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You slide the file across the messy desk. “I hope you haven’t eaten lunch yet,” you say.
The man on the other side picks up the file and opens it nonchalantly. “I have a strong stomach,” he says as he flips through the gruesome photographs. A cup of coffee sits steaming near his elbow.
“Have you ID’d the victim?” he asks, not so much as wrinkling his nose. As the prosecutor helping you investigate a series of grisly murders, he must be used to seeing blood and gore by now. This is the tenth murder in the past year and a half after all.
“Nope. Her face was ruined, as you can see. No identification anywhere near the scene. The perp likes giving us a challenge I guess.”
The prosecutor, Higuruma, finishes paging through the pictures and lays the file back on his desk. It flips open to a photo that makes you struggle to keep down the muffin you had for breakfast. It should be an image of a young woman’s face, but instead it’s a skinless nightmare of blood and tendons, dark empty sockets where eyes belong.
“Cause of death this time?” Higuruma asks you, casually closing the folder.
You pull out some notes you took after talking to the medical examiner. “They believe she bled to death, but they’ll have to finish the autopsy to know for sure. He really drew it out this time, kept her alive as long as possible.”
Higuruma takes a drink of his coffee. “Any chance it’s a different perp?”
“Doubtful. It has all the usual features. Young woman tied up with rope, hanging from the ceiling in her underwear, tortured for hours, damaging the face in particular, no signs of sexual assault despite the somewhat sexual pose she was left in.”
“Yeah, sounds like our guy,” he says, standing up from his desk and looking at his watch. “It’s pretty late. Let’s lock up and head home.”
You stand up too and stretch, stifling a yawn. You were at the scene for hours earlier this evening, collecting evidence and questioning the poor bastard who discovered the body when he went to work at the factory. “Good idea. I’m exhausted,” you say.
Higuruma gives you a faint smile and holds out his mug of hot coffee. “Need some caffeine?”
You flush slightly as you take the mug from him, placing your lips on the rim and thinking about how his lips were just there.
You’ve been attracted to Higuruma from the moment you met him, two years ago when he transferred to this city. He’s a brilliant prosecutor, honest and hard working, professional and intelligent. And he’s also very handsome. Whether he’s wearing his suit perfectly styled for the courtroom or he’s sitting at his desk in a well fitting button up shirt with the sleeves rolled back and his tie loosened, he always looks good.
He hasn’t responded to your subtle attempts to flirt with him, at least not in an obvious way. Sometimes he’ll say or do something that could be interpreted as suggestive, but you’re never sure how he intended it. He’s kind and respectful to you though, and that’s enough for now.
After taking a small drink of his coffee, you hand the mug back to him. He turns it in his hand until the side you drank from is facing him, then takes another drink himself. Did he do that on purpose? Feeling just a little flustered, you gather all your files and paperwork into your bag while he turns out lights around the office.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says as he pulls on his jacket. “The killer targets women around your age. Don’t want you to end up like Little Miss Pompoms there.”
“Thanks,” you reply with a smile, walking beside him to the door. As he opens it for you and you step out into the parking garage, you decide to ask him a question. “Just out of curiosity, what would you do if the killer showed up right now and attacked?”
Higuruma steps out of the office behind you and locks the door. “I guess I’d have to fight him off. I can’t let him hurt my favorite detective.”
You laugh as the two of you walk to your car. The sound echoes eerily among the concrete pillars and empty vehicles. “I appreciate that. I could probably take him though.”
“You think so?” Higuruma asks as you approach your six year old sedan and pull your keys out of your pocket.
“Yeah. I am a police detective,” you say with a grin. “If I can’t take out some sadistic freak who has to tie young women up to kill them, it’d be pretty sad.”
Higuruma doesn’t laugh, instead he leans around you, his body brushing against yours, and opens your car door for you. “What if he snuck up behind you and knocked you out?”
he asks, not yet withdrawing, his warmth still seeping into your skin through your clothes. “What would you do if you woke up dangling from the ceiling? Would you beg for your life?”
You make no move to break the contact. “I’m not nearly charming enough to convince him to spare me, so I guess I’d be fucked.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I think you’re plenty charming,” he says as he pulls back and gives you room to climb into the driver’s seat. “He might take one look at you and decide to let you go.”
You buckle your seatbelt and start the engine. “I doubt it,” you say, feeling a little heated from this conversation. “He’s not motivated by lust. He never touches the women in a sexual way.”
