WHORE
© 2002-Destiny West

The flame of the candle hissed and sizzled against the
length of surgical steel.When the silver had blackened
Sam removed it from the flame, and positioning the
heated needle above the eye, slowly began to lower it.

The pupils were fully dilated with terror, frightened
and silently begging at Sam for mercy.

'There was a Russian serial killer, I can't remember
his name, who believed that the eye of a dead person
retained the last image that they saw. So he removed
his victims eyes rather than chance the police finding
out his identity.'

The needle hovered only millimetres from the pupil.
Beneath its point, the man groaned and pleaded under
the gag in his mouth.

'Of course,' Sam continued, pausing the descent of the
needle for a moment. 'We know that this isn't
possible. However, one can never be too sure with the
advancement of forensics.' She concluded and pushed
the needle into the eye.

The heated metal caused the eyeball to hiss with a
furious intensity as the tender flesh popped and
blistered; leaving in it's wake a runny mass of blood
and fluids, with the seared remnants of the cornea
floating on top.

Sam buried a finger in the pulpy mass that remained in
the eye socket and drew it out, discarding the mess
into a small chrome dish positioned on the trolley
beside her victim.

He appeared to be unconscious. The single expelling of an eye was not enough to kill them; unless of course
they had a weak heart. Out of curiosity Sam moved two
fingers to the man's throat and felt for a pulse. Yes, he was alive all right; the blood was still coursing through his veins. Shocked maybe, but definitely still alive. She smiled and nodded in approval.

'Good.' She spoke out loud. 'Would have been a shame
to have spared you the rest of the fun.'

Sam wiped the trail of unpleasantness from the man's
check and tossed the tissues into the waste paper
basket. She contemplated taking out his other eye while he
remained unconscious, but dismissed the idea. At least
with one eye he could still watch. Silently she cursed him. Sam hated the ones with weak stomachs that couldn't handle even the slightest of pain: If he passed out at the removal of an eyeball, what were her chances of him staying conscious for the rest of the procedures?

Sam had met this one in a bar, one of those seedy
places on the outskirts of town. It was the type of
place that you went into if you were looking for a
good time or were just prone to drowning your sorrows
in scotch. Perhaps she looked a little out of place,
for the other women in the establishment looked like
they were just passing through to give their legs a
break from standing on the street -or being spread.
That said, it was one of those places where everybody
minded their own business, and no questions were ever
asked. That was important to Sam.

Upon first walking into the place she had seen him.
He, in turn, had acknowledged her entrance with a
stare. Yes, he fancied her all right- most guys did
unless they were gay.

Sam had walked over to the bar and sat down right
beside him. She wasn't the type for games or
flirtation. He had offered to buy her a drink and she'd accepted: rum and cola.

'Jason' was his name, or so he told her. Now of
course, she knew better. But in those types of bars
when you are just looking for a quick fuck, you don't
usually offer your first name; and hell, what does it
matter anyway?

Since then of course, Sam had looked through his
wallet and discovered his real name. William Evans,
thirty five years old, working as a stock broker and
-from the alimony receipt- obviously divorced. No
doubt he had often frequented these types of bars that
had ultimately got him into this predicament.

'Even more reason for you to be here.' Sam had
thought.

She loved it when there was a justification for her
acts rather than solely her own personal hatred for
men. William was divorced- and it had obviously been
his fault. She could tell from the way he'd zoomed in
on her at the bar that he was a player. He'd probably
been screwing around on his wife for years, and then
when she'd finally found out 'hey presto', it was
over.

Yes , this one certainly deserved to be here in the
chair- but in Sam's mind what man didn't? None that she had met anyway.

Guys were only out for one thing and although Sam
enjoyed sex, she didn't like being somebody's
'trophy'. That was the way guys had always treated
her: a prize, something to show off to their mates.
Just because you are blonde and beautiful doesn't
automatically make you a bimbo with the mind like a
sieve.

