Chapter 2
Steele and Crow stepped from the elevator and walked directly to the door of Lassiter's room. While Steele stood aside, his eyes lazily scanning the other doors along the hall for any sign of life, Crow worked at the lock. In seconds he had it open and they moved inside. Steele settled in an easy chair across from the door. It was completely shaded from the alternate flashes of a neon from across the street that, every ten seconds, turned part of the room into daylight. An ivory nail clipper appeared in his hand and he started cleaning his already immaculately manicur-ed nails.
Crow moved around the room like a caged animal, from the sofa, to the door, to the window. He parted the drapes and peered down into the street. It had started raining and the glistening pavement reminded him of nights inside the walls. Nights when the rain had danced through the spotlights as they raked the walls with the same illumination the neons now gave the city. They would never get him back behind those walls. He could never go that long again without a woman. He blinked his eyes against the bright neon and felt a slight shudder run up the length of his back. He dropped the drape and sat on the arm of the sofa.
"You shoulda seen this pig I fucked tonight."
Steele looked up for just an instant, his eyes, in the brief light, barely illuminated beneath the heavy brows. Silently he returned his attention to his nails, clipping, pausing, looking, and clipping again.
"I mean, her boobs were as big as my fucking head... you know that?"
From the chair the steady clip, clip sound served to further unnerve Crow. He always got nervous until it started, until he could start to enjoy it. Killing, for Crow, was like putting the prick to a good woman; the foreplay was nothing, the act was everything. "Steele?"
"Yeah," Steele replied, a flat, almost far away tone in his voice. "Aw... nothin'." Steele didn't have any nerves. That bothered Crow. He didn't like Steele but he trusted and respected him. He also feared him. Crow was sure Steele could carve up his own mother and serve her to his father if he thought it was necessary to his own survival. Again he glanced at the shadowy figure in the chair and realized the differences between them. Steele would remain totally calm right up to the moment he killed Lassiter. Then he would become a man possessed.
"I mean, this pig was so fat... " Crow said. "Then why did you sleep with her?"
"You mean why did I fuck her?"
"That's what I said," Steele replied. Steele never said, "Fuck." In fact, Steele rarely swore at all. When he was angry, he rarely said anything. He just looked at you with those weird eyes.
Crow began to fidget again, pacing. He moved to the closet door and opened it. "Would you look at this shit?" Steele looked up. Crow was holding a woman's nightie in one hand and a pair of large, lacy panties in the other. "Man, this son-of-a-bitch is sweet, ain't he?"
"He's one of the smartest slobs I know," Steele said, his voice intense in its low monotone.
"He put us away, didn't he?" Crow shrugged, dropped the nightie to the floor and crossed the room to the sofa.
"Crow."
"Yeah?"
"Get me a drink!"
Crow moved to the tiny wall bar and returned, glass in hand. "Here!"
"Now drink it yourself," Steele said. "Slowly. It'll give you something to do."
Outside the door and down the hall the elevator door clanked open. Crow set the glass on a table and, gun in hand, moved to stand by the door. Suddenly a calm deliberation became evident in his manner and in his every move.
Steele didn't move. Only his eyes rolled to gaze intently at the slot of light beneath the door.
The only sound in the room, other than the slight grating of the key in the lock, was the steady clicking of the hammer on Crow's gun.
Danny was the first through the door. He sidestepped, letting Warren pass him in the darkness by a couple of paces. Then he put a knee, hard, into the small of the little man's back. The blow sent Warren sprawling into a far corner of the room.
The sound alerted Lassiter but too late. Crow ground his gun into the fat man's ribs and grabbed the back of his long hair at the same time. Crow pulled hard until Lassiter was sure his neck would snap. His face was turned straight up, towards the ceiling, but his eyes pointed downward, crossed, as he tried to scan the dim room.
Crow used his knee on Lassiter's backside, hopping him, duck-fashion, across the room until he was directly in front of Steele's chair.
"Hello, Lassiter," Steele said, snapping on a lamp by the side of his chair and training the naked bulb into the fat man's face.
Lassiter's hand crossed his body and disappeared under his coat when he saw and heard who it was.
