Time to Kill

Time to Kill (V)

11 26


Time to Kill- prologue
Time to Kill- Chapter 1
Time to Kill- Chapter 2
Time to Kill- Chapter 3
Time to Kill- Chapter 4


It was the first comment from one of the several guys who follow her on Twitter. As she knew, the picture she posted earlier was getting all the male attention. It was the way things always had been. They swarmed around her timeline like bees in beehive.

She checked her DM as she contemplated the male species in her mind. She was in a bus headed home after another day at work. She was glad the work day was finally over and she could get back home where the remedy to her current ‘condition’ lies. She had been feeling in the ‘zone’ all day, as a matter of fact, ever since she put up that picture on Twitter. And whenever she was in the ‘zone’ she could hardly concentrate on anything else.

It was weird, but she knew her medicine.

Her rack of videos and a dildo or even a cold cucumber would do the magic.

No man can do it to her like she can do it to herself.


As far as she was concerned they were useless and as alien to her as light was alien to darkness. She was however smart enough to understand that her society was not yet ready for a woman like herself. A self-sustaining and self-satisfying woman on the streets of the city, was still as unknown to the people as the sight of scorching sun would be to the Eskimos.
Even if there were other women like her, which she doubted very much, they probably were also thinking like she was and keeping out of sight.

Satisfied that she had answered all the unsolicited DMs she felt comfortable replying, she logged out of her Twitter account and logged on to Instagram. The boring ride from her work place home seemed like an endless journey; a journey she needed to blank out and thus, the need to engage herself with social media. The entire webosphere was agog with the news of the ‘Night Time Killer’. There were reports of possible sightings by several people on twitter and Instagram, with one girl even writing an open invitation to the killer to come for her – to do to her all the ‘bad’ things he did with all the other girls.

In her insanely perversed mind, she forgot he not only did things with them he also did things to them.

Ini contemplated the scenario for a while, noting with a slight tinge of amusement how the guy seated next to her rode along with every jolt and swerve of the bus, in order to have a chance to make contact with her ample breasts. It was a ploy she knew very well. This time though, she didn’t mind. Her mind was off in several other tangents, and the guy did look and smelled good.

What if she found herself in a situation like the other victims of the ‘Night Time Killer’, What would she do?

She looked at her phone again, and clicked the reply button to the girl’s IG post – if na me…they will be reading the ‘Night Time Killer’ obituary in the morning. Satisfied she had thrown out another one of her succulent bones for the hungry dogs on the web to chew on, she logged out, returning her thoughts to the pleasures of what awaits her at home.

The distance was not that much, but the traffic brought on by the bad roads made it look like a journey to heaven. It was about all she did most days, traverse from home to work and back. She had little social life, except for the ones she kept online and a very small band of physical friends with whom she had the occasional hangouts.

Her better days had been back in school at Unilag. Those were days she had been ‘normal’, she thought to herself. The thought brought a smirk to her mouth.

Well, what people will term these days as ‘normal’. But, I know better now what ‘normal’ is.

Ini was different then. And she knew she was even more different now. She accepted herself for what she was – a lesbian; but she was no ordinary lesbian. No woman could satisfy her. So, she did it herself and to her own utter satisfaction.

And she couldn’t wait to get home and get herself out of the ‘zone’.

I sat in the car, the windows all the way up and the A.C. at its highest. It was a very dry and hot late afternoon. The type and time of day that made everyone scream for rain. A day that normally should suggest that there would be less people on the streets.

But, this is not a city which obeys normal rules of living. People in this city defy every rule of conventionality. The street wasn’t entirely crowded, but it was not deserted either.

It was a long time since the first one. There had been a few nice memories along the way. The car had seen some battles and had won every one of them since that first one, months back. Now, I do as I am told. I have no control and hardly could help or do otherwise when the time came. And across the street was the new plaything for the devil.

I watched as she crossed the street. She had that natural grace of a ‘hot stepper’, waltzing rather than walking. It was always a mini-pleasure to watch her… in her house, in her bath, from across the street; the little bulge already rising in between the ridge of my cotton pants attested to this.

