I'd met her in a topless bar where she was working as a dancer. The announcer gave her stage name as "Kitten;" later I learned her real name was Joan. As the music boomed out she came out on stage wearing high heels and a lacy two-piece outfit cut like a swimsuit, and as she stripped down to a G-string alone, I could not take my eyes off her. Maybe she wasn't everyone's ideal, but to me--for my taste--she was incredible, she was unbelievable, she was perfect. Generally athletic in build, she stood a little under five feet tall; she was slender and long-legged as well, which made her body really tiny. Her waist was almost incredibly slim, and her breasts were small too, but they were very firm, sitting high on a chest that defined each rib. She wore her dark hair very long; when she was standing it reached the small of her back. Her face was nearly square in outline, her mouth generous, her nose miniature and almost pointed at the tip.
Her eyes, in particular, were very striking. Seemingly too large for her face, they were bright green, liquid and luminous. We hit it off immediately; before a month had passed she'd moved in with me. For the next year and a half, we did everything together; one of our passions was swinging, I loved seeing her with another man--or with several other men--and she enjoyed watching me, too.
But all things end, and she didn't fit into my future plans. Finally, as gently as I could, I told her it was time for us to say goodbye.
She wept when I told her that. "I don't want to live without you," she said flatly. "I'd rather die, I'd rather you killed me."
It seemed to me she meant what she was saying. "I'm not about to do that," I told her. "You want to die, you'll have to kill yourself." I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "But if you do, I wouldn't mind watching..."
She threw me a quick glance. "You'd like to watch me die?"
I shrugged. "Sure," I said offhandly; at the moment I wasn't taking this discussion too seriously. "I always did like to watch you fuck. I'd like to watch you die, too."
She seemed to consider this. "Okay," she said. "Okay. I know some guys who take contracts; if you'll pay I'll hire them to kill me. I'll hire them to kill me and you can watch them do it."
I stared at her; she did not look like she was joking. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. It won't cost that much."
Half-heartedly--the whole idea was very exciting to me, I couldn't deny that--I tried to talk her out of it. She was insistent, and finally I gave her the money she'd asked for, figuring that if she vanished with it, well, that was all right too.
At first I thought she had; she didn't return for two days. Finally, though, she came back. When she came in she was wearing a thin shirt with no bra, brief shorts, and low heels; she looked tired. "It's all set," she told me as she flopped onto the couch and kicked off the shoes. She seemed very excited and only a little nervous. "They're going to come and do it day-after-tomorrow night. The only thing up in the air still is how."
"How?"
"Uh-huh." She grinned mischievously and kissed me. "You can decide that. You want to see me shot, stabbed, strangled, or bashed in the head? They'll do any of them..."
"Is this for real?"
"Oh, absolutely!"
I still wasn't sure it was, but I did know my answer. "If it's my choice," I told her slowly, "Then I'd like to see you stabbed."
She nodded enthusiastically and clapped her hands like a little girl. "That's my choice, too." Still grinning, she opened her shirt, showing me her lovely breasts. "Are you sure," she asked seductively, "you don't want to stab me yourself? I'd let you..."
"You make it sound interesting," I answered. "But Joan, I've already paid to have the job done for me!"
She shucked the shirt the rest of the way off. "Right here," she purred, lifting her left breast a little and massaging the area just under it. "I could get you a kitchen knife, right now, and you could put it in me, right here, right into my heart. I wouldn't last more than a few--"
"That," I said, touching her breast, "wouldn't be the way I'd want it to happen anyway, Joan."
She arched her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"No." I pulled her shorts down, letting my hands run down her smooth firm legs as I did; she stepped out of them. "No, I'd want to see a knife going in here," I told her, putting my hands against her bare stomach. "Here, where--"
Her hands joined mine. "Here, where it wouldn't kill me right away?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Oooh, it'd hurt here," she murmured, looking down at herself. "It'd hurt, I'd know I was... dying... it'd bleed, I'd feel it running out..."
"That's right." I looked her over; to me this wasn't actually real. "Joan, you need to be stabbed to death with a small knife. Whoever's killing you should stab you in the stomach and in your breasts, they ought to avoid your heart and throat. Let you bleed for a while, let you squirm with the pain."
"Oh..." she muttered. "Oh, God... that sounds so... exciting!" She looked up at me. "Let me get you a paring knife," she begged. "Let me. Then you can do that to me! Right now!"
