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#Clear A #wankwednesday Contribution

March 30, 2011

A contribution to Ruby Kiddel’s (@eroticnotebook) #WankWednesday posts.

His subject today -Caryssa Ryan – was striking, intelligent, witty and articulate. Her police file and initial psych profile showed that she had a taste for the exotic, both sexually and otherwise. The reports both stated that she openly admitted to regularly engaging in S&M, bondage, group sex and drug use, and she made no apologies for her lifestyle choices. Three-time killer Caryssa was now  an inmate of his secure unit, and she was proving to be a very interesting study.  The hardships and trials of her life had made her cynical. Bitter experience had hardened her disposition and shored up her emotional walls.  In the outside world this combination of characteristics had proven, ultimately, to make her seem very dangerous indeed. Dr. Sam Forest drummed his fingers on his note-book as he watched the woman through the window of the observation room. He had placed the three most shocking photographs of her victims on the table in the room, and was currently studying her reaction to them.

The task of reinforcing social assumptions about crimes of this nature, and correctly labeling her, had fallen to him. It was a task that he was regularly asked to perform, a task that he was not relishing right now. He had been interviewing her for three days and was under pressure to hurry with his conclusions. The date for her trial was looming, the lawyers and the D.A. were getting impatient.
So, was she a Sociopath? a Psychopath? These would be the usual labels one would traditionally attach to someone who had committed such brutal acts. Sam was not convinced that she was either of those things. In actual fact, he felt strongly that if he diagnosed her as such he would be doing her a great injustice.

Despite her resistance at being brought to him again this morning he had ordered the staff to take off her restraint jacket, and allow her the relative freedom of handcuffs instead. She placed her palms flat against the table top and studied the pictures. Her head was tilted to one side, her long red hair draped over her high cheekbones, lightly she touched each picture in turn. Her gaze lifted from the table and stared into the mirrored glass opposite, her emerald-green eyes settling to stare directly into his. It seemed for a moment as though her view of him were clear, though he knew she could not actually see him. The smile that accompanied the look sent a shiver up his spine, though it was not borne out of fear or revulsion. It was exciting, and it startled him.

Caryssa had a history of arrests for violent and brutal behaviour, this much was true, but in every case the motive had been purely sexual, and the ‘injured’ party had always turned out to be not only complicit in the act, but actually having requested it. Until now, now that she had actually taken lives, it had been impossible to prosecute her.
He looked again at his notes, reminding himself of what she had said about her three victims. Each of them had formally applied to her for her services, and paid her very handsomely indeed. Each had made specific written requests about how, and why, they wished to be ‘disposed of’ at her hand. Every one of her victims wished for, and openly requested, death. Far from portraying her as a remorseless killer, the letters from her consorts had described her as an angel of mercy, providing a unique service they could not find anywhere else. To them, and her, these were acts of euthanasia, not murder. The fact that each act incorporated a strong and extreme sexual element, made this case both morally and emotionally outrageous to society at large.

If Sam’s diagnosis declared her as sane, Caryssa would be sent to a normal prison and she would no doubt be sentenced to death. This satisfied the public’s innate need for retribution, and the restoration of social order, but it was an outcome that always left Sam feeling cold. If he declared her insane she could stay here on the unit and he could intensify his study of her, but it would be a lie. In his opinion Caryssa was not insane, nor was she a danger to society, though she was being reported in the media as a serial killer.

The lives that she had taken had been fraught with loss, illness and tragedy. One was a Cancer patient who had been given a maximum of one month to live. Another was an MS sufferer, he was wheelchair bound and had lost his wife, and only carer, some time ago. He had spent more than a year shut in his home, unable to care for himself and ignored by society until his life was taken. The third, a middle-aged woman, had attached page after page of her life story to the written request that she had sent to Caryssa. The letter contained graphic and disturbing details of abuses and assaults that she had suffered over many years and her inability to overcome the depression, neuroses and drug dependency that had occurred as a result of this. The woman’s medical records showed that she had tried to take her own life several times. The letter begged for Caryssa to help her.

