by A. P. Butler
My date agreed, I’d arranged to meet Jonathan at 7:30 pm north bank of Tower Bridge, close to where he told me he lives, although in London so many say they live close only to mean half an hour by train. Suggesting he book a local hotel was the final element to my deceptive ruse, insisting I wasn’t happy going back to his, what with all the stories you hear. With flapping tongue of loyal lap dog he laps up my devious little scheme, the anticipation of an eager young woman after his manhood seems all too irresistible for him, but then again he is but a man. Simple enough creatures of two head’s, the smallest being the most active, sometimes the most intelligent too! If I’m going out to kill, I decide to go out dressed to kill too, the smallest of dark green crushed velvet dresses, tailored by angels just for me. An asset improving wonderment for all to admire, accompanied by long sophisticated and dangerously gorgeous heels, no inhibitions, and no underwear.
The remainder of the afternoon I spent bathing, grooming and selecting which blade to use with which handle. Finally deciding to go with an old favourite of mine, the Swann Morton number 4 handle with a luxurious curved number 22 blade. Two handles with blades snap together as I pop them next to 3 ground tablets of Rohypnol, along with a 2 ml syringe containing pure pharmaceutical grade Ketamine, all inside my girlie looking hello kitty toothbrush case.
Both the Ketamine and Rohypnol courtesy of the NHS or the Narcotics Handout Service as it’s known by the multitude of addicts it serves daily. In days gone by you actually had to be prescribed a drug, nowadays you just need to insist for the drug paddlers to provide. Simply amazing what a hand full of precious pink paper can afford you, although not quite as amazing as the number of NHS doctor’s willing to sell drugs to compliment their meagre wages, how intelligent they must be to earn so little. Years ago I’d acquired my pharmaceuticals from a local drug dealer, but the quality and effectiveness were as temperamental as she was. The good stuff is the order of the day now, no more hoping it will work, I can count down the seconds with the pharmaceutical grade stuff. Such a small price to pay for such accuracy and peace of mind, my special thanks to Mr & Mrs taxpayer.
“Think he’s a mummy screamer like the last fella Elspeth?”
“Maybe Ubel? Elizabeth we might need to gag this one.”
Lilly’s right I couldn’t take any chances, so I add to my handbag, one blindfold, one used ball gag, two pairs of fluffy pink handcuffs, a 12-inch realistic dildo and a half used bottle of water based lube, all now sitting atop a few crisp, clean plastic bags. The simplicity of nothing but a few naughty items in my handbag turns me on, the idea of being stop and searched amuses me further still. The excitement I get watching police officers quickly return my bag is huge, as they turn bright red with embarrassment once the contents have been identified.
Last time I indulged in a gentleman I was stopped by two big beefy officers, all hair and helmets, they couldn’t contain their embarrassment. A cute innocent looking girl like me with a handbag containing, rope, a double ended dildo, a rubber fist, a camcorder, a bright red ball gag and of course my hello kitty toothbrush case. My ploy being I was off to give my boyfriend his birthday present, as soon as I’d met a girlfriend who’d be joining us. Men are so easy to manipulate with sex even if it’s not being offered to them, almost like there’s a man to man protocol about cock-blocking, I’m sure they would have provided a police escort if I were running late.
-2-
Beneath depressing square mouth of railing topped arch, I walk through after enduring an over crowded tube journey from hell. Ubel suggesting we use the dildo to clear the way at one point, not the best way to blend in at Tower Hill tube station, but it may have been fun. The cold still air pinching at face as I walk past London’s famous old palace of jewel and crown, with sweep of head I see Jonathan standing in front of a most stunning backdrop. The most beautiful bridge in the world, Tower Bridge stands behind him in all her glory, perfectly lit by a million tiny bulbs, the majesty of a full luminescent moon floating high above. Camera flashes fire intermittently lighting up the hulls of the few regal sky galleons anchored high above. Tourist and Londoner alike snap themselves next to this iconic goliath of a forgotten empire. Jonathan’s smile warm and inviting, as he walks over bending to kiss me upon both cheeks.
