OUT FOR GOOD BEHAVIOUR

If Oscars were on offer then Nightmare would have scooped the board. For someone who hadn't been very good on communication when he was out, now he'd perfected the art. The woman smiled. She was the first on Nightmare's list. She'd made it difficult in previous hearings for his parole case. And in the times he'd sat opposite her, he'd had these visions and these clip reels that'd played and replayed inside his mind that detailed what he would do to her right at this precise time if the opportunity arose. She was pretty enough for hm to want to fuck her up completely. She had nice enough tits for him to want to hurt them so that she'd wish that she didn't have them any more. And she had long and shapely enough legs for him to want to make it so she couldn't walk unaided ever again. Yes she would be his first, when he got out. That would be something for him to focus on, something for him to plan for.

"So, you don't consider yourself 'Nightmare' any more?"

And it was like she was mocking him and trying to bait him.

"No Miss. That was my past life, when I was in that bad place, and I never want to go there again."

And his tone, his perfect tone, his pleasant tone didn't miss a beat and this woman sitting in front of him seemed to be searching his eyes for any sign of a lie. There wouldn't be one. The Nightmare had perfected his technique. He'd taken lessons off other low life's as to how to get past a parole board and he hadn't just perfected it, he had rewritten the book on it. He knew what she was doing - trying to trip him up. He knew that she'd known what his crimes were, and what he'd done to other women. He'd known that he probably made her flesh creep having to consider him for release. But to him she was just another woman, another female. Another 'bitch' 'slut' 'whore'. And as he sat keeping that eye contact with her, he knew that she was probably feeling as uncomfortable as fuck. But not as uncomfortable as she would feel by the time he had her where he wanted her. She'd been number one on his list since the parole process had started.

"I want to believe you of course. But you know, a lot of people don't think that an offender of your 'type' can show true remorse, or couldn't reform in any way. They say that your type are so somehow damaged that there is no way ever that you can reform. And I have to say that I am not totally convinced either. But to an extent my hands are tied in that you seem to tick all the boxes required for release on licence."

Nightmare just sat and smiled in that pleasant way. 'Fucking slut, what would you know about reform? You plumb mouthed cunt. I'm gonna show you what reform is all about. And I'm gonna take my time with you, making extra special for you'. These thoughts in his head were loud and yet, that polite, almost contrite smile was what was convincing this woman and the other two, who just took notes, that he was ready. It was her though, that lead bitch asking the questions. She had her doubts about him, he knew that, so she would have to pay. And yet she was right to have those doubts of course. But he liked it that her hands were tied, because soon, very soon it would be more than her hands that were tied.