Posted by Extranjero on December 18, 2007 at 12:43:05:
There was no chance of a walk today. Rain beat against the windows like a hail of liquid bullets. Mel stared out across the grounds. Her weekend at this country house looked set to be a washout. And worse, she was cooped up with several other girls from work.
Pulling a face, she went back to the sofa and curled up with her paperback again. The central heating was on full and she wore her shorts and tee-shirt. They were here for a team-building break, with an emphasis on informality. Like a house party, she thought, with added bonding exercises. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were made to grab their coats and take a walk.
Katie would be game enough, but Beth would soon start grumbling. Megan would sulk, Charlotte would whinge, and Penny would treat all of them like dirt. Mel smiled wryly to herself. So much for their team spirit. The people running this weekend would have their work cut out.
Mel was small and slender, almost waiflike, though her tee-shirt emphasised her rounded breasts. Six months on reception hadn’t dulled her bubbly nature. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but had heard herself described as pixieish. Her bobbed hair was as brown as malt, and her eyes were green and lively. The posher girls might patronise her, but she reckoned she could live with that.
Beth came padding through the lounge and gazed out of the window. Her glum expression didn’t change. “I guess that rules a game of tennis out.” Her eyes were limpid blue behind a stylish pair of glasses, but the afternoon had dulled the light in them. Her face, so winsome when she smiled, looked pasty as she brooded. She had shoulder-length brown hair and wore a sleeveless top and jeans.
“I heard one of the maids say that this place gets flooded sometimes,” Mel said idly, with her nose still in her book. Beth blinked at her, then peered towards the river. It cut across the house’s grounds, and already it looked ominously full. She bit her lip unhappily and trotted out again. Mel smiled and turned another page. She liked Beth, but the girl was such a drip.
Upstairs, Megan leaned out through her doorway. She was wrapped up in a bath sheet, and her dark permed hair was stringy from the shower. Her smooth skin had an olive blush, though her eyes were as pale as cornflowers. She tightened the towel around her boobs and padded down the gloomy passageway. She paused at Charlotte’s door and heard a muffled sniggering. So Penny must be in there too. Discouraged, she moved on to Katie’s room.
Katie opened to her knock, her smile as wide as ever, despite the rain still pouring down outside. She was a perky little blonde, her hair cropped short and boyish. She eyed the Welsh girl’s swaddled dampness. “Don’t you think it’s wet enough outside?”
Megan had a pointed face, which made her smile look foxy. “At least the water’s warm in here,” she said. “Could I borrow your hairspray? Mine’s run out. I’ll make it worth your while.” Katie rolled her baby-blues and beckoned her inside.
A laptop was open on the desk where she’d been surfing sports news. Megan might fancy being a WAG, but Katie was a dedicated fan. The blonde girl padded through into the bathroom. She was wearing navy culottes and a sporty polo shirt. Megan waited, staring out across the rain-swept grounds. Beyond the lonely summerhouse, the meadows were already waterlogged.
“If it keeps up at this rate,” she said, “we’ll end up swimming home.”
“At least you’re dressed for it,” grinned Katie. Megan sighed and took the proffered can.
In the next-door bedroom, Penny took a sip of tea. She was curled into the window seat, while Charlotte lounged in an upholstered chair. A gust of raindrops hit the glass like pellets. Penny glanced out at the squall, then hugged her knees and turned back to her friend.
Charlotte had been certain that this weekend wouldn’t work, and she was basking in her vindication now. She was a poised brunette, her features beautiful but haughty. “They invited the receptionist!” She turned her nose up at the very thought.
Penny’s smile was velvet-soft and equally conceited. She brushed a wing of dark hair back, her brown eyes glowing with amused disdain. She wasn’t quite so up herself as Charlotte, but her smugness served to distance her from girls who hadn’t been to private school.
Charlotte was warming to her theme. “It must have cost them thousands. How much do places like this charge?”
“It is a lovely house, though,” Penny said.
“Wasted on some people, obviously,” said Charlotte tartly. “The first thing Megan asked the maid was, can I get a takeaway round here?”
She mimicked Megan’s Welsh lilt for the last bit, and Penny smirked behind her hand. “Oh no!” Behind her, rain kept spattering the window. The house’s grounds were fading in a wilderness of mist.
