1 Name: Polaris : 2009-12-25 00:48 [Del]
It's been 8 years since I've written a new Christmas story, and up until a little while ago, I figured this year would be no different. However, since it's the 10th anniversary of when I first wrote Rita's Christmas Gift, I figured I should at least write something. I didn't manage to complete the entire thing it in time, as it will be fairly large (possibly twice as long as Rita II when all is said and done) but for now, here is the first segment.
Rita's Christmas III
by Polaris
"It has been 10 years since the abduction of little Cindy Lahew," reported the T.V. newswoman. "Cindy, who would have been 15 today, was snatched from the Greenville mall on Christmas Eve, and her body was found by an abandoned house the following spring. Since then, 24 other local children have gone missing over the past decade. Some of their bodies found, while the whereabouts of others are still a mystery..."
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December 24th, 2009
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It had been just after midnight when Rita broke into the house. It was the perfect target for the now 27-year-old redhead, for she had learned there was no security system, no guard dog, and even the telephone service had been cut off. The strongest defense this little household had was in that of the single mother; a mother who now laid dead at Rita's feet. The goldhearted, maternally-dedicated woman never saw it coming, and much to Rita's lament, would also not see what was soon to come to her precious children. However, the self-motivated murderess's spirits were anything but demoralized as she anxiously began her exploration of the abode.
Rita crept quietly down the hallway and slipped into the first door she came to. The moonlight that shone through the windows provided the room's only illumination, and the only detectable sound present, was the whistling howl of the winter wind. In the center, was a 7 month old baby girl, wearing nothing but a diaper, fast asleep in her crib. Suspended directly above her was a mobile, which had the name "Lilyan" inscribed on it. The redheaded woman stepped forward to take a closer look.
"Hi there, sweetie. Gosh, you're so little! Were you really sent down from God's hands, only to be quickly thrust deep into Hell's unforgiving clutches? I guess we're going to find out, aren't we!" she said with a grin.
*skrrtch*
Rita undid the velcro on the diaper, slid it away from the infant's legs, and tossed it on the floor. The infant stirred and awoke with a coo. Not hesitating for a moment, Rita reached into her pocket and pulled out some twine. She then lifted both of the infant's feet and pushed them back above her head, where she proceeded to tie them to the wooden bars of the crib, causing the baby's coos to quickly turn to cries.
Rita laughed at the sight of the baby girl's rump suspended outward above the mattress and her weak, but frantic, struggles to do something about it. The woman then forcefully inserted the middle finger of her right hand into Lilyan's tight asshole; not giving even a shred of concern to the infant's discomfort. The baby shrieked in pain as the determined digit borrowed through.
Like a child playing with a brand new toy instrument, Rita thrust her finger in and out with sporadic pacing, in order to procure more sounds of despair from the bound infant's lips. In the spirit of the holiday, scrunching the toes nestled within her boots with devilish glee, she even tried to get the sharp shrieks and screams to sync up with the tempo of "Jingle Bells". It didn't work out as well as she'd hoped, but it was still fun to try either way.
"Hehe! What's the matter Lilyan? I can't for the life of me figure out why you're crying so much," she said in a patronizing tone, as she continued to thrust her digit. "Could it be that you're hungry? Let me go see if I can find something that will put an end to those cries," she added, with a chortle.
Rita slowly pulled her finger out, making sure to scrape the inner walls of the baby's anus while doing so, and then headed out of the room and into the kitchen. She began opening the various cupboards around the room until she found the baby bottles. She took one, and pilfered a carton of milk from the fridge. Rita paused for a moment to look at the photograph missing kid on the side of the carton. It was a six-year-old girl with short hair named Kayla.
"Hmmm, you don't look familiar. Some other lucky girl must be having fun with you right now," she said with a laugh.
Rita filled the glass baby bottle up with milk and then placed it into the microwave, where she set the timer for 8 minutes. She patiently watched the seconds on the timer count down to zero, and then opened the microwave door. The steam that was rolling off of the glass bottle was so excessive that Rita decided to slip on a nearby oven mitt, just to be safe.
"I hope someone's hungry," Rita said playfully as she returned to the infant's bedroom. Baby Lilyan continued to cry; her body still in the very same 7-shaped contortion that the woman had left her in. Rita clenched her sphincter and ass muscles in unison as the reality of her willful wickedness washed over her. She knew deep in her heart that no human being should ever have to go through what little Lilyan was about to, and this knowledge couldn't have been more beautiful to her.
Clutching the open baby bottle as firmly as could be in her mitt, Rita slowly tilted her hand and let the first few droplets of scalding milk fall out.
