After she rinsed the last traces of shampoo from her hair, Angela grabbed the bar of soap and began lathering her breasts and stomach. The hot water felt so good, it washed the tension from her body as she thought about all the day would bring her.
This afternoon would be the culmination of months of planning. By tonight the last and worst of it would be over. She didn't particularly like thinking about the events of the afternoon, so she turned her thoughts to this evening. Joey would be over, they could have a leisurely, relaxed dinner, and discuss their long-awaited trip to the Bahamas. A week in the sun with Joey. A week of laying on the beach, drinking ice cold Margueritas, and fucking Joey's brains out.
Her hand slipped to her clit as these thoughts raced through her head. She stroked herself gently, leaning up against the shower wall. Her juices began to flow, and she traced the outline of her opening lightly, then began to push two fingers inside of herself. Closing her eyes she imagined it was Joey's cock inside of her...
Suddenly she heard a noise in the bathroom. She wondered for a split second if it could be the cat... had she closed the bathroom door? She stopped fingering herself and was about to draw back the shower door when the door flew open on its own.
Before she realized what was happening, a man grabbed her by the throat and pulled her from the shower, forcing her up against the cold, tiled bathroom wall. He put the muzzle of a 9mm against her temple and spoke in a quiet voice.
"Don't say a word bitch... not one word." She had been told to shut up many times during her 34 years, this was the first time she decided to take the advice.
Her mind raced as she tried to read the situation. Here was this guy, wearing a black suit and tie, holding a gun to her head. The likelihood of it being a random rapist that had somehow slipped through the security system was slim to none. Apparently she was in the hands of a professional. She realized the situation wasn't looking so good.
He hadn't expected it to be like this. Killing a woman was a stretch for him, a stretch that he had been willing to overcome. However, he hadn't expected to find her in the shower, and he sure hadn't expected her to be such a hot babe. His eyes wandered down her body; her nipples were erect and her smooth skin covered in goosebumps. He moved the barrel of the 9mm to the hollow of her throat, then pulled the black leather glove off his left hand with his teeth, and ran his hand down her firm breasts... squeezing lightly. He moved his hand lower... across her flat stomach... and to her crotch. When his fingers spread her open, he was surprised to discover she was wet, really wet. He leaned up against her, and pushed his fingers inside of her slowly. She was understandably tense, and at first her body rejected the intrusion. Then, after a couple of gentle probes, he felt her relax and her body welcomed him.
For a few moments, he imagined throwing her on the floor, sucking her clit until it grew hard in his mouth, then banging her until she begged for mercy. However, this was business and not pleasure. He was being paid to kill her, not fuck her, and he couldn't let the swelling in his pants get the best of him. There were a few strange details to accomplish before he finished her off, and he was eager to get this job done with.
"Damn, baby, as much as I'd like to fuck you right now, we got things to take care of." He reached over and grabbed a short, red silk robe off the towel rack, and handed it to her. "Put it on."
Once she slipped the robe on he grabbed her by the hair and started pushing her out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the living room. He led her over to a modern glass desk in the corner of the room and threw her into the chair. Grabbing a pen and a pad of paper from the corner of the desk, he placed it in front of her and handed her the pen.
"You gotta write your hubby a note."
She looked up at him with mild surprise. "What?"
"You gotta write him a note. I'll tell ya what to say. You just write it down." The man rummaged through his breast pocket, finally retrieving a folded piece of paper. He kept the gun pointed casually at the back of her head with his right hand and unfolded the paper with his left.
"Okay, this is what you're gonna write... are you ready?" he asked.
She shrugged and said, "Sure."
"Alright then.... `Dear Mario... I never deserved a man like you. I was never worthy of you... which I've proven so many times...'"
She wrote quickly, then said, "Slow down."
He watched her write out the sentence, and picked up when her pen stopped... "I know deep down I deserve everything I'm getting..."
She began to laugh as she was writing. "God, he's a pathetic little maggot," she muttered.
"Lady, just keep writing what I tell you... okay?"
She continue scribbling, and asked casually, "How much is he paying you for this?"
"A lot... that's how much." He continued dictating. "...and my only regret is having failed you so miserably."
"How much is a lot? 25k?" she inquired. "I could double that... in cash... this afternoon."
"No... more than 25... and it wouldn't be ethical to take your offer. You know that. Not only unethical, but stupid. He'd hire someone new to do both of us... so it's pointless," he answered.
She started to say "What if I told you..."
He cut her off sharply. "There is NO POINT in discussing this. Nothing you can say can change things."
