew that I was Nick Masterson, the man who raped and murdered Carrie Underwood.
I pulled a plastic bag out of my pocket and poured the powdery content on to my finger. Keeping my hand over her mouth, I held the powder up to her nose. Her need to breathe caused her to inhale the small hill of cocaine. She hadn’t taken enough to kill herself, but definitely enough to get pretty high. She began sweating as I picked up the gun and held it to her skull.
“I know that you realize who I am! I’m the man who killed your best friend.” I released my hand from her mouth.
“What the hell did I just inhale and what the fuck are you doing here you bastard.” I hit her in the cheek with the butt of my gun.
“You inhaled a large amount of cocaine and I’m here to end you.” She started blowing her nose, hoping it would get the cocaine out of her system (what a stupid cunt!)
She began to sweat profusely and shiver, the effects of the drugs were setting in.
“Oh my god, my chest feels like it’s gonna explode. Is this how you’re gonna kill me. With drugs!?” She sounded almost like she was taunting me.
“Don’t worry you overrated little whore, I didn’t give you enough to kill you. I’ve got a much more fun way to kill you.” The fear in her eyes was giving me a raging hard on.
I rolled her over on her stomach and sat on her back. I pulled a knife from my pocket and held it above her back. I pushed down and dug the blade into her nightgown and started to cut into it. It left a trail of blood as I used her back as a cutting board. She screamed out in pain as she felt the blade slicing her.
After a few minutes, I completely cut away her slutty gown and tossed it aside. The blood had clotted around the cuts, stopping the bleeding (temporarily). I flipped her back over and sat on her stomach. I began punching her in the face, first with the left then with the right. Her cheekbones were surely damaged as I landed ten strikes on each side. Blood was dripping down her cheeks as I stopped. Each eye got one strike, leaving her with two swollen black eyes. She began crying as the effects of the cocaine were in full effect. She could not remain still as I got off of her. Her body was shaking, her hands and feet constantly moving. Her body was lobster red with her chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace. The drugs were only making the experience worse for the young girl.
I began undressing as she looked at me through her wounded eyes.
“Please, please don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone, just please don’t do this!” She begged me to stop once my eight inch cock sprung from hiding.
I approached her with my knife once again in hand. I ran the blade across her pelvic area causing her to bleed. I took her blood in my hand and rubbed it onto my cock before placing it at her pussy opening. To my surprise, she was a little wet, but that could have just been the sweat that was beading all over her. She was losing control of her body as she slammed her hips into mine, starting the rape herself. She was crying loudly as I grabbed her hips and started fucking her hard.
Taylor knew that death would be coming soon; she worried that the drugs would be the main cause. She was hyperventilating as I slammed hard into her. I could feel her vaginal walls pulling hard on my cock as her body shook from the drugs. She had obviously never done coke before and was struggling to handle the effects. I repeatedly backhanded her across the face to calm her down; an attempt that was proving to be pointless.
“Please stop hit…hit…hitting me!” She yelled out.
Her pleas falling on deaf ears as I pulled out of her pussy, picked her up and slammed her hard on the wood floor. She grabbed the back of her head and started moaning in pain, sobbing like a five year old with a paper cut. I roughly pulled her legs apart and rammed myself back inside her. The blood from her pelvis had dripped down to her pussy opening and supplied me a decent amount of extra lube. I looked back at her face and saw her bleeding cheek, black eyes, bright red nose dripping with snot and her mouth wide open begging me to stop.
“Why are you doing this?” She quietly asked. “Why me? Why Carrie? Did you torture her like this?”
“Why am I doing this? Well, I’m already a killer, why stop at one.” I answered her. “Why you? You come off as a snooty little rich cunt that expects everything handed to you, just like that dead cunt Carrie. And no, I did not torture her like this. I didn’t force coke in her nose, I didn’t punch her, and I didn’t cut her (until the end). All I did was rape her because I actually was a fan of Carrie. You, not so much. I can’t stand your ‘innocent’ persona, I can’t stand your horrible songwriting, I can’t stand your horrific voice…I just can’t stand you.” She couldn’t help but keep her eyes locked on me as I spoke while still plowing into her cunt.
“Then just fucking kill me! Stop the torture and just kill me!” The anger in her voice was a major turn-on.
“Is that what you want Taylor. Do you want me to kill you right now and unload my cum in your cold, dead body?” She instantly looked concerned.