Sam had a degree as a zoologist. She had worked long and hard to achieve that, and by day she was somebody people respected, but her domestic and social life was another story: boyfriends treated her like a toy.

This had gone on for years until one day enough was
enough, Sam had snapped. Snapped literally. She had
broken her boyfriend's neck when he was going down on
her.

It wasn't because of he was doing, she loved having
her pussy eaten. It was when she gave him head, and
how he held her whilst she did so; practically fucking
her mouth, making her gag. She hated that and no
matter how many times she had told him not to, he
still did it.

So she had broken his neck and had been left on the
bed with a dead boyfriend. Her first reaction had been panic. Partly because she had a body to dispose of, and partly because she had enjoyed every moment of it. After Sam had given herself time to sit down and rationalise the whole situation, her path of action became clear.

She dragged the body into the bathroom and hacked him to pieces. Then the next day she had gone out and
bought one of those deep freezers. "Coffin freezers"
she had once heard them called.

She wrapped each part individually and carefully laid
them in the icy vessel, freezing them to stop the
decay and stench of rotting flesh. Then each day she
would take a piece to work, and within a week or so,
the body was gone, all devoured thanks to the
crocodiles at the zoo.

Easy. Nobody ever questioned her. She had always spent more time around the crocodiles than the other animals and had enjoyed offering their powerful jaws freshly
killed chickens and rabbits. This little variation in their diet had gone down a treat.

William stirred.

Sam looked at the clock: he had been out for an hour.
'Not too bad.' She supposed.

His unharmed eye opened. The empty eye socket was now covered with a carefully applied dressing. His face was ashen and Sam wondered if he would make the distance.

She looked at him: he was a good-looking man, having
that rugged handsome appearance and reminding her
somewhat of the actor George Clooney.
'I could imagine he was George.' Sam thought.
But if it were George , he would not be sitting there
with an eye missing, waiting to die.

At first, Sam let them have what they wanted, she
would let them fuck her. However two summers ago
things had changed. It's not often a killer picks up a
killer...

Sam had met Craig in an art-house movie theatre. She
had not been out looking for a victim. She loved the
movies, and thanks to the existence of this dusty old
cinema, located just off the beaten track; she got to
sit in a darkened room full of strangers and watch
foreign films or cult classics for £1. This week they had been running the classic romances of Hollywood; film's like 'Gone with the Wind' and 'Casablanca', old prints lovingly restored for the benefit of the enthusiast.

Upon hindsight, she realised that Craig had thought
this the perfect opportunity to pick up his next
victim and had chosen her.

The end credits 'Gone with the Wind' had just finished
rolling, allowing the film-buffs a brief intermission. Sam had gone to the foyer to use the bathroom and get more popcorn when she noticed him there, watching her. It hadn't crossed her mind till that moment to pick anybody up that day. But it was the way Craig was looking at her, the way he smiled over at her, that glint in his eye and that faintest salivating at the mouth. Sam had gone back into the theatre and sat down, just as the opening sequences to 'Casablanca' hit the
screen. Craig had sat in the empty seat beside her.

Sam was annoyed. All she had wanted to do was be
alone: escape into a cinematic dream where such things
as 'romance' and 'love' really existed. Now everything
had been interrupted.

Oh yes, Craig had laid on the charm, he'd even told
her the story of how Humphrey Bogart had been
distantly related to him. Sam came quickly to the
conclusion that this guy should die.

They didn't stay to watch the rest of the movie. Sam
left her popcorn and cola in the aisle and they
slipped out of the movie theatre and into the dark
streets.

She had insisted that he came back to her place.
Craig had wanted to go for a drive out to some 'spot
he knew', but it didn't take much convincing that her
place would be better and more comfortable.
Thinking back, Sam had laughed. She was sure he had
never got a victim so easily. She insisted that he
leave his car at the theatre and accompany her in
hers. How perfect that must have been for him.