She looked at him and knew it was pointless. So she went back to the previous question. "More than 25? How much is he paying you for this?"
It's really none of your business... but, 40k"
"What makes you so special to bring in that kind of price?"
"It's not me that's special... it's the job. Apparently you pissed him off real good. And he wants some work done before you go."
"Work done? What in the hell are you talking about?" She sounded very concerned.
"I'd rather not discuss it if you don't mind... let's just finish the note, okay?" He was sounding somewhat defensive.
"Excuse me... but I think I have a right to know." She set the pen down. "I'll be glad to finish the note after you tell me what the plan is."
He hated it when he heard that tone of voice... it reminded him of his wife. He didn't feel like arguing, and didn't want to slap her around. He thought... what the hell, if she wants to know I'll tell her. "Fine, you wanna know? I'll tell ya. He wants me to cut you before you go... he wants you to hurt real bad. Are you happy now? Finish the damn note!"
She looked stunned. "That bastard. That sleazy, useless little prick. He knows I hate knives."
He didn't want to hear that. He felt bad about this whole thing already. "I'll make you a deal, okay? You promise not to struggle more than you have to, and I promise to do the worst of it after you're dead."
"Wow... such a deal," she said sarcastically.
"Let's get back to the note now." Typically a hit entailed a couple of well-placed rounds to the head, clean and simple. All this chatter was making things seem messier by the minute and he just wished she would shut up. He continued dictating from the piece of paper. "I was nothing but a worthless tramp..."
She scribbled out the line... and continued to rant. "He has the nerve to call me a tramp... for the last three years we haven't gone on one vacation, not ONE which didn't include accommodations for one of his whores. Oh, he thought I didn't know... but I did! Not that I cared, mind you... I was glad that he was crawling on top of them and staying off of me... so don't misunderstand..."
He interrupted her mid-stream with, "Look, that's between you and him.. I don't wanna get involved in your marital problems. Sign the note and lets get on with this.. okay?"
She signed the note and put the pen down. "Do you mind if I have a drink before we get on with this? My nerves are a little frazzled... I'm sure you understand."
"Yeah.. okay. But I'll get it.." He walked over to the bar, and asked her what she wanted; she answered vodka. She got up and went over to the couch. He poured three shots of Stoli in a glass and added ice. And brought it to her.
She sipped her drink and stared off into space, thinking. Then she broke the silence by saying... "Do you know what would really piss him off?"
He didn't really care, but answered politely "No, what?"
"If I fucked you."
He was astounded at this comment and blurted out "What?"
She answered back in a matter of fact tone. "If I fucked you." She started to laugh. "Oh, the thought is too funny, he sends a hitman over to do me in, and before I go I fuck the guys brains out. Too funny." She erupted in laughter again, oblivious to the shocked look on his face.
He looked at her in disbelief and said. "Geez... you are one crazy bitch."
"The thought doesn't appeal to you?" she asked.
"Well... no... it's not that it isn't appealing, it just seems inappropriate under these circumstances."
"Inappropriate?" she asked innocently. "How do you mean? Don't you find me attractive?" She opened her robe and uncrossed her legs... giving him a full view of her crotch. "Remember a few minutes ago, in the other room? When you felt how hot and wet I was?"
He stared at her open legs... and looked nervous. She moved her hand down and began to stroke herself lightly. Smiling at him.
"Oh c'mon, lady, cut it out," he pleaded.
"I'm getting wet again," she purred, a smirk on her face. He knew she was just putting on a show for him, but he didn't care. The show was good. "Ooooh... can't you help me?" She looked at him and pouted slightly. "It's the least you can do for me..."
His cock was beyond hard, it was throbbing. He muttered "What the hell," placed the gun on the table, loosened his tie, and started to unbutton his shirt. He pulled the six-inch stiletto from the holster at his ankle, and placed that on the table too. Her eyes fixated on the blade, and an involuntary tremor moved up her spine.
When he was undressed he retrieved the knife and stood in front of her. She looked up at him, and though she tried to hide it, fear was evident in her eyes. He stroked her cheek with the blade of the knife... and moved it down along her throat... stopping at the hollow of her neck.
His cock was a few inches in front of her face... and as she stared into his eyes she took it in her hand... then leaned forward and placed her lips around it. He moved back and forth in her mouth, grabbing her hair with one hand.. and moaning. She knew how to give head, no doubt about it.
