Clutching her purse tightly, Samantha Lane walked down the lonely street toward the park. There was only one man in sight; she didn't notice that he paused to watch her go by. Most would not have blamed him. Samantha was an exquistely attractive young woman, slim, small, and delicate, with short dark hair, large dark eyes, and a figure most models would've envied.
Her thoughts were elsewhere; she was hearing in her mind the phone call she'd received at her hotel a few hours earlier. As soon as she'd heard the deep voice on the other end of the line, she'd known there was a problem--a very serious problem.
"My name is Kalinski," the man had told her, "and yours is Samantha Lane. We know who you are, Ms. Lane. Sadly."
She'd argued, she'd denied it--of course--but he'd kept hurling facts at her, one after another, until finally she'd been silenced. He knew, and there wasn't a doubt about it. "Now," he'd continued, "let us discuss our choices--or shall I say, your choices."
"Very well. What are they?"
"First, you should know that we have alerted all checkpoints leaving the country. If you try to run, you will almost certainly be caught. But, even if you succeed in escaping, we will lodge a formal protest about your presence and activities here; the same will be so if I and my men are forced to track you down and arrest you. You know what such an incident will mean for the talks in Washington."
"Yes," she answered dully. "They'll collapse. Is there an alternative?"
"Yes, there is, I am happy to say--since such an outcome is not desireable to us, either. Ms. Lane, if you are arrested you will be tried, and, considering the magnitude of your crimes against this state, there is no virtually doubt you will be sentenced to death."
"Yes, I know. But that won't prevent--"
"An International incident, no. But we are prepared to offer an alternative."
"Yes?"
Kalinski had paused for an instant. "If," he said finally, "you will come to the park tonight, at nine, we will meet you there--and we will execute you there. As far as the public is concerned you will have had an unfortunate encounter with a psychopath. There will be no incident."
It had been her turn, then, to hesitate. "You're asking me to come to the park--and let you kill me."
"Yes, exactly. You do not have to answer me now, Ms. Lane. We will be in the park, tonight, at nine, and we will remain there until eleven. If you have not made an appearance by then, we will lodge our protest and recall our ambassador from Washington--and begin an intensive search for you. It is now three o'clock; you have six hours to decide."
Even before he'd hung up, Samantha had made her decision; her duty came first, before anything else. She'd treated herself to a fine dinner, she'd dressed in a thin blouse, heels, and a short skirt, and, at eight-thirty, she'd left for the park. Now the entrance was in sight; her resolve hadn't wavered, but she felt a cold trembling inside as she came in sight of the park itself.
As before, the streets were almost desolate, but there was one man standing near the park entrance. He smiled as she approached; she wondered if he was the one she was to meet.
"Hello," he said as she came close. His accent was rather thick. "You are American, no?"
"Yes," she answered, slowing her pace but not stopping.
"You are--alone? I am Victor, perhaps--"
No, she told herself, he isn't the one, he's just a guy looking for a pickup. I'm sorry, she thought, I can't, I can't even stop and talk; some other time I might've, but not tonight. You see, I've got to go on into the park, I'm supposed to meet a couple of guys there so they can kill me, I mustn't be late. She shook her head and walked on by; he just watched her go.
Just inside the entrance she paused, looking down the walkway; there were lights at convenient intervals, the way wasn't dark--though the forests at the sides of the walk were submerged in blackness. Samantha had to force her foot forward, but she walked on, her steps becoming more sure as she moved deeper into the park, as she became more and more committed to her action.
How, she wondered, would it come? They wanted it to look like an attack by a maniac, that ruled out a cyanide pen; a sudden silenced gunshot from the darkness, perhaps? A sound of someone behind her followed by a quick violent blow on her head or a garotte around her neck? She had no idea, nor did she allow it to matter to her too much. It wasn't, after all, her choice.
"Good evening, Ms. Lane," a voice from the shadows said softly.
She stopped and turned; two men stood watching her, barely visible. She smiled a little. "You must be--?"
"Yes," the speaker said. "Your date, as it were." He laughed. "My name is Karl."
Boldly, she walked toward him, her heels clicking slightly on the hard-packed earth. "Well, I'm here," she said unnecessarily.
The men took a step toward her, and she looked from one to the other. Young men, muscular; both dark-haired, dressed in logo T-shirts and jeans. "Yes, you are. May I say, Samantha, you look lovely this evening?"
"Thank you," she said softly.
Karl drew out a long slim knife; she couldn't suppress a gasp, but she didn't move. "This is how it will be," he told her. "You will be undressed. Then Victor here will hold you. And then I will kill you, with this. Are you ready?"
"There's no reason to wait," she said firmly. "We might as well get this over and done with." Her hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. "Why do you want me undressed?" she asked.
He reached for her hands, stopped her. "No, my dear," he said softly. "You do not do this, we will do this. Put your hands atop your head, please."
She obeyed; Karl reached out, grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it open, tearing the fabric, spraying buttons. Again she couldn't suppress her gasps, but she did stand still as he tore and sometimes cut her clothing away--even her stockings--until at last she stood nude, wearing nothing except the high-heel pumps.
Feeling very vulnerable, she gazed steadily at him while he looked over her body. Her legs were long and beautifully shaped, her hips smoothly rounded, her waist small; her breasts were set high on her chest, not too large. Exposed to the air, her dark nipples stood erect.