They didn't waste any time, as soon as they got
through the front door they had been all over each
other. He was good too, and knew all the right buttons
to push. When he went down on her Sam had climaxed so
hard that she thought she was going to pass out.
They had fucked for hours. Hard feverish copulating
until eventually they both lay back on her bed
exhausted; soaked in sweat and juices.

She looked at him. Craig had his eyes shut and Sam
thought he was dozing, so she had reached into her
bedside table drawer and taken out the knife.
He opened his eyes to her on top of him, the point of
the knife just pricking the flesh of his throat.

All he had done was laugh.

He didn't try and fight, he didn't beg not to be hurt,
he just god -damned laughed at her. Sam had felt so angry she could have burst, but the blade of the knife just stayed there, she couldn't bring herself to plunge it into him. She couldn't bear for him to die and for her to never to know what he found so fucking amusing!

'What's so fucking funny?' She demanded
.
'It's not 'funny' so much as ironic.' Craig replied
calmly, a horrible patronising smirk reaching wide
across his face. 'Why are you going to kill me?'

Sam kept the knife in position just in case there was
any reversed psychology involved; this being just a
plot to get her confused and overthrow her.
Craig's dark eyes stared with an intensity that
disturbed Sam.

'I kill men.' She replied, matter-of-factly. It was a
brief statement, but true.

'Really? And I kill women.' He responded.

'Yes, and people will say anything to save their
skins.' She told him, not believing a word he said.

'Eighteen women so far. Eighteen and the police still
have no idea who I am.'

Sam remembered the newspapers lately and the
television news. Every month or so for the last year
they had found a new body. Always the corpse of a
woman, mutilated and left in the woods that sprawled
over the hills just half an hour's drive from city.

'The woodsman?' Sam questioned, remembering the name the tabloid press had oh-so imaginatively given their
new branded serial killer.

'Yours truly.' He replied.

Sam kept the knife at his throat. 'Makes me want to kill you even more.' She said.

'You won't kill me Sam.' He replied.

'Why wouldn't I?' She began. 'I can kill you right
here and now and then call the police. I'll say you
attacked me and it was self-defence. A bit of digging
and they'll realise who you are.'
Sam paused.

' Plus, I get a free kill and don't even have the
hassles of then having to dispose of a body.'

'I don't think you get your thrills from a straight
clean kill though; do you Sam?'

Of course she didn't. Sam liked to torment them, keep
them alive for as long as possible, while she tortured
them.

'See.' He began. 'We are one and the same. Kindred
souls.'

'Oh, spare me the dramatics and the well rehearsed
lines.' She said impatiently. 'This isn't some dodgy
film that we're in now, so you can cut the clichés'

Maybe not. But it had bought Craig a few seconds of
time. In an instant, he had grabbed the knife from her
hand and flipped her over onto her back. The weight of his body trapped her completely and it now was Sam's turn to have the knife pressed against her throat.

'You have a lot to learn, Sam.' He told her. 'Men have
the natural advantage being the stronger sex.'

She spat in his face. He wiped her salvia away with
his empty hand.

'And here I was thinking you were a lady.' He laughed.

Still holding the knife to her throat he pressed down
on top of her forcing her legs apart, and ramming his
rigid cock deep inside of her.

'See.' He groaned. 'This is what you want, isn't it?
You need a guy who knows how to fuck you.'

Despite the situation, Sam had to force herself not to
moan from the pleasure. He was good.

Smiling, Craig tossed the knife to the floor and
forcefully pinned back her arms, their mouths met,
teeth clashing; feverishly devouring each other.
And that is how it went all night: Fucking and
threatening each other.

Sam ran a finger along the length of the scar on her
forearm, it was a constant reminder of Craig. He had
shown her the intricate workings of pain. He had cut
her arm and drank her blood. He had finger painted
swirls and symbols over her breasts with her own life
force.

It has been wonderful.

And in the morning he had left her.

'Be careful.' She had begged him.

He had promised he would be, and left.

