Dressed in a short houserobe that revealed almost all of her long smooth legs, Jane sat down on her couch and crossed her hands in her lap. "My husband sent you, didn't he?" she asked the rough- looking man who was standing across the room. Becoming aware that he was staring at her fixedly, she smiled charmingly at him. Most men would've stared at Jane; she looked truly magnificent, her face strikingly pretty, her hair thick and dark, her body that of a model or a dancer. "You can relax," she told him. "I know who you are and why you're here. You're a hit man; my husband hired you, he sent you to kill me."
The man hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. "Sorry," he told her. "Nothing personal. But there ain't no need in cryin' or beggin,' it's my job, I'm gonna do what I came here to do."
She startled him by laughing. "Well, I certainly hope so!" He looked confused; she continued to laugh. "I know all about this," she told him. "My husband and I planned this together. I've been waiting for you."
He still looked puzzled. "But I don't get it--I'm here to--"
"Kill me. I know." She was still smiling, and she startled him even more by standing up and taking off her robe; she wasn't wearing anything under it. Totally naked, she sat back down. With her hands she cupped each of her breasts, lifting them as if offering them. "Well, come on," she told him, offering him a sleepy-sexy look. "Do your job--it's time for you to get to work!"
Moving almost in slow motion, the man reached into his jacket and drew out a gun. "Oh, don't use that!" she cried. "The noise is sure to attract attention, attention we don't want or need! Damn it! Didn't Paul talk to you at all? Didn't you bring a knife?"
"Well--yes--"
"Let's see it!"
He put the gun away and, digging in his pocket, came up with a switchblade; he snapped it open. The blade was long but slim. He held it up. "How's this?"
She smiled at it and stretched her body. "Mmmm--that's fine, that looks good, that looks real good. Come over here, now." She patted the couch beside her hip. "Sit with me, let's talk for a minute."
He sat down, turned toward her. "Talk about what?"
"About how we're going to do this. About how you're going to kill me."
He shook his head. "Lady, you are one for the books!"
She laughed. "Maybe so. The point is, I want you to do this a certain way. You don't mind, do you?"
"No. Whatever."
"Good. Do you know a lot about killing people?" She smiled, looked a little confused, made a helpless gesture. "Like, you know, what happens if you do this, if you do that--you understand?"
He grunted, but he nodded. "Enough." He leaned over to her and touched her body, just under her breastbone. Looking down, she watched his hand. "If we do a line," he said, moving his finger up and to the left, "up here to your nipple--" Reachingthat point, he allowed his fingertips to linger there; the nipple grew erect, and she tossed him a seductive smile--"and then we come halfway back down, the heart is, as they say, 'uncovered'--there's no bone over it except ribs. If I stick my knife in there, between your ribs, you'll go down real quick. No pain."
"That's not," she murmured, "really the way I want it to be... although it might be nice to do that at the end..."
He grinned. "What d'you want to do before that?"
She looked up at him. "I want you to stab me," she said, her voice steady, "somewhere where--oh, I don't know exactly, somewhere where it might kill me but not right away. You know what I mean?"
"I guess." He patted her smooth flat stomach. "Most anywhere down here'd do that." He moved his hand to her breast. "Here too, if I do it right. Hell, I could stick you thirty, forty times and leave you alive--for a while."
She nodded. "That's the idea." She sighed and stretched, then got up and sat down again, this time on the floor in front of the couch. She leaned her back against it. "Let's do it," she said firmly. "Now." She touched her abdomen. "Somewhere down here. Oh, yeah, and look--put it in real slow, okay? Real slow and easy."
"Lady, that'll hurt like hell!"
"I know. That's what I want!"
He shrugged. "Your call. I can do it better that way if I cut you first, though. It'll slide in real easy then."
She smiled. "You're the expert." She squirmed a little and bit her lower lip nervously. "Come on... the more we put it off the more scared I get! Let's get going!"
Leaning over close to her, he touched her belly with the knife's point, an inch or so above her navel. "Sure?" he asked, glancing up at her.
It was a bit strained, but she smiled. "Real sure." Falling silent, she stared fixedly down at the blade.
Watching her face, he pressed the knife in a little; then, with a quick motion, jerked it downward. She jumped; blood welled up from the incision he'd made.
