"You have to try to understand," Kyle was saying. "You just have to try. I hope you can." He gestured toward the man with him. Wilson and me, we don't want to do this, but we have to. Tom says if we don't he'll kill us and our whole families. You know him, Jill; he can and he will."
Her eyes rather wide, she nodded. "Yes, he will," she agreed. "Whatever he's told you to do, do. You have to."
"Shit," Wilson muttered. "Shit."
Jill touched his hand. "He's told you to kill me..." she said softly. "I know that, I knew he'd send somebody to do it. You have to go through with it, Will. He'll just send somebody else if you don't."
"No, you could get out of town..."
She laughed shortly. "He'll find me. Wherever I go. You know that."
"She's right, Will," Kyle put in. "We gotta do it."
She squeezed Wilson's hand. "I'd rather," she told him, "have it done by friends than by some stranger." She stood up, began taking off her clothes.
"What're you doing?" Kyle asked.
"You're born naked," she told him. "You ought to die naked too, if you can." She stripped on down, showing them a beautiful body; smooth soft breasts, a slim waist, beautiful legs. Wilson groaned. She smiled prettily at him. "You don't like what you see, Willy?" she asked.
"Oh, Jill..."
"Come here, guys," she ordered. Almost mechanically they followed her instructions; she led them to the couch, stood them before it. Still smiling, saying nothing, she went down on her knees in front of them. With skillful hands she undid their pants.
"Jill..." Kyle started to say.
"No, be quiet," she ordered. "I want to do this." She wrapped a small hand around each man's cock. "Sit down, please."
The men, their pants down around their ankles, sat. Leaning forward, Jill began with Kyle. She kept looking up at him as her tongue began grazing over the head of his cock lightly, teasing especially around the slit. Kyle's began to rise instantly; Wilson's was a little more reluctant. Smiling up at him and working Kyle's penis with her fingers, Jill took Wilson's cock fully into her mouth, sucking it gently and sensually, working it with her lips and her tongue, pushing her nose down into his pubic hair and working her head around, letting the head of his cock push her cheek out. When she drew her head back his cock glistened with her saliva.
After a few moments she rose, turned around, and slowly sat down on Kyle's cock, impaling herself on it. Reaching around her chest, he teased her nipples. She moaned softly and moved her hips slowly; pulling at Wilson's hand, she tugged him around in front of herself, where she again took his erection deeply into her mouth. Still moving her hips slowly, she slipped Wilson's erection in and out of her mouth sensually, looking up at him as she did. Both men were clearly excited; Wilson was first, spraying his semen into her mouth. Even as she was swallowing it, Kyle raised her body up on his thighs as he spurted his deep inside her. Letting go of Wilson's fading erection, she relaxed back on Kyle's chest and remained there until his penis slipped out of her. Semen followed, draining onto the couch.
Just a few minutes later, she suddenly stood up. "Come on, guys," she said, reaching a hand out to each of them. "Let's do it now."
With obvious reluctance, they both got up, pulled their clothes back on. "Ah, Jilly," Wilson moaned, "I don't want to kill you..."
She touched his lips to silence him. "I know you don't, Will," she agreed. "And I don't want to die, either. But it's something you have to do, like Kyle said." She stopped, shook her head. "No, maybe it's something we have to do--something that for me--well, something that's going to happen whether I like it or not. I have to make the best of it." She giggled and licked her lips. "I think I already have, actually..."
Kyle moved to her left side, took her arm, held it in a viselike grip; Wilson, holding her right hand with his left, stood in front of her and slightly to her right. With his other hand he snapped open a sheath on his belt and drew out a long double-edged knife.
Jill stared at it and bit her lip. "Is it sharp, Willy?" she asked. "It should be sharp..."
"It's sharp, Jilly."
"Real sharp?" She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "It has to be, it shouldn't be--a lot of trouble to get it... in me..."
"Real real sharp. It's going to go in real easy."
"Do her now, Will," Kyle urged. "Don't make her wait any longer!" Nodding, Wilson raised the knife high--but, his hand trembling, he hesitated.
"Please," Jill whispered. "Do it... do it to me now...!"
Wilson looked into her eyes for a moment; then, without saying anything more, he plunged the knife downwards. It struck her breast just above her nipple, biting in deeply; as her eyes dropped closed and blood erupted, Wilson, his hand shaking, forced it on, burying the long blade in her naked body. She was entirely unresisting, and, except for a series of sharp gasps, she remained silent as the blade sank into her chest.
