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Message-ID: <49185asstr$1095246601@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: stephen ambrose <chrutli@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} school film 2, the first sequel (snf MF)
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Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 07:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "school_film2.txt" begin>



   There is a popular claim that six million people- nearly all women- were
killed in the middle ages.  The agency was the Pope and the Catholic
church; the means was defined in the papal proclamation called the Maleus
Maleficarum, the hammer of witches.  This horror of gynocide was supported-
or at least ignored- by the whole of European civilization; the witch hunts
of the inquisition were indeed monstrous.

   Of course, if there really were six million women slaughtered by
society, that would have been roughly one out of six souls killed, or every
third woman alive.  Best estimates place the population of Europe at forty
to fifty million people.  That number- six million- is manifestly wrong.

   More reliable estimates place the number of women killed at between two-
and four-hundred thousand.  That's a far cry from millions, but it is still
an enormous number of women murdered, with their horrific deaths
countenanced by the highest moral authority of Europe.  Countenanced?  The
church engineered the gynocide.  The numbers aren't so important as the
simple fact that at least once, society culled its own numbers for purely
social and moral (?!!) reasons.

   Suppose, rather than goodness and right, you posit simple pragmatic
necessity to justify your universal gynocide.  In the Middle Ages, the
impact of humanity on the global environment was minimal; the ecosystem
healed what people corrupted.  In modern times, we are already deeply
involved in destroying the very mechanism by which nature heals itself. 
Industrialization is the superficial culprit; behind that there are simply
too many humans for our finite ecosystem to sustain.  A past article in
Scientific American suggested that 600 million people could be support in
our ecosystem, assuming they wanted (as we all do) an American,
upper-middle-class lifestyle.  We are, if you haven't noticed, way past
that now.

   Are you one the excess population? -Chrutli



   School Film: the First Sequel

   Chrutli

   Mrs.  Sanchez, Rita Sanchez, the assistant prinicipal, expelled me. 
"I'm sorry, James.  You're an excellent student.  But you helped Ali kill
him.  Things are all topsy-turvey now, and I- well, I really don't think
I'm going to be around to help you much.  It's better if you're out of the
way."

   She came around her desk.  She was short and voluptuous, with breasts
too big for her body.  "James, what you did for Ali-" she stopped.  "Can I
come to you?  I expect to get a notice soon."

   "Mrs.  Sanchez, it's not my place.  I mean, what about your husband?"
After Ali; after my mom and sister, I did think I wanted any more of that.

   She came just a bit closer.  She had dark brown eyes, a little sad, and
her lips trembled.  "I have piercings, my nipples and my sex.  Two and a
half carats of diamonds, and you can have them."

   "But your husband-"

   "He pierced me.  He does other things to my body.  He would not be kind.
Please.  Can I come to you?"

   I sighed.  "Yeah.  Of course.  I'll do my best."

   She kissed my palm, her lips warm and lingering, and then shook my hand.
"Good.  Good.  I wish you the best, James."

   I didn't even look up any friends to say goodbye.  There didn't seem to
be a lot of point, and I sort of wanted to be alone anyway.  Ali was gone.
Mom and Laura were gone.  I felt empty and sad inside.

   I was on my own, but there wasn't anything I needed to do.  When Dad got
killed, everything- the house, the pension, the insurance money (yeah, Dad
had insurance.  He was a senior engineer where he worked.  I said we were
pretty well off) all went to me, since women- which is to say Mom- couldn't
own property.  Women *were* property, like in the old Napoleonic Code.

   It was a pleasant sunny morning when I left school.  I wandered around
downtown for a while, went to the library, went to the Rexall and got a
coke, and finally went to the bank to see where I stood.  I didn't really
think they'd let me back in school, so I had to find a job or something.

