No for an answer, p.1
No For An Answer, page 1
No For An Answer
C.J Riggs
Copyright © 2024 C.J Riggs
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: C.J Riggs
For all the women who are desperate for revenge,
but wouldn't last a day in jail.
Let Ashley be your guide.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Disclaimer
Playlist
The Shadow
Ashley
Ashley
Nathan
Ashley
Ashley
The Shadow
Nathan
Diary entry, Maisy
Ashley
Ashley
Ashley
The Shadow
Nathan
Ashley
Diary entry, Maisy
Ashley
Ashley
Ashley
Diary entry, Maisy
Epilogue
Acknowledgements.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Disclaimer
Please be aware this book contains many dark themes and subjects that may be uncomfortable/unsuitable for some readers. This book is a dark, erotic horror novella, and contains heavy themes throughout. This book and it’s contents are entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarities to names, characters, places, events, incidents, or real people are entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.
This book contains subjects such as, dub/con, graphic depictions of murder, torture, and violence, as well as sexually explicit scenes that are intended for an older audience. Below is a full list of triggers and reader discretion is advised. If you find any of these topics distressing, please proceed with caution and maybe consider choosing a different book.
This story popped into my head whilst shovelling cat shit from the litter tray, and I think that my brain might just be broken.
Your mental health matters.
Trigger Warnings And Kinks Include:
Somnophilia, Necrophilia, Blood play, Knife Play, Dub/Con,
Sexual Assault, Rape, Death, Decapitation, Non/Con
Vomit, Kidnapping, Drugging, Skull Fucking,
Paraphilia, Suicide, Attempted Suicide,
Breath Play, Stalking, Murder, Revenge, Forced Orgasm, Grief and Loss related to suicide,
Dismemberment, Castration, Blood, and Gore,
Trauma, Torture, Impact Play, Cum play,
Spitting, Choking, Anal, Degradation,
Marking, Biting, Praise, Mental Illness, Mental Break,
Intitutionalization, Hallucinations, Not HEA.
Again, I will repeat, your mental health matters!
However, if you like the idea of a psychotic nineteen-year-old
seeking revenge, then this book is definitely for you.
Playlist
Slow Down- Chase Atlantic
Fallout- Sleep Theory
Huggin & Kissin- Big Black Delta
Can You Feel My Heart- Bring Me The Horizon
Take Me First- Bad Omens
Sugar- Sleep Token
Daisy- Sorry X
Tipsy- J Kwon
Gun In My Hand- Dorothy
Lion Saint Mesa
Breaking The Habit- Broken View
You’re Gonna Get What’s Coming- Allergy & VG Lucas
Looking Glass- Slowave
Not All Men- Morgan St Jean
Rest In Peace- Dorothy
The Shadow
Snap! Silence.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I lean back on my heels. Letting out a heavy sigh as I drop my head back and close my eyes. The sound of her neck snapping in my grasp, makes me feel complete. That took a lot longer than I initially anticipated. Mainly because I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Stacy Cartwright was a fucking nutcase. The moment I mentioned for her to ‘Run’ through the woods, the bitch got a smile on her face and excitedly took off.
These girls aren’t like they used to be. The more dark romance that’s getting flooded into the media is causing them to become fucking insane. It’s a fucking pandemic. She ran for about five minutes and then said she “Got bored of waiting.” She barely even put up a fight. She accidentally tripped three feet into the brush. It’s like she wanted to die. Ok, nobody wants to die but come on.
That was just ridiculous. Nothing like my last kill. Nothing like Melanie. She was perfect and more than happy to suck my cock before I ended her life. So when I did eventually kill her, I had to take her throat with me and yes, I mean the entire thing. Oesophageal mass and all. They copped that one up to someone else because it didn’t fit my usual MO. Which is a shame because I was really proud of her.
I mean, I’d only had my cock shoved down the back of her throat five minutes ago and with that little thing called ‘Epithelials,’ there was no way I could let that one slide. I just couldn’t take a chance that some jobsworth cunt from the pathology department would have a penchant for thorough work and check every orifice twice.
I couldn’t allow myself to be caught over something as basic as a blowjob. I’m not in any database but y’know, I was just being cautious. She’s definitely in my top five for screamers too. Boy did she have a set of pipes on her.
At one point I thought I was about to jack off to her corpse, but no, I’m not that sick. That’s for the psychos of the world. Anyway, back to Stacy. I’ve watched Stacy for weeks. Waiting for her to realise she was being watched. Waiting for that surge of panic to come from her, but there was nothing. So I had to integrate myself into her life instead. Which I really hate doing.
I had to go with the old ‘I’m married, so this needs to be kept a secret’ rouse. One thing I will say though, is I never fuck my victims before or after they’re dead. It’s just too risky. If I’m being totally open about it, I just don’t like the idea of sex at all. At one point, I thought there was something wrong with me, like I was broken or some shit, but my therapist told me I’m Asexual.
