Posted by NotThatjack on July 08, 20010 at 19:11:38:
Since I got such nice feedback on my first Jack story, here's another.
This time, there's no 'wastage', Bluebeard :)
Sending A Message
By
NotThatJack
Getting in the building was easy. It had been picked by the wiseass to hide his mistress because nobody was there to see who came and went, no doorman, nobody. Even so, I wore all khaki pants and shirt and carried a clipboard. Nobody pays attention when you seem to be wearing a uniform and carrying a clipboard.
I take the elevator up to the fifth floor and used my jimmy to open the door in a trice. I had seen her head out for her morning shopping and pedicure and knew I had some time to set up before she was back.
First thing, I went to the window and peeked out. I could see the boys in position. One at either end of the block and one by the phone booth. I give a wave and move away.
I set down my bag out of sight of the door and look around. Nice place. Go into the kitchen and open some drawers. Smiling, I had found what I was looking for, the drawer with the cutlery. I pick up a few and settle on the eight inch chef’s knife. Strong and not too big.
Taking it with me, I go through the rest of the apartment. Living Room. Bathroom. Small den. Bedroom.
In the bedroom, I open the closet. Carefully looking though her clothes, I occasionally rub a dress or blouse between my fingers, enjoying the feel of the silky material. At the far end of the closet there’s an obvious man’s bathrobe. With a chuckle, I take it out.
Quickly, I remove my clothes, folding them carefully, until I am naked. Then I put on the bathrobe. It fits pretty well. Then I look in the drawers of the night tables and put a tube in the pocket.
After tying the robe belt around my waist tightly and putting the knife carefully in a pocket, I carry the clothes back to the bag and carefully put them in the bag.
Moving the bag under the sofa in the living room, I sit down and wait.
The phone rings once and then stops, then rings again. I pick it up and a voice says. “She’s on the way, Jack”. I move to the window and peek out. I can see the girl enter the building.
Taking the knife out of the pocket, I walk to the den and stand out of sight.
After a few minutes, I hear a key in the lock and the door open. The sound of high heels, clack past the den and go into the bathroom. I don’t move. I hear the shower start and the sound of the high heels move into the bedroom.
“Wants to take a shower”, I think, “Fine. Let her die clean. Make things easier if she’s already naked.”
I stand still, my breathing slow and steady. I hear the rustle of material as she undresses and then the slight slap of her bare feet as she walks to the bathroom. The door closes and I hear her get into the shower.
Moving silently to the bathroom door, I listen. When the water stops, I wait a count of three and quietly open the door and walk in, closing the door behind me.
The girl, standing with her back to me and a towel in one hand and a shower cap in the other, feels the slight breeze from the movement of the door and turns around. She is a stunning creature. About 5 feet and four or five inches, her honey blond hair rolling in waves a bit past her shoulder. Her large eyes are a warm brown and her full lips seem to be begging for a kiss, or a dick. Her skin is flawless and pale gold. Her body is soft and luscious, her breasts full and round. Below, her belly seems soft as well with a deep navel. Her waist narrows and her hips swell leading to a pale, slight pubic bush that barely covers a pussy still glistening some from the shower. A pair of legs that would tempt a bishop finishes this beautiful sight.
She smiles for a moment, seeing the robe and assuming it is her lover, then she sees the face and looks confused.
“Who … who are you?” She says a hint of anger in her voice.
“Nobody”, I say coldly, “Who I am doesn’t matter. Who you are doesn’t matter. We don’t matter. All that matters is that the man I work for wants to send a message to the man who pays for this … love nest. So, I guess I’m the pen and you’re the paper. Doesn’t matter which pen you use or what paper you write on, as long as the message reaches the right guy. You know?”
She holds the towel in front of herself and looks even more confused. “Message? Is this about Brent?”
“Yep”, I say, “Brent don’t want to go along with a deal my boss has and he’s said some very hurtful things. So, my boss wants to send him a message. Don’t fuck with us, we’re bad news. We can get to you. Like that.”
“OK. OK. I’ll tell him. OK. You can go now. I’ll tell him.”
I chuckle and take the knife out of the pocket, “Not how it works, sweetheart.”
Quickly, I step up to her, rip the towel from her with my left hand and hold the knife up in front of her face with my right. The bulk of my body forces her back until she is up against the sink and vanity along the wall.
“Like I said, I’m the pen”, I say quietly as I slowly move the knife in front of her eyes.
“And you’re the paper”, my other hand carefully touches her belly and my finger trail against her soft, warm skin.
She gasps as I touch her, but her eyes don’t leave the knife.
“Oh god. Please.” Her voice goes up, “Please don’t hurt me.”
My left hand moves up to her cheek and I slowly caress her cheek with the back of my fingers.
“But I have to hurt you, darling”, I lean over and whisper in her ear, “That’s the message. I’m going to kill you. Mean kill. And, yes, it will hurt. A lot. Oh yeah, I might fuck you too. While you’re dying. You’re going to be a very horrifying message to old Brent.”
“No!” she tries to scream but she is too frightened for it to be more than a squeak, “No! I’m not part of it, I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, doll”, I say loudly, “A married man is paying for your home and fucking you. Don’t tell me you’re innocent.”
I move the knife from her face, move my left hand to her back and move my face until it is right up to hers, looking right into her eyes.
“Hope you like this room, because it’s the last place you’ll ever see.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for hope.
“No, no, no, no”, she says, her voice fading as fear takes hold.
I plunge the knife into her belly, her eyes go wide and her mouth opens. A cry escapes as she realizes what has happened. The knife isn’t all the way in so I push again until I feel her skin against my hand.
