by Matt Shaw
“What do you think your wife would do it she knew you were here?” I asked him.
“She’d forgive me. She loves me.”
“Really? You’re sure about that?”
“Yes. She’s forgiven me before.”
“Then she is an idiot.”
I closed the shear’s blades together until either side met in the middle. The man screamed the highest-pitched scream I had ever heard as his testicles rolled from the top of the shears and onto the bed next to him. I laughed at his pain.
“She’ll do so much better without you,” I yelled over the sounds of his scream.
I won’t finish him off. I’ll let him bleed out. I’ll let him suffer. His wife has suffered. Only fair that he does. Going by the blood spilling from him, it won’t take long. By the end of the day he’ll be in a hole and his wife will be freed.
* *
“You’re surprised I have a girlfriend?” Jon asked.
“Well - honestly - yes. I thought you were a virgin and that’s why you were scared of the intimacy I offered.”
“A virgin?” he laughed. “No. Not a virgin. We’ve been together for a few years now. Moved in together about a year ago. It’s nice…”
“Then if it’s nice - why are you here?”
He hesitated a moment.
“Testing myself?”
“Testing yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t follow.”
I felt my feelings change towards him from the moment he said the word ‘girlfriend’. Before that I not only pitied him a little bit but was actually starting to like him. He seemed like a decent bloke. He seemed genuine. Not sure if I have seen many of those in my life thinking back. The ones who see me, without a girl waiting for them at home, are hardly pillars of society. They have their secrets; their skeletons hanging in the closet. And before these men - the ones who pay me for sex - there was only the monster that ruined my life. Not much of a role-model for future men to live up to. Jon was the closest I had got to finding someone ‘normal’. I’m not saying I would have set up home with him but it was certainly a breath of fresh air. It was nice. Now I just felt sick to my stomach.
He was stuttering. I could see he was trying to back peddle. Trying to think of a way out of what he had said.
“What do you mean?” I pushed him.
“Well if I saw you and was able to sleep with you,” he said, “then I guess my relationship wasn’t as strong as I thought. I was thinking about proposing, you see. If I could have gone ahead with the appointment - well - guess she isn’t the one and I’d be better off moving out and letting her find someone more deserving.”
He was lying. I could see it in his face. There was something else. Something he was hiding.
He continued, “I was relieved when I went home yesterday. I mean - I felt bad for the way I ran out but the fact I didn’t go through with the appointment… I was relieved.”
“But you came back today.”
He hesitated again. I could see the clogs working as he tried to figure out what to say to me.
“I felt like I needed to apologise to you,” he said after a lengthy pause.
I’ll tell you what happened. He had a taste for what I could offer but was too scared to go through with it yesterday. Temptation brought him back here. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was going to be like most of the other cheating men out there or whether he was going to run away again - back to the woman he was supposed to love. A test then…
“I don’t believe you…” I said.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t believe you. Why you came back today.”
“Not sure I understand…”
I cut him off, “You came back today because, despite what you think you know of yourself, you want me to touch you.”
I reached down and started stroking at his cock, through his trousers.
“You want to feel the tight, wet snatch of another woman…”
He pulled away from me after a slight hesitation which spoke volumes. He had inadvertently backed himself into the corner of the room though. No running out this time. I backed him against the wall as I continued to caress his genitals.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” I breathed heavily in his ear. I could hear that he was enjoying my touch. “Don’t pretend you don’t want me.”
“Please stop…” he sighed.
His body betrayed his own words. He was hard at my touch. His hands were at his side. If he really wanted me to stop, he could have quite easily made me. I pulled at his belt, undoing it, and slid my hands down into his pants. My fingers wrapped around his erection. His sighs grew louder as his erection continued to harden until it was solid as a rock.
If he stops me… If he pushes me away… He has a chance… He can go home, never come back. He can live with his girlfriend. He can continue to live his life with her. With the woman he supposedly loves. If he doesn’t stop me though, if he continues to enjoy my touch - I’ll have no choice but to set his so-called love free. As I continued to tug him, with a firm grip, he continued to sigh. He even closed his eyes as though it helped take him to a special place where he could fully enjoy the sensations of my well-practised shake.
“How do you know if you really love your lady if you do not experience the love of another woman first? Talking to a woman isn’t a test for you. Feeling the touch of a woman is. Letting the woman make you cum… Only then can you go home and know that the lady you have waiting for you is enough for you… Is all that you want for the rest of your life. Just you and her.”
I increased rhythm.
“Do you want me to make you cum?” I asked.
“Please stop.”
I didn’t stop and neither did he try and stop me.
“How do you want me to make you cum?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“With my hand like this? Or with my mouth? My tongue licking you? My mouth sucking you? My tight, wet pussy? You can go bareback if you want? Really feel how wet I am for you?”
He sighed harder. Clearly my words were leading him to the point of no return, along with my touch.