To the casual observer Steele's arm barely moved, but the results were that of a striking snake. Lassiter grunted in pain as his hand reappeared, the knife of Steele' nail clipper imbedded as far as it would go in the back of the hand, and the thin blade protruding from the bleeding palm.
Steele stood and calmly reached under Lassiter's coat. "Stupid, Lassiter, stupid," he said, pulling the revolver out and tossing it to Danny. "What's that?"
"Warren somebody," Danny said, standing over the quivering figure on the floor. "Lassiter brought him along to watch."
"He don't look much like a bodyguard," Crow growled around his cigar, his grinning face pressed against the side of Lassiter's head.
"Watch him!" Steele told Danny and turned back to Lassiter. "Where is it?"
"I heard you were out, Steele. I been meanin' to get in touch with you... "
"Sure you have," Steele said. "I have, honest. I got your share put away."
"Fuck you, Lassiter," Crow hissed, grinding the hard barrel of his gun into the soft body and blowing another cloud of cigar smoke into the man's face. "Where is it?" Steele said again. This time he didn't wait for an answer. With a smooth, but savage pull, he withdrew the blade from Lassiter's hand and started sawing on the man's belt. In seconds he was through the thin strip of leather. He yanked open the-trousers. They fell in a bunched heap around Lassiter's ankles to reveal bony, spindly, hairless legs protruding like bent and knotted twigs beneath silk drawers.
With another wrenching yank, Steele shredded the front of Lassiter's shirt. The belt was an extra layer of fat around the man's middle. Steele's thin lips broke into a smile. "Fat. Very fat. I figured this was the right day of the week."
He started to methodically unwrap the belt. "You must be crazy, Steele. That's syndicate money."
"Shut up, Lassiter."
"Man, I'm tellin' ya, there ain't no place you can hide, Steele. You know that. You take that dough and you can kiss... " Lassiter started hacking again from a fresh cloud of cigar smoke in his face. "Those cigars Crow smokes are foul, aren't they?" Steele's smile broke into a wide grin. He nodded at Crow and pulled the cigar from the man's mouth.
Crow's face mirrored Steele's grin as he tightened his grip on Lassiter's head. Steele turned the cigar in one hand, grabbed Lassiter's throat with the other and deftly ground the red ember out in the man's mouth.
The fat man's reflexes willed him to scream but it was quickly silenced when he realized that the farther he opened his throat the more cigar Steele could shove down it.
Steele finished unwrapping the belt and dropped it on the sofa. He spotted the two staring faces in the corner--mouths identically agape, eyes wide, heads shaking involuntarily.
"What's the matter, kid?" Steele asked.
"Nothin'," Danny replied. "Jesus, won't he choke?"
"Nah. He can still breathe through his nose," Steele replied. "For a while." Steele had barely finished speaking when he turned and drove his fist into Lassiter's stomach. At the same time Crow released his head and sent his knee against the man's coccyx.
Lassiter pitched forward only to have his head nearly torn from his shoulders as his face met Steele's foot.
He fell to the floor with Crow following him. Crow knelt on his knees, his legs spreadeagled across Lassiter's chest. Methodically, his face beaming, Crow pounded his hamlike fists into Lassiter's face, creating pulp out of the man's features.
Steele calmly walked around the fallen figure, placing his feet in grinding, well-timed kicks, in every part of Lassiter's exposed body.
Danny felt sick.
Beside him, Warren retched, his head sagging on hunched shoulders. Danny moved to Steele and grabbed his arm as if he could stop it before it went farther than he had expected. Before he could get a grip, he found himself flattened against the wall, his mouth open, gasping for breath that wouldn't come.
Steele grabbed a rocking chair from the floor by the sofa. The cushion and a large doll that had been sitting on it rolled away. With a burst of savage strength Steele ripped the chair apart. With a rocker in each hand he turned back to Lassiter's body.
In his fury, Crow clutched at anything to use as a club. His hand came across the doll. He stood and used it like a club until it turned red with Lassiter's blood.
They stood like that for many more minutes, two demons intent on human destruction, above the unrecognizable, broken body.
