Sisters Ch. 13: More Vicki's Secret Massacre


Posted by critmk on May 15, 2003 at 07:44:03:

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Sisters
A novel by critmk
Chapter 13 – More Death and Lingerie

Barbara opened the next curtain to reveal an elegant black woman of about 30. [shop5black.jpg goes here.] She wore nothing but a beautiful, structured lace ruby-red bra and a crystal in her navel. She hadn’t yet pulled the cup over her left breast, and the dark brown arc below the left nipple proved an irresistible target. The impact of the slug pushed her onto her back. Her heart pumped blood two inches into the air above her nipple, then an inch, then a half-inch, then not at all.

Barbara snapped in the fresh clip, then nudged the woman’s full, deep-red lips apart with the still-warm silencer.

“Ooh, bet you’d like to poke between those, wouldn’t you Jack?” she purred. She continued, more sternly: “Go ahead – fuck her in the mouth.”

God help me, I did it, plunging through the marvelous fleshy lips into the warm, moist mouth and down the tight throat of the dead black woman, stroking to a soundtrack of noise-suppressed gunshots, low moans, falling bodies and, dissonantly, girlish giggling, as Barbara continued to kill.

Who else was unlucky enough to be trying on lingerie that afternoon in Vicki’s Secret at Plaza Frontenac?

A 36-year-old blond, the blowzy, ditzy mistress of the lead partner of a major law firm, for one. She was trying on a sheer black lace nightgown, stockings and black pumps. [shop6blowzyA&B go here.] Barbara caught her standing, admiring herself in the mirror, and shot her in the center of the belly. She fell back and hooked her right knee over the arm of the loveseat behind her, exposing her naked pussy. The next shot tore through the tight cleavage formed by her massive tits. The blond fell back on the couch, then slid off and landed hard on the floor, on her side. Blood pooled around her massive left breast as she died.

A delicate 18-year-old brunet, trying on white stockings and a short, lacy white slip for the prom.[shop7young.jpg]. The low scoop neck barely covered the girl’s tiny breasts. Barbara shot her in the throat, severing her spine. Blood streamed down over the snow-white skin above the slip as the teenager slid down the mirrored wall of the fitting room. Her death stare was into her own eyes on the mirror opposite.

The tall blond in the next room was just a year older, but had a much different look. She wore long black gloves, a severe black corset with garters, black hose, no panties and high black spike pumps. [shop8blonddom goes here.] Perfectly formed 36C’s peaked in perfectly circular, pale pink areole the size of silver dollars. Golden hair, parted just off center, fell straight down over her shoulders. Her mouth was small. Her eyes were hard slits above her high cheekbones.

Barbara giggled with delight when she saw her.

“Ah! Britney Spears goes dom! I love it”

She shot her in the inside of the right thigh, through the opaque black band at the top of her stocking. Blood streamed down the girl’s leg. She squealed when Barbara shot her dead center in the slit of her exposed, shaved pussy. The girl grasped desperately at the wall behind her, trying to stay on her feet. Her face contorted with pain, panic and a plea for mercy that died in her throat when Barbara put a bullet there.

A mist of blood formed over the hole in her throat and settled on the upper slopes of her tits. Her eyes turned up in their sockets and she fell like a tree. She was dead before her face smashed into the floor. Barbara kicked her onto her back for a last, admiring look. The girl’s arm flopped over, her head rolled and her bloodied tits quivered.

“Nice outfit, honey. I think I’ll come back next weekend and pick one up.”

The last survivors were four Japanese girls, unlucky winners of a “new faces” race-girl contest in Tokyo. The prize was a coast-to-coast shopping tour of the U.S. A photographer was along, shooting pictures of them in every provocative outfit they bought along the way. They just happened to be at Plaza Frontenac, crowded into one fitting room, giggling their heads off and trying on push-up bras and wispy panties. They were having the time of their lives, unaware that they were about to end.

Maiko, Akira, Ami and Yumiko, from left to right in the killer’s field of view, were between bras when Barbara appeared. They were beautiful in that vulnerable, girlish East Asian way. Everything about them, from their perfectly scaled breasts to their flawless skin to their slender legs and silken hair, seemed natural and effortless. And those lovely eyes, such an unlikely and irresistible combination of dark depths and bright surface….

I had finished my business with the black woman’s mouth and stood behind Barbara to watch her kill the four Japanese girls. [shop9japs.jpg goes here.] First, she shot Ami [second from the right, if you’re scoring at home], in the side at the base of her left breast. The bullet ripped through her left lung and heart, releasing a heavy flow of red down her side, over the high arc of white lace panty and onto her buttock.