She laughed. "Ow!" she said mockingly. "That hurt!"
He slipped the point of the knife into the center of the lightly-bleeding cut. "Not anywhere near as much as this is going to," he warned her.
"I sure hope not!" she said. She stared at the knife and her smile faded. "Let's do it," she said again, a strained urgency in her voice. "Get it in me, get it deep inside me..." The man shrugged and, putting pressure on it, began sliding it slowly and gently into her body.
She stiffened and groaned softly; her hands came up as if to grab at the knife, but she grabbed her own breasts instead, pushing them up hard and squeezing them tightly. Blood started bubbling out freely; the man, still watching her face, continued to slip the knife on into her, pushing hard whenever he encountered resistance, until the blade had completely disappeared.
"Oh, my God," she whispered softly. "Oh, God...!" She stared at the imbedded knife and the flowing blood for a few seconds, then looked up at the man. "It feels... weird," she said, her voice strained and unsteady, "but it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would..."
"You want me to take it out?"
She shook her head. "No, not yet." She glanced at the end table beyond him. "Hand me that phone," she asked.
He looked blank. "Phone?"
She was staring at the knife again. "Uh-huh."
He laughed. "Honey, I don't think that's a good idea! You could call--"
"I want to call Paul," she insisted. "My husband. The man who hired you? You must have the number... you could dial it..."
He shook his own head in disbelief, but, finally, he gave her the phone; as she'd suggested, he dialed it.
"Paul?" she said into the receiver after a moment. "Paul, it's me. He's here, Paul; he's sitting right beside me on the couch. I'm naked--I'm completely naked--and he's done it, he's stabbed me, there's a knife sticking in my stomach right now, Paul; deep, deep, inside me, I can't see the blade at all. It's bleeding, it's bleeding a lot. It really hurts, every time I move or breathe I can feel the point down inside me, but it isn't as bad as I thought, it's a good sensual pain..." She paused, listened. "Uh-huh. I know; I know you wanted to be here. You can't, you have to have an alibi, you--"
"Look," the hitman said, interrupting. "Look, lady, I know this ain't none of my business, I'm getting paid and all that, but--this is weird. you mind telling me what the hell's going on?"
She looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed, then told Paul to wait. "It really is simple," she answered. "Three things came together all at once, that's all." She gestured toward the phone, and the movement made her wince again. "First off, Paul's business is failing, he needs money and he needs it fast. He's going to get it from my insurance policy. And nobody'll suspect since I took the policy out myself, he didn't. The second thing is that, well, having this happen to me has been something I've fantasized about for--I don't know, forever. And..."
She trailed off; the man waited. "And?" he prompted. "The third thing?"
"The third thing is that Paul's going to leave me," she said in a rush. Tears came to her eyes. "Or I'm going to leave him, we're just drifting apart... and I don't want that, I don't want to go on without him, without what we've had together. This has been his fantasy too... I'm going to give it to him, a final gift, one last gift..."
The man pursed his lips and nodded; Jane turned back to the phone. "He wants you to do me again," she told him. "While he stays on the phone." In spite of the knife that was still piercing her she smiled briefly. "He says he wants you to stick it in my breast," she said, "right through my nipple. He wants you to work it in real real slow."
"Is that what you want?" the hitman asked.
"I want what he wants. Do it, okay?"
Yet again, he shrugged; he drew the knife slowly and carefully out of her belly, then paused for a moment before putting the point against her right nipple, locating it right on the tip.
Chewing her lip, Jane watched it. "Okay, Paul," she said into the phone. "Okay, he's got it pressed into my nipple, and he's--ah! oh! oh, he's working it up and down, he's cutting me, oooh...! it's started to bleed now, a little--now he's pushing it, oh, Paul, oh, it's going in, oh God Paul, it feels so hot, it hurts it hurts, oh no no no, I don't want him to stop, I want it in me, all the way, all the way, oh God my God, ohhhh...!" She paused, clutched the phone tightly; her body quivered. "Oh, yes, Paul, oh, he's got half of it in me now... yes, there's a lot more blood, a lot more, running out of me, running down my chest... oh, Paul, Paul, oh God Paul...!"