Downstairs in the lounge, the antique clock was striking four. A po-faced maid came through the door, as if connected to the mechanism. Mel glanced up, not sure if she was going to offer tea or else announce another group activity. The maid approached the sofa with her hands behind her back. She wore a fixed expression which made Mel uncomfortable.
“I’m not going out in this,” she said, before the girl could speak.
“Indeed you’re not, Miss,” said the maid. “In fact, you shan’t be going out at all.”
Speaking, she produced a pistol from behind her back. It made a gassy spitting noise as she fired a pellet into Mel’s bare thigh. Mel gave a little squeal of shock. She felt the stinging impact, and then a wave of giddiness, as if she’d downed a dozen alcopops. The room became a whirlpool which engulfed her. The light receded, far above. Her head flopped and her book slid to the floor.
The maid picked it up and put it on the table, then padded back into the entrance hall. Dull light streamed across it as the rain hissed down outside. She listened with her red lips pursed. Then Beth went mooching past, towards the stairs. She gave the maid a sullen look. “What time do you serve dinner?”
“At seven, Miss,” the girl replied, her hand concealed again.
She stood politely waiting till Beth set foot on the staircase, then shot her in the buttock. “Ow!” Beth bleated, swinging round. Her eyes grew saucer wide as she began to rub her bottom – but then the blue turned cloudy, and she drooped, collapsing slowly to the stairs.
“That’s seven sharp,” the maid added with relish. “Too bad if you’re still off your tits by then.” She went to the dinner gong beside the staircase and struck a booming note that seemed to echo through the house. As it lingered, she stepped over Beth’s slumped body and climbed quickly to the landing, where another doll-faced maid awaited her.
“Shit,” said Megan as she heard the summons. She glanced towards the window. “They are kidding if they think we’re going out.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Katie reassured her. “It’ll just be an activity downstairs.” She sounded almost keen to meet the challenge. Megan would have bet she’d been a form captain at school.
Of course, the gong might simply mean that it was time for tea. Megan peeked out round the door, but nobody was in the passageway. She gave Katie a wave and scurried back the way she’d come. The door of her room was just ajar. She slipped inside and walked towards the bed.
She didn’t sense a presence as the door swung closed behind her. She heard a popping sound and felt a waspish sting beneath her shoulder blade. As she gasped and groped for it, her muscles turned to toffee. She stumbled forward and collapsed, her body thumping prone onto the rug.
Katie was just lacing up her sneakers when a knock came on the door. “Come in,” she called. She thought it would be Megan but a maid appeared instead. Katie looked up quizzically. Her eyes grew wide as the girl produced a gun. It spat at her, and she felt a piercing twinge in her left breast. Whinnying, she flinching away – then whimpered as her head began to swim. She plucked at her hurt tit, then toppled backwards. The maid withdrew and closed the bedroom door.
The two remaining girls emerged from Charlotte’s room, still smirking. “Perhaps they dropped a tray,” drawled Charlotte. Penny tittered. Then they came up short. A pair of maids were waiting on the landing. Charlotte raised a languid eyebrow. “Come to fetch us, have you?” she enquired.
The maids brought up their pistols, smooth as clockwork, and shot a pellet into each girl’s breast. Charlotte’s tight black jersey was no barrier, and nor was Penny’s slinky mini-dress. The victims squealed and clutched themselves, their shocked mouths staying open as their faces slackened and their eyelids closed. They tumbled to the floor like schoolgirls swooning. Satisfied, the maids stepped back.
A distant growl of thunder reached their ears.
* * *
Lightning made the room flare white, and then the thunder bellowed like a roof collapsing overhead. Mel woke up with a start.
For a moment she was utterly bewildered, not even sure which way was up or down. The lightning had winked out again, and the room was full of darkness. Blearily she realised she was hanging off the bed. Her head was bowed, one arm flung out, the other dangling limply. Her skin was bare and clammy with cold sweat.
She could hear the rain still beating at the window, but otherwise the room was hushed and still. Her thigh was throbbing dully where the prissy maid had shot her. The nausea in her gut became an icy surge of fear.
She brought her head up cautiously and felt her hackles rising, as if a hand was poised above her neck. But no-one pounced on her out of the darkness. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she recognised the bedroom as her own. The window was a lighter square, its drapes still hanging open. She clambered up onto her knees and bit her lip to stop it quivering.
