"Aunt Edith"

Posted by tina on January 31, 20013 at 20:57:42:

"Hi, everyone! I shall each of you decide what happens to Aunt Edith. Enjoyed!

“Aunt Edith”
By tina

Aunt Edith had a voice that carried over the noisiest of crowds. But in the hush of the funeral home Liz had no trouble overhearing what the old witch had said. Edith had cornered Liz’s other aunt and was saying, “I can’t believe the obit said poor Edna died in bed. Oh, please! And look,” Aunt Edith had continued as she had pointed to her dead sister, “can you believe Elizabeth orders an open coffin? Look, you can see the ligature mark as clear as day.”
“Stop, Edith,” Aunt Ellen had interrupted her only living sister, “Leave Liz alone. She’s been through enough already.”
That was another thing Liz hated about her Aunt Edith. Liz detested being one of the “E” girls. She preferred to be called by her nickname but Aunt Edith had always referred to her as Elizabeth. “If it’s good enough for the queen it should be good enough for you!” Aunt Edith had admonished Liz on more than one occasion.
As Aunt Edith was leaving Liz had heard her aunt mutter, “I wish it was her in that coffin instead of poor dear Edna.”
Liz had stood by her mother’s casket after all the well-wishers and family had departed. “The old bitty was right,” Liz had realized as she had become even more upset. “You can see the ligature mark.” Despite the heavy mortician makeup the neat straight strangulation mark was clearly visible. Of course the obit was correct. Edna had died in bed. That was where Liz had found her late one evening after work. Her mother was sprawled across the bed in the quest bedroom. Edna’s blouse had been ripped open by the attacker and the cups of her lacey bra had been pulled down to expose her ample bosom. Liz had seen her mother’s exposed breasts and her erect nipples. Her mother’s skirt had been bunched up around her waist. Edna’s pink briefs had been pulled down and the panties had now dangled from her right ankle. Her mother’s legs had been pushed wide apart. Edna’s furry brown bush had been lewdly exposed. Liz saw immediately that her mother had been raped. But that was not the worst. The real horror had been her poor mother’s face. The once twinkling brown eyes had bulged dully from Edna’s purple face. Her bloated tongue had dangled from the corner of her gaping mouth. Liz had seen that a sheer black nylon stocking was still looped tightly around her mother’s neck. The killer had pulled the sheer nylon tight as he had slowly strangled his helpless victim. At the end he had knotted the stocking that had still been drawn so horribly tight around Edna’s throat. Liz had found her mother sprawled across the guest bed brutally raped and sadistically strangled. So it was true that her mother had died in bed. Liz could hardly run an obit saying her mother had been raped and strangled.
Liz had looked at her dead mother in the coffin and wondered how the mortician was able to get her bulging tongue stuffed back into her mouth. The poor girl would have shrieked had she known the mortician had cut her mother’s tongue out so he was able to get her mouth into a normal position. Liz would have fainted had she known that the hearse driver who also handled the disposal of bio waste had a taste for sautéed tongue with onions.
Liz had cried as she had driven home from the visitation. “Aunt Edna was right,” Liz had thought, “it should have been me in that casket.” It was no small miracle that Elizabeth had arrived home unharmed. She had eased her bug into the garage and had breathed a sigh of relief that she was safely home. Liz had entered the silent house through the unlocked door that was attached to the kitchen. She had almost called out to her mother. “Hey, mom, I’m home!”
Then with the words on the tip of her tongue she had caught herself. She had kicked off her black pumps, briefly rubbed her stocking feet, and then had padded off toward the bathroom. He had seemed to materialize out of thin air. Liz’s scream had pierced the quiet as the intruder had grabbed her. She had been unable to scream again as the powerful man squeezed her tight.
“It was you I was after,” he had whispered in her ear as he pushed her toward the master bedroom.
“What?” Liz had managed to croak in a whisper. The light of the kitchen faded as they had neared her bedroom.