   The house was paid off.  There was a hundred six thousand in a pension
annuity from Dad's death, and and fifty-eight and some in a checking
account.  It looked like I could live for a real long time on that if I was
careful, but I still wanted a job.  Downtown was really quiet with everyone
in school, and I'd taken care of Mom and Laura yesterday.  Mom told me I
should forget them and get on with stuff, but I knew I was going to miss
them.

   Finally I went home.  I turned on the radio, and spent a couple hours
grinding Mom's thighs and rump into hamburger.  Or sausage, I guess.  Their
meat tasted more like pork than beef, at least to me.  I wrapped it in
pound packages and froze it.  With Ali, Laura and Mom in the freezer, there
wasn't a whole lot of room left, so the grinding helped there.  I threw the
bones over the fence to Mr.  Wood's dog, who snarfed them right up and
carried them under a shady bush to gnaw.

   From the kitchen window, I could still see the ropes I'd hung Mom and
Laura's carcasses from.  I felt a little sad, but mostly I felt empty,
empty and heavy.  Mom and Laura and I had had three days together before
they got their notices.  Mom was the most amazing cocksucker, but Laura was
fresher and more eager.  It was only yesterday morning I'd slaughtered
them. ***

   My sister Laura woke me that morning, smiling and stroking my cock.  She
was cute and fresh and her eyes sparkled.  When she threw one slim thigh
over my hips and straddled my hips, easing herself down on me, I reached
for her hard little breasts and relished her tight wet cunt.

   Mom had been even better last night; she liked to use her mouth, her
body was more voluptuous than Laura's, and she knew how to use it.  I
didn't even think about Mom not being on the bed with us that morning, but
after Laura had come about three times, Mom was in the doorway, naked, a
fist-sized rock in her hand.

   I sort of knew what she was going to do, so I didn't stare at her, but I
did start to ache for Laura; she must have seen the pain in my eyes,
because she straightened up and settled on my hips, gripping my entire cock
inside her, and looked over her shoulder.  Mom was right behind her by
then, raising the rock.

   Mom looked at Laura.  Laura looked at Mom.  The Laura swallowed; I could
see the motion in her throat.  She turned back to me and started rising and
falling on my cock.  She looked down at me tenderly, licked her upper lip
and shuddered as she came, closing her eyes gently.

   Her head made a soft hollow sound, glock, when Mom brought the rock
against her skull.  Laura looked surprised, and sagged down against me. 
Mom dropped the rock and moaned, falling to her knees.  I lifted Laura's
bare shoulders.  Her eyes were barely slits, looking at nothing.  She was
dead.

   Mom drew a deep, strangled breath.  "Let's get her outside and finish
her before she comes around.  I don't want her to wake up again.  I don't
want her to see-" she groaned and curled up on the floor with a sob.

   I didn't tell Mom Laura was already dead; Mom had done way more than
coldcock her.  I took her limp body up and carried her outside, hung her by
the wrists from the patio awning, and went to work dressing her body.  I
was aching worse than ever.  I was getting experience at field dressing,
though.

   Laura's nipples were still stiff points and her skin still flushed pink
when I finished gutting her slim tanned body.  I wished Mom had let me come
too, but I could see why she'd done it then.  I kissed her dead nipples,
then lifted her head and kissed her mouth.

   Mom was in the kitchen when I went inside.  She looked at me, all
covered with Laura's blood, then looked at my cock, still hard, then looked
in my eyes.

   "Now me, right?" she said softly.  I nodded.

   She went out to the patio and I followed.  She stood stock still and put
her hands behind her back for me to tie.  I tied them there.  Then she laid
forward across the picnic table, her thighs parted, her sex glistening and
swollen and looked at me over her shoulder.  "Please, James?  One last
time?"