I pulled her to me. "Right now," I said, pressing my already hard cock against her, "I have something different I want to stick in you..." ....
As the next few days passed, we talked about it a lot; though I still had my doubts, she kept talking as if she were perfectly serious, and finally one night she told me she had things set up, it was all going to happen on Saturday night. I really didn’t believe her, even when she gave me a specific plan, a plan for me to watch unseen. I knew something would happen, but even as that day approached I felt reasonably sure all I was going to see was Joan getting fucked, probably gang-fucked. Not that that, from my point of view, was a bad thing.
When the night came, I hid in the closet as Joan planned. The louvers in front of me were open and slanted down, and I had a perfect high-angle view of the bed, and indeed, of the whole room. About an hour later, the door opened and Joan came in, leading a long-haired and slender young man by the hand. Leaving him standing alone near the door, she went around the room lighting candles; as she passed by the closet she glanced at the door, winked at me, and nodded.
When she was finished with the candles, she returned to the man and led him slowly toward the bed. As he sat down she leaned over him, kissing him deeply. His hands came up, and he began unbuttoning her blouse; one of hers went to his crotch, and she started massaging his rapidly-rising erection.
A few seconds later she unzipped his pants and extracted his cock. He'd by then opened her blouse, and he played with her tits roughly, dipping his head occasionally to suck or nibble at her nipples. Taking their time about it, they partially undressed each other and partially removed their own clothes; then they stood up together. His hands were all over her, squeezing her tits, stroking her long slim thighs, reaching around behind her to hold her ass. When he finally sat back down, she knelt between his legs. A subtle press on one of his thighs caused him to stretch his left leg out, giving me a perfect view. Only then did she start licking around the shiny head of his cock. He sighed as she engulfed him, holding him deeply in her mouth and running her tongue around his organ.
"I'm not going to be able to take much more," he warned after a few minutes.
She raised her head a little and smiled at him, keeping her tongue on the tip of his cock. "So?" she asked.
"I want to fuck you too--before--"
"There's plenty of time," she said. "I'm in no hurry. No hurry at all. We're going to take our time about this!" Her head went back down, and she sucked his cock with a vengeance. Just a few seconds later he groaned loudly and stiffened. I saw her throat work once or twice before she opened her lips and allowed some of the creamy fluid to slide free down the shaft. Before it reached the base, her tongue snaked out to lick it up, and her throat worked again. The man collapsed backward on the bed, a broad grin on his face.
After she'd finished licking him clean, she stood up. "Relax for a minute," she told him, patting his leg. "I'll be back."
From his supine position, he waved; she smiled, turned away, and, still naked, left the room.
Within minutes she returned, and this time she was leading two new men, both similar in age and build to the first. They must've been waiting in the living room; why she hadn't brought them all in at once I didn't know.
"All right, guys," she said, standing with her hands on her hips. "Let's lose the clothes, okay?"
One of them laughed. "You've never had to ask us more than once, Joan!" he told her as he undid his belt. Both stripped quickly; as soon as they were nude she went to her knees between them, turning her head to suck first one erection, then the next.
A few minutes later she had one of them stretched out on the bed; while the other and the first man sat on the side, she straddled his hips and slowly lowered herself on his rigid cock. She'd set up the angle so that I could see everything, so that I could watch her guide the tip of his erection toward her moist cunt, so I could watch it penetrate and sink inside. As she moved on him I could see her cunt tenting the moistened and slick shaft, as if clutching it tightly.
The other newcomer positioned himself near her head; she turned to face his cock, and she first cupped it with her tongue, then drew it between her lips. Her rising and falling hips never missed a beat, and it didn't take long before first the man inside her and then the one at her face reached their climaxes.
"I hope you guys did what I told you," she said as she lifted herself off the man under her. She paused and posed for a moment, her rear end lifted in my direction--it was for my benefit, I was sure--to let his semen run from her vagina and drip onto the bed. "Because if you didn't," she continued, "it's really going to mess things up!"
The man under her laughed. "Don't you trust us, Joan?" he asked. "Hell, this sure is a special occasion! We don't do many like this!"
She swung her leg over him and he sat up. "I'd be surprised if you've ever done one like this," she murmured.
"Then you'd be surprised," he said pointedly.
"Yeah? Really? Why?"