At last they were satiated. They stood above the crumpled mass, their eyes alive, staring at nothing, their breathing heavy as they felt years of hate drain pleasantly away. Steele snapped his fingers and from somewhere in his sleeve Crow produced a razor. He passed it to Steele who flipped it open and started to kneel over Lassiter's fallen form.
"For God's sake," Danny said from the corner, his voice almost a squeal in the silence of the room. "He's already dead."
"Yeah," Steele said, his voice again flat, toneless, his eyes relaxing back into the slowly researching stare. "I guess he's dead enough."
"What about him?" Crow said. "Huh?" Steele murmured, rising. Crow motioned towards Warren crouching in the corner. Crow still held the doll in his hand. As he motioned with his arm, the head of the doll separated from its body. It rolled across the floor and came to rest between Warren's legs.
He looked down at it and squealed like a wounded animal. He looked up, directly into Steele's face. It glowed like a specter in the neon's glare. Warren saw Steele's eyes swimming in icy-blue waves that seemed to envelop him like a glove. A shaft of light glistened in Steele's hand as the razor again flipped open.
The little man stood, his mouth open in a soundless scream. He backed farther into the corner, towards the window.
Steele took a step towards him. And then he was gone. The initial crash was followed by the tinkle of tiny glass fragments as they fell from the shattered window to the floor.
He was born Thomas Hampton Steele III to wealthy, conservative parents who had no idea what they were loosing on the world. Breeched in birth, he tore himself screaming from his innocent mother's bloody womb. She lived just long enough to see the fruits of her labor before she breathed her last.
He was raised by nurses and nannies who early on realized that the young heir to the Steele fortune had a cruel, almost other-worldly streak of evil in his strange brain.
Because his father hated the sight of the son who had killed the only woman he had ever loved, the older Steele turned the boy loose, hardly paying any attention to the deeds and misdeeds that others around him saw and feared daily.
As the years passed and the father's depression and drinking grew, the son indulged himself to the fullest extent that his father's money would allow.
By the time he was seventeen he had experienced what most men of forty had only dreamed about. Sex, most of all, was no mystery to him.
At the age of fourteen a sudden urge to satisfy the cravings of his body engulfed him and he raped a young maid who worked in the house. Instead of saying anything about it, the girl became filled with fear. Young Steele's eyes seemed to follow her everywhere and threaten her with all kinds of perverted cruelty should she even think of saying anything about what he had done.
She was so afraid that the second time he wanted to fuck her, she lay for him without a whimper or a struggle. Other women followed--some willing, some unwilling. He liked it better if they were unwilling. He would fuck them anyway.
Trouble seemed to follow him everywhere. But somehow he always avoided anything serious because of his father's wealth.
Then he met Constance Freeling.
She was the wife of his father's business partner and he wanted to fuck her more than any woman he had ever met before. She teased him, flirted with him, and almost dared him to try something with her. But she never actually came out and invited him to screw her.
At last he could stand it no more. He knew her husband made a regular thing out of Monday-evening poker games. Steele waited until he left one Monday and boldly entered the house through a garden window.
He found her sitting in front of a vanity in her upstairs bedroom, completely nude.
"What do you want?" she said, not even bothering to cover her body in front of the rash youth.
"I want to fuck you," he replied. "Get out!"
"I said I want to fuck you."
"And I said, get out!"
"I will," the boy said, "after I fuck you."
She fought like a wild cat as he dragged her across the room to the bed. She scratched, she screamed, she tried to gouge out his eyes with her long, blood-red nails. But the more she fought the more he wanted to fuck her and the harder his cock got.
His hands kneaded her globelike tits, making the huge buds of her nipples stand out against her will, while he held her body to the bed with the weight of his own.
"You're crazy! My husband will kill you!" she shouted as she tried to wrench her knee upward between his legs.
He only laughed and dropped one of his hands to her bared knee and slipped it roughly up towards the fullness of her thigh.
She froze for a moment beneath him at the unexpected contact crawling over her sensitive flesh. It wasn't until his thumb jammed roughly against the folds of her damp pussy that she again reacted violently, grabbing and restraining his wrist tightly with her hands.