What the hell was going on? Had she been kidnapped? Sliding carefully off the bed, she tiptoed to the window and peered out. As she cupped her eyes against the glass, more lighting slashed the storm clouds, and Mel reared backwards, horrified.
The house was half-submerged in one vast lake.
* * *
Somewhere in the silent, flooded building, a wetsuit was zipped up from crotch to throat. The wearer flexed his rubber skin. It gleamed in the dull lamplight. He pulled the hood over his head, and his shape became a sleek black silhouette.
He paused to listen, savouring the stillness. He could hear the distant hiss of rain, and the lap of murky water at the walls. But not a peep yet from the six young ladies. His face remained impassive as he braced one leg to strap his knife in place. It was a Barracuda with a stainless-steel blade. The sharp tip and serrated edge were just the thing to finish off a catch.
* * *
Katie was awoken by a steady plinking sound. She forced her eyelids open and rolled over on her back. A jag of lightning flashed across the ceiling, then thunder like an avalanche. She sat up woozily.
The bedroom lay in cold, unnerving darkness. Gingerly she touched her breast. Its softness was still sore. The pellet had just nicked the areola of her nipple. She made a hoarse sound in her throat. Her mind was muzzy, but her heartbeat throbbed.
Belatedly she realised she was naked and hugged her boobs while drawing up her knees. She waited, cringing, but the room was empty. The rain tapped on the window pane. The plinking by the bedside turned to plops. The rhythmic sound was coming from the nightstand. She squinted at the dim shape there, and saw it was a china chamber pot. The water dripping into it must be coming through the ceiling. She raised her eyes uncertainly. The house felt more unnerving with each breath.
* * *
The frogman browsed through his array of spear guns, and chose a Mares Mini 42. It was a lightweight weapon, only sixteen inches long: compact enough to holster at his thigh. The pneumatic pump was fully charged, and the spear was double-barbed. As he fastened it against his leg, he felt a growing stiffness in his groin.
* * *
Penny pressed her nose against the window, her dark eyes cavernous with disbelief. Beyond the streaming veil of rain, the grounds lay under water. The house was flooded and cut off. And she had lost her dress and underwear.
She’d grown into a rather vain young beauty, complacent in the glow of privilege. But waking in the nude had blown her confidence to pieces. She’d never felt so vulnerable, as if the gloom was full of groping hands.
She had a fractured memory of being shot by the maid. Charlotte had been with her then, but now she was alone in her own room. She cupped her breast as Katie had before her. This had to be some horrid prank. But the fear of something worse stuck in her throat.
* * *
The frogman took a second gun, this one a JBL: a Magnum for close-quarters spearfishing. It fired a twenty-four inch shaft, tipped with a single barb. Designed for heavy penetration. Hefting it, he moved towards the door.
* * *
Mel had ventured out onto the landing. A jolt of lightning made her wince. She sensed the dank miasma from below. But a spooky bluish glimmer tinged the open space before her. She leaned over the banisters and peered into the hall. A murky tide of water had crept halfway up the staircase. She whimpered through her fingers as she realised she was trapped. But lights were glowing underneath the surface, casting a blue shimmer on the ceiling and the walls. The flicker lit her woeful face and pertly dangling bosom. She scanned the depths in bafflement. The foyer had become a swimming pool.
Then she heard a muffled sound behind her. A footstep, slow and purposeful. She swung round with a gasp. The passageway was blacker than a tunnel. She felt a sudden rush of dread. Her breasts heaved tautly as she backed away. The sound was not repeated, but she felt the darkness gaping. Her skin began to prickle, as if scanned by unseen eyes.
She scurried down the stairs till she had almost reached the water, then paused to listen fearfully. The footfall came again. Her heart raced as she fought to quell her panic. Craning out to look, wide-eyed, she glimpsed a shape congealing from the dark. For a moment it was featureless, a moving silhouette, and then the light reflected off a scuba mask.