"GAAAAAAHGHAGHAGAHAAAA!!!" the baby howled as the milk made contact with her thigh.
Rita grinned from ear to ear, already exhilarated at the gratuitous power she had over her irrefutably innocent victim. She reached over to gently pull the infant's left hand outward and splashed some more of the boiling liquid onto her smooth bare arm.
"Oops! How clumsy of me," she exclaimed with the falsest of sincerity as steam sizzled out from the baby's delicate limb. "Let's try that again."
Rita moved her gaze towards Lilyan's ass once more, taking a moment to check out the impressive blistering that was already forming on her thigh. She then, with her free hand, pulled a pair of scissors out from her coat pocket, carefully pressed the metal tip into the baby's slit, and slowly opened the instrument to pry her puffy cunt lips wide apart. She was a bit more generous this time; pouring at least 1/3 of the bottle's scalding milk into the tiny, pink birth canal.
"GAAAAAAAHAHAHAGHAGHAAAAAGAHHA!!" the child screamed in agony.
Rita was quickly getting hot hearing those intense cries and watching that tender baby flesh start to blister and bubble; and she was responsible for all of it. Quickly, the 27-year-old set the bottle down, unbuttoned the fly of her jeans and yanked them down to her knees. She then gripped the corner bar of the crib tightly with both hands and began grinding her pussy up and down on it.
"Yes! Burn little baby!" she cried with lust as she humped her bare crotch into the stiff wooden corner. She could only imagine what Lilyan's precious insides felt like right now (and of course, was equally thankful that it was she who was limited to only "imagining" it). She grabbed the baby bottle once more and poured the remaining contents all over the infant's screaming face. "Ugh! Cry out for mommy! Cry out for Santa! Anyone you can possibly think of! Mmmmm, none of them can help you! Not one!"
The crib shook as the woman continued to pound her cunt into the rod, pumping her naked hips over and over.
"Oh FUCK!" screamed Rita as she shamelessly climaxed on the pole of the crib; coating it with copious amounts of pussy juice, as well as a few red pubic stragglers. However, it was absurd to assume that Rita intended on settling for just one orgasm this night, and she was determined to start building up the next one as quickly as possible.
Her eyes glued to baby Lilyan's now-disfigured face, Rita grabbed the infant's hand and began pushing each of her tiny fingers back with her thumb until they snapped. No matter what the age, she just loved breaking those little digits! She then followed up by swiftly and sadistically twisting the damaged fingers around, before grabbing the pair of scissors and snipping them off completely.
Rita's juices were running down her thighs once more. She snipped the twine that bound Lilyan's legs, setting them free. She then yanked the infant from the crib and propped it up on the edge of the bars. Holding on to both arms with an underhand grip, the woman pressed her face between the baby's legs and gave the scalded pussy a few licks before pushing her jaw inside as far as she could force it, while her upper teeth scraped across the puffy mound.
Rita squeezed the arms trapped between her fists with great anticipation and chomped down as hard as her jaw muscles would allow. Much to her delight, she was able to get another powerful, horrific scream out of the child. Blood gushed out onto her cheeks on both sides as she relentlessly ground her molars into the flesh. Then, filled with adrenaline, Rita snapped her head back; with a large mutilated chunk of the baby's pussy snatched between her teeth. The taste of Lilyan's blood increased her frenzy even further. She plunged her hand into the giant wound she had created and began viciously squeezing every internal organ she could grasp. The dying infant had almost as much blood spurting from her mouth as Rita, who didn't even have to touch her own pussy this time. Cum exploded out from between her legs, soaking the jeans which had since fallen down around her ankles.
* * *
Rita slumped to the ground for a few moments, her back propped against the crib, and basked in the afterglow of her orgasm. She then got back on her feet, pulled up her jeans, and rewarded her body's efforts with a nice, wide stretch. The night was still young, after all.
With every brutal murder Rita committed, so did grow her own awe-inspiring enthusiasm for herself. She savored the delicious irony that she had so wrongfully robbed so many innocent children of their lives, while someone as evil as she continued to live on. To kill and fuck again and again. An opportunity given to her solely because she had been spared the same horrible, nigh-unthinkable fate in her own life. Do onto others, the very things you are so grateful never happened to you. She reveled in this philosophy, and did so with genuine pride.
Rita exited the room just as a young voice called out beside her.
"Who are you?"
The murderess turned around to see a little 4 year old girl in her nightgown, shyly hiding half of her body and face behind the edge of her bedroom door.
To be continued...
