Love. Lies. Dying.

by Carla Blake

A finger explores. Pushing between her pussy lips, dipping into her cunt.

  Another joins it and together they slide smoothly into her vagina.

  She is fucked. Amy moving her fingers in a gently corkscrew movement as she pushes them in and out of Katherine’s dripping wet hole.

  “You’re very tight.” She whispers. “It’s lovely.”

  “I work out.” Katherine replies and grips hold of the sofa back. She badly wants to come now, her whole body seems to be trembling with the effort of keeping it in and she demands Amy gives her a good seeing to, sighing her approval when Amy increases the pace.

  A finger touches her clit and she nearly explodes.

  But it doesn’t move. Instead Amy holds it there, still as she can whilst Katherine writhes in sweet agony.

  “Touch me.” She says and moves her groin. Christ if Amy won’t move her bloody finger, she’ll have to do it for her.

  Amy moves, but very slowly. Her finger barely brushing against Katherine’s clit, as her other hand thrusts in and out of her cunt until juices are running down her thighs.

  Katherine is up on her toes. She is not sure what this will achieve, but she needs to do something. Her entire cunt feels like its plugged into the mains. She cannot prevent the small, plaintive ‘please’ that escapes her lips.

  Amy touches her clit. Finally. Properly. Katherine is about one second away from an almighty orgasm.

  She rubs her, pushing hard into the tiny button. Her other hand hasn’t stopped moving but now it matches the pace of the one at Katherine’s clit and she rubs and fucks with equal pressure.

  Katherine cannot stop it. Her knees feel like jelly. Her insides a maelstrom of liquid desire. Her orgasm is building, trembling through her groin. Her clit is throbbing, she would pay for Amy not to stop now.

  She comes.

  Hard.

  Amy screws her, her fingers pushing hard into Katherine’s cunt, the muscles inside the velvety wetness constricting tightly as they try to suck her in. She pushes, tickling the sides of the soft wall of Katherine’s vagina and Katherine shudders, riding a second orgasm that makes her knees sag and leaves her gasping for breath.

  “Christ!” She says and leans hard into the sofa, her eyes hardly able to focus on the cushions. “Christ! That was.. good.”

  “Only good?”

  “Okay, very good. That better?”

  “It’ll do.” Amy smiles. “Coffee?”

  She walks, still naked into the kitchen and snaps on the overheads. Light bounces off chrome and the base of a copper saucepan hanging from the rack suspended from the ceiling. She fills mugs from the machine and turns to face Katherine.

  Katherine is busy gathering her clothes. She feels uncomfortably vulnerable now the sex is over and less in control than she would like. Her thighs are tacky with come, her insides feel heavy.

  “Bathroom?”

  Amy points out a door to her right. “Through there. Second door on left. There’s fresh towels in the cabinet.”

  Katherine dresses quickly. The shower looks tempting but she doesn’t want to waste the time. Instead she washes between her legs using wadded up toilet paper and flushes it down the loo. Amy’s bathroom is a shrine to hair removal, body scrubs and lotions. It makes her grateful she doesn’t have to go to quite the same sort of effort.

  Amy is waiting for her when she emerges. She is wrapped in a pale pink bathrobe that makes Katherine feel slightly nauseous. The colour is a little too twee for her tastes.

  “Your coffee is getting cold.” Amy points out, curling herself up on the sofa. “And so am I.”

  Katherine smiles and raises a single eyebrow. She likes the fact she can do that. Not many people can. “What have you got in mind?” She says.

  “It’s a little kinky.”

  “I don’t mind that.”

  Amy produces a silk scarf from the pocket of her robe. It’s pink to match with dashes of silver thread running through it. Deliberately, she winds it around her throat and ties it loosely in front of her. “I like being fucked whilst this tightens.” She says, giving the scarf a little tug. “It really heightens the senses, gives your pussy that extra jolt.”

  “And you want me to do that to you?”

  “I do. Unless you’re not up for it?”