“Smells like stale smeg to me.”
“He smells very nice Ubel; maybe you should sit this one out?”
“Fuck right off Lilly, if I’m taking cock, I’m taking life too.”
The next few tedious hours we spend in the cheapest little curry house within a ten-mile radius, making silly pointless small talk, I flirt outrageously to the point Lilly refuses to play anymore, sulking off somewhere. The conversations no more stimulating than a dead battery, his manors belonging in a sty, as did he. Jonathan may well have been a very attractive man to look at, but the appeal of euthanasia was growing ever stronger the longer he spoke. Never have I cared for anyone who makes a point of laughing at their own jokes, Jonathan wasn’t changing my mind. He also had a disgustingly annoying habit of excavating his nostrils, adding class to culture when he thought I wasn’t looking he’d wipe the debris upon tables edge.
“Let’s pray he’s got a nuclear submarine down below hey Elsbeth.”
“Christ I’d settle for a row boat at this rate Ubel.”
“Worked out why he’s fucking single yet?”
“Don’t you dare say I told you so Ubel!”
“Wasn’t going to, just wondering when it became fashionable to have a mental disorder, Elsbeth.”
“Ubel I know I’m going to regret asking, but what do you mean?”
“Well, the piglet’s first conversation was about his bipolar, as if it was a cool thing to have. Almost a fashion accessory, like it would make up for his lack of personality.”
“Yes, I wonder if he’s self-diagnosed Ubel, like so many nowadays?”
“Exactly Elsbeth, if he only knew what it’s like to have a few cuckoo’s flying overhead.”
“So what does that make me Ubel?”
“You just have a quadraphonic personality Elsbeth my dear.”
“So I’m self-diagnosed sane, by an audio apparition in my head.”
“God no girl, even insanity finds you disturbing.”
“Thanks Ubel, you know how to make a woman feel special.”
“What do you mean? Madness is what every intellectual aspires to be, at the edge of madness is sanity looking in with envious eyes.”
“Abstract thought is only abstract to the sane after all.”
The conversation in my head with Ubel was far more stimulating than the one with the man-pig in front of me. Ubel did have an unusual way of making me feel special, and tonight I needed it. Rather discuss my mental health issues with an audio apparition than trying polite communication with the rude little boy anymore. All I’ve discovered about him thus far was he is a sexist, racist, self-diagnosed depressed public schoolboy rich kid, who’s daddy once did something decades ago. This he felt entitled him to treat everyone like second-class citizens, as if he were the omnipotent voice of truth and justice, almost born to rule. He may well dress like a gentleman, but he acted like a peasant, he ate like a pig, smelt like a trapped skunk with all the humour of a stillborn. Praying to the imaginary above I hoped Ubel was right; I could almost forgive him if he had a nuclear deterrent down below.
Finally, the end of our main meal had arrived, I didn’t want to wait for dessert, I wanted to drug the piglet, get the parts Lance had ordered and go home. My romantic intentions I thought had been made entirely clear with winks; foot plays all while asking him how big he was, at one point I’d even leaning forward with my arms crossed beneath breast to squeeze them up at him, but alas, no. The ignorant man-pig ordered a huge piece of cheesecake along with another cheap glass of repugnant house red. It would seem I can put total lack of sexual desire, quality and class on his ever growing list of failings.
As waiter placed cheesecake and plate down in front, before letting
go the piglet had started spooning great chunks of it into his odorous mouth. “Should we get him another spoon so he can use both hands to shovel it in Elsbeth?” His attention to the cheesecake did, however, create the perfect opportunity for me to slip a few grammes of Rohypnol into the red diesel he was consuming by the bucket. Finishing off he gulped down the last of the cheap, nasty drugged house piss, Jonathan then proceeded to click his fingers impatiently at the waiter while letting out a loud, rancid burp.
“Told you Elspeth, estate agents are much bigger cunts than bankers.”
“You did flash the girls at him didn’t you Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Lilly I did, maybe I’m losing my looks?”
“No chance Elsbeth, you’re divine, the incestuous little piglet should be begging to be with you.”