Galvanised by terror, Mel plunged down into the water. Its cold grip shocked her muscles, but adrenaline was scalding through her veins. Taking a breath, she dived towards the tiled floor of the hallway, her slim limbs stroking urgently. Her hair streamed like a sea anemone. The glow came from a diving light which was anchored near the doorway. It lit her nymph-like body and the silver bubbles rising in her wake. She groped around the sunken hall in panic, then saw a doorway to her left and hastily swam through. She thought it was the passage to the lounge where she’d been reading, just a few hours earlier in another world.
Her lungs were aching with stale breath. She looked over her shoulder. There was no sign of the frogman in the hall’s receding glow. She swam along the passageway. Her chest felt close to bursting. The water darkened with each stroke, but another lamp was burning in the lounge. Just as she realised that she couldn’t make it, another door gaped open to her right. She twisted through and rose, praying the room had a high ceiling. And so it did. She reached dark air, and threw her head back with a grateful gasp.
Upstairs, Charlotte surfaced from oblivion just as sharply. Unnerved, she sat bolt upright on the bed. The sudden shift in equilibrium almost made her vomit. She pressed her hand against her mouth as a sweaty chill rolled over her bare flesh.
Her dark eyes shifted left and right above her clutching fingers. The dimness of the bedroom stirred a long-forgotten dread. She’d been a timid child before becoming a spoilt adult. Beneath her heavy breasts, her heartbeat fluttered like a girl’s.
Mel trod water, clinging to a bookshelf. Her heart beat like a hammer as she gulped to fill her lungs. She wondered wildly if this was a nightmare, but her cold wet skin and slicked-back hair said it was all too real. The floodwater was very cold, and now that she’d stopped swimming, the chill was gnawing at her flesh. She knew she couldn’t linger here for long. If the frogman had come after her, he must have swum straight past. Her teeth had started chattering. The cold had turned her nipples bullet-hard.
She didn’t sense the frogman entering the flooded chamber, as silent as a predatory shark.
He didn’t switch his flashlight on, just hovered in the darkness. A steady, muffled kicking reached to his ears. He finned his way towards it past the shapes of chairs and tables. A glimmer from the passageway was seeping through the door. As his eyes adjusted to it, he made out the girl’s dim outline, her legs moving above him as she cycled on the spot. Bracing himself, he raised the Magnum speargun. It bucked and spurted bubbles in his grip.
Mel was just about to dive when the spear streaked up to meet her, and the impact was a total, horrid shock. It struck beneath one bobbing breast and smashed her fragile ribcage, the barbed point driving upward through her lung. She reared back with a guttural cry, convulsing in the water as her body was thrown back against the books. Her right hand clutched the shelf, her left groped blindly at her midriff – but a bolt of anguish made her mewl before her fingers even found the spear. She wriggled miserably as pain expanded through her torso, but an artery had ruptured, and her squirmy death throes quickly spent themselves.
Relaxing, she subsided in the darkness, and a deeper dark enshrouded her like smoke. She seemed to hang in limbo for a moment, then drifted ceilingward again and broke the surface with her shoulder blades.
The frogman rose beneath her corpse and switched his flashlight on. The inky cloud turned scarlet, and her pale form had a falling angel’s grace. Her plump breasts hung towards him and her labia leaked bubbles. Her green eyes stared down emptily, and her mouth was open wide with pained surprise.
Letting the discharged speargun sink, he took hold of her ankle and drew her down to join him. Her shocked features didn’t change. One third of the protruding shaft was buried in her body. He slid an arm around her waist and swam back out into the passageway.
Upstairs, Beth was stirring in the darkness of her bedroom. She realised she was on her belly, naked, with a dull pain in her arse. Raising her head, befuddled, she groped blindly for the nightstand. Her glasses were folded neatly there. She put them on and peered into the gloom.
That maid had shot her with a tranquilliser dart or something. She rubbed her buttock, grimacing, and felt a little sick. The rain against the windows had diminished to a drizzle. She reached out for the bedside lamp and clicked it, but the room stayed dark as soot.
Still pouting with unease, she touched the cross around her neck. Her clothes were missing, but she still had that. Beth was a churchy girl, but she could feel her prim faith quailing. She rubbed the little silver shape, then let it dangle just above her breasts.
Katie, meanwhile, had summoned up the nerve to leave her bedroom. She crept along the passageway, and winced at each reflected lightning flash. The thunder grumbled dully in the distance. Her fine blonde hairs were prickling with a sense of being stalked.