  Katherine puts down her mug and shuffles along the sofa. Her head is buzzing. If only Amy knew she’d already been the cause of two deaths due to suffocation, would she really be so willing to offer her a third?

  But Amy isn’t asking you to kill her, her mind reacts, just to give her a sexual thrill.

  Her left hand closes around the scarf, it is very soft to the touch. Her other hand opens Amy’s robe, pulling away the tie and spreading the sides until her body is exposed.

  Without preamble, she pushes her hand between her legs and delves for the entrance to her cunt. Her pussy is still wet and entry is easy. She inserts two fingers and starts to fuck her, hearing a quiet sucking sound as she works her fingers in and out.

  Her other hand closes around the ends of the scarf and starts to pull. She feels it meet resistance as it touches Amy’s skin. She sees Amy smile and her eyes close, her trust entirely resting in Katherine being a decent person.

  Katherine fucks her, then slides out her fingers and plays with her clit. Amy groans and thrusts her pelvis towards her. “Yes.” She sighs and the scarf tightens a little more.

  Inside again, and Katherine’s hand is moving with firm, even strokes. Amy’s cunt is running with juices, the smell of sex is strong in the air and she increases the pace, pulling the scarf tighter still. It is enough to make Amy cough and she eases off just a little, aware that her own heart is pounding, her own juices flowing. She could kill her, she thinks. She could end her life right now. All she has to do is pull. Pull and pull and watch whilst Amy writhes and panics beneath her. Her body twitching and jumping and fighting for breath. Struggling to stay alive.

  She pulls and plunges her fingers at the same time. Amy gasps with desire and then with anguish. Her eyes fly open and she stares at Katherine, even as her hands race towards her throat.

  Ignoring her, Katherine fucks her still harder, her fingers moving easily on their sea of come. The scarf tightens again and Amy chokes, thrashing her head from side to side, her fingernails raking across the backs of Katherine’s hands as she fights to stay alive.

  Katherine laughs. This is so easy! So fucking erotic! She’s going to kill her and her own body is humming with lust. Christ, she’s so turned on she could practically come herself.

  Amy begins to make a low strangling noise. Hectic spots of colour are blooming across her cheeks and her eyes are starting to bulge. Her mouth is wide open now and her tongue starting to protrude over her teeth. A thin stream of air is still wheezing into her lungs, but it is not enough, not enough.

  Fire explodes at the side of Katherine’s head and for a moment she cannot understand what it is. Then the pain kicks in and she falls. Onto the floor. Away from Amy. Her back hits the carpet with a solid thump.

  “Bitch!”

  Amy is standing over her. For some reason she is holding the handle of her coffee mug. Just the handle. The rest seems to have disintegrated.

  Understanding floods in and Katherine grunts with rage. The little bitch has hit her with it. The pain in her head was the mug shattering into a dozen pieces.

  “You fuckin’ tried to kill me!” Amy screams, shoving the handle towards Katherine’s face. She is still wearing the bathrobe and from where Katherine is lying she can see straight up to her cunt.

  Katherine tries but she cannot answer her. Her head is throbbing With trembling fingers she reaches up to her scalp and is relieved to find there isn’t any blood.

  “Why didn’t you stop?” Amy yells at her. “You could see I was in trouble! I�
��m gunna fuckin’ have you for this! Look at my bloody neck! I can’t model like this! You’re gunna pay, you hear me? Fuckin’ pay big time!”

  Katherine sits up and her head sends out a great pulse of pain. She breaths deep waiting for the world to stop spinning. She feels sick to her stomach.

  “Shut up.” She says quietly, using the edge of the sofa to hoist herself onto it. “You got what you wanted didn’t you?”

  Amy’s mouth opens and then shouts again with a snap. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stay closed for long.

  “Got what I wanted?!” She exclaims, starting up again. “You nearly killed me, you bitch, and now I can’t fuckin’ work until the bruises have gone. I want compensation. Okay? You’re gunna pay for the money I’ve lost.”

  Katherine sighs. “Get me coffee.” She says. “And painkillers.”