"You're gonna fuck me, baby," he leered down at her as he unzipped his fly. "You're gonna fuck me because you really want to underneath all this bullshit."
"Like hell I am," she hissed and clamped her thigh tightly over his invading hand.
"Loosen up!" he commanded her.
In answer she struck out blindly with her nails again. He responded by slapping her hard across the face. It was a merciless, stinging blow that left her head ringing.
Rolling over on his side, he peeled his clothing down from his body. It allowed his thick, hardening cock to spring forward like a rampaging, blunt-headed spear. He grinned evilly at her as they lay side by side. He pulled the heavy uncircumcised foreskin back and forth with his fingers, exposing the bulbous head of his cock.
There was no escape and she quickly realized it as she sensed his hands roaming over her vulnerable body.
His muscular, powerful hands reached her, and with a sudden jerk, he pulled her up against him and thrust his mouth over hers, his tongue snaked down past her lips into the depths of her throat.
She lay next to him, her body dully limp upon the realization of his superior strength. Both anger and frustration filled her mind as she felt the hardness of his swelling cock digging into the tender softness of her vibrating belly.
The woman's entire body jumped when he shoved three fingers of his hand far up the channel of her soaking, unsuspecting cunt.
"Don't tell me you don't want it," Steele said. "You're as wet as a pig in heat."
Again she tried to twist away from him but failed.
Steele took advantage of her movement to insinuate his own body between her wildly thrashing legs. He improved his position by pushing her legs even farther apart and clamping his sweating palms against the soft inner flesh of her trembling thighs.
She straggled to pull her legs together again, but it was a hopeless task against his newfound position and his strength.
She raised her head, anger and fear in her eyes, to look down between their two bodies. She could see his huge cock poised above the dripping slit of her pussy. Trapped with her legs high in the air, the pink, wet flesh of her naked pussy was offered up to him in helpless giving. She could see the thick, white juice already seeping in long globs from the throbbing head of his waiting cock as it neared the spread lips of her cunt. He bent his head to one full, bouncing tit and clamped his teeth hard on a nipple. He bit it and worried it, like a dog does a bone, until she moaned in a weird combination of pain and intense pleasure.
It was the sound that he had been waiting for, a sound that, coming from a woman under his power and his cock, he had grown to recognize so well.
"When I'm through with you, little pussy, you're gonna beg me for it, just like so many other cunts do. You're gonna get down on your knees and beg me to put my big cock anywhere I want to put it--in your mouth, your cunt, up your ass, anywhere. Understand?"
Using the thick, rubbery head of his cock, he parted the soft, hair-lined lips of her cunt and flicked his hips forward.
She groaned but lay still, mumbling oaths deep in her throat.
Levering himself upward, using all the strength in his powerful body, he slammed his cock all the way into her cunt, not stopping until his heavy, sperm-laden balls slapped flatly against the upturned cheeks of her barely resisting ass.
He let his weight settle down on her, crushing her fleshy, writhing butt farther into the mattress and flattening her huge, brown-tipped tits with his chest. He tensed his muscles, flexing his cock as hard as he could, curious to see what effect it would have on her.
"You like it, don't you?" he said, leering down into her contorted face.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face was twisted into a cruel smile, matching his own. Her body was as tense as a whipcord and he could feel the walls of her pussy start to contract and milk his already dripping, thick cock.
"Yes, you son-of-a-bitch, I like it. I love it. You got it in me, now fuck me! Fuck the living shit out of my cunt!"
At once she became a mad woman.
Moving with a will of their own, her straining legs climbed higher on his back. She spread them wider and used the strong muscles of her inner thighs to pull his cock into her cunt more deeply.
The room was suddenly filled with cries and groans. Echoing throughout was the rhythmic sound of naked flesh smacking against naked flesh. It grew louder each time his driving cock crashed brutally into the lunging split of her sucking pussy.
She became another woman entirely. Her face became wildly contorted with lust and the joy of her approaching come. Her tongue thickened and swirled crazily up into his mouth. Her tits seemed to swell in size as the hard nipples relentlessly bored into his chest.