Higuruma stands outside your open car door and leans in slightly. “I’ve been thinking about that. He ties them up in lewd poses but never does anything remotely sexual to them. I think he’s repressing his urges until he finds the right victim to unleash them on.”
You look up at him with concern. “That’s a terrifying thought. Thanks for the nightmare fuel.”
He laughs as he closes the door for you and says, “See you tomorrow!” through the glass window, then walks off toward his own car.
You spend the drive home trying to focus on the road, but your mind keeps replaying that last interaction. That was the most flirtatious he’s ever been with you, and you can still feel the press of his body against yours. Feeling like a silly school girl with a crush, you make it home and go to bed.
It takes three days to identify the most recent victim. Someone reported a student from the local college missing and she fit the description. DNA testing confirmed it, and now you’re stuck with the unenviable job of interviewing the mourning friends and family.
At first, it’s all standard stuff you always ask. Did she have a boyfriend or any exes who might want to hurt her? Did she have any enemies? How was her relationship with her family? Even though you’re sure this was the work of a serial killer and not personal, you always have to cover all the bases.
But one of the first people you talk to, a close friend and classmate, drops a tidbit that grabs your attention.
“She was so excited for the competition next week. I can’t believe she won’t be there,” the young woman says, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“What competition?” you ask, sitting across a small table from her.
“The cheerleading competition,” the girl replies, as if you should have already known. “We finally made it to the state tournament and this happens.”
“I’m sorry,” you tell her, trying to remember if your college had cheerleaders. You’ve always thought of cheerleading as a high school thing, but you suppose if they have college sports, they could have college cheerleaders.
Something else is nagging at the back of your mind, something that feels very off, very suddenly. You finish up the interview and go to take a break, grabbing a cup of coffee as you do. You’re two sips in before you realize what’s bothering you.
Higuruma called the victim “Little Miss Pompoms”. Three days before you identified her. So how the hell did he know she was a cheerleader? There was nothing at the scene to indicate that, nothing about the victim’s butchered body that even hinted at it.
A possibility creeps into your mind, one so terrible that your immediate reaction is to try to deny it. There’s no way Higuruma is the killer! He’s a prosecutor, and a damn good one! You know him! He’s kind and courteous and works late with you to keep you company and always walks you to your car. He buys you sodas from the machine outside his office and he got drunk at the annual Christmas party and sang Jingle Bells to you and once he accidentally knocked over a huge stack of files and just sat there for a full minute staring at the mess before comically sighing and getting on his knees to pick them up.
Your brain simply can’t process the possibility that the man you admire so much, that you’ve been slowly falling for, could be a ruthless murderer. There has to be some other explanation.
Later in the afternoon, as soon as you get a moment to spare, you head to your private office and fire up your computer. After connecting to the internet, you decide to do a little digging into Higuruma’s background.
Of course he would have been checked before getting his job, but what if he committed a crime as a minor? There would probably be no record involving his name. You remember that one night while working late he mentioned the name of the town he grew up in. It was such an offhand comment in the midst of the conversation that no one would remember it. No one who didn’t have a crush on him, that is.
So you do a search for his hometown’s name combined with keywords like “juvenile crime”, “minor offender”, and “torture”.
Right away you get several interesting results, so you spend the next half hour combing through news articles. Finally you find something that makes your blood turn cold.
It’s an article about an unnamed twelve year old boy who was sent to a juvenile detention facility after neighbors discovered an “animal torture chamber” in his family’s basement. The article details how the terrible smell led people to insist on going in and checking while the boy’s parents were away on business. They found several dead animals tied up with rope. The poor creatures had been tortured in horrific ways.
Your heart sinks. The age of the boy lines up perfectly with how old Higuruma would have been at the time. It’s not concrete evidence, but it’s far too much to be a mere coincidence. Combined with the pompom comment, there’s no doubt left in your mind.
With a sigh of defeat, you turn the power off on the computer. Just as you do, the reflection of yourself and the room behind you appears in the darkened monitor. That’s when you see Higuruma standing behind you.
You start to jump up from your chair, but before you can, you feel something sharp press into your side and then a sound you’re familiar with. A taser. Immense pain shoots through your body, and seconds later, you black out.
When you wake up, your vision is blurry, and your whole body is sore and stiff. Your addled brain is trying to remember where you are, why your arms hurt so much, why you can’t move. Have you been in an accident?