  Amy stomps off in the direction of the bathroom. Katherine is surprised she’s gone. Probably imagines I need a clear head to write a cheque, she thinks. Stupid, little tart. Like I’m giving her any of my money!

  Amy fumes back. She thrusts a glass of water and two white pills in Katherine’s face. “Ten thousand should cover it.” She says, sitting on the sofa and crossing her legs. “I think that’s fair.”

  Katherine looks at her. “Ten thousand?” She laughs. “That’s more than you earn in a year sweetie. You must be mad if you think I’m giving you anything! It was your idea to be throttled, remember, not mine.”

  “But you nearly killed me!”

  “Yes. Wasn’t that the idea?”

  “You unspeakable bitch.”

  “I’ve been called worse. Now if you don’t mind, I must be going.”

  Amy stands up, her hands are balled into fists. The bruise on her neck is starting to go a lovely shade of purple. “You aren’t going anywhere!” She says, “not until you’ve paid me what you owe.”

  Katherine merely looks at her, her expression cool and unruffled. “Oh, please.”

  “I mean it!”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do. Goodbye Amy.”

  She makes it as far as the door, her back itching the whole way as she waits for something heavy or sharp to thud into it.

  Her hand touches the lock before something does, but it is Amy, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head back sharply. A knee then smashes into her lower spine.

  “Money!” Amy hisses at her, her face inches from Katherine’s own. “Now!”

  “Fuck off.” Katherine says and twists round, grateful her hair is long enough to accommodate the manoeuvre. “I’m not giving you a thing, you little slut!”

  Amy doesn’t say anything but she hits her. A proper punch straight to the mouth.

  It splits Katherine’s lip and blood spurts down her dress. Incredibly she has time to think it won’t show up too badly against the black before she is grabbing hold of Amy by the shoulders and shoving her back into the lounge. Swearing at her and telling her what a stupid, little cunt she is!

  Amy punches her in the abdomen, folding her in half.

  Gasping, Katherine lets go to clutch her stomach and spits blood onto the carpet. Coughing, she lunges at Amy and knocks her off her feet. Then she kicks her, the toe of her shoe sinking into the soft flesh of Amy’s side.

  Amy screams, swears, scrambles to her knees, and with one hand clutching just below her ribs, races into the kitchen where she picks up a knife, a big one and with a sardonic smile on her face turns to face Katherine again.

  Katherine backs up, aware that this is no longer just a bitch fight. Amy has raised the stakes. She has a knife. All bets are now well and truly off.

  “What you going to do?” She taunts her. “Stab me? That’ll look good on your resume.”

  Amy takes another step towards her. Katherine retreats. “What’s the matter?” Amy sneers. “Afraid?”

  “Only for you.”

  “Bitch!”

  Amy runs at her. There is no warning, she just comes, knife raised above her head, a primal scream coming from her mouth. Katherine is almost tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it all , but there is nothing ridiculous about the knife. It’s big and it’s bloody sharp and its bearing down on her.

  She reacts instinctively, and snatching a bundle of clothes from a chair she throws them, not at Amy but at the knife where they catch on the blade and become entangled enough for her to kick out and send Amy tumbling back to the floor.

  Then she is on her, one hand wrenching the knife from her grasp, the other wrapped around Amy’s throat, watching her wince as she digs into the already sore flesh and seeing the model’s eyes widen as Amy realises that Katherine really does mean to strangle her this time. Her other hand joins in to help squeezing the life out of this fucking whore!

  Amy struggles, her backside bucking against the floor, her hands clawing at Katherine’s and drawing blood. Her throat is on fire, her lungs burning. She blinks, feeling tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes. She tries again to knock Katherine from her but there is no strength left in her to do so. Black spots start to dart in front of her face, then turn red. There is pain. Severe pain! Her mouth falls open, and there is a strange gagging sound. She doesn’t recognize that it is coming from her.

  Her whole body twitches, trembles.

  Whilst the blackness closes in.

  Katherine gets up. Her face shows no emotion. She toes Amy with her foot and gets no reaction. The woman is still. It is what she deserved.