“Thank you Ubel, at least one man can make me feel good tonight.”
Jonathan then said one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever heard, which considering I’ve Lilly and Ubel living with me 24/7 is very impressive. Upon paying the bill, he leant across with an overpowering smell of garlic mixed with halitosis and said. “How about you come back to mine, I fuck you into tomorrow, then cum on that beautiful little face of yours?” The offer itself wasn’t the offensive bit, I quite like all of what he suggested; unfortunately it was the creature it came from that caused the offence. The sight of him moving towards me was all too much for Ubel, all I could hear were fake vomit noises echoing from beside my ear. Unfortunately, I’d promised Lance, so as I’ve done on so many occasions I smiled, looked directly into his eyes and whispered as seductively as my repulsion would allow.
“Book us a dirty little hotel, take me there, and you can fuck every hole I’ve got.”
His piggy little eyes almost fell from snouty little face as the thought of an open all access night of carnal fun was now on the cards. Like all men Jonathan was easy to manipulate, simply let them think your idea was, in fact, their genius idea and a slave you now have. He almost dragged me to the first hotel which had a vacancy light in the window, always the sign of a fashionably high-class establishment. As he dealt with the receptionist the drugs started to take effect, his speech becoming more erratic and slurred, I knew time had now become my adversary.
Hood up, head down was my new posture from the moment we walked in, until the moment he pushed me through the door into the small single bedded room, not too dissimilar to Paris, except this one was paid for. Turning round only to see the large shape of him lunging towards me, his disappointing pedalo already out, apparently ready to set sail. Insisting I pleasure him orally first, no four-play, no romance and as far as I was concerned; no fucking chance. Pawing at me, he swung around slumping to the bed, forcing me to the floor as he descended, his disappointment flopping about like a tiny bobblehead. Holding my head, he pushed me down attempting to thrust his disappointingly small appendage into my mouth.
“Bite it off girl, come on, chomp-chomp,” little Ubel whispered to me. Experience offered some salvation as I knew I’d only to last a few minutes before he’d be completely lullabied by Rohypnol’s narcotic cradle. So with closed eyes, I pretended he were the man of my dreams, pleasuring him with great enthusiasm, my head bobbing as nose bounced against belly. Within minutes he started to twitch, growing bigger, before spitting seed, holding me down so I couldn’t escape. Eventually, his grip surrendered as I struggled for air, pulling away sharply leaving a trail of saliva and semen from tip to lip. Laughing at me, he ordering I swallow it down like a good little girl. My eyes contracted as the contempt started to build inside, his disrespect reminding me of being forced to do the same as a child.
Holding seed upon tongue, I unzip my dress allowing gravity to assist with my undress. Pretending to swallow, I pushed him back upon the bed with a seductively arched foot of feminine intent. Standing above I take his still firm disappointment in its entirety, his elation all too apparent, eyes closed, mouth open as the heavenly sensation of my femininity enveloped him. Over his face, I lean, spitting free his seed with disgust and contempt into open mouth, whilst jabbing at neck with a syringe full of Ketamine.
Squirming like dying fish, he convulsed as the potency of post orgasmic endorphins copulates with suppressing cocktail, confusing his tiny insect-like brain. Just before succumbing he jolted with skipping breath and catching cough, which unfortunately was the closest I was going to get to a bit of cock fun. Pleasure now but defeated by might of Rohypnol, ketamine and alcohol finally I took control, taking no interest in the last of his protests, he was mine. Now it was my turn rule, my time to force my will upon him.
“Fuck ya girl!” Screamed Ubel. “Ride him like the little piggy bitch he is girl, yeehaw!”
Ubel then started running around making piggy snorting noises, as if I’d just tamed a mighty wild boar. Lilly just clapped ladylike, offering her congratulations to another successful entrapment. Regrettably, the drugs also had the effect of recalling his pedalo back to harbour, so any chance of enjoying his row boat for a while was gone, especially as I was now bigger than he.