   I slid into her easily, pushing deep, aching.  I don't know what she
expected.  I don't know how she expected me to kill her, but she made it
easy and made it my choice and for a minute, I was furious with her.  I
wanted her to want to live.  I wanted her to fight, to refuse, to do
something other than lay herself before me the way she had.  In a moment of
fury, I picked up a butcher knife and slashed her bound wrists, both of
them, and began slam-fucking her in hard deep lunges.  Blood squirted out
over her back and buttocks from her wrists and it got difficult to see
because my eyes were tearing something awful, but I did manage to tug her
head back and slash her throat as I fucked her, then I sobbed relentlessly
as I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard, fucked her dying body, fucked
her until I came in her flopping, shuddering red-gouting body.

   I sobbed, I came, and Mom gurgled a couple more times and lay still.

   The rage and the anger were gone.  I pulled out of her body and flipped
her over, gutting her as she lay half on the card table.  I hung her by the
neck since her hands were tied behind her, and calmly got out the garden
hose to clean their carcasses and chill the meat quicker.

   I shouldn't have gotten mad, I guess, but now I was alone, and though I
was calm again, I felt emptier than I ever had.  I guess it wasn't so bad,
really.  I could have been a lot meaner to Mom.  ***

   The wheel barrow was full of guts, and they were attracting a lot of
flies.  I dug a hole behind the garage and buried them, deep enough that
dogs and stuff wouldn't get them.  That, I thought, was that.  I went in
and took a shower and ate a sandwich, then sat on the back porch looking
through the classifieds.  I expected I was going to get some kind of job,
if only to keep busy.  I thought about selling the house, too, because it
was worth an awful lot, but empty as it was, it was at least familiar.

   Debbie Shrader, a long, brown-haired girl in Laura's class was the
first. She didn't say anything when she came to the door; she handed me her
notice.  I let her come in and we went to the kitchen.  She was trying to
be brave, and doing it badly.  I gave her some orange juice and sat down
with her at the kitchen table.

   "You liked her a lot, didn't you?  Mrs.  Landry?"

   "A lot," I said.  She blinked her blue eyes and shivered.  "You want me
to take care of you the same way?" I asked.

   She nodded, not looking at me.  "And call my Mom after.  I don't want
her to worry."

   "Come here, Deborah," I said softly.  She got up and came up to me; I
scooted my chair back and pulled her onto my lap.  She whimpered when I
pulled her hair back from her face, stroked her cheeks.  When I kissed her,
she stiffened.  "Sh," I murmured, "Relax.  There's no reason to hurry
anything."

   She nodded, and when I kissed her again, she kissed back awkwardly. 
I'll bet she never kissed a guy before.  I nibbled at her lips, then
nuzzled her throat and kissed a soft line to her ear.  She shivered hard
and sighed.  I put my hand on her flat, tense belly.  "Can I touch you?" I
asked.

   Deb giggled.  "Yeah," she sighed.  "Oh, yeah."

   I slipped my fingers inside her waistband and stroked her belly, right
down to her mound, which was smooth and clean.  Then I caressed up into her
t-shirt, stroking small hard breasts that came to points eagerly.  When I
kissed her again, her little tongue was lively.

   I pressed the length of her close and for the first time, her arms went
around me.  "Are you going to stab me?" she whispered.

   "That's up to you," I said, stroking her shoulders and back.  She felt
wonderful.  "There's only one thing I want to know right now."

   "I told my parents.  They know I'm here.  It's okay."

   "That's not what I meant."

   "What?"

   "Will you make love to me?  You're so beautiful."

   Deborah laughed and squirmed.  "That's why I came here.  I want you to
make love to me."

   "I"ll do that if you like, Deborah.  I'm asking if you will make love to
me."

   She frowned.  "What do you mean?"

   "Undress me.  Touch me.  Do whatever you like, then make love to me."

   She laughed again, nervous and excited.  "Really?"

   "Please?  Right here, right now."

   She undressed me impatiently, smiling and eager, glancing up at me
often, blushing at my encouragement.  She didn't touch my cock until she
had all my clothes off, then it was tentative.  "It's kinda big, isn't it?"

   "It's not that big."