"One, a girl who just said she wanted to experience everything. The other--" he shrugged. "I don't know. She just wanted it done. She never said why. Her husband paid, and he watched, too."
Joan shook her head. "Who knows?" she asked. "Takes all kinds. Anyway. I'm glad you're experienced. Maybe a little later on you can tell me about those others. But now--shall we go ahead, get things moving?"
"Sure?"
"Sure." The man got up and Joan laid down in his place. She spread her legs widely, lifting her knees, and extended her left arm; then, with her right, she reached over and into the open drawer of the bedside table. Her fingers came out holding four lengths of broad nylon ribbon, and each man took one. With quick efficiency, they tied each of her ankles and wrists to the bedposts. The first man climbed onto the bed and knelt between her knees. His erection had returned, and it slipped easily into her wet cunt.
"Move yourself over here," she instructed. "Off me a little." He did, moving his shoulders away and resting his head on her left arm. His hips remained atop hers, and his cock stayed inside her.
He slid in and out of her a few times; then he paused while one of the other men picked up his pants and slid his hand into a pcoket. Out came the item I'd been told to expect but didn’t really expect: a glittering little dagger with a slender, three-inch, double-edged blade. I gasped, understanding, finally, that this was real, it was going to happen; my gasp was loud enough that the men might’ve heard and for a moment I held my breath, but they did not seem to notice.
"Ooooh," she said, looking at it. "That looks nice! Is it sharp?"
"Real sharp," the man holding it told her.
"Well," she said in a firm but husky voice, "we'd better get started here!" Her body was trembling visibly and her smile was fragile, but it was there.
"Yeah," the man answered, pointing the dagger at her. "Last chance to back out, Joan!"
She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not about to back out!"
"Where do you want the first one?"
She frowned at him. "Don't you remember what I told you?" She nodded down at herself. "In my belly. Then through my tits, but be real careful you don't hit my heart, okay?"
"Okay, I remember." He touched her abdomen with the knife's point, right at her waist and just a little to the left of her navel. "You're weird, Joan." With a smile, he pushed down a little, pricking her skin with it. "Real sure?" he repeated. "Real real sure?"
She looked around at each one of them, then up at the closet, at me; then she looked back down at the knife again. She, like the men--and like me--fixed her gaze on it; even the man screwing her had stopped to watch. "Yeah, Jerry," she whispered. "I want it, I want it in me, I want you to do it! Do it, stick it in me, do it to me now!"
"Your call, Joanie," he said, and he tightened the knife up a little more, pushing a deeper indentation in her belly. Everyone, Joan included, looked tremendously excited; I knew I was, I felt I was about to explode on the spot.
Watching the knife, Joan caught her lower lip with her teeth; her face was tight and her body was rigid, her limbs so taut they trembled in their restraints. Jerry kept increasing the pressure; by then the knife's point was pressing such a deep valley in her abdomen I couldn't imagine how her skin was resisting it.
But then, suddenly, the point broke through. Once the skin had been breached, all resistance seemed to vanish; the little knife sank smoothly into her, the blade vanishing completely.
"Oh, God," she whispered, still staring at it. "Oh, God, oh God oh God--!"
Jerry was still holding it, and it remained buried in her body. Blood--surprisingly little, it seemed to me--was oozing out around it, running down her side. "Hurts real bad?" he asked. "It shouldn't; not all that bad, anyway..."
She squirmed. "No," she gasped. "No, not as bad as I expected, really. I can feel it in there--it feels hot, it hurts like hell but it feels good, too, in a weird kind of way. It's just that, it's just that it's so strange--like my body's screaming at me, telling me that I'm dying--!"
"Imagination," he said matter-of-factly as he started pulling it back. "You're not dying, not by a long shot. The way they have it in the movies ain't right, you know. People don't just fall over dead when you stick them once with some little blade."
"No," she told him, "don't take it out, not just yet." He stopped pulling it back; at that point he'd exposed perhaps an inch of the now-bloodstained steel. Joan stared at it and chewed her lip. "Push it back in me... real slow..."
Watching here face, he did as she said; she arched her back, her mouth dropping open and her eyes closing, as it slipped quietly back down into her belly.
"Now," she told him. "Now pull it out."
He started pulling; he was being gentle about extracting it, but even so it was obviously hurting her, she gasped and stiffened as he drew it back. Finally the knife came free, and a steady pulse of blood followed it out. The man atop her looked down at the wound and began pumping his cock in and out of her again; each time he pushed his cock deep blood squirted from the wound.