“It was supposed to be you not your mother,” the man had said gruffly as he had forced her forward into her sanctuary. Through the fog of fear and her profound sorrow Liz had suddenly grasped what the intruder was saying to her. “Oh, God, Aunt Edith was right! It should have been me in that coffin.” Suddenly Liz had lost the will to resist. He had marched her toward her bedroom and she had said with resignation, “I won’t fight you.”
“Oh but that makes it better when they struggle. Your mother put up a hell of a fight. She was the best.”
“Bastard,” Liz had whispered as her mother’s killer had pushed down onto her bed.
“It was supposed to be you,” he repeated as he glared down at her. There was something odd about his face but in the dark she had been unable to figure out what it was. “Yes, it should have been me tonight in that coffin,” she had thought as he had grasped the neckline of her black dress and had ripped it open. He was a brute. He had yanked her dress down exposing her black bra. Then the rapist had yanked the lacey bra down exposing Liz’s full firm breasts.
She had lain quite still as he had pushed her dress up around her waist. “Yes, it should have been me all along.” He had pulled her sheer black pantyhose down and off as they went inside out. Liz had watched as the rapist dropped her sheer hosiery onto the bed next to her.
Then he had done something unexpected. She had watched as he walked over to the door way. She had blinked at the light. He had turned on the bedroom light. Liz had gasped as he turned and walked back toward her. He had a stocking pulled down over his face. An urge to laugh had suddenly overcome the poor girl but she had stifled that impulse.
“You’re wearing a stocking over your face so I won’t be able to describe you to the police,” Liz had stated confidently as the intruder had climbed back onto the bed. As the rapist pushed her thighs apart she had wondered, “Why kill me if I can’t describe you? Why are you wearing the stocking over your face if you plan to kill me?” These thoughts and some even stranger had pulsed through her brain as he had pushed between her legs. He had been quite rough. Liz had put up a feeble resistance as he had begun the sexual assault.
The rape had been horrific. He had violated her with rough strokes. He had gnawed at her breasts as he had savaged her pussy. Liz had not remembered her mother’s breasts being bitten but he had certainly drawn blood as he had clamped his teeth down on her tender flesh. His cock was unusually large and it had hurt her as he raped her. His fingers had dug at the tender flesh of her ass as he pulled her up hard with each savage stroke.
Liz had never felt such ecstasy in her life. Her body was in such agony that she had never felt so alive. Every nerve was sending signals to her brain and it was beautiful. She had not felt him cum but was suddenly aware that he was finished with her. He had picked up her sheer pantyhose and for some reason she had thought of Aunt Edith.
“Aunt Edith will find my body. She’ll find me just as I found my mother.”
She had looked up at him. He was winding her nylons around his powerful hands.
“WAIT! WAIT!” Liz had screamed as she realized she had to tell the strangler something. “I need to tell you about my Aunt Edith.”
He was over her with her pantyhose stretched out. “Tell me quick,” he had replied, “you don’t have much time left.”
He was winding the stockings around her throat as she had told her killer about Aunt Edith. She had managed to tell him that Edith lived alone. He was starting to wrap the sheer black nylons around Liz’s throat as she had gasped out Aunt Edith’s address. Liz had felt the loop of nylon begin to tighten as she had told him Aunt Edith was an attractive woman like her sister. The pantyhose ligature was really tight as she had managed with her last gasp to tell him he would like Aunt Edith.
Liz had looked up into the face of her killer and she had thought she had seen the faintest hint of a smile. In that instant the strangler had pulled the nylons to tight for her to speak. Her body had ached from the brutal rape but it was nothing to compare to the agony of the strangulation. Her lungs had burned as though she had swallowed sulfur. Her head had throbbed as the strangler pulled hard on her lovely stockings. She had felt her tongue swelling. Liz had known she was about to die.
It was almost finished when she had again thought about Aunt Edith. Elizabeth realized that Aunt Edith would find her body just as Liz had found her mother. That had given her some peace as the room had begun to fade. As Elizabeth died she had prayed he would remember what she had said about her beloved Aunt Edith.