* *
The client’s moans grew louder as he neared the orgasm he had paid for. I sat up, letting him slide out of me, and grabbed a hold of his dick with my left hand. My right pulled the rubber from his cock and tossed it to the floor. I quickly started wanking him before he lost the momentum we had built up.
“Does your wife touch you like this?” I asked. “Does she fuck you like I fuck you?”
I swapped hands. Left hand became free. Right hand around his cock. Keep momentum.
“Do you think she’d get off on watching us together?” I asked.
I looked at his face. He wasn't looking at me. Head tilted back. Body writhing around me. He wasn’t even listening to the words I said. Not all of them anyway. He only heard the seductive tone that I used and picked out the odd words; namely fuck and touch. A test, then.
“Do you think she’d be happy I killed you?”
He moaned out loud and his cock twitched in my hand before stream after stream of hot semen spurted from the tip. He hadn’t listened to a word that I said. A pity for him. I reached up with my left hand and pulled a knife from under the pillow. He hadn’t noticed. Too busy enjoying the final twitches of his tired cock. I waited a second, or two, for him to come out of his moment. When he did, he slowly opened his eyes and looked to me. A smile on his face. A smile on his face that faded when he saw the knife.
“What the fuck?”
“This is for your wife…”
He sat up and promptly fell back against the bed when I plunged the knife into his chest. I didn’t pull it out. Just left it there for him. He was gasping. His face was contorted from the pain. I - on the other hand - was smiling the first real smile I’d shown in our time together. I pulled the blade from his chest and watched in awe as blood so easily pumped from the wound. He doesn’t have
long.
“Your wife’s next partner will love her more than you could ever have believed possible. In time - she won’t remember your face, she won’t remember your name, she won’t remember the sound of your voice. No one will remember you…”
* *
Jon’s eyes were closed still. With my spare hand I unbuttoned his trousers. He moaned for me to stop again. This time I listened but only long enough to pull both trousers and underwear down, freeing his penis. He went to move so I shoved him back again before I dropped to my knees and slipped him into my mouth. He sighed out loud again.
“Do you like this? You can cum in my mouth if you want. Let me taste you…” I purred between sucks. “Or you can have my arse. Don’t usually offer it but… I’ll let you, if that’s what you want. If that’s what you need…”
I felt his hands either side of my head. He pushed me away a moment but didn’t let go of my head. I looked up at him. He was looking down at me. A confused, almost scared, look mixed with the lust he was feeling for me written all over his face.
“I want your cum,” I told him.
He pulled me back towards his cock and I greedily slid it down my throat.
When I first started this job - I did what was asked for me with no sexual gratification for myself. It was a way of paying the bills and keeping a roof over my head. I didn’t want to go back on the streets again. I’d been there before and it was terrifying. If I had to sell my body to keep from the cold - so be it. As the months went on though, and my job role turned from ‘whore’ to the role I find myself today - I found I did get some sexual gratification. The thought of killing these men, the cheats, the assholes, the ones who destroy families… The thought of disposing of them turned me on. Funny. Despite ending up killing them - the ones who did have the partners at home, the ones who were to die… They got a better ride than the innocent ones I let survive the appointment, the ones - you could argue - who actually deserved a good fuck.
Jon pulled back and his cock slipped from my mouth. Once again I expected him to pull his trousers back up and run from the room shouting that he was sorry but he said nothing. I looked up to his face. There was no confusion there. No awkwardness. Just lust. He pushed me back and I lost my balance, ending up on the kitchen floor. He stroked himself as he lowered his body over mine - his spare hand ripping at the dressing gown cord loosely tied around my waist. He threw the gown open revealing the underwear I was wearing underneath. No words were needed. I pulled my knickers to one side, exposing my bare cunt to him.
“Do it!” I ordered him.
He didn’t need telling twice. He lowered himself over me and pushed inside. I gasped at the feeling. Not as ready as I would have liked to have been. His whole weight pushed down upon me as he slowly started to fuck me. Face to face, he kissed me. His tongue probing my mouth, my tongue meeting his. His hand on my covered breast. I helped him out by pulling my bra down exposing my hardened nipples. When he noticed what I had done, he bent down and suckled on each nipple in turn as he continued to pound me. He stopped suckling and straightened up again so that our heads were side by side. His mouth near to my ear, mine near to his as I sighed breathily. He started to increase the rhythm with which he fucked me. I couldn’t help but to run my hands down his back, digging my nails in as they neared the bottom. He yelped out but didn’t stop what he was doing - so carried away in the moment that he didn’t care he was barebacking. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d at least wash my cunt juices off his cock before potentially offering it up to his partner. And then I started thinking of putting a knife through him again and again - thoughts which replayed themselves over and over as an intense orgasm started to build within me.
* *
The client lit up a cigarette without asking whether I minded or indeed wanted one. Not a smoker, ideally I would have preferred him to wait until I had left his house before sparking up but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. An outcall appointment to his house; it was up to him what he did. Up to him whether he gave himself lung cancer.
