Posted by critmk on May 16, 2003 at 08:47:57:
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Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapter 15: Extended Family Massacre
Barbara had turned to me for the usual reason: Some women were between her and her goal of complete control of Laufer Aerometrics and David Laufer’s vast fortune.
Some of the old boy’s ex-wives, along with their daughters and granddaughters, were meeting for three days to strategize on persuading Laufer to keep Barbara out of the company and his will. Failing that, they would mount legal challenges that would block her from cashing in for decades.
Barbara bluntly ordered me to crash the meeting and kill them all. I turned her down flat, at first, but in the end, there was no denying her. She reminded me of the tapes of the massacre at the law office, which she could turn over to the D.A. whenever she pleased. On the carrot side, she handed me $50,000 cash up front, and promised another 50 afterwards.
Barbara had been cold and dismissive in our prior meetings, but now she was purring, We both knew that neither threat nor money turned me. It was the perverse, sexual blood lust we shared. We struck the deal over Mary Lou’s dead body.
When we’d agreed, Barbara stripped off her skirt and opened her white blouse to reveal her black bra, garter, panties and stockings. She drew a switchblade from her purse, snapped it open and coyly licked the gleaming blade before sliding it sensually over the wedge of black fabric over her pussy. Suddenly and brutally, she cut the thin straps and pulled away the panties, With the sharp heels of her black, lace-up boots tapping the floor, she hip-rolled her way to Mary Lou’s body and plunged the knife into her right breast. Barbara smeared Mary Lou’s blood liberally across her own tits and throat, then fell back across the dead woman as if she were dead herself.
Mock death didn’t stop her from talking.
“You can fuck me, now, Jack. If you kill those nasty bitches for me, I’ll let you fuck me a lot. When all this is over – when the old man’s dead and I have the money and the company – we’ll be together always. Won’t that be nice, Jack? Really, aren’t we just right for each other? Hmmm?”
Of course I knew she was lying. While I was fucking her, I thought about pulling the knife from poor Mary Lou and cutting Barbara’s throat with it. But in the end, it was just a fantasy, one that drove a mind-burning orgasm. Of course, I would do what Barbara wanted.
The last thing she said as she left was: “Oh Jack, we don’t want too much suspicion falling on me -- make it look like some epic sex crime, won’t you? A little semen in a few mouths… well, I guess I don’t have to tell you. You know what to do.”
Sylvia Laufer had won quite a settlement from her ex-husband many years ago. It included the huge, 19th-century summerhouse overlooking Lake Geneva, in southern Wisconsin. That’s where the ladies and girls were meeting to plan the futures they wouldn’t live to see.
Leave it to David Laufer to have daughters and ex-wives of the same age. Sylvia was 62. The next wave of three wives were in their 40s. There were Laufer daughters and granddaughters from 18 to 30 at Lake Geneva. Throw in a some maids, and I had a lot of women to kill to win fair Barbara’s hand.
It was a daunting task in the age of cell phones and 911. I would have to act swiftly, silently, skillfully and without mercy.
Silenced Uzi and 9mm and several knives at the ready, I watched the house from a wooded perch up the bluff for a full day. I struck at dusk on the second day, after the formal meetings were over and they had finished dinner. Some of them, I knew, would stay. But others would be getting ready to head for the clubs in the town of Lake Geneva or Williams Bay.
My first task was to disable the six cars sitting on the pad behind the house. I had just finished cutting the last set of ignition cables when I heard the back door open. I knew from the photo in the dossiers that Barbara supplied that the long-faced brunette was Angie, 42, Sylvia’s oldest daughter.[Cash: Angie(car)42.jpg goes here.]
Angie cursed when the car wouldn’t start. I shot her as she spread her legs open – exposing the white panties beneath her black mini -- to get out of the car. The transparent white blouse and the lacey white bra beneath it turned red in a circle that grew concentrically as her heart pumped blood from the hole in her sternum.
She died in seconds without making a sound. Her head simply slumped forward, aiming her death stare at her crotch.
I didn’t have time to fuck her, but Barbara’s instruction to make it look like a sex crime was ringing in my brain. I shot her in her dead pussy from an inch away; that would have to do. Her body shuddered with the impact and fell backwards onto the seat. With some difficulty, I tucked her sexy, substantial legs into the car and closed the door.
With Angie’s key, I let myself in the back door. In the kitchen, to my right, a Japanese woman in a maid’s uniform was cleaning up dinner dishes. She was as cute as a girl could be, especially with that big chef’s knife stuck in the blue shirt above the line of her black vest. [Cash: maidmiko23.jpg goes here.]I wished I’d had time to come in her face as she gurgled her last, but the best I could do was reach up her skirt, partially pull down her pantyhose and yank at her white panties. With her bare ass on the floor and her legs spread, she resembled the victim of a sex crime.