   "Bigger than Billy's Jackson's, that's for sure."

   She kissed my cock a couple times, tentatively, then scrambled up,
straddling my thighs.  "Okay," she said, smiling too brightly.  "Okay." She
rose up and pointed my cock between her thighs, hesitated, then drove
herself down.  She gave a guttural grunt and her body went hard,
half-jerking back off my cock.  I took her hips in hand and gently urged
myself deeper.  Debbie gasped and shuddered and tensed.  Finally she drove
herelf onto my cock, taut, her breath coming in hard gasps.

   She was a virgin.  Debbie was a virgin.  I'd popped her cherry.  With a
distressed sigh, Debbi relaxed against me.  She'd passed out.

   I wrapped an arm around the small of her back and lifted her shoulder,
then eased back into the chair, her long legs and slender arms still limp
and dangling.  She really was pretty, sprawling back in my arms.  Even
lolling back like she was, her little white breasts stood high.  She
shuddered and jerked, and I drew her against me.  She groaned, coming
around, and I held her quietly for a minute.

   "I didn't know you were a virgin."

   "I'm not anymore," she said tightly.

   "Want me out of you?"

   "No.  Yeah.  God." She practically jumped off and then curled against my
chest, holding her lower belly.  "I thought it would be more fun than
that," she whispered, her face twisted with pain.

   "It's supposed to be."

   "Bathroom," Debbie said.  "I have to go-" she staggered away, naked, one
hand cupped over her vulva.  My hips and cock were bloody.  She could have
used the bathroom off the kitchen, but maybe she didn't know it was there.
She went upstairs and I heard her slam the door.  Just as well; I could
wash her virgin blood off me down here.

   I took my time cleaning up, and waited patiently after that, but after
probably fifteen minutes, I started to wonder if Deb was in trouble or
scared or if she'd run away.  I went up to the bathroom upstairs and
knocked.  "Debbie?"

   No answer.  I went in.

   Debbie was sitting slouched forward in the bathtub, her legs in front of
her, like some broken doll.  She'd slit her wrists, and sat in a pool of
bright blood.  It made me feel bad, because, well, I don't know.  Because
she hadn't said a word.  I felt sort of like I'd let her down.  It took an
hour to gut and dress her, then I called her home.  ***

   Mrs.  Shrader answered the phone when I called.  "James?  Is Debbie
there?"

   I paused.  "She was.  She's gone now."

   Mrs.  Shrader was quiet for so long I wasn't sure she was still there.
"She made love to me, Mrs.  Shrader.  After that, it was very quick.  Do
you want me to bring her back?"

   "No.  No, would you take care of that?"

   "Sure.  No problem."

   "Do we owe you anything?  Roger couldn't bring himself to- and the
processing plant is so impersonal.  I'm grateful."

   "She was a brave girl."

   "Yes.  She was.  James, I saw in the paper this morning.  Everyone knew
you and Ali- well, I'm sorry."

   Something clenched up inside and I couldn't talk for a minute.  "That
was her choice, I guess.  I couldn't make it not happen.  Not after she
shot the principal."

   "We don't have any choice, us women," Mrs.  S said bitterly.  "Except
one.  Will you do me?  I got my notice too, I just didn't tell Debbie. 
I'll pay you.  Just don't cut my throat like at the plant."

   I glanced out at the patio where Debbie's slender body was hanging.  Was
there room in the freezer?  "Can I make love to you?"

   She seemed surprised, maybe, then, "Yeah.  Oh, yeah.  I'd like that."
She had Debbie's eagerness.  She gave a little laugh.  "You know how to
make a woman feel good, don't you?" Her voice went soft.  "Don't tell
Roger, okay?"

   "Okay."

   "I'll be over in a bit.  Is that okay?  In a bit.  I have to take care
of a couple things.  Shit." She hung up.

