"This looks good," the man dressed in camouflage fatigues said, inspecting the window and the decorative brass post beside it. "Looks like a real good place. Bring her on over here, Jerry."
"Jerry" nodded; Ellen did not argue as, holding her by the wrists, he pushed her across the room. Once she was in place, the two men raised her arms up over her head and tied her wrists tightly to the post. She resisted them only a little. Her eyes were closed; the men stepped back, stood looking at her for a moment. Naked, she presented a very attractive picture, her high firm breasts jutting upward, her ribs in sharp relief, the fading sunshine from the window highlighting her flat stomach, perfect thighs, and dark pubic triangle. The two men who'd broken into her house, whom she'd found standing at her bedside as she awoke, the men who'd forced her to strip naked and who'd then brought her into the front room of the opulent house, stood staring at her, their eyes wandering over her body.
She opened her eyes slowly. "Please," she begged. "Please, please, don't hurt me. I haven't done anything wrong, I haven't, don't hurt me..."
Cammie-clad shook his head; he and Jerry almost simultaneously drew knives from the sheaths at their sides. Ellen gasped loudly and her eyes went wide. The men moved very close to her, Jerry in front of her and Cammie-clad by her left side. "You don't understand, sweetheart," Cammie-clad said softly. He caressed her left breast gently; she winced away from his touch initially, but then forced herself to remain still. "We hate what we gotta do, we really do. Well, maybe not quite as much as you do, but we do, believe me." He leered at her. "'Specially since we were told not to sample the merchandise first..."
"Yeah," the other man agreed. His fingertips traced a line from her solar plexus down to her genitals and back again. "It's a real fuckin' waste..."
"What do you mean, 'first?'" she demanded.
Cammie-clad flicked the point of his knife with his thumb. "Well, ain't it obvious, sweetheart?" he asked in turn. "We got you tied to a post here, we got these here knives... like I say, obvious."
She stared at him. "You're going to kill me?" The men didn't answer; they merely grinned. "But why? Why? What have I done? Why are you doing this?"
The man shrugged. "You're a lesson," he told her. "That's all. Look, ol' John Ellington, he bought you, right? I mean, that's the way it is, isn't it? You sold yourself to him, plain and simple. You weren't making enough in that strip joint down in the French Quarter to suit you, and when ol' John took a shine to you you played up to him. You let him move you in here. You let him buy you."
She looked down. "Yes..." she answered slowly. "Yes, I suppose..." She raised her head. "But I shouldn't be killed for that!" she cried loudly. "Why should I be killed for that?"
Cammie-clad waved a hand to silence her. "You aren't being killed for that," he said. "It has nothing to do with anything you did, sweetie. It's what your beau, Ellington, did--what he's doing. See, a lot of that money he's been spending on you--well, it wasn't his to spend."
She stared. "It wasn't? I don't understand. He's rich, he--"
"Yep. Sure is. Rich as all hell. And he's changed his will, right? Left it all to you?"
"He has?" She seemed confused. "I don't know, I--"
"I guess he didn't tell you. But he did. And see, ol' Ellington, he has two sons by his first wife, and they feel all that loot should be theirs. It will be, too. After today." He grinned again. "Neither one of them ol' boys think daddy'll last long when he comes in and finds you hanging here. And you won't be in any place to collect anything at all."
"They hired you? John Junior and Edward? Hired you to kill me?"
"Sure did."
"But... I can just... disappear? I will, I'll go up North, I--"
"Now sweetie, you know that ain't gonna do no good. We can't trust you to do that."
"No, look," she pleaded, her voice cracking. She tried to force herself to look seductive; her fear kept her from succeeding. "We can have a lot of fun, just let me loose..."
"I wish we could," Cammie-clad sighed. He glanced at the other. "Come on, Jerry," he said. "Ain't no point in putting it off, let's get started here." Holding her shoulder, he pressed the point of his knife against her breast, an inch inside her nipple. Jerry, with a nod, pushed the point of his against her solar plexus.
"Nono, waitwait!" she cried, squirming.
Cammie-clad looked exasperated. "Sweetie, there ain't no use in..."
"Johnnie and Edward told you not to sample the merchandise," she answered. "Why not? I mean, why shouldn't you?"
Jerry kept his knife-point pressed into Ellen's belly, but he looked around at Cammie-clad. "She's got a point, Mick."
"Why not," Mick told her, "is because Johnnie is a church-going man, he--"
Ellen laughed. "Oh, that's good! He hires you to kill me but he doesn't want you sinning? That's rich!"
"Mick, that's bullshit," Jerry noted.
Slowly, Mick nodded. "Yep," he agreed. "I guess it is. You want us to sample the merchandise, darlin'?"
She was much more sure of herself now. "That," she replied, "sounds like a pretty good idea to me." She stretched her body. "Being tied up always did turn me on..." She looked down at the knife that was still pressed hard against her breast. "And a little pain always made it better, too..."
"Well, that's good, that's a good thing," Mick said. He looked at Jerry. "I think we might's well forget about Johnnie's instructions, huh." Jerry nodded. "But," Mick went on, "I want us to get started with what we're doin' here first, okay? Okay, bud? Let's go ahead and stick her a couple of times and then we can see what's what. Okay?"
Jerry nodded again, vigorously. "Okay."
Ellen was staring in disbelief. "No, no, you don't want to..."
"Sorry," Mick said shortly. He glanced at Jerry. "On three," he ordered.
"Oh, please," Ellen whispered. "Please, no..."
"Shut up, darlin,'" Mick said. She sobbed once and turned her head away. He glanced at Jerry again. "One... Two... Three!" At the count, they jammed their knives in, and, with a sound like tearing leather, both blades sank into her body.