“No! No, please just finish up and then kill me. I don’t want my dead body to be fucked.” She started to beg me.
“You really are an idiot aren’t you? You had to say “I don’t want my dead body to be fucked.” Well, I’m not going to do what you want.” I reached up and wrapped both of my hands around her scrawny little throat. “I’m gonna kill you right now.” I released my grip and pulled out of her.
I retrieved the plastic bag filled with cocaine and stood over her.
“Too bad your family will have to suffer knowing that you died of a cocaine overdose”.
I opened up the bag and poured the contents directly into her nostrils. There was enough coke to keep Charlie Sheen happy for a weekend. Once the last few bits fell into her nose, I held my hand over her face to prevent her from blowing any out.
“I hope you enjoy feeling your heart explode.” I flipped her over and began fucking her ass.
Taylor began quietly praying as I shoved my blood-stained cock into her dry anus. Her prayers were interrupted by a loud scream when the pain struck her. She buried her face into the rug and cried as loud as she could. The pain mixed with the trauma in knowing that she would be dead within minutes had broken her down. I forced all my weight on top of her as my cock stretched the walls of her ass. After a few minutes of fucking her ass, I flipped her back over and reinserted myself into her soaked cunt. I pinned her wrists down next to her head and watched her reaction as the drugs started taking over, slowly killing her. Her face was frozen with her eyes staring at me and her mouth slightly agape.
“Oh…oh my…I think…I think I’m having… a heart attack!” She tried to break her hands free to clench her chest, but I did not allow it.
Her body began violently shaking, which felt great around my cock. Her eyes began to roll back into her head. I grabbed her head and looked her in the eyes as the life began to escape her.
“Say hi to Carrie for me.” I slammed her head against the hard floor over and over again. She closed her eyes as her body began to numb. I stopped slamming her head after a few strikes and watched her as she looked at me one last time before rolling her eyes back and going stiff.
Her heart had stopped pumping; the last bit of oxygen reached her brain as she took her last few breaths. Her chest made one final heave before she stopped moving; her life was over. Her motionless body lay there on the ground, my cock still ramming in and out of her cunt. I had never fucked a dead girl before and it felt weird fucking a pussy that didn’t react. But knowing exactly whose dead cunt I was pounding mad it so much better. I was slapping random parts of her body over and over again as I humped it.
I pulled out of her and went to my bag, taking out a large knife. I began to cut into her neck, pushing it deeper in until I severed her spinal cord; her head was now detached from her body. I picked the head up by the hair and looked her in the eyes. I rolled her eyeballs back down so her colorless pupil stared into mine.
“You’ve probably had a lot of cocks in that pretty little mouth…just cause your dead doesn’t mean that has to stop.” I pulled her jaw open and inserted my cock down her dry throat.
It felt so good wedging my cock into that cold tight tube. I could almost feel the tip of my cock coming out the severed end of her throat. I didn’t take long before I could feel my climax building. It was so much easier fucking her dead head as she couldn’t fight it at all. She was literally nothing more than a sex toy. I slammed her lifeless face against my pelvis as I was near my breaking point.
I sat down before cumming into her dead throat. It was the most pleasurable orgasm I could ever remember as I pumped shot after shot down her throat. I began to chuckle when I saw cum beginning to drip out of the bottom of her severed throat. Seeing the dead head in my hands with cum dripping out of the bottom gave me a major sense of accomplishment.
I withdrew my cock from her throat and tossed the head on to the ground. I pulled her tongue out and placed the head at her pussy, making it look like she was licking her own pussy. I quickly got dressed as light began to rise outside. I gathered my stuff up and was ready to leave. I wrote down a note and left it next to the body. It read, “Now little Taylor can join her friend Carrie in hell. Nick 2 Whores 0.” I exited the house and headed back to my hideout
Once I got back to my hideout after two hours or so to pack up, I switched on the television to watch the local news. They broke from their normal programming with the breaking story, “Taylor Swift found dead, decapitated.” I wondered how they found her so quickly, but apparently her best friend showed up at her house minutes after I left and found her dead body, with her severed head placed at her pussy. They read the note I left, causing me to laugh as the country heard my words. The last words the reporter said before I shut the TV off was, “Someone needs to find this Masterson bastard before he kills again.”
“They better hurry up then.” I said as I cut the power to the building and escaped into world, searching for my next victim.