She never knew why he killed women, and he had never found out why she killed men. It had remained a silent
understanding of one another. Sam had kept an eye on the newspapers after that, and though the "woodsman" case was still under investigation, there had been no more victims for a while- not in their city anyway. From that night onwards, Sam always made sure she had the upper hand with guys.

'Tie them down first.' He had insisted upon her.

Sam focused her attention back on William.
Her hands drifted over his chest. It was covered in a
sparse showering of hair and tanned. He didn't appear to be in any pain, but then, she had injected him with strong drugs to keep him going longer.

She ran her hands down his chest to his pants and
undid them, slowly bringing them down his legs. She
had to force him to lift his arse off the chair for a
brief second to get them off entirely though. When he
was naked, she stood before him and stripped.

Even a missing eye wasn't enough to keep this guy down and flaccid. William's cock stirred and grew at the
sight of her nakedness. Sam straddled him across the chair. His wrists were tightly bound to the arm-rests: he couldn't touch her or do anything untoward. No, it was Sam who controlled this situation.

With one hand she stroked his cock and guided it to
her pussy before pushing down, herself on the length
of his shaft. Hearing him moan under the gag, she fucked him. She moved her body up and down on his cock, her pussy gripping him tightly, wet and hot against his aching
cock. She would move herself nearly all the way up, so
his cock was just sitting inside of her and then ram
down hard. He felt good inside her, filling her pussy with his
hardness. He was big too, at least nine inches.
Sam liked them big. The saying 'the size doesn't count
its what you can do with it.' Was bullshit. It was
only made up to make the guys with small pricks feel
better.

Craig had been about William's size.

She increased her rhythm on him, moving at a faster
pace, milking every inch of him until she felt her orgasm hit her. Sam's feet arched and her body convulsed on top of him; the sensation of her pulsating cunt wrapped around his cock was enough to send William over that edge. He came hard too, filling her with his hot seed.

She lay exhausted against his heaving chest.

Suddenly she felt the another warm spattering
sensation against her flesh.

Blood.

As she looked up it sprayed over her face and ran down her breasts in a torrent of hot crimson. William's
body jerked and spasmed in agony underneath her.
Craig was standing behind the chair, the bloodied
knife in his hand still hacking away at William's throat.

When finally he let go of the knife, he grabbed Sam by
her hair and pulled her off the corpse,
dragging her into the bedroom and throwing her onto
the bed.
Sam kicked out trying to release herself from his
grip.

'Craig...' She began, wiping the blood from her face
and eyes so she could see him properly. But no more
words came.

He didn't say anything either. Instead he grabbed each
arm forcefully, clamping them down with the cuffs that
had laid there from a previous night's fucking;
binding her to the bed head. He did the same with her
ankles, this time with duct tape, winding it round and
round until she way lying naked, spread-eagled and
powerless on the bed.

'You whore.' He spat. 'I leave you alone and you're
fucking other guys.' She felt the sting of his slap
across her face.

'It's been nearly two years.' She said, desperately
trying to remain calm so that she could reason with
him.

'You're fucking mine. Mine! And now you're dirty!' He
grabbed her by her pussy and she squealed with pain.
'Your cunt's full of another man's cum.'

'Let go of me!' Sam demanded, squirming under his
grasp.

He released his hand and walked out of the room.

Sam felt sick. What the hell was going on?
In the two years since they had spent that one night
together, she had not heard a single word from Craig.
For a while she had followed the "woodsman" case
through the papers and on television, but soon after
no more killings; he had been forgotten and the case
left open, unsolved.

She considered screaming. It would surely attract her
neighbours' attention and then the police, but how
would this whole situation be explained?

Craig entered the room again. He was carrying
something in his hand and blood dripped from it. He sat beside her on the bed and with his empty hand pinched her nose, forcing her mouth to open to breathe.

He shoved the severed cock of William into her mouth.

'Eat it, bitch!' He ordered.