That I only get sexually aroused when there is a connection. Which probably explains why I only get a massive hard on every single time I murder one of my girls. I dunno. I’m a random person she met in a bar, and she just left with me. Like it was nothing. I even made an effort to be interested in her. No woman has ever kept me engaged in conversation enough to keep me in the room.
I usually disassociate entirely, but I’ve mastered the art of making women think I’m interested. When I asked her if she wanted to try something fun in the woods she said yes before I even finished the question. Maybe Emo girls aren’t my thing. Maybe I should stick to the innocent ones. Haven’t had one of them in a long time.
I must put that on my to do list, so I don’t forget. There wasn’t even a flicker of apprehension when I pulled the mask and knife from my duffle bag. If I ever have children, I pray they’re not as stupid as her. Because Jesus Christ.
As ridiculously unsatisfying as it was, at least she put up a little fight towards the end, when she realised I wasn’t actually playing games. Usually, I stab the girls through the heart and make light work of removing it. Leaving it in a plastic Tupperware container by their head for someone to find.
I like to leave them visible in areas I know hikers frequent. That way at least their families aren’t worried about them for too long. It’s like ‘oops daughters missing,’ nope just dead. Funeral. Grieving process. Done.
Yet, she was wriggling so much I didn’t have time to grab my knife and I like to work while they’re still alive. That way we both get to share the experience of their untimely death before the inevitably pass through blood loss.
“Fuck’s sake.” Looking back down at her lifeless body beneath me, her eyes still wide in fear. I lean forward and poke her tongue back into her mouth and shiver. “Eurgh, nasty.” Pressing her jaw up before rigor sets in. Nobody wants to die with their tongue poking out. This is usually the point where most people like me would fuck the corpse or rearrange it. I, however, don’t have time.
She’s also not worth the effort either. I’ll just leave her here for the sweet old lady in the house to find. And by sweet, I mean cunt. This decrepit bitch cut me up on the freeway earlier in the day. So I followed her only to find out she lived in the middle of nowhere. I’m straddling the limp body of Stacy in the old crone’s back yard. I have to stifle a laugh because hopefully when she finds her, she’ll have a heart attack and I‘ll kill two birds with one very small stone.
Usually that would fill me with some kind of rush, but tonight, nothing. What gives? Not even the vacant stare of Stacy’s greying eyes is making my cock jump. Am I finally getting over this? Am I finally cured? The death rattle comes from her body and my cock jumps to attention. “Oh thank god.” I drop to all fours in front of her and suck in a deep breath. “Welp, I need to go home for a wank.”
You can wank over me darling.
Hmm no Stacy I’m fine.
Is it something I did?
No, no it’s not you it’s me. I groan, dropping my head, careful not to touch hers because y’know, evidence. I might be brave enough to leave them in places that anyone could walk by and see but that’s because I love the thrill of the moment. Like when people fuck outside or cheat, the fear of getting caught sometimes outweighs the actual act itself.
I snatch the necklace from her throat and jump to my feet. Pulling my sleeve back from my wrist I check the time.
“Shit!” I’m fucking late. I hate being late. I click my tongue and wink down at the body of the worst foreplay I’ve ever had and take off running.
Time to find the next one. Someone who’s going to put up a fight this time.
Ashley
Why am I sitting here? Why on earth did I decide to park my fat ass on this stool, inside this bar, and allow this asshole to speak to me? His name is Clive. Yes, I know. Not exactly the sexiest name on the planet but I’m desperate. I saw him on Link and decided that swiping right might be a good idea. Yet, as I sit here, I realise that his pictures really doesn’t do him any justice, because he is actually quite handsome.
His personality, however, gives off ‘Where’s the clit?’ Or ‘Is it in yet?’ I internally groan because this really isn’t how I imagined spending my final night of freedom before I travel the final six miles with my mother to the town of ‘Who gives a shit’ to start my Sophomore year.
“Jamie?”
“Hmm?” I respond. I gave him a fake name. I’m here for something specific and it's not him.
“I said your name like five times, babe.”
Because it’s not my name dickwad. And babe? So gross.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day for me. A lot of traveling.” I smile sweetly. It’s surprising how lying has become such an easy thing for me now. Flowing out my mouth like air. Reaching over and brushing my fingers up his arm. I know this bible basher doesn’t intend on fucking me. It’s all just a rouse. But preacher boy here looks like he’s about to come in his pants any second. Plus, the hard on he’s sporting in his khaki slacks proves to me that the gimp doesn’t get touched by a woman very often. His priest… maybe.
“I think I should go.” he says, nervously pulling his hand back.
You have got to be kidding me? That easy?
Please do because I am bored out of my ass. I’ve been sat here for over an hour now, listening to him drone on about Jesus and how he saves and all the usual bullshit. I don’t even think he’s wet his wick yet. Twenty-five and already married to the church.