Jerry stroked her face and kissed her while the other screwed her and the third watched; Joan was frowning at first, but gradually, as the minutes slipped by, her face began to smooth and the flow of blood from the wound seemed to diminish a little.
"It's starting to clot up," Jerry told her. "Out here. It's prob'ly still bleeding inside, though."
"Mmm. Feels so damn weird, so damn strange. But it doesn't hurt hardly at all anymore, there's a sort of a dull ache but that's all." She arched her body and looked up at him, her quick charming smile returning. "I guess maybe you'd better do it again, huh?" she said. She bounced her eyebrows.
He smiled. "Whenever you're ready for me."
She pressed her hips hard against the man screwing her. "I'm ready for you anytime," she said, straining against her bonds. "You can do me any time you want to!"
She'd hardly gotten the words out of her mouth before he was pressing the slim little blade against her right breast. The tip was resting just below and inside her nipple, once again indenting her satiny skin a little. He paused, looked into her eyes, and teased the already-erect nipple with his fingertips. Her eyes remained on his for a few seconds, then moved back down to the knife.
As if that was his cue he suddenly pushed down hard. Once again her arms and legs pulled her bonds tight, and once again redness welled up to stain both her smooth skin and the shiny steel. "Oh, shit!" she cried. "Oh, wait, wait a minute, don't do anymore yet, oh Jesus--!"
He eased back on it to let her breast resume its normal shape; he hadn't pushed it as deeply as before. Only an inch or so of the metal was hidden in her flesh. He looked down at her curiously. "Why not?" he asked, his tone implying that he truly didn't understand. "You don't want to quit, do you? It's a little late for--"
"Oh, no, no. It was just hurting like hell, I just needed a minute, I just needed a minute to get used to it, that's all, just a minute." She wriggled around on the bed; Jerry held onto the knife tightly. "No, I don't want you to quit. I'm okay now, you can go on. Whenever you want, go on."
"That's what I wanted to hear!" he exclaimed. He pushed on the knife again, and, slowly and steadily, it sank softly on through her breast and passed between her ribs. She watched it go, and though her face was tight and pale, she accepted the full length of the blade in silence.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered. "Christ, oh, man... I can feel it, so sharp, so hot--! It's way deep in there, all the way in, way down deep--!" She squirmed again and the man let go of the knife, left it sticking in her chest; her breast resumed its normal shape but the knife stood rigidly upright. She looked up at the man who was fucking her. "You'd better hurry," she advised. There was blood on her lips now.
Jerry shook his head. "You still have a long way to go," he told her. "If you want to."
Even so, her sex partner increased the speed and vigor of his movements, slamming himself violently into her. She grunted with each stroke, until finally he groaned in orgasm. He relaxed on her then, but only for a moment; he climbed off and she was left alone, his semen draining slowly from her vagina and the blood draining more rapidly from her breast, where the knife still stood.
After a few minutes, Jerry reached over and wrapped his fingers around the knife's handle. She stiffened her arms and legs a little as he started to pull on it, watching it with her eyes wide. But she was silent as, once again, it slipped free from her skin.
While her blood still flowed, the third man positioned himself between her legs and slipped his erection inside her. Remaining close, Jerry moved the tip of the little blade around her body, letting it glide gently over her skin. With his other hand he played with her breast, fingering the nipple, bringing it to a sharp erection.
Joan looked down at it, then back at his eyes, and licked her upper lip slowly and sensuously. "I'm getting into it now," she murmured. "But I'm getting weaker, too. Put it back in me--please, I want you to...!"
As she spoke, the tip of the knife was resting against the side of her breast, near the lower edge. Holding her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Jerry pulled it up a little and pressed the knife in, breaking the skin and burying an inch or so of the blade in her breast.
She sighed deeply, and her face relaxed into an overt smile. "Ooooh, yeah," she whispered. "Now, now it's starting to get good!"
Jerry smiled back, pulled her nipple up a little further, and pierced her breast a little more deeply. New blood trickled out, she sighed again and arched her body, and he slowly worked the remainder of the steel into her. The man atop her stopped for a moment, his cock deep inside her, and her body quivered in obvious orgasm.
She smiled and stretched. "Oh, yeah!" she breathed. "Man, that was good! Look, tell you what... just leave that there and let me rest for a minute. Tell me about the others you did, the other women who've hired you to kill them!"