"Oh yes, yes, YES!" sne was crying up into his face as her moment of ecstasy drew nearer and nearer. He felt her tightly locked cunt-lips begin to contract and then expand fiercely around his lunging cock as he skewered her harder and harder with each thrust. He paced his stroke faster, wanting to make this a come she would remember and want again.
Then he felt her body lurch out of control. The muscles in her cunt clawed and sucked at his driving cock as if she would crush it and pull it from his body. She was panting and screaming at him as she felt his rod swell with his own orgasm.
Suddenly they came together. They were one.
There was no certain place where his cock ended and her cunt began. Her legs twisted around his back, forcing her cunt farther over his cock. A wildly searing sensation built up in her body and raced through her crazily swaying tits as she felt his balls suddenly explode. His sperm flooded hotly into her pussy. It touched and filled her in places that she never dreamed could ever be reached. Places that had never been reached by her little-cocked, weak-fucking husband.
A growl of delight escaped his lips as she screamed out her come and the two of them ground into each other.
From then on, they couldn't get enough of each other. It became a regular, weekly fuckfest every Monday evening and any other evening they could steal away together. For over a year it went on, until her husband caught them.
Secretly she hated him, but she loved his animallike desire and his cock. He treated her like a whore, which made her hate him even more. He also knew that she wished she could rid herself of him each time he finished with her, but he was crafty enough to know that she would always have him back whenever he wanted to come back.
She had already blown him twice when the telephone rang. She jumped up and ran to the phone, her beautiful, fleshy butt bouncing delightfully as she moved. Steele watched her go, swore, and looked down across the mat of black, curling hair that covered his massive, naked chest to the swollen red tip of his cock as it swelled again and again from the center of his fist as he pumped it.
"Shit," he muttered aloud, "every time I get my dick in her fucking face, the phone starts to ring." He heard her muffled tones from the next room and then the receiver being dropped to the cradle.
Seconds later her nude body appeared in the doorway. "Who was it?"
"My husband," she replied. "Oh, yeah? Damn, I'd better go!"
"No. He has to stop by your place and talk to your father first. He won't be here until after."
"Good," Steele said, a sardonic leer creasing his face. "We can finish. I'd hate to be laying here fucking the shit out of his wife and have him walk in."
"No you wouldn't," she said, her tone hard and vacant. "I think you'd enjoy the hell out of it." He laughed. "Maybe," he said, keeping his cock hard by pumping it and watching her lush body in repose against the door. "But the longer we hold off him finding out the better.
Now c'mere! I want to fuck your face."
"You're a pig, Thomas Steele, a sex pig," she said, but nevertheless crawled onto the bed between his legs.
"No," he said, reaching under her arms and pulling her upward until her tits were dangling just above his chest. "Run your big jugs around a little." Oh, God, she thought, how I hate him. How I hate to feel like a slave to him.
But she knew that even if she could be free of him and of his cruelty, she would find someone else just like him. The sex she had had with other men before him was good. It was smooth, satisfying, and loving. But it wasn't exciting and dangerous. Sex with Steele was.
She propped herself above him until just her nipples floated across the hair on his chest, leaving waves of sensuality coursing through both their bodies in their wake. She revolved the upper part of her body in ever-increasing circles as she moved lower and lower.
A tiny, continuous trickle of jizz oozed from the head of his cock as her body ran across it. He traced patterns with it on the inside of her thighs, her beaver, her belly, and, at last, her tits. She squeezed her full breasts around it when she was low enough so he could hump his cock between them. She bent her head and licked greedily at the tip of his cock. It caused the saliva to overflow in her mouth and dribble out in streams over his prick and hairy belly.
That was one of the strange things about Steele that kept her in a peak of sexual excitement when she was with him. He never stopped coming and he never seemed to abate in sexual need and desire. He rarely came in huge gushes but continually in tiny spurts that would flow all over their bodies and then down her throat or up her cunt. His huge balls never seemed to empty and his cock could stay hard for hours.