“Why don’t you come by the church tomorrow before you leave.”
Oh here we go again. The more I listen, the more I understand Judas.
He smiles as he puts the glass -that was once filled with a god damn cranberry juice- down on the table.
“Yeah, hard pass. I came here to get fucked tonight, Clive,” I straighten myself. “Not to join a cult. So, thanks but no thanks.” I shot the rest of my tequila and sit back in the chair. His jaw is hanging open now. I flick my hand in the air at him. “You’re free to go God botherer.”
“Jesus, Jamie.”
“Eat my ass, Clive.” I’m so bored of this right now. He steps back in shock.
“Sex out of wedlock is a sin.” He points at me.
“And so are those fucking sandals you’re wearing.” He’s looking at me now like I’ve grown a second head. Turning on his heel, he hurriedly walks away from me.
“I also don’t think you’re God would appreciate you being on Link either.” I call after him. Laughing to myself as he practically runs the last few steps out of the bar.
I stand up and make my way over to the bar to pay my tab. I’m praying I won’t make it that far. I didn’t waste all my time here just to have this fail. I lean over the counter and signal for the bartender. He raises a finger at me from the other end of the bar and smiles.
“Bad night?”
Bingo.
I turn to the left and lock eyes with the man beside me. His Emerald green eyes are framed with long dark lashes that women everywhere would kill for and a jawline that could cut glass. His thick, black hair is styled short around the back and sides, with a little length on top that sits perfectly pushed back from his face.
“You have no idea,” I huff. The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk as my eyes home in on his mouth. “You?”
“You could say that.”
“Wife?”
“Single.” He turns his body to face me slightly and it’s then that I realise just how broad this man is. His muscular physique presses through the black shirt that clings to every curve of muscle on his arms and chest. Am I drooling? I feel like I’m drooling.
Focus Ashley.
“You?” He lifts his chin slightly.
“Very much so.” I watch as his eyes flick to my lips then back up to meet my eyes and if I wasn’t paying attention, I’d have missed the action entirely it was so quick.
“You plan on leaving?” He takes a sip of what I’m assuming is whisky. Leaning one elbow on the bar.
“Why you want to buy me a drink?” I chuckle.
“How old are you?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Old enough,” I shrug.
“You ready to pay darlin’?” the bartender asks from beside me. I don’t, for a second break eye contact with him.
Buy me a drink.
“She’ll have the same as what she’s been drinking all night and I’ll have a refill of Johnny blue please.” He replies, not breaking eye contact for a single second. This man exudes confidence. He leans forward, pulling the seat out from the bar.
“Sit.” He commands with a commandeering smirk, nodding his head towards the chair. I walk the short distance around the chair and hoist myself up. Crossing my bare legs between his widened ones.
“I’m Nathan.”
I know.
I hold out my hand and he grasps it gently in his.
“Ashley,” I breathe. My heart is beating ten to the dozen right now. Probably because I’m planning to fuck him soon. If things go my way. I’m not afraid of sex, in fact I love it. The way he’s looking at me though, it’s causing that organ under my rib cage to smash against my chest.
“I haven’t seen you round here before.” It’s not a question. He sips the rest of his drink, just as the bartender replaces it with a fresh one, handing me a bourbon at the same time.
“Just passing through.” My right leg that’s crossed over my left is dangerously close to his calf. I very gently test the waters and -accidentally on purpose- slide my foot up the outside of his calf. The moment we connect, his eyes flicker with something that’s similar to surprise. He’s actually intoxicating, and I just want to lean in closer, take a deep breath and suck the smell right out of him.
If things were different.
“Thought I’d have some fun while I was here,” I take a sip of my drink. “And seeing as I won’t have to see anyone here ever again, I thought it was the perfect opportunity for it.”
“You want to get out of here then?”
That was easy.
“Eager aren’t you,” I chuckle.
“A little.”
“Hoping I’ll say yes, or no?” I tilt my head.
He smiles broadly and leans in closer to me.
“I love a challenge. But we both know you’re going to say yes. I’ve caught you looking over here a few times tonight.” He looks me up and down. His lips barely touching mine but so close, all I’d have to do is lean forward and they would touch.
“The clocks behind you.” I point.
He turns his head and laughs. “The clock. Right.” Turning back to face me, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and I bit my lip. I knew I had him the moment I walked in here tonight. This was easier than I thought.
“If by eager you mean to bury myself so deep inside you that you scream. Then yes, Ashley, I’m very eager.”
Fuck.
“Ok,” I murmur.
The second we enter his hotel room; he pulls me back against the door. Caging me in with a hand on either side of my head. This motherfucker is tall but then again that’s not very hard when I’m only five-foot-six and a size eight. His heavy breath fans across my face as he looks down at me, looking as though he’s contemplating what he’s about to do.
“Second guessing?” I ask.