She paused, gasping; the man kept on working the knife in, deeper and deeper. Jane choked, coughed; blood ran from her mouth. "There's blood coming up in my throat now, Paul," she said into the phone. Her voice was noticeably weaker. She looked down at her breast. "He has the knife back inside me now--as far as it'll go... Yes, yes, it's right through the nipple, right down through the center of it..." The man tugged on it a little; again she gasped. "Oh, he's taking it out now, oh, god, oh, Paul, Paul..." She stopping speaking and arched her body against the couch as he drew it on free. Once it was out, blood spurted from the wound.
She watched it for several long seconds. "I'm going to hang up for now, Paul," she said finally. "I'm going to have him do me a few more times, and I'll call you back a little later, when we're close to the end, okay? Okay, bye. Yes, love you too."
The man hung up the phone; Jane smiled and stretched her body, raising her arms up over her head. "You want to do me again?" she asked.
"Any time," he said with an answering grin. "Where?"
"Wherever you want to put it, amd this time, however you want to do it. Just don't kill me yet, and be sure you get it all the way in me!" She licked her lips. "I love the feel of it down deep inside me...!"
'You got it." He leaned over her, put his face very close to hers, and touched the point of the knife to her side, just above her hip. "Ready?"
She lifted her head and impulsively kissed him, a quick peck. "I sure am!"
He grinned again--and plunged the blade right in, burying most of it with a single stroke. Taken by surprise, she grunted loudly; her eyes and mouth flying open. Watching her face closely, he slammed it on into her, once again burying it completely. She turned her head to the side and bit her lip, suppressing a cry of pain.
But then, just an instant later, she turned back to him and smiled. "That was good too," she told him. "Real good." She looked down at it; there was very little bleeding from this one thus far.
With another sigh, she spread her legs; her groin was rather thickly haired, but smooth vaginal lips peeked through. "Could you... play with me some?" she asked with a seductive tone. "Down there...?"
Leaving the knife sticking in her side, he touched her vagina and found it soaking wet. "Sure can," he answered, stroking upwards with his fingertips. "Got you all turned on, don't it?"
She seemed slightly embarrassed. "Yes..." she admitted. "I pretty much knew it would..." He rubbed her clitoris a little more; she moaned softly, then reached for his pants and pulled down the zipper. Working her fingers inside, she quickly extracted his penis, which was already half-erect. She pulled at it a little and he stood up, bringing it close to her face; she smiled, licked it a few times, then drew the head into her mouth. It came to full erection almost instantly. She sucked it for a moment, then stopped.
"My killer, my executioner," she sighed, working his wet cock with her hand. "My wonderful, skillful executioner... Death in person for me. I always did want to suck Death's cock..." She took it back into her mouth and sucked it again, long smooth strokes, for a couple of minutes.
Then she stopped once more. "Take the knife out of me now," she instructed. "Take it out and hurt me with it while I'm sucking you, okay? Cut me or whatever..."
He dropped back to his knees and wrapped his fingers around the knife's handle. "I like your ideas," he told her as he started pulling it free. She held her side and groaned as it slipped out; blood followed the blade, pouring over her fingers and down over her hip. After a taking moment to compose herself, she leaned forward and started sucking him again. Holding the knife in his right hand, he wound her hair up in his left, getting a tight grip.
After allowing her to suck him for several long minutes, he suddenly jerked her head back. Dropping to one knee gracefully, he plunged the blade into her belly near her navel. She jerked and gasped, her eyes going wide; but, before she could react much, he'd whipped it out and, standing again, had pushed her head back onto his erection. Not expecting it, she choked on it at first, but soon enough she was sucking it again with a vengeance, her eyes turned upward to look at his face.
The next time he jerked her head back she knew what was coming.
Dropping down, he slipped the blade in under her ribs on her right side; she squirmed against the pain, and this time he held it in her for a few seconds before jerking it cleanly out. Smiling down at her he stood again, and this time she accepted his erection willingly and quickly. With the flat of the blade he gently caressed her unijured nipple; she moved her hands down to her groin and began rubbing her own clitoris vigorously. Within seconds she was arching her body in climax; he quickly pulled her head back, dropped down, and buried the knife deep in her lower belly. She cried out softly as her orgasm, obviously strengthened by the pain, left her shuddering helplessly.