He threw the condom off onto the floor and wiped his dick on the duvet before giving me a wink as though he were proud of his actions or thought he were something special.
“Did you cum?” he asked.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling my black satin knickers up. I turned around to face him. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bedside cabinet. In particular - the picture of him standing with his wife on what must have been their wedding day given the fact she was in her white dress and the background of the shot was a church.
“You were amazing,” I inflated his ego.
Of course I hadn’t had an orgasm. I never did on normal appointments. Especially when - every time I turned my head to the side - I saw a picture of the woman I was forced to betray due to the fact I wasn’t able to free her from her cheating spouse.
“In fact - if you ever fancy an incall appointment - I’ll give you fifty percent off… But it has to be our secret.”
I winked at him.
* *
I screamed as a powerful orgasm washed over me. I felt my face flush as my body shuddered. By the time it had finished, I opened my eyes and realised Jon had pulled away from me slightly - his eyes fixed upon me, watching me experience my private moment of pleasure. He smiled at me.
I took the opportunity to slide him out of me. Before he knew what was happening I was wriggling from underneath him until I was able to turn him over with me on top of him; his back on the cold kitchen floor. I took a hold of his cock and slid it inside of me. Not as much of a sting this time and we both sighed.
“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this?”
I put my hands down on his chest, for added balance, and started rocking backwards and forwards, up and down - the occasional rotation of my hips as I ground down upon him to really milk his cock. He couldn’t take his eyes off my body as I fucked him. There was no trace of memory of his girlfriend on his face at all. In this moment - at this time - she simply didn’t exist. And that was why he needed to die. She needed someone who cared for her. She needed someone who wouldn’t hurt her. He groaned loudly as I increased rhythm.
“You like me fucking you like this? You like the feel of my cunt gripping your cock?”
He didn’t answer me. His hands worked their way under my dressing gown and rested upon my buttocks, giving them a squeeze.
“Don’t stop. Fuck me!” he demanded.
* *
The monster’s hands grabbed the young lady’s buttocks and squeezed them hard as she continued to ride him. He demanded that she fucked him. Warned her not to stop despite the tears running down her cheeks as she rode him.
* *
I covered Jon’s mouth with my hand to keep him from talking, keep him from reminding me of my past. Don’t need to hear those distant memories now. With my other hand, I reached up and steadied myself against the side of the kitchen. Hand pressed against the side, fingers stretched onto the worktop. Small finger resting against the blade of one of my many knives. I little stretch and I could lay my entire hand upon the blade.
* *
Whore’s hand reaches under the pillow the client’s head rests upon. Knife waiting.
Whore’s hand stretches down to under the bed, as client is distracted with tastes of her vaginal fluids. Knife waiting.
Knife under the bed. Knife under the pillow. Always a knife close to hand.
* *
Jon’s body twitched underneath me and his legs bucked. He sat up and wrapped his arms around my body, pulling my hand away from the knife in the process. He held me close as the final spasm of the orgasm rocked through his body. This was the part of the appointment when the client tells me how amazing I am, how I’m the best fuck they’ve ever had, how I was worth every penny, how they wished they had met me in the real world and not within the industry. They’d then take a moment - or two - to remind themselves that there was a strong possibility I wouldn’t even
look at them out there in what they called the real world. They were right, not that I’d ever tell them.
I rested my head on Jon’s shoulder as I looked towards the knife resting on the kitchen work-top, begging to be grabbed. Just as soon as he lets go, it’s mine.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I realised he was crying. I thought his body was twitching because of the powerful orgasm he’d experienced but I was wrong. His shoulders were moving because he was crying. Well this is new.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated himself as he buried his head against my chest.
Ah. The post-coital guilt. Not quite as common as the men who are busy wishing they could be with me and stating how great I was in bed as soon as they ejaculate; these are the men who feel nothing but guilt for what they have done. Whether it’s the fact they’d cheated on their partner or the fact they’d spent money they couldn’t really afford on me. Sometimes, even, it was guilt for simply going with a lady such as me. The most insulting line being that they’ll need to book themselves in for a test, as though I am carrying some terrible STD - and that’s despite the fact that I make them wear a condom. Jon wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last to feel guilty about what he’d done. I just wondered where his guilt was coming from.
Can’t reach the knife, might as well continue the pretense that I give a shit; I held him tight.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “You shouldn’t have done that…”
His words stirred up unwanted memories.
B E F O R E
The monster sat on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. A smile on his face as the young lady stood before him, dressed in a tight black skirt which only just covered her buttocks. A black top - covering her small breasts - which stopped just above her belly button. She turned for him so the monster could see from all angles. Perfectly flat stomach, good figure, tight arse, hair tied into a pony-tail. No make-up. Make-up isn’t for young girls. The monster said so.
“Do you like your new clothes?” his voice was quiet. A low growl.