After a moment's pause, he drew it back out; still silent, she stood quivering as blood bubbled from her pierced breast and flowed down over her body.
"Look at that," she murmured, watching the blood running out. She leaned back against Kyle; he supported her. "There's so much, it feels so strange..."
"Jill, I'm so sorry," Wilson muttered.
"Don't be. Do it again," she said, looking up at him. Her lips trembled. "Again! Put it in down lower this time..."
He gave her a questioning look, but then he turned the knife over and, underhanded, drove it into her side near her waistline. She stiffened and threw her head back. As before, Wilson pushed it on in until the hilt stopped against her skin.
"Yeah," Jill sighed, "yeah, yeah, that'll do it... work it around inside me, up and down..." Wilson followed her instructions; blood came rushing out. She grunted loudly, lifted her leg, trembled. "Oh, yeah...!" She lost her strength suddenly, sagged in their grip; Wilson started to pull the knife out of her but she begged him not to. Together, he and Kyle helped her to her couch, helped her lie down.
"Over there in my desk," she whispered, her voice weak and ragged. "there's a Polaroid camera. It's got some film in it. Get it, Will. Take a picture of me like this; give it to Tommy."
He did as she asked, snapping several pictures of her as she lay bleeding profusely, the knife still standing in her belly. She looked up at the camera, and she even managed a little smile for one or two of the pictures.
"Come here, guys," she asked, her voice faint. "I'm not going to last long--stay with me till it's over..."
"We're not going anywhere," Wilson declared. He wrapped his fingers around the knife's hilt and pulled; this time she didn't argue. It resisted him, her skin clinging to it as if she did not want to release it. She moaned softly; he pulled harder, and, rather suddenly, it came out of her. A river of blood, a steady flow, followed it out.
Jill blinked several times. "Oh... wow... I feel so... funny, I feel... oh, Willy..."
Tears stood in Wilson's eyes. "You're dying, Jilly."
Staring at him wide-eyed, she nodded. "Is there... any more film in that camera?"
"Yes," Kyle answered. He kneeled beside the couch. "Four or five more shots, I think."
"Good," she said, glancing at him. She turned back to Wilson. "Put the point in my navel," she told him. "Put it right in there and push it back in me. Kyle, take pictures as he's doing it."
"Oh, Jilly, no..."
She twisted her face. "I'm dying, Willy. You said it yourself. What does it matter? Just do it... do it, let Tommy see all of it, let him see me die."
He ground his teeth--but he poised the bloodied knife upright on her belly, letting the point sit right in her deep navel. She turned to Kyle, who was now pointing the camera at her, smiled and winked as he snapped a shot. Then she smiled faintly and nodded to Wilson. His hands pressing against the butt of the hilt, he pushed down hard. A couple of inches of the blade sank right in.
Jilly groaned loudly and her body arched; Kyle snapped another picture. Trembling, she laid her hands against her flat belly on either side of the blade, pulling her skin to either side; blood welled up around the blade, and the camera's flash flared again. Wilson pushed on, slipping more of the hard steel into her body. Making ragged sobbing sounds, she raised herself halfway up and tugged furiously at her skin as if trying to tear herself open. Wilson pushed once more and the guards mounted her flesh.
"Yesss..." she hissed. "Leave it now, leave it sticking in me. Take another picture, get a good close-up, make sure they're good ones..." He let go of the knife; Kyle took a picture and she grabbed the knife's hilt with her own hands. Weakly, she pushed on it herself, then stopped. For several seconds she did nothing at all; then her eyes flew wide open.
"Oh... wow..." she muttered again. "Wow..."
She suddenly relaxed; her hand fell away from the knife. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes staring, her pupils expanding rapidly. Kyle took a final picture, Wilson removed the knife from her belly; she didn't react. Carefully, he closed her eyes and wiped the blood from the blade.
Then, standing up straight, he looked around at Kyle; both men looked years older. With a sigh, Kyle
began gathering up the pictures the Polaroid had discharged. With glazed eyes, Wilson watched him do it, wondering what Tom was
going to say about these pictures--and wondering where, given Tom's talent for turning anything to a
profit, where they were going to end up.