Suddenly you remember Higuruma, being tased, and you realize you’re in trouble. As your vision clears, you understand why you can’t move. You’re tied up with thin rope in elaborate knots, your arms above your head, your legs spread wide apart with your knees bent up toward your chest. You’re in nothing but your underwear, plain cotton panties and sports bra, and you’re suspended in the air, hanging from the ceiling.
You try to turn your head and look at your surroundings, your still foggy brain coping with terror by going into detective mode.
This looks like a basement of some kind, too big to be under a a house. Perhaps an apartment building? It’s dimly lit except for a bright fluorescent light hanging somewhere above you, acting almost as a spotlight. You hear the distant hum of some kind of machinery, maybe an air conditioning unit or hot water pump. There’s a slightly damp, musty smell to the air, reminding you of a laundromat.
Your eyes dart around frantically, searching for the one person you know must be here. You can’t see behind you, so you settle into the assumption that he’s there, silently watching you. The thought of it chills you to your core.
A serial killer known for torturing and brutally murdering his victims has you tied up and helpless, and he’s standing right behind you in the darkness.
You take a few deep breaths and will yourself to calm down. You’re a detective! You’re a professional! You should be ecstatic that you figured out his identity and solved the case, and now have an opportunity to bring him to justice.
As you slowly pry at a knot with your fingers, you hold your head as high as possible and say, “Higuruma? You’re here, aren’t you?”
For a moment, only silence answers you, then you hear footsteps, dress shoes on concrete, making their way around your left side.
He steps in front of you, into the harsh lighting from above, wearing his usual expression. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the buttons at his collar undone. “That’s always been the problem with you, detective,” he says. “You’re just too damn smart.”
Okay. Don’t panic. Keep him talking. If he’s talking, he’s not torturing you, and there’s a chance you can somehow get out of this mess. You’ve known him, worked very closely with him, for two years. Use that to your advantage!
“Where are we?” you ask, as calmly as possible, trying not to think about the embarrassing pose you’re in, or the fact that you’re only in your underwear. Figures. The guy you have the hots for finally sees you undressed and you’re wearing your most basic set.
He gives you a flat stare. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to tell you?”
“Well, you were stupid enough to call the vic ‘Little Miss Pompoms’ before we ID’d her as a cheerleader, so it was worth a shot,” you say.
A smile cracks his serious expression. “I knew it. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d screwed up. That’s why I had to watch you carefully. When I saw what you were looking up on your computer, I knew the cat was out of the bag.”
“So this wasn’t planned?” you ask, your fingers still working at the knot.
He shakes his head. “Not at all. You might not believe me, but I never had any intention of hurting you. If you hadn’t figured it out, none of this would be happening.”
You force a smile. “Why? Did you get attached to me after all this time?”
His eyes travel not so subtly over your body. “You could say that.” He suddenly turns and walks toward a corner in the darkness, then comes back wheeling a small metal cart. Your heart nearly freezes when you see the tray full of sharp, dangerous looking tools. He picks up one, something that looks like pliers, and holds it casually.
“The truth is, I like you,” he says, stepping closer. “I like you a lot.”
You feel yourself flushing under his gaze. Damn it! Don’t get worked up over a serial killer! You squirm a bit in the ropes, testing your range of motion. You have a tiny bit of wiggle room, but that’s it. “Thanks, I’m flattered,” you tell him.
He looks at you expectantly for a moment, then sighs. “Well? Since we’re being honest with each other, don’t you have something to tell me?”
You look away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He takes another step closer, completely closing the distance between the two of you. “Really?” he asks, gently dragging the pliers along your thigh. “You don’t want to tell me that you’ve wanted me since the day we met? That you would’ve let me fuck you that first night if I’d asked?”
You glare at him. “That’s not true!”
He slides the pliers over your panties, right across your pussy. “You can deny it all you like, but you were probably wet for me every time we worked together,” he says. “Actually, judging by the damp spot on your panties, you’re wet for me even now.”
You try to jerk back away from him, away from the cold metal pliers, but it’s no use. “Fuck you, Higuruma!”
He grins. “I know you want to.”
Your face burns. So much for keeping your composure. You can only frown at him as he places the pliers back on the tray and picks up a large pair of scissors.
“I guess I should have done this from the beginning,” he says as he uses the scissors to cut through the front of your bra, right between your breasts. The fabric falls back to the sides, exposing your tits to the chilly, dank air.
You look at him in shock. “Hey… what the hell are you doing?!” you yell, squirming around in the ropes. “You never do this to your victims!”