Jerry let go of the knife handle and shrugged. "Well," he began, "one was just a few months ago. Her husband contacted us; said his wife wanted to commit suicide, and she wanted us to help her do it.
"So, we said, sure. We went over there, and here's this fine beautiful redhead, real Irish, real white skin, big tits and long legs--she's maybe somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. First, she says, she wants us to fuck her brains out. No problem there; ah, Joan, I gotta tell you, that woman could suck cock! Her husband, he joins in, he fucks her too. All the time she's fucking she's going on and on about how this is her last time, make it good. All this time she's talking real romantic to her husband too; you know, telling him goodbye, all that stuff.
"Then, after we've fucked for a few hours, she says now, now's the time, kill me now, and her husband sits down to watch and he says yeah, kill her now.
"So we got a wooden straight-back chair and she sat herself right down in it; she put her own hands behind the back, she held them there while we taped them. Then she put her ankles against the chair legs and we taped them too.
"After that I stood there in front of her, playing with those fine tits of hers, holding this big old rusty-blade hunting knife her husband gave us. I asked her if she was sure, I said we can call it off and you don't owe us a dime. She said no, and her husband said no too. Do it, that's what they both said.
"Well, I asked if she wanted it hard and fast or slow and easy. She says do it hard and fast, but don't do her throat or her heart, she says she wants to know what's happening to her, she don't want to go out all at once, and she wants to be able to say good-bye to her husband again. She looked real excited, real eager; but she looked like she was scared about halfway to death already, too.
"I say, well, I think I understand. Then I jugged her, in her chest, right side, right through that pretty tit of hers. I hit her hard, I got that big ol' knife way on in there--it was all the way through her tit and down between her ribs a ways. I kinda expected her to scream, but she didn't. Her eyes got real big and she went stiff, but she didn't even gasp, nothing. I jerked it loose and you shoulda seen the blood come squirting out!
"Her husband got up then, came over and kissed her, got blood all over his mouth. Told her he was sorry he couldn't do it himself, she said that it was alright, this way was good. He held her for a while, held her tit and let the blood run over his hand, and they both cried a little.
"Then they asked me to come and do her again. This time, her ol' man stood there holding her by the shoulders with his cheek against hers, and while they were like that I stuck the knife in her belly, right through her belly button. Lord, when I pulled that blade out you'da thought a gallon or two of blood come out on the floor!
"Well, she kinda wilted after that, and her husband said stop, no more, not yet. So we waited, and he stood there stroking her face while she bled and while she told him good-bye and all that stuff. Then, when she couldn't hold her head up no more, her husband asked me to come and cut it off.
"So that's what I did. She wasn't dead yet, and when I started sawing into her neck with that rusty old knife she opened her eyes and started jerking around, but I went right on and cut her head right off. The blood shot up out of her neck, I swear, three feet, straight up.
"We washed up and left then. I dunno what else mighta happened."
"And you never knew why?"
"Uh-uh."
"What about the other one?"
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, man, the other one, she was really weird. She was real cute, real young--babyfaced, maybe eighteen--dark hair, dark eyes. She set it up herself--well, just like you did, pretty much."
"Yeah?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Only difference was, we didn't know what was going down, not before. We went to her place knowing she had a job for us--and when we got there, she sits us down and tells us that she wants to get murdered. Says she's fantasized about it forever. Tells us she used to wander around town late at night, hoping to get herself murdered--tells us she got raped three times, got robbed a dozen times, got beat up." He shook his head. "Then she goes on, she tells us she wants it all--she wants to get raped, beat up, cut up, stabbed, strangled, shot--told us after we got started to look in a certain drawer in her dresser. Damn, you wouldn't've believed it! She was as cute as a Kewpie doll, world-class, and she sits there telling us all this, and--" He looked down at Joan, who was grinning. "Well," he went on, "I guess maybe you would believe it, too!"
Joan grinned too. "So what'd you do?"
"Well, we asked when, she says right now's fine. But be rough with me, she says. Real rough. Really hurt me before you kill me. I want to be able to cry and beg you to stop but don't listen, I don't want you to stop, not really, so just go on and do it. So we talked a little more, and we asked her if she was sure and she says yes, she's real sure. She was like some little kid, she was so excited she was bouncing around, she was grinning all over her face. I don't know if I can make you understand how really cute she was, how innocent-looking.