A part of her was hoping this was all part of the training, but her queasy stomach wouldn’t be convinced. She moved towards the faint glow at the far end of the passage, till she saw the flooded foyer and her eyes grew round with shock.
“Oh my God,” she bleated, one hand going to her mouth. The other clutched the banister, and then her stomach knotted with a jerk. The body of a girl was floating face-down in the water, as nude as Katie was herself. Whatever game this was had gone too far.
Katie gasped, then got a grip and scampered down the staircase. The murky water scared her, but her instinct was to help. She forced herself to go waist-deep and gripped the newel-post, then reached out for the floating girl.
And then she suffered for her selflessness.
Mel’s breasts dangled underneath the surface. A crocodile electrode squeezed each nipple in its jaws. A pair of wires connected them to a concealed battery. The watching maid just had to turn the switch.
Katie gave a choked-off squeal as the power sizzled through her. She twisted in a paroxysm, still clutching at the post. Her jaw locked and she mewed in anguish through her gritted teeth. The voltage didn’t scorch her skin, but it burned out every nerve.
The maid watched her convulsing for a moment, her elfin face contorted and her bosom straining taut. Then she turned the power off and Katie’s mind went with it. The blonde girl pitched face-first into the water like a doll. She belly-flopped and bobbed back to the surface. Now two girls showed their upturned arses to the floor above.
Megan woke belatedly and looked around in panic, as if she sensed her workmates were already being snuffed. She was huddled in the easy chair beside her bedroom window. The dismal rain had stopped at last, and a cold full moon was breaking through the clouds.
She hugged her nakedness and tried to work out what had happened, wondering if she’d drunk too much and lost the past few hours. Getting up – her feline grace still wobbly – she peered out of the window, and her stomach turned a frightened somersault.
Charlotte was at her window too and chewing her pert lip as the increasing moonlight showed how bad things were. Of course, her plight was much worse than she realised. She wondered fretfully where Penny was.
A flare from the receding storm lit up the dark horizon. It made salvation seem a world away. But then she glimpsed a flashlight beam reflected in the water. She pressed her face and breasts against the glass. Her heartbeat quickened hopefully as she made out the dim outline of a dinghy being paddled slowly past.
She fumbled with the window, got it open and leaned out into the cool air of the night. “Help!” she called, and wished for once she didn’t sound so cultured. “I’m up here! Help!” But the rescuer continued on his course.
Charlotte hesitated for a moment, then swung one graceful leg over the sill. The other followed it. Again she wavered. Her breasts swelled as she filled her lungs, and then she launched herself into the dark. The water swallowed her and she kicked back towards the surface, tossing her head as she came up to flick the straggling hair out of her eyes. The water was cold and her muscles started quivering. She glanced round for the dinghy. It was heading for the corner of the house.
“Help!” she called out breathlessly and floundered in pursuit. The building loomed up to her left; it felt surreal to pass it at this height. She found her stroke and began to close the distance. And then, at last, the crouching figure turned its hooded head.
Charlotte paused to wave and kept on swimming. The flashlight was switched on again and shone into her face. Charlotte squinted as she made for safety. “Thank God …” she gasped. “We’ve been cut off …”
And then a figure seized her from behind.
The frogman had come up from out of nowhere. He clamped his arm round Charlotte’s neck, and her startled mouth became a soundless O. She kicked and wriggled in his grasp, her eyes rolling in panic, till they glimpsed the sheen of moonlight on a bright serrated blade. The two of them trod water like a pair of lovers spooning; then the frogman started slitting Charlotte’s throat.
The posh girl gurgled in her severed windpipe and poked her tongue out as she tried to breathe. Her blood splashed her wet cleavage and she squirmed in desperation, but the man’s grip was implacable. The knife edge felt white-hot. The other maid sat watching in the dinghy, her torch beam lighting up the squirts of red.
The blood drained out of Charlotte’s brain and left her spasming limply as the frogman finished slicing through her throat. Her head lolled to his shoulder; he embraced her in the water, then pulled her down into the murk, like a crocodile escaping with its prey. The girl’s large breasts were straining with trapped air, like life preservers. He drew her through a downstairs window. Blood unfurled behind her like a scarf.