His eyes are fixed on your chest as you pant and struggle. “I already told you. I’ve been waiting for the right victim,” he says, tugging at the side of your cotton panties and sliding one of the scissor blades beneath it.
“You’re saying it’s me?!” you scream, trying unsuccessfully to wiggle away from the scissors. “Bullshit! If you were attracted to me, why didn’t you make a move in two years?!”
Snip!
Snip!
In two cuts, your panties completely fall away, leaving you bare and spread open for him to see.
He’s staring right at your pussy, the scissors dropped back on the tray. “I couldn’t risk it. If I started something with you, it would only be a matter of time before you figured out I’m the killer. I said it before, right? The problem with you is that you’re too smart. So I held back.”
You turn your face away, mortified.
He steps closer again, and you feel his hand on your arm that’s tied above your head. His fingers slide down the underside of it, down the side of one heaving breast. “You have no idea how many nights I spent jacking off to the thought of you strung up like this for me, how many times I imagined using all my tools on your helpless body before fucking your brains out.”
You look back at him with glassy eyes. In almost a whisper, you say, “I thought you didn’t want to hurt me.”
He holds your gaze silently for a few moments before he speaks again. “I don’t. Not now. For the past year my fantasies go straight to the fucking you part.”
You’re not sure how you feel about that. Relieved that he doesn’t want to torture you? Maybe. But your body is betraying you, reacting to his words, to his closeness, to his heated gaze and his fingers softly trailing over your skin. They’re gliding over your hips now, moving around to your tied up thighs, inching closer to the quivering spot between them.
Oh god, you still want him. Even after finding out what he’s done, even after what he’s doing to you now. Even though he’s definitely going to kill you. You can’t just turn your feelings off like a light switch.
Maybe he notices the lusty look in your eyes, or the fact that you’re no longer trying to pull away from his touch. Either way, he moves his hand down slowly until his fingertips graze over your slick pussy. It’s a touch you’ve craved for two years, and you find yourself arching into it by reflex.
A small grin appears on his face, and then his fingers part your flesh and lightly rub your clit. You choke back a moan, your head falling back slightly as your eyes close.
It feels so incredible, the soft, slow stroking of his fingers. Your breaths quicken, your heart pounds, and your bound body automatically tries to grind against his hand.
Two fingers move down and slide inside you while his thumb continues working at your clit, making you gasp. You feel the pleasure building in your core, ready to snap. You’re close, so close as his hand keeps moving. Just as it feels like you’re about to fall over the edge, he suddenly stops, withdrawing his hand.
You whine in protest, your tense body now slumping in the ropes. Higuruma laughs. “Frustrated?” he asks. “I guess you’ve given up pretending not to want this.”
“I don’t!” you shout, a little too quickly. “Just… finish what you started.”
He places one hand on your thigh. “Don’t be hasty. We have all night.”
Maybe not, you think to yourself. You’ve untied one knot while he was distracted, and are working on the second one. Two more after that and your hands will be free.
Higuruma steps back a bit and slowly unbuttons his shirt, watching your reaction as his surprisingly toned body is revealed.
Oh shit. He’s got abs. And a happy trail. You’re not going to be able to resist him, if you ever had a chance to begin with. You avert your eyes, trying to fight the magnetism of his handsome form.
He knows what you’re doing, what effect he’s having on you. His expression turns mildly smug as opens his pants, immediately drawing your eye again. Higuruma isn’t the tallest guy around, so you expected his dick to be pretty average.
You were wrong.
He’s absolutely hung, and he regards your shocked face with a look of satisfaction. He’s already hard and ready, and your pussy drips in anticipation. When he closes the distance again and rubs the hot tip of his cock up and down your sticky slit, you shiver with excitement. Your mind is screaming for him to just put it in already, but you clamp your mouth shut. You don’t trust yourself not to moan like a whore.
He doesn’t put it in. Instead he keeps rubbing his tip between your folds, against your clit, smearing his precum all over it. You whimper, tugging at the ropes, trying to will yourself to keep working on the knot. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than the scalding hot pleasure between your legs.
Again, you feel yourself getting close to the precipice, your body trembling as it tenses up. “Please… Higuruma…” you whine, trying to grind your hips forward, “put it in!”
You know you should let him draw this out as long as possible, that him taking his time is your only shot at escaping, but fuck! You want him inside you so bad you think you might explode if he doesn’t shove his cock all the way inside you right now!
To your credit, you never stop working at the knots, now finally finishing the second one and moving down to the third. He hasn’t noticed yet, probably because your soaking wet pussy has his undivided attention.