As soon as she finished he knelt between her legs and shoved his erection into her vagina. With the knife still sticking in her lower belly, she squirmed and moaned as he slammed his hips against her; grabbing the knife's hilt, he pulled it halfway out and slammed it home again five or six times, drawing gasps or cries from her each time.
"Come in my mouth, please, I want your come in my mouth..." she begged as his breathing became shallow and rapid.
"Fine with me," he told her. Leaving the knife buried in her belly and pulling out of her vagina, he came back up on his knees in front of her and, grabbing her hair again, shoved his penis into her mouth. She sucked at it vigorously, and, just a moment later, with a loud groan, he shoved her head hard into his groin and began spraying hot jets of semen deep into her throat. As he came he reached down and grabbed the knife and, dragging it upward, ripped a six-inch gash in her belly. She went rigid; she tried to swallow but most of his semen ran from the side of her slightly-open mouth. After he'd finished, he pulled out and released her head; she looked down at her belly, at the deep slit he'd cut in it, at the freely-flowing blood.
For several minutes she didn't speak. "I think we're about done," she said finally. Her voice was very thready. "I want to call Paul again..."
The man nodded and dialed the phone. When Paul answered, he handed it to Jane.
"Yes," she told him. "Yes, we've done a lot more, Paul... I fucked him, sucked him off... yes, he came in my mouth. He's stabbed me all over." She paused, breathed hard for a moment. "Oh, Paul," she murmured weakly, "oh, there's blood all over the place, he cut my belly open--I'm not going to be here much longer, Paul, not much longer..." Pausing again, she listened for a moment, then turned back to her assailant. "He says he wants you to kill me now," she told him flatly. "Let's do it like you said, like we talked about earlier. Just do it slow, okay? So I can talk a little longer... oh, and tell me, exactly, what you're going to do before you do it..."
He nodded and touched her breast with the dagger's point, right where he'd told her her heart was uncovered. "Got to make sure," he said, feeling around with his fingers, "that we're between ribs. We don't want to hit one going in." Watching him, breathing hard, she pushed her breasts up hard with her hands. "Now," he went on, "I'm going to cut you. Just a little, a little cut like before, maybe an inch long or so. Okay?"
She nodded, and repeated his words to Paul; he tipped the knife's handle downward. Then, moving his gaze between her eyes and the blade, he pressed down and drew it across. She bit her lip; the edge bit into her skin, a little trickle of blood appeared. When the incision was an inch wide, he stopped.
"Looks good," he said, nodding. "That's good, yes..." She pulled her breast up a little harder and he studied the wound. "Now. Your skin's cut, it'll go it easy. I'm going to put the point of the knife in it, as far in as it'll go." He did; about a half-inch of the tip of the knife slipped inside the cut. She winced again, bit her lip again, then took a deep breath.
"Okay," he said, "I'm going in now. You want to make it last a minute, you tell me when you feel a real heavy hard pain. I'll stop." She repeated his words, then nodded; he started pushing hard. In a series of jerky steps, the blade started sinking in. Almost instantly, more blood appeared; Jane threw her head back, closing her eyes and opening her mouth; her hands remained where they were, pushing her breasts up.
The blade slipped in a tiny bit farther, and Jane suddenly raised her head. "Stop," she commanded in a rough whisper. "Stop right there. Don't take it out, don't do anything!" He did; she squirmed for a moment, gasped for air, then became still. "Oh, god, oh, god... Just keep it in me, right there--oh God, I think it's touching my heart! God, it hurts, oh, Paul, it hurts, it hurts!" Again she paused and listened. "I love you, Paul," she whispered. Then she looked up at the man. "He says do it, go on. Kill me now, he wants to hear me die."
Leaning over her and shaking his head, the man forced the knife on down and in; she gave voice to a high-pitched wavering cry as it passed into her chest. A great gout of blood, much darker than what had been flowing previously, forced its way out past the blade; Jane stiffened and moaned. Urine wetted the couch under her.
Then, suddenly, her hands relaxed, dropping to her sides. Her head fell limply over as well; the
phone tumbled to the floor. The man drew his knife out of her, then picked up the receiver. "She's
dead," he said simply before clicking it off.