She shrieked, raised her right leg, and began trembling. Blood appeared around both blades, trickling down. "Again!" Mick snapped. He counted; both men pushed again, both blades went on in, much deeper. Ellen kept her head turned, kept her leg raised, kept trembling, but didn't cry out again. More blood appeared, a steady pulsating flow now.
Holding the knife, keeping it buried deeply in the softness of her breast, Mick leaned his head close to hers. "How's that feel, sweetie?" he asked. "Is it turning you on? It's gettin' me hot, that's for damn sure!"
She turned her head toward him; there was frothy blood on her lips. "I... don't want to... die..."
"Well, you gotta," he said carelessly. He drew the blade carefully out of her chest; a little more slowly, Jerry pulled his out too. She jerked and moaned as the knives left her body. The men then stood in silence for a moment, watching her bleed, watching her chest heave as she fought for breath.
"Now," Mick said, "it's time to have some fun!"
"We gonna take her down?" Jerry asked.
"Nah. I gotta plan." He dragged a plush-covered stool over, stood it close in front of her, then stood up on it and without further preliminaries, undid his pants. He was already partially erect. She looked up at his face as he began fonding her breasts, smearing the blood on the one he'd pierced. Ellen squirmed, but she didn't seem to be trying to get away from his caresses. After a moment he lifted her legs, pulled them toward himself, and pressed the head of his cock into her cunt.
"God damn!" he cried. "She's soaking wet! You weren't kidding, were you, sweetie?"
She sighed and pushed her hips toward him; he sank his cock inside her. "No," she whispered. "No, I wasn't. Please don't kill me, Mick... fuck me, hurt me, but don't kill me..."
He sighed too. "Honey, we already have, don'tcha know? Those two sticks ain't gonna take you down quick, but you're dyin,' right now."
She turned her head to the side again and her body shook with sobs. But at the same time she clamped her legs around his hips and met his thrusts with surprising vigor.
"Stick her again, Jerry," Mick instructed. "While I'm fucking her. In her gut, maybe."
Ellen sobbed again. "Oh, God, please don't..."
Mick held her thighs tightly. "We gotta, sweetie. And I gotta feeling it's gonna be easier for you if we do it while we're fucking you." He pushed hard into her. "Do her, Jerry. Be sure you don't kill her. When I'm done we'll trade places."
"Fine by me," Jerry said. He moved up close alongside Ellen, and ran his hand over her belly. "So where shall I stick it, honey?"
"I don't know," she sobbed. She turned to glare at him. "Wherever! Just do it! Just do it and get it over with!"
"Gotcha." He pressed the point in just above her navel, pressing hard. She winced and cried out; holding her back, he pushed very hard, and the knife broke through her skin.
She screamed again and her body first stiffened, then began to quiver, as the blade slid back into her. Blood welled up, spilling over her side and dripping onto the floor. Her fingers splayed widely, and she clutched at Mick's body with her legs.
"Shit, this is fucking great, her pussy's wiggling all around on me..." Mick muttered.
"Oh, God, oh God damn," Ellen cried. "Damn, it hurts, oh, shit, oh God I'm going to... ah... God... going to come...!" She began shaking violently, the muscles in her legs alternately contracting and then relaxing.
Mick laughed. "Wasn't kidding, was she?"
"Guess not," Jerry agreed. He waited until Ellen finished her orgasm, then started to pull the knife back.
Ellen looked down at it. "Oh, God that feels strange... it's like I don't want it to go..."
"Don't worry, sweetie," Mick reassured her as Jerry slipped the knife free. He watched the flow of blood that followed it out. "We'll put it back!" His own voice was ragged; he began breathing very hard, and, within seconds, groaned with his own orgasm.
After a moment, he pulled out. "All yours, Jerry," he told the other man.
Jerry nodded, then mounted the stool and looked down at the semen draining from her cunt. "Sloppy seconds," he muttered. But he lifted her legs and moved between them.
"Hey, you get the best of it, man," Mick told him. "While you're screwing her I'm gonna kill her!"
Ellen, her eyes unfocused now, pulled at Jerry's waist with her legs. "Yeah," she murmured. "Yeah, kill me, stab me again, kill me..."
"This first," Jerry said. He slammed his cock deep inside her.
She moaned. "Yeah," she repeated. "Yeah, that..."
Playing with his knife, Mick stood close by while Jerry roughly jammed his hips against hers. Finally, though, he pressed the point of his knife into her uninjured breast. She looked too. "This'll do it," he told her.
"Don't," she muttered. But there was no conviction in her voice. Grinning, Mick started pushing; her breast indented, she groaned, the steel broke through, the blade began sliding in. "It feels so good," he said as it moved on. "Feels so soft..." New blood erupted; Ellen gasped for breath as the knife moved on, sinking deeper. Her mouth filled with blood, it spilled across her lips. She seemed to be trying to speak but couldn't. "That ought to do her," Mick noted, keeping the blade deep inside her chest. He glanced at Jerry. "Y'close, man? Soon's I pull this out, she's goin.'"
"Go now," Jerry said. Mick slipped the blade out of her chest, and foamy blood streamed down. She was really fighting to breathe now, and her fight didn't last long; after several long minutes she began spasming and trembling violently. This went on for several seconds, and Jerry had his climax while she was doing it. Just as he finished, her body went rigid for a moment before she at last became limp in her restraints.
"Perfect timing," Jerry said with a grin. "Perfect!"
Mick laughed. "Hey," he noted. "I'm a fucking professional!"