Sam gagged. It was still warm and she felt the vomit
rising in her throat.

He shoved his hand over her mouth, the other remaining over her nose. Sam couldn't breathe.

'Eat it, or suffocate.' He told her.

Sam felt her teeth sink into the chewing flesh of the
cock. When he was fully convinced that she was
chewing, he removed his hand from her mouth.
Sam spat the contents of her mouth into his face.
The bloody pulp hit him on the cheek and slithered its
way down his face. He wiped away the trail with his
hand, his eyes full of anger. The responding blow that
he delivered to the side of her face was enough to
send her unconscious.

When she eventually came to, her head was throbbing.
The left side of her face felt swollen and she could
barely open her mouth. She had no idea how long she
had been unconscious for.

Craig was waiting for her. Next to the bed he had
placed the trolley upon which she kept all her
surgical equipment. The little blue flame of the
burner was busily heating a pair of gleaming chrome
pliers.

He grinned down at her.

'Ah, you're awake. Just in time for your first lesson
in torture.' He told her 'I'm so glad you could make it.'

The humour was lost on her. The constant throbbing
made it difficult to hear him properly, Sam strained
to understand what he was saying. But a picture means
a thousand words, and the burning hot pliers more than
illustrated his intent.

He moved them to her left breast, opening the jaws of
the device.

She went to scream. He clamped his empty hand over her mouth. She tried to bite him but couldn't, his palm
was lying flat against her teeth. Then she felt the searing white pain of the hot metal on her nipple as Craig pushed the pliers together, clasping her flesh between it's burning jaws. Her screams were empty against his hand.

When he moved the pliers away, tears rolled down her
cheeks.

'If you try and scream, I'll do it again.' He told her
calmly, releasing his hand from her mouth.

'Why?' She sobbed. The pain so excruciating she
thought she might loose consciousness again.

Craig's hand moved to her cunt and forced his fingers
inside, then withdrew. His hand glistened with the
mixture of her own juices and William's cum.

'Because you're a whore.' He answered, wiping the
filthy stickiness over her burnt nipple.
'All women are whores.'

'I haven't seen you in two years. You don't own me.'
She sobbed.

'Hmm, and I'm not the one tied to the bed.' He told
her smugly.

'Is this some sick lesson of yours?' She demanded.

'You could say that.' Craig replied.

'I'm sorry.' She began, 'But if I would have known, if
you would have contacted me...'

'You would have what?' He interrupted, his finger
brushing roughly over the burnt area of her nipple
causing the pain to jolt further through her.

'Remained faithful.' She told him.

'All the girls say that.' "Let me go and I'll do
anything to please you." He laughed 'They would always
beg, always plead with me. In that situation you'll
offer me anything not to die.' Craig told her.

'But I'm not one of your victims Craig.' Sam
interjected. 'If I was, you would have killed me that
night years ago.'

'Ah, but perhaps I wanted to save the best until
last?' He told her. 'Consider yourself the prized
tit-bit. The grail, the dessert trolley at a
restaurant.'

'Wonderful metaphor.' She sneered.

'All I expected was a ounce of respect.' He continued,
toying with the pliers in his hand. 'I showed you the greatest pleasures you had ever experienced and all the delicate exquisiteness of pain; and what thanks do I get?'

'He didn't mean anything to me.' Sam said trying to
calm him.

His eyes shot a look of anger at her.
'That's what my first wife said before I blew her head
off.'

'This is different Craig. You knew what I did. I kill
like you kill.' She implored. 'Now, untie me. Look, we
can make things better again.'

Craig got off the bed and left the room.

She didn't know for how long she drifted in and out of
sleep. The pain was still strong from the burn, but it
was manageable. The slap of Craig's hand across the right side of her face bought her back into wakefulness with a sudden jolt.

'I've brought you a present.' He told her.

A hazy beam of sunlight was filtering through the edge
of the closed blinds on her bedroom window. She
watched the dust particles float around in its beam.
She'd never noticed something like that before.