"But, well, we had a job to do. I got up and grabbed her, I slapped the shit out of her, knocked her down. The boys here got into it; we tore her clothes off, we punched her real hard in the stomach, we kicked her in her sides, we slapped her face some more. She cried and she squirmed and she begged, but we went right on, we beat the shit out of her. She looked just pitiful, her nose bleeding and her lip split and bruises all over. But she looked real sexy like that, too.
"We raped her then, like she'd told us to do. Real hard, rough; we made her cunt bleed, we were so rough. While I was fucking her I bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed too.
"Then the boys looked in her drawer. There was all kinds of shit in there; knives, razors, hatpins, icepicks, shoemaker's awls, barbeque skewers--there were some ropes and scarves, and there was a gun, too--a little .32 with a silencer on it, no less. The boys got all that stuff out; I went on fucking her while they stuck hatpins in her tits. She started yelling, so I grabbed one of those pieces of rope and strangled her until she nearly passed out. While she was still gagging and choking and trying to catch her breath, I got one of those knives of hers--a little one--and I stabbed her tit with it. While I was doing that, the boys stuck awls and icepicks through her hands, and one of them took a razor and sliced up her legs, he cut her real deep up the outside of each thigh and up the backsides of her calves. There was blood all over by then, but we didn't quit; I took an icepick and stuck it in her tit, right down through the nipple, and took my time about getting it in there.
"She started crying and begging again then, a lot, really carrying on. I smacked her real hard, she shut up, and Jamie stuffed his cock in her mouth and forced her to suck him until he came. Once he was done I stuck a knife in her side and I came too, I pulled out of her, we threw her off the bed; she still had all this stuff, a bunch of hatpins and two knives and an icepick, sticking in her. She groaned and cried; the boys held her arms and legs and I stomped her belly four or five times. I must've busted something inside her, because blood started running out of her asshole like crazy. She stopped talking after that; she just laid there trembling and groaning.
"I remembered then that she'd said she wanted us to shoot her, too. I was figuring she wasn't going to last a whole lot longer, so I got her gun and pushed it up against her belly; I waited until she got her eyes open, then I shot her. She looked like she sorta liked that, so I shot her again, a little higher up, right through her stomach. The blood just spouted out of those two little holes, like they were little fountains.
"Well, by then she was alive but she wasn't moving much. Billy hadn't come yet, so he stuffed his cock into her mouth; she tried but she couldn't manage to suck him, he had to mouth-fuck her until he shot his wad. While he was fucking her he took a barbecue skewer, one that was maybe ten inches long, and he ran it up into her cunt until we couldn't see any of it but just the tip.
"Well, she manages to speak again then; she says she'd had enough, says we should go on and kill her. I didn't know whether I was supposed to pay any attention to that or not, but I didn't. We just sat back and relaxed for a few minutes, watching her tremble and bleed and suffer; Jamie got the razor and cut up her legs some more, but that's all we did for a while.
"Then I looked at her gun again. There were three more bullets in it. I shot her again--took her by surprise--in her belly. Then I pulled the icepick out of her tit, and Jamie used the razor to cut her nipples off, and he cut an X in each one before he did it. She might've been pretty far gone, but she felt that, she moaned and squirmed.
"After that, I started kicking her again, I broke a couple of her ribs, and Jamie took the razor to her tits, sliced them all up. She was really a mess by then; I took one of her knives and cut her belly open until I could see her guts inside, and she hardly moved. Jamie says, well, let's finish it; so I took her gun and shot her twice more, through her left tit. She didn't sigh or jerk or anything, she just died."
"Were there any more like that?"
"Well, there was one more, that was sort of the same, yeah. It was different, real different, real strange. These guys, a bunch of them, they hired me--just me. Said it had to do with some kind of initiation, some real weird kinda secret society, something like that. When I got there, there were like, oh, maybe twenty guys and this one girl. She was maybe like eighteen, and she was a knockout, world-class. When I got there all the guys were wearing tuxedos but the girl was naked; it was like a party, everyone was having drinks and all, and sometimes the girl would get up on a table and do a real sexy dance. Other times, those guys would take her into a back room, one or two at a time, then bring her out again.