He let her work on him with her mouth for a few minutes, then pulled away. She looked up at him a little nervously, wondering what was next. He sunk down to his knees and opened her legs wider. Stroking the sharp blade along the inside of the tender flesh of her thighs. When he looked up at her face, he could see she was worried, yet excited at the same time. Her senses heightened by the suspense of pleasure or pain.
He took the tip of the blade and placed it high on the inside of her thigh. Suddenly she shrieked, "NO!"
He was surprised at her response, then realized what she had been thinking. He smiled at her and said softly "No... I'm not gonna cut you there." At least not while you're breathing, he thought. "Just relax baby... lay back and relax. We aren't getting serious yet, I'm just playing with you."
He traced the blade down her thigh slowly, watching as the thin red line appeared in its wake. When he reached her knee... he started on the other thigh. The blood began to trickle down the insides of her legs and stain the sofa. She sat very still, and stared up at the ceiling, occasionally moaning slightly.
When both thighs were evenly marked, he moved his mouth to her sex, and felt her tremble at the touch of his tongue. Despite the fear she was responding, and she slid her hips forward slightly, pushing herself against his mouth.
She began to moan. He felt the need to cut her again. He used his left hand to continue stroking her clit, placed the blade above her naval, and began tracing another line in her skin. She gasped as the point first broke her skin, and jumped slightly, but once the edge was carving her flesh in a smooth manner, she relaxed and continued gyrating against his hand. When the blade reached the hollow of her throat, trickles of blood were already cascading down her sides.
He had never cut a woman before, and he was surprised to discover he enjoyed it very much. Watching her tremble in pleasure one moment, then in pain the next, was riveting. She opened her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. She kissed him softly on the mouth, and for a moment this struck him as too intimate, but he didn't pull away. Instead he moved the head of his cock to the opening of her hot, pulsating cunt and began to enter her slowly. She moaned and lifted her hips to take him fully inside of her. Her voice was faint as she murmured, "Oh yes... that's what I want... yes..." He thrust himself deeply within her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
She met his thrusts with equal force, and began to shake from the first orgasm quickly... digging her nails into his back as she did. He lightened the pressure of his thrusts as her body relaxed, then picked up the pace when she began to move with him once again. She said, "Wow, you really know how to fuck."
He answered, "So do you," and smiled at her. "But you know I gotta do more than just fuck you, right?"
"Yeah, I know... just keep this up while you do it, okay?"
"Okay," he answered. He continued to his thrusts... and as he felt her coming up on a second orgasm, he placed the tip of the knife against her left breast. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed oblivious to the impending wound. When she started to shake for the second time, he slowly pushed the knife in just below her left nipple, watching as the skin indented... then broke. She gasped, and her eyes flew open as the blade punctured her flesh, sinking deeper and deeper. She cried out sharply in pain, yet the orgasm continued to rock her body, driving the blade further in with each convulsion.
He withdrew the blade as she became still. She looked at him and said, "This hurts."
He answered, "I'm sure it does... you're doing real good, though. I'll have to lie to Mario, he wouldn't like hearing how brave you were." He brushed the hair away from her forehead.
A tired smile crossed her lips as she said, "Don't worry about Mario." She grabbed his hips and pulled him deep inside her. "Damn, you're still rock hard... you're really getting off on this, huh?"
"Hey sweetheart, it was your idea to fuck, remember? Is it my fault I'm enjoying it?"
"No... you go right ahead," she answered. "Bring it on." Then she pulled him closer and kissed him again.
He started thrusting hard again, not wanting to wait any longer. He placed the knife against her stomach, and began driving it in. She jerked violently, and ripped into his back with her nails. When the blade was jerked out, a gush of blood followed it, dousing them both. He looked down at their blood-smeared bodies and couldn't believe how arousing it was. He'd never dreamed cutting a woman... seeing the pain in her eyes... watching her blood spill in generous amounts... could be such an incredible turn-on. He'd never been this sexually excited in his life, and the fact that she was letting him do it, not fighting or pleading for mercy, that just made it better.
Without hesitation he drove the blade in again, and this time she let out a short scream. He looked down between them, and stared at the knife in her belly. He looked back at her face, and saw her expression dim... maybe she was going into shock, he thought. He hoped not, her experience was the vital part of the excitement... he wished it would go on a little longer.
He touched her face, then slapped her gently. "Don't fade on me yet... don't." She seemed to revive a little, and looked down, staring that the blade protruding from her abdomen.