'You liked fucking him, I know you did. I watched you;
I watched how you came on him.' Craig rambled.
'Well you can fuck him again.' He told her. 'Or should
I say he can fuck you.'

From behind his back he bought out Williams severed
arm, it was still wearing a watch around the wrist.
Sam looked at him, dazed. He moved down towards the
end of the bed and in between her open legs.
She closed her eyes as felt his hand prying at her
cunt, pushing and forcing their way inside of her.
Then opened them again when she realised it was
William's hand and not Craig's.

'How much can you take, bitch?' He demanded to know.

Craig wanted a reaction and Sam was refusing to give
it to him. He pushed the fingers in deeper.

She tried to relax, let her mind drift away, give in
and imagine anything else. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't the
first time she had done sexual things corpses. When Sam
had been hacking apart the body of her last victim she had
carefully removed his cock. Frozen, it worked perfectly. It
remained rock hard and could make her cum over and over.
Better than a dildo, plus the icy coldness of it gave it that
pain /pleasure experience that she craved.

What Craig had obviously forgotten in this interlude
of sheer madness, was that he was playing games with
someone on his own level. Sam had inflicted every
torture imaginable, she knew the book of depravity
just as well as Craig; perhaps even better. However there
was one difference between them. Sam was sane. She
could reason with herself and the situation. Craig was
beyond that. His brain had finally snapped and had sent
him over the edge into that eternal abyss that could only be
treated with a lobotomy, or enough shock treatment to
nearly kill him.

Feeling the delving sensation of the corpse's fingers,
she laughed out loud.

'What's so fucking funny?' Craig demanded to know,
pausing his manipulation of the hand.

'It's actually quite enjoyable.' She told him, still
laughing.

Bad move. He left the hand shoved inside of her and
began to pace the room.
'You're a sick fucking whore!' He spat.

'You can talk.' Sam replied, looking at him with
genuine amazement.

Craig whirled round to face her, his hands placed
dramatically on his hips.

'Come on, Craig.' She tried again to reason with him.
'Untie me. Let's clean up this mess and get on with
our lives.'

The faint sound of the telephone ringing in the living
room interrupted them.

'And that will be the zoo. I was meant to be in this
morning.' She told him
.
'Yeah? Too bad for them.' He said, not moving from
where he stood.

'If I don't answer, they'll send someone out here to
check on me.' She lied.

'The more the merrier.' Craig replied calmly.

Sam's frustration was mounting. The truth was it
wasn't the zoo, or at least not to her knowledge. She
wasn't expecting them to call at all. It was her day
off. There was nobody else in her life to notice her
absence for a day, or perhaps even longer.
But Craig didn't know that, not unless he had been
spying on her for a while; but Sam doubted it. He
wasn't the voyeuristic type.

'You can't keep murdering people that come to my door
Craig. You'll finally get caught or perhaps even
killed yourself.' She told him.

He didn't answer.

'Fuck, men!' Sam hissed angrily to herself. 'Hey, and
you guys wonder why I kill you. Fucking take a look in
the mirror!'

In Sam's book guys were only good for one thing, and
even then sometimes they weren't much good at that
either. The male breed was gradually becoming
obsolete: women didn't need them to fall pregnant;
that could be done artificially. The male species
really had no purpose any more. But they still hung
around stinking up the environment and playing they're
war games. No, the earth needed a major cull, and Sam
believed she was helping out by killing as many of the
mongrels that she could.

If only she could get loose and off this bed. She
would add Craig to the crude scratched notches on her
bed posts, each nail-filed crevice a reminder and
count of her victims.

At one time she had actually toyed with idea of making
some macabre abacus. Instead of little wooden balls
she would use the heads of her victims.

Of course, It would be one big abacus, but it was
quite achievable, just impractical and definitely too
risky.

Maybe if she got hold of Craig she would make his
testicles into an abacus while he was still breathing.
Sam laughed to herself picturing the image in her
head. She would enjoy every moment of his suffering,
even relish it. It would be like art therapy.