"Finally, though, one of the guys said, 'Okay, let's do it!' The girl just laughed; she stood in the center of the room and all these dudes crowded around her sides and her back. It was real real weird, they were all smiling and laughing and being real playful about it all. One of them said, 'knife her now.' She kept right on smiling; they held her arms and her legs and her tits and her hair, they had hands all over her everywhere, and they were kinda pushing her toward me. I stood right in front of her, holding this little like ceremonial knife or whatever they'd given me--shit, they said ceremonial and it was real fancy but it was sharp as a fucking razor--and I gotta tell you, I was a little confused. It was like they weren't taking it seriously. The girl especially, she just looked like she was having a real good time."
"So what happened?"
"Well, like I said, I was confused, I wasn't real sure about what they wanted me to do. So, I just touched it, real lightly, against her belly." He tapped Joan's abdomen just above her navel. "Right about here."
"So, well, the girl, she looks down at it and she starts giggling--weird! And one of the guys, he says, 'well, go on. Do her, knife her.'
"So, shit, okay, I pushed and they pushed her forward too, and that thin little blade breaks right through and starts going in, she starts bleeding. All these guys start cheering; the girl, shit. She was trembling but--if you can believe it--she kept laughing! 'Oh, wow,' she was saying. 'Oh, wow, that really feels weird, oh shit look at that look at that...' I was pretty sure I had it straight by then, and I pushed it right on in, all the way to the hilt. When I took it out again her blood ran out real smoothly, real steadily.
"They let go of her then, and one of them helped her over to this sort of platform, all covered with cloth, where she sat down. She was holding her belly where I'd knifed her, but she was still acting really strange; half the time she was wincing and groaning like you'd expect but the other half the time she was laughing. Those men, they all gathered close around her and sort of congratulated her, and each one of them dabbed at her blood with a little white handkerchief, getting a spot on each one.
"So, for a while, I didn't do anything except stand around--it was I guess, oh, maybe a half an hour. Then this guy, the one that's been giving the orders, tells me to come over there. I do, and he tells me to knife the girl again. I ask him if he wants me to kill her and he says not particularly but it don't matter a lot, but he says he wants me to do her the same way I did her before.
"So, okay--I figured I had the picture clear enough by then, I didn't have to know the details. I sat down beside her, and I'll be damned if she didn't turn toward me and give me this real sexy grin--she was really cute--and she sort of stuck her chest up at me. They weren't holding her then, and so I reached out and took hold of her hair and I poked the point of the knife into her tit. She giggled again and said, 'go for it, man,' and I started working it on in.
"When the blood started running again the men started cheering again, real collegiate-like. The girl gasped and blinked her eyes--and laughed, and said 'oh, wow, weird,' again a few times--as I ran the blade through her tit and on into her chest, but she looked--well, she just looked sort of real proud of herself.
"She was fading by then; she was still sort of laughing but she was pale and she was choking on blood and she kept saying, 'I feel funny--I feel cold.' I'd only stuck her twice but that ceremonial knife they'd given me, the thing might've been thin but it was pretty long, and it was fairly wide, too. She was losing a lot of blood, and she was losing it pretty fast--there was a big puddle under her legs, and it was dripping from her mouth. It didn't seem to make one damn bit of difference to her, though. After a while the bossman told me to knife her again, and she said, 'oh, yeah, do me again!' and so I pulled the knife out of her tit and kind of pulled her up to me and I ran it in again, up under her ribs. She stopped laughing and went stiff when I did that, and when I took it out she'd passed out, her eyes had rolled back in her head. She died pretty quick then, I guess."
Joan's eyes were bright. "Those're great stories," she told him, slurring her words a little. "Real turn-ons." She glanced toward the closet where I was hiding--and carefully masturbating, pacing myself, not wanting to come until the final moment. "But I'm fading here, I'm like that other girl, I'm getting cold..."
He reached over and touched the knife that was still sticking in her breast, moved it around a little. She gasped as he pulled it back, extracted it, and watched the flow of fresh blood. "You're still a long way from being dead, Joan," he advised.
"Yeah? You sure?"
"Yeah. It's a little knife, honey. You ain't even bleeding that much, not yet. I could do you a buncha times without taking you down."
She squirmed again, as if trying to free herself. "Do me again, then," she asked excitedly. "Like you did the red-headed girl; stab me in the belly, where you stabbed her, stab me hard. Hard and fast!"
He grinned. "Sure," he said, and he stabbed the knife violently into the center of her abdomen, burying it. Before she could react, he snatched it out and buried it again, an inch or two higher.