Watching her was pleasurable. However, that was not all there was to it – that was not all at all.

She was about five-nine or five-ten, curvy and well-proportioned – not thin and not fat. She had enough flesh in all the right places and her contours were well defined. The breasts were full and taut, not the obscene tautness that was aided by those silly contraptions girls prop their sagging kegs with. They were the right sizes and they stood firm and erect even without bras.

I knew this, because I have seen them myself.

She was dark skinned and every inch of her skin was flawless and spotless. I knew that too, because I have seen every inch of her. She was like a craftsman’s perfect mahogany carving. Her mouth, with full sensual lips always promised more in her smile than the heart of undiscerning men could fathom.

In all, she was pretty. Her prettiness was unforced and unobtrusive, but you can’t fail to recognize and acknowledge it. The sheer power of that aura she carried with her when she waltzed around was magnetic as it was hypnotic. I have seen several men take second and third looks at her. Some men are even so undisciplined as to crane their necks backwards and watch her all the way out of view. Foolish men, those ones.

Me, I am either standing at the street corner or sitting not very far away, or just strolling casually behind, watching her hips sway with that grace they had. Like those of a horse being put through her paces – an untamed horse in the stables.

I knew what those other idiotic men didn’t know… Or rather, I had been told. The devil that now lived in me, and that was in total control of my every ‘un-living’ time had told me.

She was not for them.
She was not for anyone.
She was all for herself.
That was on the first day I was led to her. She was in the bus, I was sitting three rows behind her and saw her when she came in. I had watched her walk from the back door, swaying those heavenly hips of hers and it was then the devil had come.

That Boyo, is our next piece of ass!
It was as simple as that.

So, here I was seated in the car as I watched her cross to the other side and proceeded to pass through the small gate that led to her three-room flat in a quiet area of Surulere.

She always got home at around the same time. In all the time I had trailed and watched her, she always came home alone. She cooked dinner, showered and then on some nights she went out, while on other nights she stayed home and watched all those porn films. She had loads of them, it was almost like a collector’s library.

I have been in there in her flat. I have seen them too, watched on her DVD machine while she was not there. I must admit the first time I was in there I was really scared. It felt like I was being watched and… it was silly, but it was how I felt that first time.

I have also watched with her through the sitting room window while she touched herself and mimicked the moans and grunts coming from the muted TV. I have gone through her undies, smelling them and wondering to myself how they felt against the mound of her vagina. The silky little things were lucky bastards. They got that close, closer than any man had been… at least as far as I can gather.

I say that because I have not seen her with any man since I began to trail and watch her. I have also not observed her to have any lesbian or sadistic alternative sexual tendencies. She only administers to herself and that seems to mightily satisfy her needs, if only judging from the loud grunts and moans I hear from the window.

Her name is Ini Akandi. She was a graduate of Mass Communication from the University of Lagos. She was a good student and she had passed well. She worked with one of the promising advertising companies in Ikeja. All these had been very easy to gather from Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Instagram, and ReadMe… little bits and pieces of information here and there. Information as up-to-date as her most recent picture uploaded on Twitter a few days ago.

The picture was hot – she is hot.

I told her as much on twitter in my DM to her. It is the one and only DM I have ever sent her. It was a mistake. The devil made me know it was a stupid mistake. But, I couldn’t help myself.

In my computer hard drive were photos of her in different poses – pictures she would not want another soul to see. She was like that – decent, yet not so decent. Her indecency was privately exhibited and it was contained. On the outside and to the outside world, she was a proper girl of twenty four, who worked and paid her rents when due. Friends hardly came to look for her at home, not many female friends or colleagues and even less male friends.

Ini Akandi.

She was nailed down as my seventh quarry in the space of nine months since the devil took over my soul.

I can’t remember what I did with them in the end other than what I read afterwards, but I know what I did to and with them before it ended. At first their eyes told me they were frightened, then it told me they were pleading, then all I can remember was the blankness.