Craig began to pace the room again. Sam took this as
an opportunity to test the strength of his rope tying.
She wiggled her wrists, trying to pry her hands
through the small noose encircling her wrists.
'I would have to dislocate my thumb.' She thought to
herself.

But a thumb dislocation was not a possibility. Not
without something hard to whack it against.
Sam considered her options. She could either:

Die at Craig's hands: Not exactly a thrilling idea.

Try and escape: She was no Houdini.

Try again to get him to let her go.

She chose C.

'So, when you going to stop pacing the room and kill
me?' Sam asked, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

'Why, are you in a hurry to die?' He said.

'Well it isn't exactly much fun lying around here,
unless of course you want to join me?' Sam tried. 'I
mean, a person on death row usually gets a last meal,
so in my case how about a last fuck?'

Craig looked at the hand shoved up her cunt.

'And what do you call that?' He managed to say.

'It's not you though, is it?' Sam teased.

'You're filthy. You've got another mans cum dripping
down your flaps.' He breathed with distaste.

'Well, I could take a bath- wash it all away.' She
told him.

Craig laughed. 'You think I'm that stupid?' He asked.

'Oh, come on Craig, you know how I feel about you. You
have proven you are so much better than me at this; I
wouldn't dream of trying to get away from you.' She
lied.

'Nobody has made me cum like you did. Ever.' He
confessed, licking his dry lips and imagining the
sweet taste of her pussy.

'Then let me do it for you again.' She tempted. 'You
can do whatever you want.'

'I can do that now.' He said. 'You're not in any
position to deny me anything.'

'I know that, but it's so much better when a girl is
willing.'

Craig walked over to the bed and grabbed William's
severed arm and pulled it out of her, he tossed it to
the floor where it landed with a dull thud.
He looked down at her shaven pussy and could feel his
mouth salivate at the prospect of it. He smiled and
left the room.

'Fuck.' Sam muttered to herself. Where the hell was he
going now?

Craig returned a few moments later carrying a bucket.
Sam could hear the sloshing sound of water while he
walked towards the bed.

'Going to clean you myself, so there's no need to
untie you.'

Sam breathed in tightly with despair. The plan was
going wrong already.

He placed the bucket on the floor beside the bed and
reached into the warm water, bringing out a flannel
covered in soapy suds.

He brought the wet cloth between her open thighs and
washed. Drops of water ran down Sam's thighs, wetting
the bed sheets.

Craig paid special attention to her pussy, pushing the
flannel deep inside of her, making sure it was nice
and clean. He even bent down to inspect it. When it
met his satisfaction he went about cleaning the rest
of her body, slowly working up to her breasts.
He sponged the dried blood and the remains of
William's severed cock from her breasts, neck and
face.

The water stung her burnt nipple, causing a sheering
pain to rock through Sam's body. She clenched her
teeth, trying to let it pass without showing any
emotion or weakness.

When Craig was satisfied she was completely clean he
took Sam's towel from the hook behind the bedroom door
and dried her whole body.

Goose bumps had run over her flesh from the hand bath
and she longed to feel the warmth of the sun against
her bare skin.

'Might never feel it again.' She thought to herself.

Craig sat on the bed beside her; his fingertips ran
from the hollow of her throat down the crevice between
her breasts, tracing a line to her pubic mound, bare
and shiny from being completely shaved.
His fingertips lingered there a while and then
continued their descent.

Sam felt him glance the lips of her vulva, his other
hand spreading her lips apart so he had better access.
Craig's breathing was becoming heavier.
His thumb toyed with her clitoris, twirling the
hardening bud beneath its tip.

She moaned softly.

His other fingers slid down the length of her pussy,
until they squirmed and buried themselves in her tight
hole which was soon flooding with juices.
The sound of his fingers squelching in her fluid
aroused Sam even more.