"Now! NOW!" he groaned, his eyes narrowing to two needlepoints of desire as he reached with his hands and jammed her mouth roughly over the gorged head of his cock. "Work on it, you cunt! SUCK IT!"
She groaned herself and sucked even harder as she felt the stream of hot fluid flow down her throat. It excited her, made her own pussy stream with juice, and drove her on and on to satisfy his wildest desires.
She moved a little lower, spread his legs and paused with just the throbbing head of his cock poised in her mouth. She opened her mouth slightly around his knob so great gobs of saliva and cum could stream down around the staff. While she did this, she worked her hands around on his cock until they and the staff they held were oil slick.
Then she rubbed the crack of his ass with her fingers, well-lubricating his hole. With her tongue reaming the pinpoint opening in his cock-head, she felt beneath his body for the huge rubber dildo they had both come to adore. She lifted her leg and, without a pause, jammed it as far up her cunt as it would go, completely lubricating it with the sweet, sticky juices of her pussy.
"Hurry," he urged, "I can feel the big one starting to come."
She revolved the instrument around and around in her cunt and then removed it. Carefully she placed its head against his palpitating asshole. Slowly she lowered her head over his cock until about one-third of it was in her face.
Then everything happened at once.
She shoved the dildo its full length up his ass, making him groan in ecstasy and lunge upward with his hips. She drove her own head downward at the same time, impaling her face and throat with the full force and the full length of his meat.
At once great globs of cum spurted from his throbbing staff, washing her throat as they slithered down into her belly. The more she would jab his asshole with the rubber cock the more his own prick would give forth with its gushing juices.
When his streams again became a trickle, she rolled to her side and let him slowly fuck her face while she removed the dildo from his asshole and inserted it in her cunt. With the dildo, she matched his rhythms and soon felt her own series of orgasms start.
This was the part that they both enjoyed. In the mirror they could both see the huge rubber cock going in and out of her cunt just as they could see his still hard and inflamed cock surging in and out of her mouth, so far and so deep that her lips brushed his pubic hair with each and every stroke. His prick was so far in her throat that it almost approached pain. But just as the dildo pounded against her insides, it was a pain that she enjoyed.
Once again they were both on the verge of orgasm when her body was suddenly flung across the room to land in a blob of throbbing flesh against the far wall.
Her eyes opened and she looked up to see Stuart, her husband, bringing his entwined, clenched fists down, full into Steele's unprotected face.
Steele himself saw the blow coming but was unable to twist away in time. He took it full in the face and blood spurted in great gushes from his ruptured nose.
Instead of the pain hurting and blinding him, he almost seemed to enjoy it. It filled him with an animal desire to do battle. Stuart Freeling was a big man, bigger than Steele, but he couldn't match the younger man's speed and cunning.
Freeling's wife, Constance, almost enjoyed watching Steele beat her husband to a pulp. The enjoyment, however, turned to fright when she realized that Steele wasn't going to stop at the mere beating. He continued until she was sure that Stuart Freeling had to be dead.
Even though the older man was an inanimate mass of unconscious flesh beneath him, Steele continued to pound and kick the body until he made sure himself that the other man was dead.
They caught him two days later and Constance Freeling's contention that Steele had been raping her when her husband had burst in and found them went against Steele at the trial.
Because of his father's intervention, Steele managed to swing a short sentence based on self-defense when Constance Freeling's old lovers were unearthed and her statement of rape at the boy's hands was totally discredited.
Steele did his time easily as a model prisoner, during which his father drank himself to death and, in the process, lost every cent of his wealth on bad investments.
When the younger Steele got out, the first thing he did was find Constance Freeling. She was petrified and begged him to forgive her for her statements at the trial. He eased her fears and told her that all he was interested in was sex.
For a full two days and nights Steele gorged himself on the sexual joys of her body, the joys that he had dreamed about so long in those years and months behind the walls.
He loved and caressed and fucked her body as he had never done before. And when he had enough of her, he killed her. He looted the house of everything that could be converted into cash and fled.
Then he bought a gun and an expensive hand-tooled holster and started on a career that seemed to be his destiny from birth.