Penny thought she’d heard some reedy shouting, but when she peered into the night, the moonlit floodwater was undisturbed. None the less, she had a horrid feeling of foreboding. Nibbling on her fingernail, she kept on moping round the darkened room.
Beth was the next girl to emerge – not dreaming she would be the next to die.
Part of her had wanted to stay holed up in the bedroom, but the endless waiting was too much to bear. The worst thing was, she didn’t know what she was waiting for. Though normally a passive girl, she’d willed herself to risk a look around.
She groped her way towards a moonlit landing, biting her lip uncertainly and fiddling with her cross. The stairs below were flooded, like the grounds outside her window. Beth stopped short. Her eyes grew wide behind her spectacles. It wasn’t the same hallway as the one where Mel and Katie were already floating face-down and inert. This was narrower, a servants’ staircase. Beth went down it cautiously and dipped her toes into the liquid dark.
Its coldness made her wince, but then she heard a noise behind her, like the creaking of a floorboard, and looked round uneasily. There was no sign of movement on the landing. “Mel…?” she called out weakly. “Charlotte…?” Neither girl could answer her, of course.
Swallowing, she eased herself into the chilly water and swam across the hallway. Every sound was magnified by the deep hush. She kept her head up stiffly so as not to splash her glasses. The glow of moonlight showed where rooms had not been quite engulfed. She breast-stroked down a passageway with more steps in the middle; they raised the floor sufficiently so she could stand waist-deep. Sucking her teeth against the cold, she waded slowly onward and came into a moonlit room full of half-sunken plants.
The conservatory looked very different from her previous visit. She’d sat here with a book this morning, savouring the perfume of the flowers. Now the glass-walled space smelled dank and musty, and the black plants seemed about to pounce at her.
Glancing round, she heard another movement – not a footfall but a muted sloshing sound. Fear went crawling up her spine. For a moment she stood frozen, then forced herself to move again, her wide eyes peering through the foliage. The moonlight glinted on her glasses and her silver pendant. Then someone rose up from the water and she cowered with a startled yelp.
The frogman wasn’t sated after what he’d done to Charlotte, but he wouldn’t linger on this po-faced miss. The Mares Mini speargun gave a sharp, pneumatic cough and sank its double-barbed projectile in Beth’s breast. She spun back with a stricken grunt, eyes staring in the moonlight as her fingers clawed in panic at her tits. But the point had plunged into her heart, and squirming wouldn’t save her, no more than would the cross around her neck. The shock of impact was dispelled by mortal agony. Beth squealed like a stuck piglet, but her two surviving workmates didn’t hear.
Arching her spine, she flopped into the water, the spear protruding skyward as her floating body twitched. Then she drifted motionless, her shapely breasts awash, her vulva opening like a pink anemone.
Penny stiffened in her restless roaming as she heard somebody creeping past her door. She waited, trying not to breathe, and the stealthy feet moved onward. She didn’t realise it was Megan snooping nervously round the top floor.
The Welsh girl reached the servants’ stairs as Beth had done before her. She stared into the moon-tinged water, not sure if she dared to venture down. A few turns down the labyrinth, Beth floated belly upward, her stylish glasses still in place, offsetting the pinched look she wore in death. Her parted thighs contrasted with the cross on her wet chest. Meanwhile, in the front hall, Mel and Katie nudged each other listlessly.
Megan slipped into the glassy water, as sinuous as a mermaid, but she chose a different door. More confident than Beth, she ducked her head under the surface and swam along the parquet floor, where she could pass unseen. She reached the lounge and surfaced, gasping. Nobody had taken refuge there. Filling her lungs again, she glided on towards the foyer, attracted by the strange blue glimmer of the diving lights. A shadow moved across her as she came into the hallway. Startled, she kicked clear and surfaced – next to Mel and Katie’s naked backs.
She realised they were dead at once, recoiling with a sob. Then panic rose inside her and she struck out blindly for the flight of stairs. She felt the risers underwater, reached out for the handrail – and didn’t see the crouching shape until his black-gloved fist clenched in her hair.
The frogman thrust her head beneath the surface. Megan thrashed and wriggled as her fear came to the boil. She forced her head back up again and snatched a gulp of air, her hair like soaking seaweed in her eyes. The man was crouching on the stairs. He dunked her head and held it. Megan flailed out wildly, grabbed his belt and pulled him in.