Leaving the knife in her belly, I lean back and look at her. Her eyes are watering, her mouth slightly open, she is breathing fast. I reach down and give the knife a twist in her gut.
“Ahhhhhh”, she screams, her mouth opening farther. I lean down and kiss her full on the lips. For a few moments she responds, her body, knowing that death is coming, reaching for a bit of life, her lips melting against mine, our tongues rolling against each other. Her arms go around my neck and she moans, not in pain. Then she presses her body against me. This shifts the knife some more and she screams again, trying to curl in a ball.
“Well, I guess our little moment is over, huh?” I say with a laugh, “If we can’t have love, we can certainly have death.”
Then I yank the knife out of her gut with a squelch, blood flowing down her side and over her hips.
Quickly I stab the knife into her gut, once, twice, three, then four times, each time in a different place across her belly, the last in her navel. I leave the knife in her again.
“Augh. Augh. Augh. Augh”, she gives something between a scream and a grunt at each stab.
When I stop she moans low and sags a bit. I take her under her arms and lift her up so that she is sitting on the vanity. This causes her to give another high pitched cry as things shift inside her and a wave of pain convulses her. Her legs come up as she bends at the waist; her moan becomes a gurgling noise. I force her back to a sitting position.
Blood is dripping from her lips and as I look into her eyes, I can see that she knows that she is dying, that I am in control of her death. I glance down and can see that her torso is covered with blood, the wounds gaping; more blood is slowly pulsing out.
“Please”, she whispers, “Help me.”
“No help for you, sweetie. I got more I want to do”, I reach into the pocket of her lovers robe, now dripping with her blood and take out the tube of lubricant, labeled, “For Her Pleasure”
“Well, this’ll be a real test won’t it”, I think as I squeeze out a large dollop into my left hand and reach between her legs.
As my fingers with the gel, rub her pussy, now covered with blood, she begins to breathe faster, whispering, “No. Don’t’. No. God, no.”
“Aaaaaa”,
she calls out and gasps as my fingers enter her and I rub the lubricant
until it covers her inside and out. I can feel her pussy contracting
against my fingers.
I open the robe and my erection leaps out. The vanity has her at exactly the right height so I put my hands against her back and slide her forward. Between her own juices and the gel, I slide into her like a knife entering a well oiled scabbard.
“Noooo!”, she yells, trying to move away, “No that! Nooo!”
Holding her to me, her struggles excites me even more. I reach with my left hand and pull out the knife in her navel.
She gives a loud gasp and tries to slide back on the vanity. I feel waves of contractions in her pussy as the pain rolls through her.
I reach behind her and grasp the knife in both hands, “Don’t go away, lover”, I say, as I plunge the knife to the hilt into the left side of her lower back.
Her back arches and, moving forward trying to escape the pain and the blade, impales her deeper on my dick. The same waves roll against me inside her and I can feel myself close to letting go.
I do the same to the other side of her lower back. While her back doesn’t arch as much and I can’t get much deeper into her, the ripples of the pain through her, brings me to an explosive climax. I keep shooting my cum into her for a while. When I am done, I pull out and am a bit surprised to hear a slight intake of breath from her when I do.
“That was great, baby”, I say and give her quick kiss on the lips, “Thanks.”
I let her lean back against the mirror and I can see that she is weak. Her lips are slack and blood drips from them. Her eyes seem to drift in and out of focus. Blood is pooling under her legs.
“Don’t go yet”, I say, “I’m not done. Message ain’t … forceful enough yet.”
I stick my finger into the wound in her navel and move it around, I can feel her guts and I begin to get hard again.
“Eeeeee”, she squeals, her eyes snapping back to the here and now.
“That got your attention”, I say
“No more’, she says, her voice a bubbling rasp, “Please. No more.”
I lean over and kiss those full lips one more time, “But I haven’t finished the message.”
I stand up, her legs straddling me, the only thing keeping her from sliding off the vanity onto the floor. Holding the knife in an overhand grip in my right hand, I grab her tits with my left.
They are full and large, more than my hand can hold. I squeeze them and feel their softness and heft. I rub her nipples with my bloody thumb. They begin to stiffen.
“Very nice, baby”, I say softly, “very nice”.
Her head shakes back and forth and I can see the humiliations and fear in her eyes.
I grin and begin to stab. This time the knife goes deep into her breasts. First the right, then the left. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Each time the knife goes in; I can hear a grunt escape her throat.
The blood pumps out from her chest, some frothy, some dark.
She begins to shake and I know she’s almost done. After working her breasts like that, and knowing she is going, I find myself hard and ready again.
“Well”, I think, “Might as well sign the message”
I stand back and she slides off the vanity. I lower to a sitting position on the floor, the movement causing her to moan and more blood to come out of her mouth. I can tell she is almost gone. Her head leans back and she looks at me. I step forward and put my dick in her mouth. She pulls away but only hits the back of her head on the vanity as my dick fills her mouth and throat. I thrust in and out of her mouth as I see her eyes roll back. Suddenly her throat clamps down on my dick as her body stiffens, arches, and falls back limp. Her throat relaxes and I shoot my load into what I know is a dead body.
I step away and look at her, a once beautiful woman, now a bloody mess. Gaping wounds all over her, cum dripping from her pussy and her mouth, a look of pain and horror on her face.
I drop the robe in the bathroom, step into the shower and rinse off any of her blood, get dressed and walk out, locking the door behind me.
Yep, this was the message we wanted.