His breathing is getting faster as he keeps sliding his tip through your silky, puffy lips. It keeps hitting your clit at just the right angle to make whole body shake. And just when you feel like your climax is inevitable… he stops. He pulls away again, nearly panting as he stares at you.
You groan in frustration. “God, just grab the pliers and torture me! I can’t take this!”
He laughs, reaching out with one hand to gently rub the top of your head. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”
You narrow your eyes. “You’re not adorable at all.”
“Perjury isn’t a good look, Detective,” he says with a smile.
Your fingers are making excellent progress on the third knot, but will you be able to untie it and the last one before he’s done with you? Because you know he’ll kill you as soon as he’s finished fucking you.
You’ll have to risk it. You can’t wait any longer. Your body is aching for his cock, desperate for him to pump you full of his cum. You arch your back as much as you can in the ropes and look him in the eyes. “Higuruma…I’m begging you… please fuck me!”
His eyes widen. Whatever resistance he had, whatever plans he’s concocted to stretch this out all night, all of it just flew out the window.
Higuruma moves close again, lines up his meaty cock with your drenched hole, and rams himself all the way in. You suck in air through your teeth, your fingers momentarily halting to clutch the rope as your body spasms. Oh fuck he’s big.
He fucks into you with slow, deep, deliberate motions, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it drags out and then back in again. You finally let a full, throaty moan escape your lips, your pussy clenching him tightly.
Somewhere in the fog of pleasure, you manage to untie the third knot and move quickly to the last one. You’re not sure you can keep your focus though, not when he’s thrusting into you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady in the ropes.
The way his pubic bone shoves against your clit every time he buries himself in your cunt is making you dizzy, making your legs tremble. You’re so wound up, you could snap at any moment. Your body is desperate to cum after so many close calls, and you can tell Higuruma is close too. His cock is throbbing inside you, ready to release his load.
Focus! You have to have the knot ready to pull apart right after he cums, when he’ll be distracted and weakened. But suddenly his thumb is rubbing your clit again, keeping a rhythm with his thrusts, and your mind nearly goes blank.
You fight to regain your faculties, your fingers hurrying their work. You’ll only get one chance at this!
He pushes in deep enough to make you see stars, and that’s it. You’ve hit the limit of what you can withstand. Your pussy clamps down on him as your orgasm finally rips through you, making you cry out in pleasure.
Higuruma doesn’t pull back out, not even to thrust back in. He just stays buried to the hilt, seeming to enjoy the feeling of your clenching, climaxing pussy. You feel his cock twitch, and then he groans as he cums, shooting every drop inside you.
At that same moment, you finish untying the last knot at your hands. The rope snaps free, your arms fall down, and you’re caught by the ropes around your legs. Higuruma barely has time to react before you clasp your hands firmly together and use them like a cudgel to hit the side of his head, knocking him to the floor.
You quickly untie the knots at your knees, making quick work of them with your hands free to use as you please. Once they’re untied, your body weight snaps the remaining thin ropes, dropping you to the floor on your feet.
Not even bothering to find something to cover up with, you prioritize escaping. You know who the killer is now, and once you report it, the authorities will track him down.
Naked and with partially numb legs, you run down a short, dark hallway and then up a set of concrete steps. You tear open the metal door at the top and find yourself outside an apartment building. It’s night time, and luckily there are no people around to see the state you’re in.
You’ll need a vehicle, some clothes, and…
Wait. Why is your car parked right on the curb, just a few yards away? You rush over to it and throw open the driver’s side door. There, in a near stack in the seat, is a set of clothes. The keys are already in the ignition.
Why?
You look back toward the apartment building, and your breath catches in your throat. Higuruma is standing in the doorway you just escaped through. He’s not coming toward you, he’s just standing there. He smiles, gives you a wave, and then goes back inside.
You realize what this means immediately. He planned for you to escape all along. He probably left the knots loose and drew out the encounter on purpose, all to give you a chance to get away.
As you pull on your clothes and climb into the car, your heart is pounding. Looks like he couldn’t bear to hurt you after all. But no matter what happened between you, no matter how you feel about each other, he’s still a killer. You still have to report this. He must be aware of this, and is probably cleaning up evidence and erasing his tracks right at this moment.
You cast one more glance back before driving away, knowing you’ll probably never see him again. And if you do… he might not let you escape next time.
Liana (Guest) Tue 30 Dec 2025 08:49PM UTC
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