She seemed amazed by the sight of the knife handle jutting from her stomach, the blood oozing from her body. "Look," she said softly. "It's deep inside of me... so deep." Then she slowly placed her hand around the knife and began easing it out, her whole body trembling in pain. He watched intently as the blade crept from her flesh, inch by agonizing inch. He wished she would drive it back inside of herself. The only thing that would excite him more than stabbing her again would be watching her plunge the blade into herself.
"The blood is beautiful... isn't it?" She asked. He didn't say anything... just watched her pull the last of the blade from her stomach. When the tip was finally free... she traced the blade up the pool of red on her stomach... and put it to her breast... outlining her nipple lightly. She placed the blade along the bottom edge of her soft pink nipple and pushed slightly... indenting the flesh. "You wanna see me cut it?"
He couldn't believe he was hearing her say that... but then again the entire scene was incredibly surreal. This beautiful woman covered in blood, allowing him to stick a blade in her... his cock was still as hard as steel... but he didn't move it inside of her... he didn't want to disturb the moment... he could wait a little longer.
She didn't wait for his answer, she just began pushing the blade in the lower edge of her nipple until the skin broke and a small trickle of blood appeared. She drove the blade in deeper, until it hit her ribcage... her hand shaking as it held the blade. He looked up at her face, and saw her staring down transfixed. She took her other hand... and gently caressed the new wound with her fingertips, dampening her fingers with the precious red liquid. She brought her fingers to her mouth... smearing some on her lower lip, then licking it with a flick of her tongue.
She stared in his eyes, her gaze not as clear as it was. Then she moved her fingers gently towards his mouth, tempting him to taste her blood. She touched the tip of one finger to his lips... and he was transfixed... watching the life flow from her eyes. When a strange smile crossed her lips he thought... 'Wow... she's enjoying this, she's getting off on it as much as I am!' He didn't see the flicker of sudden movement until it was too late.
He felt a flash of pressure on his throat... and jerked his hand to his neck instinctively. He could feel warm wetness pouring through his fingers... but there was no pain, and he didn't really think she had cut him until he pulled his hand away and saw the blood. When he saw the river of red coursing down his chest, he knew she had severed his jugular. He cursed his own stupidity for a brief second... then suddenly a wave of dizziness washed over him... partly from the loss of blood to his brain, and partly from the realization that his wound was certainly fatal.
Getting this far, she couldn't stop now. She plunged the knife into the side of his right eye... the blade moved sideways, tearing through the frontal lobe and severing the optic nerves. The knife made a sucking sound as she jerked it back out. She pushed him to the side, and he slumped forward into the couch. She stood up slowly, her stomach burning horribly as the torn muscles were forced into action, her knees trembling weakly. She looked down at her attacker. He was still, yet she could hear the rattle of his breathing.
Overcome with a desire to finish him, she moved behind him, leaned into his back for support and grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back. She looked down into his mangled face, and put the knife to the side of his throat... in the gaping wound from the first slice. She sunk the blade in deep, and began sawing back and forth, severing the tendons at the side of his neck.
She smiled and said cheerfully, "This is sooo much more fun when I'm doing the cutting, don't ya agree babe?" Needless to say, he didn't answer.
She cut deeply from one side to the other. Halfway through the rattled breathing stopped, but she didn't stop until she hacked a gaping wound that reached from ear to ear, hitting bone the entire way. Too much work to take his head clean off; besides, she didn't have the strength. She released her grip on his hair and let him slump back into the sofa. He was quiet now.
She let the knife drop, staggered over to the desk, and grabbed the phone, knowing her time was running out. Dizziness was coming on fast, and her vision was blurring. She dialed what she hoped was 911, and listened as the phone rang and rang, endlessly. The darkness closed in around her before the operator picked up...
Mario walked slowly to his car. He had just enjoyed a remarkable meal, and life was good... so good. He had thought about Angela all afternoon, imagining a multitude of different scenes, all involving her pleading for her life and screaming hysterically as a knife plunged into her again and again. When he got to his car, and slipped the key in the ignition he thought, "I hope you suffer, bitch." That was his last thought. The explosion blew the Mercedes to smithereens, along with the cars parked on either side of it.
Two months later: Angela stretched leisurely on the lounge chair... enjoying the feel of the hot Caribbean sun on her flesh... and watched as Joey came out of the pool... her eyes moving over his taunt body adoringly. He sat beside her and ran his hand softly down her stomach. She had worried that the scars would be bad, but they weren't so terrible. In fact, she still wore bikinis... her flat stomach was too beautiful to hide. Besides, Joey told her several times he found the scars very erotic in a strange way...