‘Well, well, well,’ a voice slithers through the air behind me. Then, the metallic click of a gun, cocked and ready.
Charlie.
‘I thought I heard voices. Looks like your boss held up his end of the bargain,’ he says. ‘What the fuck goes on here then?’
I turn, slowly, hands held like a prayer to god. Charlie’s head turns side-to-side as he nudges the hanging corpse of Paul with the barrel of his gun. It sways gently, like a grotesque pendulum. ‘What kind of sick show are you involved in, Sal?’
I stay silent, lips sealed. I let him talk. Charlie likes the sound of his own voice, so I let him fill the air with bravado instead of bullets. One wrong twitch from me and I’d be nothing but another red smear on the forest floor.
Then I seeher.
Stella - emerging from the gnarled tree behind him like something conjured from a nightmare. Her movements are slow, hands raised and fingers curled like she’s creeping up behind him on insect legs, her arms swaying from side-to-side, and a smirk spread across her face.
She’s a freaky bitch, no doubt.
Charlie doesn’t see her, his focus entirely on me. Her arms stretch wide, as if reaching to embrace him. But then I see it: a jagged rock cradled in her palm. Like a cat, she pounces, landing on Charlie’s back, her weight driving him forward. He stumbles, arms flailing, and the gun goes off sending a bullet screaming into the sky. I duck, instinct more than thought, heart hammering as Charlie hits the ground hard with a grunt tearing from his throat. Stella clings to him like a parasite, rolling him onto his back. I’m too stunned to move, everything happening so fast. Her fingers find the edge of his mask, and rip it free. It mimics the angular features of a predator – sharp and menacing, but stripped of it, he’s exposed, and suddenly, he looks more like prey. Her other arm arches high as she straddles him, then it falls fast, plummeting onto Charlie’s mouth with a crunch that splits the air, his scream swallowed before it’s born, and choked by the ruin of shattered teeth and blood. The sound that escapes him is wet, animal, a gargle that makes my stomach twist.
She draws a breath, ragged from exertion, her chest heaving as she starts to steady herself. ‘I call this one
“An Ode to the Painted Mouth”
My bats didn’t wait for me to speak,
They smelt his rot, and soul so weak.
They drained him slow, and drained his pride,
‘til nothing living stayed inside.
We watched him bleed, and slowly die,
beneath the moonlight that split the sky.
He looked at me, no strength, no guile,
That’s when I removed his smile.
Then I took the bats with silent grace,
as your flames danced across his face.
Now Ritchie’s gone, soon you too,
because the Thompson’s rot in all they do.
Charlie writhes beneath her pinned between her thighs, clawing at anything that might save him, but she’s already raising her arm again. A beat pauses. Then she leans forward, her skirt hitched slightly over her arse. Charlie groans beneath her, his mouth a ruin, his body twitching with the last vestiges of fight. She doesn’t flinch. I step forward and plant my feet either side of Charlie’s legs, staring down at his body twitching in the aftermath of Stella’s wrath. I lean down, fingers threading through her hair, winding it tight around my fist. Her head tilts back, exposing the curve of her throat. I hover behind her, my heart pounding – caught between awe and something far more primal. It tastes like control. I lower myself, knees sinking into the earth, framing Charlie’s legs, and I line my cock up against the entrance to her pussy.
I’m so obsessed with her I don’t even care that with each arc of her arm, Charlie’s blood flicks onto my face. I grip her arse, and slide into her cunt, each thrust syncing with the impact of rock meeting face. My balls tighten, and I nearly collapse on top of her as I pant like a fucking savage.
‘Harder,’ she moans, and I obey. Only when she comes does her red mist subside. She lowers the rock, her breathing ragged, and finally, she stops smashing Charlie’s face. Still trembling, she clutches his shoulders, as if anchoring herself to the wreckage. It’s brutal, but she’s enjoying every minute of it. I feel her wet, warm liquid coating my cock as I fuck her over Charlie’s dead body.
‘You’re a greedy bitch, aren’t you, Stella?’ I groan.
I pull out of her, and shuffle back.
Is there nothing I can do that won’t make her wet?
I drag my tongue up her slit, forcefully sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers to finger-fuck her.