"Oh, God!" she cried. "Oh, God, that's good, that's fine! God, yes, do it again!"
He laughed and complied, stabbing her in both sides and twice more in the chest. With each penetration her body jerked, but she made no sound other than soft, deep-throated moans--to all appearances, moans of pleasure.
At last he stopped stabbing her. Blood was running freely from the numerous punctures he'd inflicted. Jerry grinned down at her. "Now?" he asked her, leaving me to wonder what he was asking.
Joan grinned too; and, to my surprise--and not inconsiderable alarm--the men looked too.
"You can come out now," Joan said. "It is time, like he said..."
"Yeah, man," Jerry agreed with a broad grin. "Don't you want to at least give your ladyfriend a kiss before she heads off to God knows where?"
For a moment I didn't do anything; then, after tucking my painfully rigid erection back into my pants as best I could, I opened the door and stepped out.
"You've known I was there all along?" I asked in confusion.
"Yeah, man," Jerry replied. "Ol' Joanie told us about the whole setup." He laughed. "Shit, look at you! You're scared as shit, aren't you?"
"They aren't going to hurt you," Joan put in. "Just me..."
"Right," Jerry agreed. He held the bloody knife out to me. "C'mon, man; don't you want to finish her off yourself? Wouldn't you like to be fucking her when her lights go out instead of hiding in the Goddamn closet and beating your meat?"
Embarrassed, I bit my lip. "Yeah," I said, undoing my belt. "Yeah, I would." Once I'd undressed I went to her. Leaning down, I kissed her; I could taste her blood. "Joan, I'm sorry, I should've done this myself in the first place--"
"It isn't too late," she replied. "It's good this way, you didn't have to do it when it was--hurting so bad, when I was so scared. Take the knife; take the knife, put it inside me, take me down, I want to die in your arms..."
I took the knife; Jerry and the others untied her, and she put her arms around my neck. Almost unintentionally, my cock slipped into her. With a shaking hand, I located the tip of the little blade against her belly below her navel, carefully choosing a new, unpunctured spot.
"Do it!" she cried when I hesitated. "Do it!" I pushed, hard; she closed her eyes, trembled, and sighed. "Ah, yes, ooo, yes, it's going in, going in, feels so good, so good, oooh...!"
I kept going, kept pushing it in, feeling her blood pouring over my hand, feeling her quiver against me. Once it was fully in I worked it around inside her, then pulled it out and, raising myself up over her, plunged it hard and fast into her chest, right through her breast.
"Oh, yes!" she gurgled, her voice weak. "Yes! Come on, come on, kill me, kill me, I want it, I want it!"
I was on the verge of my orgasm; I started whipping the blade in and out as I'd seen Jerry do earlier. He and the other men urged me on, yelling, "Go! Go! Do her! Do her!"
My orgasm exploded over me; as it did I stabbed the knife as hard I as could into her belly and collapsed over her, working it around vigorously inside her, twisting it, ripping at her entrails with the blade. She let out a peculiar rattling sound that was half gasp and half moan; although I felt I was on the verge of losing consiousness, I ripped upward with the blade, slicing a ten-inch opening in her belly and following that by pushing the blade and even a part of my hand down inside her. Blood exploded from her body, soaking us both; Jerry slapped me on the back and cheered.
My climax rolled off; Joan, her eyes very wide, was still now except for some quivering. I wasn't sure if she was still conscious or not, but I gathered her into my arms and smothered her with kisses, telling her I didn't understand, until now, how much I'd loved her.
Finally, I got up. "You made a real mess of her," Jerry noted. "And I'm pretty sure she's dead, but we better be sure, huh?"
I glanced at him. "She is dead," I observed. "There's no way that she--"
"No, she was a tough one," he argued. Taking the knife from me, he slit her throat with it, ear to ear; as I'd expected, she didn't react to this at all.
"She's dead now, ain't she?" one of the others asked.
"Yeah, I guess." Jerry answered. "I just wanted ta make real sure. She wanted us to kill her; I sure don't wanta leave her alive in this shape!" The other man laughed, and, slowly, they all rose from the bed.
"Time for us t'go," Jerry told me. "Hey, next time you wanta break up with your girlfriend, give us a call. We love the work!"
I didn't answer; I just watched as they headed toward the bathroom to clean up. "I think," I said under my breath, "that I might just do that!"