Ami’s body fell upon the left thigh of Akira, the taller, more slender girl to her right. Akira started to jump up in horror, but Barbara pinned her to the sofa with a shot through the center of the triangle of blue fabric over her crotch. She clutched the wound and moaned and writhed, each contortion shadowed by movement in Ami’s corpse, which was still draped over her left leg.

Barbara killed Maiko, who was clad only in yellow French-cut panties, with a bullet to the center of the forehead. Her head snapped back violently and slowly came back to level. As it did, a single rivulet of blood traveled down the ridge of her nose and halted at the end of it, like a drop in a leaky faucet. One drop fell upon her right breast, then a second and a third. Then the dead girl, who had been half-standing above her three friends, plunged down atop Ami on poor Akira’s bloody lap. The wounded Akira pushed violently at the two dead bodies, which landed one atop the other on the floor at her feet.

Yumiko, the youngest, slenderest and rightmost (again, from the killer’s point of view) of the lot, began to scream – but only began to, when Barbara abruptly cut her off with a belly shot just above her pink translucent panties. Blood tricked through the girl’s neatly manicured fingers as she clutched the hole in her gut. Soon after, she had a second wound to worry about, the one that split her sternum and cut her heart in two. She clamped her right forearm over that one, but of course couldn’t stop the leaking. A few seconds later, Yumiko had nothing to worry about.

“Well, that’s 11 shots,” Barbara said breezily. “Jack, fetch my purse. It’s easy to find – it’s in the room without any dead bodies.”

She drew from it a wicked-looking dagger with a mother of pearl grip and 6-inch stainless steel blade. She approached Akira, who was shivering and writhing under the burning pain in her crotch. Her long brown hair was matted in the sweat on her upper chest.

Barbara took her by the chin and banged her head against the wall behind her. Akira’s eyes widened as Barbara raised the shiny blade, then shut tight as the point of that blade cut through her left nipple. Blood spurted from the wound when Barbara yanked the knife out.

Akira went into a series of death spasms that bounced her tits around on her chest, but the motion did not deter Barbara’s aim. She stabbed the girl in the breasts again and again, until her victim went limp as a rag doll.

Barbara was in an erotic frenzy – I let her have her orgasm, then pulled her off the Japanese beauty.

“That will do, Barbara, that will do. She’s dead. They’re all dead.”

She regained her composure with amazing speed. She yanked her knife from Akira’s left tit, stepping gracefully out of the way when the girl slid off the couch and onto the body pile on the floor. She wiped the knife clean on one of the girls’ discarded T-shirts.

“Here’s a little gift for you, Jack,” she said. She handed me the knife and gun. She trotted to her own stall and quickly pulled on her skirt and blouse, in a haphazard way that made them look half-pulled off. She mussed her hair and smeared her lipstick. She looked like the victim of a rape attempt. She grinned evilly at me, then pouted. “I’m a poor, defenseless woman. Of course I won’t be armed.”

She walked briskly down the hall toward the opening to the store proper.

“Don’t contact me again, but don’t leave town, lover. I might need you in a few weeks. And one more thing – are you ready to take a fall?”

She gave me the same cruel smile she’d turned on so many of her victims that afternoon, then ran into the store shouting: “Help omigod help he’s killing everybody, run, it’s murder MURDER!!!”

What a clever bitch. There was nothing to do but dash out through stock room to escape.

As I burst through the door, I almost knocked down one of the shop girls I’d seen on the way in. She was a tall, slim black girl, maybe 19, in stiletto boots, tight jeans and a white blouse that opened at the bottom to show her pretty navel. Her jaw dropped when she saw the knife in my hand.[shop10black.jpg goes here]

“Sorry, miss, no time to explain – it’s just one of those wrong-time, wrong-place things.”

I slashed her jugular. She grabbed her throat with both hands, but couldn’t stop blood from pouring over her chest and spilling onto the floor. An erratic red trail about the room ended where she collapsed and died.

Her shocked, 18-year-old co-worker – a gorgeous, full-breasted brunet in a black leather mini, snug blue top and platform heels -- stood dumbly until I threw the dagger into the center of her left tit. [shop11mini.jpg goes here] The blood tinted the blue fabric almost purple around the blade. The brunet stepped back and grabbed the worktable for support. She dropped to her knees then pitched forward hard, driving the point of the dagger out through her back. The knife handle scraped audibly on the tile floor as she spasmed twice and died. Her knees flopped apart when I turned her over to wipe my prints off the knife. She wore no panties; her pussy was shaved clean. I wondered if this was a fashion trend – she seemed like such a nice girl.

I don’t mind offing an innocent bystander now and then – I had to do a couple before I got into the law office, for example. But Barbara had killed all these women simply because she saw a chance to get away with it. And now I had to kill these two, just a couple of cuties trying to make a living. I felt a little bad about that, for a moment. But then I thought:

What the hell? What are two more?