They grappled in the water for a terrifying moment. She tried to claw his eyes, but only scraped his scuba mask. As he dragged her down, she saw he had a snorkel. Lashing out, she tore it loose. A spurt of bubbles rose towards the light. Her lungs were tight and aching, but she wasn’t finished yet. Her long nails raked his rubber skin.
He dipped his head and bit into her breast.
Megan squealed despite herself – or tried to, as the water filled her throat. She gargled, trying to cough it out. He thumped her in the belly, very hard. She jerked and felt the water pour inside her. Her panic blazed up desperately as liquid filled her lungs. He’d finished biting on her tit and now gripped both her shoulders. She wriggled feebly as her mind fogged up. Bubbles streamed out of her mouth and spiralled for the moonlight. The frogman’s chest was pounding, but he waited till her last breath had escaped.
Releasing her at last, he flippered back up to the surface. The drowned girl rose more slowly, as her stomach gases vied with her soaked lungs. Her sodden curls and smooth bare shoulders came up close to Katie. The frogman clambered up the stairs. You minx, he thought. You foxy little minx!
Penny still had no idea of what was going on, and not an inkling that her workmates were all dead. Speared, electrocuted, drowned, they floated in the silence: five office girls who’d shared their last weekend.
Unwittingly, the sixth was not about to rush and join them. The room felt claustrophobic, but she didn’t want to stick her nose outside. Partly it was feeling coy about her nudity, but she also had a real sense of threat.
She put her back against the wall beside the antique fireplace. The panelling felt smooth against her spine and shoulder blades. She listened to the stillness and heard nothing; then moved impulsively, and felt a piece of wall give way. There was a muffled rumbling from the fireplace. She sprang back with a squeak of fright, and felt an eerie draught. The moonlight from the window showed the fireplace had opened and a gaping blackness had replaced the grate.
She realised she had found a secret passage, like something in a story book. She felt a twinge of dread. Minutes passed as she waited for some movement from below her. At last she bit her lip and ducked beneath the mantelpiece.
A flight of steps led downward into blackness. Her breasts heaved as she nerved herself and then began descending on tiptoe. The passageway was cramped enough to rub at both her elbows. It led down to the flooded scullery.
She didn’t notice Charlotte’s body floating in the corner, her upturned breasts washed clean of blood and a deep black slash across her tender throat. What caught Penny’s attention was a dinghy in the moonlight, tied up beside the open door. She slid into the water, shuddering.
Swimming across, she hauled herself aboard it. There were no waterproofs, worse luck, but at least the paddle had been left behind. She glanced round like a nervous doe and fumbled with the painter. It came unknotted, finally. She hand-paddled through the doorway, bending low.
There was a streak of dawn on the horizon. She knelt up in the dinghy, grasped the paddle and looked back at the dark house. It seemed as lifeless as a mausoleum. Though she didn’t want to leave her friend, she wasn’t going to search the horrid place.
She began to paddle clear of the swamped building, her gym-toned muscles rippling in her arms. The night air chilled her naked skin and she realised she was sweating. She risked another backward glance. Had someone seen her? Would she be pursued?
Chewing her lip, she turned to face the sunrise. And as she brought the paddle down, a spear ripped upward through the dinghy’s floor.
It rose between her parted thighs and drove into her pussy, transfixing her vagina and embedding in the viscera above. Penny made a squawking sound and threw her head back sharply. It felt as if a steel-toed boot had kicked her in the crotch. Convulsively she ground her hips, and pain engulfed her belly. Penny screamed – a shrill raw cry of female agony.
She clutched her groin and writhed, the way she did when she was wanking, but each wriggle made the horrid pain get worse. The twenty-four-inch spear had torn through arteries and organs. The shock and blood loss stopped her heart. Her body jerked, then pitched over the side. She dangled there, head downward, arms plunged deep into the water, till the frogman rose to stroke her hair and drag her from the punctured rubber boat. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth still gaped with anguish. Her firm breasts bobbed against his chest. He squeezed their yielding softness through his gloves.
Holding her close, like a swimmer saved from drowning, he drew her back from the pink dawn towards the sombre darkness of the house.