The blankness the devil brought with him when he took over and administered to his quarry. When he came and took over, I could no longer hear them because the first thing he did was to cut out their tongues. They can’t scream and can’t talk….and the devil liked it so.

Quiet while it gets to work and takes what it wants from them. They were at the devil’s mercy once I, we got hold of them….

I say, Quiet.
I ignore the voice.

Those girls were gone. All of them almost as pretty, if not prettier, than this girl who just went into her apartment. The girl who tonight was going to be the devil’s pleasure. Like the others, she had no choice in the matter. She will satisfy the devil very much tonight the way the other six before her had done. They all had one thing in common, they were all young and lived alone. Now, they were all…

Stay focused.
I checked my clock on the dash board as I jolted out of my reverie. It was 7.43 p.m. and was getting dark, but it was not dark enough. Another two or three hours at most before it started.

She felt all wrong. God knows she had tried to finger what could be responsible for her sense of foreboding. She wasn’t feeling unwell. She just didn’t feel right. And this feeling of “unrightness” made her uneasy.

She hoped her parents were okay and made a mental note to call them as soon as she’d had her bath. She felt hot and she needed to get herself ready for her ritual first. She could call them before she got herself sorted out.

As soon as she stepped into her apartment, she flung her handbag on the chair and removed her shoes – left leg first. She smiled inwardly, things people do unconsciously without giving it another thought. She proceeded to remove her skirt and her blouse, all these she left in a little pile by the couch in the sitting room. She padded barefoot in only her pant and bra to the toilet.

10.22 p.m.
Relax…breathe slowly and relax.
It is time to move.
I silently got out of the car and approached the black gates. The bigger one was never opened as there was no one in the building who owned a car. The smaller one was also almost always left ajar, and tonight it was the case. I slipped in silently and proceeded to skirt the house to the back.

Move slow.
It was usually quiet around the place at this time of the night, everyone having retired to their own flats and glued to their TVs, laptops, blackberry or other types of phones or in their rooms having quiet, boring sex.

Quiet and focus on the job at hand, ye bloody twat!
I moved quietly to the back and scaled the short railing that mapped out Ini’s back balcony. I have observed several times that she doesn’t lock the back door until she was ready to sleep. Sometimes, she even forgets totally to lock up. It was a relatively safe neighborhood and the omission could be forgiven. I tried the door handle and the door eased open silently. I slipped into the kitchen and shut the door quietly behind me. I stood by the door for several quiet seconds, listening to the sound of the house and getting my eyes acquainted with the darkness.

Everything was as quiet as it should be. I couldn’t hear the TV or the sound system. That didn’t mean much though as she might have completely muted the sound. She was a closeted sex freak. She acted out all her fantasies before the TV. Why she had no boyfriend, I had no idea and really didn’t care. In fact, the devil had admonished me many times over my “softness”. But, a girl with her kind of sexual imagination and libido needed a real man humping and grinding her all the time. She always seemed to need a good fuck.

Nights I have pitied her, and other nights I had almost torn down the door and given it to her till she was screaming for mercy. A fine girl like her surrounding herself with all those silly toys that will only scratch the surface of where a well-primed phallus will go.

She needed something more and today was her (un)lucky day. The devil was here. Right here in her kitchen…

You idiot.
I breathed in slowly and let out my bated breath, then I took my first steps towards my next quarry.

She heard the creak from the kitchen. It was tiny, but she’d had heard it.

Why she’d heard it she didn’t know or even care. But, she’d heard it. Momentarily, her hazy mind focused and she was aware. She was aware only for a moment though, and that moment was quickly filled by fear than by any rational thinking that would have made her aware of other things around her. All that feeling of foreboding she had earlier came rushing back at her. It sucked out all the air in her lungs and made her temporarily paralyzed.

All she could think about was the noise in the kitchen and nothing else, but as soon as she thought it…

Someone was in the house.

…her mind clamped up again and her eyes glazed over.

Her hand of its own volition reached for the remote and switched off the TV. She remained on the sofa with her panties and bra off, bathed in the semi-darkness of her living room. She was paralyzed on the couch with the fear, the fear that at last ‘something’ was coming to get her for all her sins.