Grabbing my handbag, emptying contents upon hairless chest I set about my mechanical quantum’s quest. The gag fitted perfectly; which I only wish I could have used hours prior. Pulling his arms in place above his head like a lazy Orang-utan I secured his confinement with the fluffy pink handcuffs attached to rickety old headboard. Dragging one leg over as if into the recovery position I rolled him, just enough to slide the blade into his lower back making a tiny, but precise incision through skin, then lower vertebra.
A quick flick of wrist and his immobilisation was complete, spinal cord severed, not the slightest of movements he offered, the coma-inducing cocktail doing its job in his restrainment. Again old father and I had become closest of friends, but a dilemma he now afforded, my requirement short, heart, liver with kidneys, all within a swish and a flick. Not wanting to run the risk of parts spoiling from being out of his body longer than necessary I had hours to waste until Ubel suggested we play our little game. Pickerty-Snip my game of choice, like twister for sociopaths, someone or some voice suggests a body part, another a removal technique. We’d played on many an occasion my trinity of three; it’s quite fun, sometimes they wake, sometimes they don’t.
“Left nipple with teeth!”
“Right toe with scalpel!”
“Right eye with finger!”
“Tip of nose with scissors!”
“Eyebrow with teeth!”
“Front tooth with stiletto heel!”
And so it went for a while until Lilly suggested “Half a testicle with teeth,” getting as far as biting down before he woke. With a shudder and muffled scream life once again raced back into Jonathan’s reality, his remaining eye wide with fear and pain, the other looking at him from the dirty glass sitting upon bedside cabinet. He tried to move, to kick out but my previous incision had removed that option, although my cut seems to have missed a few nerves, as his testicles were still very much sensitive. Head thrashed as Madam pain introduced herself to him as she started to take control of his conscious, the power of Ketamine no longer able to mask his agony or her power.
“Will I didn’t think he’d feel his bollocks, Elsbeth!”
“No Ubel, seems we learn something new every day.”
“Is the little man bitch crying for mummy Lilly?”
“Could be Ubel, it’s a bit hard to tell, I think he may have bitten his tongue off?”
It’s true; time does indeed fly when you’re having fun, the next time I flicked eye towards screen of phone it was 12:03 am, time to stop enjoying myself and get back to work. Taking the scalpel in hand, I placed its sterile blade upon virgin skin at the top of Jonathan’s chest, with a single artistic swish I drew a perfect incision from top to cock. His chest and stomach peeled apart like a splitting bag, his intestines ballooning up, liver a perfect dark crimson. Slowly I wriggled my hand into the cavity, through intestines, under liver my hand squirms, puncturing through diaphragm, res
ting by heart. His heart racing, his brain flooding him with adrenalin as the pain consumed him.
Apparently transplanted organs have a greater probability of acceptance if they already contain epinephrine. But that’s only one of the reasons I feel the beating heart, the other pure self-satisfaction of carnal desire. Blade now resting upon neck, in one quick motion I slice his throat, blood flows freely as he gasps for life, inducing iris to evaporate before pupil slowly died. His heart slows, its beat becoming more irregular, fainter, as death gathers round for one final whimpering pulse - it stops. Eye deadens as he slips away into the night, this morning no more than a pointless beast of a man, now the hero to so many.
As they say behind every good man is an even greater woman, and tonight I’d made Jonathan greater than he could ever have been. Without rhyme or reason, I tasted his blood, instinctively dropping hand towards my frustrations. Standing, naked, bloodied and alone I feel nothing, no remorse, no guilt, and no arousal. Typically when I kill gratification becomes my mistress, forcing her will upon me to enjoy the moment, but with Jonathan, she didn’t. Like lovers lost embrace she evaded me, pure professional my feeling, emotions all gone, just a desire to get the job done.
“You not gonna flick one out Elspeth?”
“It doesn’t feel like she is Ubel no.”
“She ain’t right in the fucking head this one!”
“Not this time guys, sorry I just don’t feel it.”
“Elizabeth I think it may be prudent to disguise this one, he’s a little more untidy than usual. Maybe we should give him a Columbian twist, help confuse the police?”
“Can we skin the fuckers face too Elspeth dear?”