'Mmmm, you like that don't you?' he breathed hotly.

She moaned her reply.

Then Craig was moving further onto the bed. He lay
between her open legs, and she felt his warm breath on
her pussy.

He lay there for what seemed like an agonising
eternity, just inhaling her delicious scent. Then,
suddenly his mouth moved down and was on her.

She felt his tongue slide inside her, delving into her
wet hole and licking its way up to her clit. His
tongue swirled around the swollen bud and then sucked
it tightly into his mouth, nibbling on its rosy
hardness with his teeth.

Sam's body wriggled beneath him, wanting more.

He slipped two fingers into her cunt. She moaned
loudly.

His tongue continued to flicker across her clit whilst
working a steady rhythm with his pumping fingers.
Craig licked and swallowed, tasting her sweet nectar
on his tongue, drinking deeply. His own arousal was
bulging painfully against his fastened trousers, and
his primitive urges longed him to take out his cock
and fuck her hard. However 'Craig' himself felt
revolted by the idea.

'Fuck me.' Sam murmured softly to him.

Craig ignored her, continuing to feast on her cunt.
He pushed a third finger into her hole.

'Fuck me, please.' She begged.

He moved his mouth away from her pussy and drove a
fourth finger inside of her. He pushed them in and
out, faster and faster.

Sam appeared to be enjoying it, her hips pushed back
and him pleading for more. Craig shoved his whole fist
into her.

Sam gasped first with pleasure and then with shock.

She screamed.

His whole fist continued its ascent inside of her,
pushing and shoving deeper and deeper.

Her body bucked and jerked beneath him, though this
time it was in agony.

Craig rammed harder, his fist pushing past her cervix
and into her uterus.

He opened his fist and began to rip.

With a horrible scream, Sam's body collapsed around
him.

His hand acted like crude ovum forceps, tearing the
lining from her uterus. Blood and pulpy tissue poured
down over his arm.

He continued to explore and evacuate. His fingers
suddenly touched with a larger mass about 3 inches
long. He toyed with the expanse between his fingers,
then drew it out of her uterus with his hand.

Blood continued to pump from her pussy, where the
uterus had collapsed under the assault of his hand. It
was a blending of different coloured blood, ranging
from bright red to a heavier dark clotted brown.
In the palm of his hand laid the evacuated mass.

He brought it closer to his face, studying the
perfectly formed embryo. The beginning of a life, made
from Sam and the filthy seed of some stranger.
Craig nudged the foetus with his index finger, rolling
the glistening shape over in his palm, wondering if
the foetus was a boy or a girl.

Probably a girl.

One that would grow up to be a Goddamn whore, just
like her mother and all females.

He then looked down at Sam. Her body was still. She
was probably dead, or should be.

Craig poked out his tongue and placed the tiny human
form onto it, and then, drawing it back into his
mouth, he swallowed; feeling the coagulation of life
crawl down his throat. The sensation was ecstatic.
He swallowed hard again, savouring the moment, licking
the palm of his bloody hand.

When Sam did not show up for work the following day
(nor the next,) a work-mate went to her house to see
if there was anything wrong.

He found the door ajar and a foul smell emitting from
within.

He immediately called the police.

They found Sam in her bedroom.

She was lying on the blood soaked bed where Craig had left her. The bodies had already begun to decompose
with the heat of summer, and with that unmistakable
stench, had come the flies. Clouds of them had made
their way through the open front door and were now
buzzing around the corpses, laying their eggs in the
rotting tissue; making it seethe and wriggle with new life.

William's dismembered body lay on top of hers; his
fist shoved back up into her cunt like some macabre
tampon to ebb the flow of her blood.
More bizarrely though, William's corpse had been
meticulously stitched to Sam's. They were crudely
bound to one another like conjoined twins, and empty
cotton reels lay around them on the floor.
On the wall above Sam's bed, painted in dried blood
was scrawled.

'Once a woman bleeds she becomes a whore.'