Perhaps, what she contemplated earlier was happening.

The ‘Night Time Killer’ coming for her.

I cursed under my breath; frozen in time and space as I waited to see if anything or anyone was going to move into the kitchen. I had stepped on something and that something had made an unwanted noise. I had been careful, but I must have gotten careless.

I tol’ ye to be quiet, ye fool.
Ye will get punished for this.
The devil brooked no carelessness and I knew for sure his punishment will come. Rotten paper carton I’d stepped on was a Hollandia Yoghurt drink carton which must have fallen out of the overstuffed waste basket. I looked down, making sure there were no more paper cartons of any kind to make any unwanted noise and also that no movement or noise emanated from anywhere else in the house before taking the next step.

Finally, I made it to the door and paused. My breathing was coming evenly now and the throbbing in my neck and temple was the purring, rhythmic type that told me (without me even seeing) that the game was afoot.

I inched forward in my loafers, making sure my back was to the wall and my hands free to quickly grab whatever it needed for the evening’s work.

My hand pushed open the dividing door that separated the kitchen from the sitting room and immediately I felt and sensed the sweat, the smell of cum and that of fear before I even heard her. Not her voice. She didn’t talk…her lips didn’t even move.

But, her mind called me, spoke to me. We were like two ships heading towards each other in a headlong collision.

“Please, just step forward. I am not dressed and I am not armed. I don’t know what you want, but I know what I can offer you. Please, switch on the light and come forward.”

All of a sudden, it felt like I had been poured cold water. My head was like an empty shell full of stones. I heard crackling noises that I knew not from whence they came. I felt light and heavy all at the same time. It was like I was snapping out of my mind.

The blankness the devil brings with it was here. I could feel its strong voice, the throbbing between my pants growing even more impatient. Slowly, I lost touch with consciousness, as I stood in the cool temperature of the air-conditioned sitting room staring at the naked girl on the sofa.

My eyes opened wide, and continued to open as I walked towards her… unbelief stretching them beyond the points of endurance as I was assaulted with all the wicked weapons God had endowed the women folk with. I wondered why God equipped them with all the weapons for seduction – breasts, made up of three concentric rings (in other words the bull’s eye) – the bosom, areola and the nipple and of course the breast is the first target f0r all men. Meanwhile, the masculine symbol of power, the penis is a coward. It is the first to shrink when it is cold and when there is fear – a cowardly flap of leftover elbow flesh. However, these thoughts were brushed aside to the periphery of my mind. The singular driving thought as I strode swiftly towards her before she could scream, was to get to the exposed cunt and do the devil’s will to his satisfaction.

Written by @shaiontheprowl

Don't keep it all to yourself.... Share some sweetness!! ;)

About the author / 

Patrick Jennifer

My name is Patrick Jennifer............ Talkative extraordinaire (aspiring OAP), Professional 'carer', Wanna-be writer, and I am sweetness personified.

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  1. theshaione September 18, 2014 at 9:33 am -  Reply

    Eewwwo…how many times are we gonna have this “fight” sef?

    • shughar September 18, 2014 at 1:24 pm -  Reply

      lol….for as long as u keep denying

      • theshaione September 19, 2014 at 8:48 am -  Reply

        U don’t even know wah u r jumping into. The “fight” he is talking about….errrr….

        • shughar September 19, 2014 at 9:45 am -  Reply

          lol….errrm, i gree. i will sha jump in

  2. seunodukoya September 12, 2014 at 7:57 am -  Reply

    Me and Shai are about to have a fight!

    Well done – sugar.

    PS; Sorry. Did I scare you off?

    • shughar September 12, 2014 at 10:12 am -  Reply

      hahahaha!!!!!!!! Please, can I be the referee? You stopped answering my messages na…. I thought you were tired. lol
      Thank you plenty

      • seunodukoya September 15, 2014 at 9:27 am -  Reply

        The last message was from me to you – check.

      • theshaione September 18, 2014 at 9:34 am -  Reply

        Na dia dem go see u….

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