I took the servant’s narrow stairway to the third floor, hoping to catch some of the women isolated in their bedrooms. When I heard giggling coming from the attic, I kept climbing.
The two nubile, nude girls were cousins. The family resemblance was clear in their long waists and slender builds and the blue eyes and cherry lips on their baby faces. The dark-haired brunet was on her knees, kissing the belly of the standing girl and pressing her widely separated 34B’s against her lighter-haired cousin’s moist slit.
They were so busy that they didn’t even notice me. I announced my presence with a tight, nipple-to-nipple line of six Uzi shots into the standee. Before she hit the floor, I pounced upon the kneeling girl. I covered her mouth with my free hand and placed the hot barrel against her forehead.
“If you scream, little miss, I will shoot your pussy off. Do you understand?”
Her breathing was short and panicky under my palm. She nodded. I kicked the blonde’s legs open.
“You wanted to eat some pussy, eat some pussy. It’s still warm, I’m sure.”
The girl’s mouth fell open in horror. I put the barrel of the Uzi in it.
“Or you could eat this.”
She swallowed hard and, on her knees with her butt in the air, went down on her dead cousin.
The attic was littered not only with the girl’s jeans, boots and undies, but also with antique farm implements. The girls probably hadn’t noticed that four-tined hayfork leaning on the barrel behind them.
As I grabbed it, I noted with amusement that the brunette was warming to her assignment. Her tongue lapped audibly at the pussy of the corpse, and her right hand was at work between her own legs.
Gentleman that I am, I waited a few seconds for her to reach orgasm before planting the hayfork in her back. I lifted her to her knees with it and tilted the butt of the handle to the floor. She squirmed like a fish on a gaff as she slid back on the tines, four inches of which slowly emerged from her chest. One poked through her right nipple.[hayforkduo20.jpg goes here.]
Four ribbons of blood streamed down her long, lean belly and on down her thighs. The vibration of her struggle traveled up the wooden handle and into my hands until she went limp, with her eyes staring and her slack mouth agape. I pushed her forward and down. Her face fell between her dead cousin’s bullet-riddled tits. The sharp tines poking through her chest plunged into the belly of the girl beneath her.
I heard more giggling, this time from the third floor. A youthful voice called out: “Are you two in the attic again?” More giggling, then another voice: “We’re coming up – and we’re bare-assed!” Paroxysms of giggling, a scampering of bare feet.
The two sisters – maybe 19 and 20, dark;y tanned, small-breasted, thin and tall, Italianate features, full bushes – wore nothing but Gap T-shirts. They stopped at the foot of the steps when they saw me pointing the Uzi at them.
“Not a sound, girls.”
They backed into the corridor. I waved them into a bedroom.
I opened up as soon as they were in. Their limbs flailed and their heads bobbed as I raked them, ripping dozens of holes in their legs, crotches, bellies and tits. The one in the white shirt caught three in the face. No matter; she wasn’t that pretty to begin with. [Cash: Tshirtduo.jpg goes here.]
Four bedrooms were on the third floor. Sylvia had apparently put most of the granddaughters up there. One bedroom appeared empty, but I heard voices from somewhere:
Voice 1: “Gramma Sylvia says we could get four or five million each.
Voice 2: “That would be sooo cool.”
Voice 3: “I’m gonna buy one of those cool little Audi convertibles.”
Voice 2: “I’m gonna get the coolest cheerleading outfits for our team. And a condo. On the beach in San Diego.”
Voice 1: “Miami would be nice.”
Voice 3: “Or we could just give all the money to the poor.” [A moment of dead silence.] “Gotcha!” [Loud laughter from all three.]
Voices 1, 2 and 3 together: “Like NO WAY!”
The three young brunettes were on the balcony overlooking the lake. They turned toward the room when I slid open the glass door.
“Hi girls. You’re all about to get a nice piece of real estate – 7 by 4 by 6 feet down.”
I swept the Uzi left to right across six large, heavy round breasts held snug by identical cropped, elasticized T-shirts. The bullets ripped into them with the sound of melons being thumped. The girls chirped or grunted in time with the impacts, which raised fleeting little red geysers above the white stretch cotton.[Balconytrio18s.jpg goes here.]
The tanned, voluptuous girls spasmed and jerked as bullets riddled their tits and the hearts and lungs beyond them. The two nearest me – the curly-haired one in the red trunks and the green-trunked girl with her hair pulled back – slid against the blood-slicked balcony rail toward the light-haired girl in blue trunks.
The three of them pressed against one another and the far wall of the balcony, not quite dead on their feet. Their heads bobbed slowly. Their eyes were going glassy. Blood was beginning to trickle down their shirts onto their bare, suntanned bellies.
I tired of waiting for them to fall and stitched a line across those bellies. That did it. Heads rolled, arms rocked and knees buckled. Down they went, into a tangled heap of sisters.
The young ones on the third floor were dead. Who would I find on the second?