"You are very lovely," Karl said, caressing one of her breasts gently.
"Are we going to have a rape here too?" she asked cooly.
He laughed. "Do you want one?"
She smiled--and it wasn't even very strained. She could not deny the effect the man was having on her by stroking her breast. "Maybe so," she allowed, scanning his body. "Maybe so." She looked around. "But aren't you afraid we'll be seen here?"
"Not at all. We have other agents on duty. As of your arrival no one else will be permitted to come very close."
"I see. We can do whatever we wish, then."
"Yes."
She looked over her shoulder. "Victor," she said, "could you let go of my hands?"
He did; she put her hands on Karl's chest, kneading the muscles under his shirt with her fingertips. "Very nice," she murmured. "Very nice." Her hands slid down slowly, down to his pants. They already felt tight in the front, and she smiled again. She reached for his belt, undoing it, and a moment later she felt Victor's hard cock poking her rear end. Smiling, she kept undoing Karl's pants until they dropped around his ankles. She pushed his underwear down too, letting his cock rise free.
As he stepped out of his underwear, she began licking around the head of his cock, and at the same time Victor started teasing her rapidly-lubricating cunt with his. Sighing, she wriggled her rear end against him and took Karl's erection fully into her mouth.
"This is my last time," she told herself as she sucked on Karl's thick erection. "My last time, the end, my life ends in just a few minutes, just as soon as these men come..." Her gaze strayed to the knife Karl still held in his right hand. "With that..." She found herself staring at it, wondering how it would feel, how much it would hurt, when it went into her body. Reaching out with her left hand, she took Karl's wrist and pulled the knife closer to herself; with his cock still in her mouth she looked up at him. He grinned, then touched her side lightly with the tip of the blade.
She shivered; that was exactly what she wanted him to do. Behind her, Victor aligned his cock with her vagina and rather suddenly pushed it all the way inside her; she gasped and pushed back against him while Karl began stroking her body lightly with the blade. Victor's hands came up under her, his fingers teasing her now-hard nipples. Knowing what was about to happen, all three of them found themselves in a frenzy, Victor's cock surging in and out of her, Samantha sucking Karl furiously.
Karl was the first to come, the hot spurts of his semen filling her mouth. She looked up at him as his orgasm went on, as she swallowed almost all of the semen; all the while the knife's point was pressed rather hard against her side, hard enough to hurt a little. Victor wasn't long after him, his hips pressing hard against Samantha's buttocks and his hands clutching her breasts as he emptied himself inside her.
They stood her up straight then. She shivered, feeling Victor's semen running down her thigh and knowing that her time was close. Karl kissed her mouth.
"You were lovely," he told her, stroking her cheek. "But now..."
"I know," she answered quietly. "I know." She laid her hands on his broad muscular chest. "Let me feel your strength when you do it, Karl. Do that for me."
He nodded. "Give me your hands," Victor asked from behind her. She obeyed, putting them behind her back, and she felt him take her wrists, holding her tightly; his not-yet-faded erection again pressed against her buttocks. She spread her legs a bit and looked at the knife in Karl's hand; then she looked back up at his face and waited. He laid his left hand on her shoulder and smiled gently.
Then he drove the knife into her bare belly, just under her navel, hitting her hard and burying the whole blade with a single stroke.
Flexing forward against Victor's restraining hands, she grunted with the impact but then moaned softly as the pain of the sharp steel in her entrails began to spread through her. Determined not to cry out, she stared at him with her eyes wide open; he drew the blade partially out and slammed it home again, and she felt hot wetness come streaming down her belly and legs.
"Yes, wonderful, Samantha," Karl whispered as he repeated the action once again and as she again accepted the blade in near-silence. He slipped the knife out and moved a bit closer to her. "You're as courageous as I thought you'd be." Gazing into her eyes, he pushed the point against her chest, under her right breast; she felt the pressure of it, then a sudden hot flash of pain as he forced it in.
She gasped and turned her head slightly as it kept sinking deeper; once Karl had it buried he slammed it hard against her several times, achieving a little more penetration. Then, pulling it out, he drew her close, letting her blood spill out over his chest. She was weakening rapidly, she could feel herself growing colder as her blood drained onto the ground between them.
She laid her head on his shoulder. "Remember," she reminded him, her voice choked, "remember your promise, nobody can know..."
He stabbed her gently in her side, slipping the blade between her ribs on the left. "There will be no incident," he promised her as he forced the blade deep. "You've paid for our silence with your courage and with your life."
She pushed against him, again feeling the blade inside her chest; the pain was much duller now. Blood welled up in her mouth and she let it spill over Karl's shoulder and down his back. Her strength suddenly vanished and her knees buckled, but Karl and Victor did not let her fall. Holding Samantha's head, he pulled the blade free from her side and, reaching over her, buried it in her bare back. He stabbed her back four times, alternating sides.
Samantha, her lungs filling with blood, could no longer breathe; darkness gathered rapidly before her eyes as the blade went into her soft belly again. Relaxing completely now, she felt Karl rip upward with it, opening a long slit in her abdomen. She sighed deeply as her entrails, themselves cut and bleeding, bulged into the incision.
Vaguely, she was aware that Karl and Victor were lowering her to the ground, letting her sag into the enormous pool of her own blood that had collected there. The scent of it filled her nostrils, she saw her hair absorbing it; those were the last things she was aware of.