“Sexual acts always require a physical spark, don’t they Sam?” she had asked him. She paused for an answer which she knew would not come. Her long slender fingers held her cigarette lightly and tendrils of grey smoke drifted lazily from her full mouth. Her voice was velvet soft. “For some this is a kiss or a touch, for others it is something visual. For me, and others like me, it is the adrenaline rush and associated pain that accompanies each physical and emotional struggle, and the life affirming nature of violent contact. It should come as no surprise to you Sam that not everyone enjoys life like I do.”

To his great annoyance and discomfort, Sam found that day that he was having a strong physical reaction to her. The same was true today. He knew from previous conversations that the physical struggle she had engaged in with the orderly’s this morning was deliberate, and had been orchestrated by her to illicit a sexual response. In essence they both knew that she was feeling horny right now. This was a fact that he found distracting, he couldn’t concentrate on objectively studying his subject. As he watched her, she gently sucked on the tip of her finger and he felt his cock stir.

He shifted awkwardly as she picked up one of the photographs and slowly brushed a hand over her breast, re-living the acts that the photograph represented. Her eyes found his again, and her gaze intensified. He felt his pulse quicken as she unbuttoned her grey, shapeless shirt and pulled off her elastic waisted, unflattering uniform. She slowly climbed up on to the table top. The body that she had revealed beneath the clothing was breathtaking. She had scars and bruising but somehow, for Sam, these only seemed to add to her allure. Sam watched, stunned, as she arranged the photographs in front of her and slowly slipped her cuffed hands down between her legs, caressing herself through the thin material of her underwear.

Deftly she pulled aside the crotch of her underwear and slid three fingers inside herself. Sam’s hand reached for his cock, almost without his acknowledgement, he stroked himself  as he watched her. She obviously knew that he was watching her through the two-way mirror. Her eyes locked on to his as though the glass between them were clear, it unnerved him slightly, but this he found exciting. She steadily, defiantly, held his gaze as her fingers slammed into her cunt over and over again, one finger rhythmically circling her clit as she did so. Sam could feel his cock straining and twitching, growing harder by the second. He locked his fingers around his balls and the base of his shaft, simulating as best he could the sensation of a cock ring – his favourite sexual aid.

He was dripping with pre come which he smeared around the tip of his cock. He gripped himself, hard, with his free hand and timed his wrist movements with hers. He pictured himself above her, fantasising that he had her tied to his bed, her legs spread painfully wide and her mouth covered to stifle the sounds of her cries as he slammed himself desperately into her and ground against her pubis. As she fucked herself, she slowly became less and less aware of her surroundings. He watched her slip into a reverie, where she was no doubt thinking, not of him, but of the three people who’s final throes were graphically depicted in front of her. Sam tried to imagine what it would be like to take someone that way. To have that level of power and control freely given to you. He shook it off, the idea of taking another life and finding pleasure in that was more than he could bear.

“Coward!” she called, and laughed, pulling his attention back to her. Those deep green eyes seemed to bore into his bones and he shuddered a little as his orgasm approached. Did she somehow know what he was thinking? or was she goading him for watching her? She had moved from the table and was now standing next to the mirror, smiling broadly. He could see her cunt and fingers clearly now, and felt himself  growing weak at the knees as he watched small drops of her cunt juice trickle over her thighs. His cock twitched and throbbed in his frantic hand until eventually he erupted. Jets of come shot from his tip and slashed onto the glass. Caryssa threw her head back and cried out as her own orgasm shook her. she steadied herself against the mirror, leaving small clear streaks of her come on the otherwise pristine glass. He grinned back at her as they both caught their breath.

Later as he wrote his report, Sam smiled to himself as,  in the space reserved for revealing his findings, he wrote the word ‘Inconclusive’

From → Uncategorized

  1. Very intense indeed – delightfully long for aWW post, and I really enjoyed the buildup

  2. I loved the intrigue of this, a very clever piece and quite compelling. Well done!

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