  Bending down, she grabs a t-shirt from the pile of clothing she threw at Amy and methodically wipes Amy’s neck with it. She has no idea if she is removing evidence or merely just spreading it around. There is too much of it to worry about anyway, she has fucked her, kissed her. Her DNA must be everywhere. Soon the police will match it to Petra’s and maybe, eventually, Angela’s. Then they will be after her.

  But they’ll have to catch her first.

  She looks again at Amy and feels the surge. There it is! That wonderful feeling of power.. Laughing, she throws back her head and wallows in it, feeling every ache and pain wash away on an overwhelming tide of energy. She is growing to love how it makes her feel. Soon she will be needing it. Craving it.

  Hitching up her dress, she slides her hand inside her panties and brings herself off, delighted at how deep and satisfying her orgasm is.

  Then she picks up the coffee cup she used, and on her way out, drops it into the garbage chute.

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s nearly two thirty in the morning when Megan gets up to use the toilet.

  She has no idea if Katherine is home yet or not, it’s not so easy to tell sleeping in the annex as she does, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She loves this little house. It’s small and cosy and easy to keep clean, a Godsend when she has the bigger house to keep tidy as well, and its hers and Katherine has said she can do what she likes with it, providing she doesn’t start knocking down walls and keeping pets.

  Leaving the bathroom, she wanders into the lounge and pulls aside the curtain. She can see the driveway from here but Katherine’s car is not parked at the front of the house.

  You’re late, she thinks and lets the curtain fall back into place, jumping when a sudden sweep of brightness pulses through the fabric and momentarily lights up the room.

  Spoke too soon, she smiles and peers again, seeing Katherine stop the engine and start to climb out of the car. But something is wrong. Katherine is moving awkwardly as though she is hurting, and her hand keeps going to her mouth as if she is about to be sick. In the other hand she is carrying what looks like a white cloth.

  Curious, Megan watches her walk to the front door, hesitate a moment and then take the walkway round to the back of the house. Has she lost her key?

  Leaving the window, Megan follows, walking through her lounge and then
into her kitchen where she now has a view, albeit through a row of hedging, to the bigger houses’ garden. Pressing her nose to the glass, she squints into the night, wishing she could see better and she imagining she probably could if she went outside. But she’s only wearing a thin nightie and its chilly and she doesn’t want to go traipsing about like that. Going upstairs wouldn’t be much help either. The bathroom is the only room that faces the garden and that has a beveled window.

  Sighing, she wipes away the smear her breath has left behind and backs off a little. She can still see Katherine, flitting between the gaps in the hedge, but she had no idea what she is doing until a bright stalk of flame suddenly flares against the darkness and Megan realises Katherine has lit the bonfire, probably with the use of an accelerant by the looks of things. There’s no way she’s staying indoors now.

  Fetching her coat, she slips on a pair of old trainers then opens the back door and sneaks across the lawn. She can hear crackling and spitting now, the sound of damp wood drying before bursting into flame, and there is a vague feeling of heat pushing against her skin.

  Finding a decent gap in the hedge, she stands as close as she can and peers into the garden beyond.

  Katherine is standing beside the bonfire, quietly watching the flames. Her hands are empty and Megan surmises that whatever it was she was carrying has now been reduced to ash. After a while, she undoes her coat and lets it fall to the ground, then as Megan gapes with surprise, peels off her dress and tosses that into the flames as well.

  It burns quickly and brightly but Katherine doesn’t pause to watch. Instead she gathers up her coat, slips it on and turns to walk quickly towards the house.

  Megan can’t sleep, her mind too busy churning over what she has seen.

  Why would Katherine burn her clothes?

  Katherine isn’t sleeping either. Although that might be because she hasn’t made it as far as her bed yet. She is standing in the bathroom, fresh out of the shower, her skin still dewy with moisture, rivulets of water running from her hair, down her back to pool on the floor. Her hands are gripping the edge of the basin and she is staring into the mirror above. She doesn’t see her palled complexion or the cut to her mouth, she sees only her eyes. Staring back at her. Coldly. Dispassionately.