   I was going to start butchering Deb's body so she wouldn't be hanging
there when her mom came.  Then the cops showed up.  They were detectives.
The young one had a weird bright look in his eye and he smiled too much,
but the older guy just seemed like a regular guy, though maybe a little
sad. They asked me about Ali and all that.  Mostly what they wanted,
though, was to make sure she was properly dead.  I took them out to the
garage and showed them her head in the freezer.  "You can take it with you
if you want.  I know I'm supposed to turn it in to the popstab people, but
I've been kind of busy."

   "We don't need it.  You're not in school?" the older guy asked softly.

   "I was expelled.  I sort of expected it."

   The younger cop smiled brightly.  "Well, if you had gone to school,
you'd know that all the women who saw your show are getting notices.  I
shot two this morning." He went out to the patio, and walked around
Debbie's body, admiring or something.  He squeezed her boobs and smiled
with embarrassment when he saw me watching.

   The older cop was more sympathetic.  "Don't let it make you mean, son,"
he said.

   "Like killing women isn't mean as hell?  Giving every girl in school a
notice isn't mean?"

   "You know what I'm talking about.  I have to kill six-eight women every
day.  Most of them don't deserve it.  I try to surprise them, so they don't
get scared; if I can't do that, at least I try to make it quick.  Come up
behind them, pop in the head, no pain, no fear.  Walsh, he was mean.  Got
what he deserved.  Don't be mean like him."

   "I guess so," I said.  "Thanks, sir."

   Mrs.  Shrader was coming down the walk when the cops left.  The younger
one eyed her with that dishonest smile of his, but she ignored him.

   "Come on in, Mrs.  Shrader.  I've been waiting for you." I stared at the
young cop when I said that, and he seemed to lose interest in her.  She
stepped into the foyer and I closed the door.

   I expect Mrs.  Shrader had taken tranquilizers, but maybe it was just
the way she was.  She was a pretty as Debbie, though her breasts were a lot
bigger.  She was smiling when I closed the front door.  "I feel like I'm
being wicked.  You're so handsome.  I'm cheating on poor sweet Roger.  I'm
being so bad."

   "You're awfully pretty," I said.  "Prettier than I expected."

   For a moment her eyes went dark and wild, and I knew she was thinking
about dying.  I touched her cheek, traced her lips gently, ran my fingers
from the corner of her jaw down to the hollow of her throat.  She swallowed
and shivered.  It was strange; I was going to kill her; she was afraid.  I
didn't want her to be afraid, but her fear aroused me as more than her
beauty.  She was panting when I kissed her, and her tongue and lips were
more sensual, more experienced than her daughter.

   "Take a bath with me," I murmured.

   She gave a throaty laugh, then gasped and shivered when I cupped her
breasts and lifted them.

   In the bathroom she was as eager and nervous as a bride.  She wasn't
passive, either.  She had me naked before I had her to her underwear, and
we were both in the bathtub before it was half filled.  She was middle
thirties, barely plump, but firm and lush.  She grabbed my cock and sat
down on it before I even got her bra off.  She was wet and hot, but the
water washed some of her lubrication off as she fucked me, and it made the
friction- and the sensation- more acute.  After the first heady rush of her
cunt swallowing my cock, I got control of my pleasure; she didn't.  She
came twice before I actually got her bra unfastened.

   Her breasts were full and rounded and slightly pendulous, and her
nipples large, pale and coarse.  It pleased her I was so taken with them.

   We went at it like teenagers.  She came more times than I can count,
grunting, writhing, shivering orgasms.  I came twice, surprising myself. 
After the first time, I found myself wondering what it would be like to cut
those rounded breasts from her body; and what it might feel like to carve a
hole in one and fuck her there.  I'd have to tie her, of course, and gag
her so she didn't scream- my cock hardened under her lips at the shameful
thoughts.  She was already dead, after a fashion, and I could do what I
like.  I sort of hated the idea, but it filled me with hunger.

   After the second orgasm, I slowed down.  I could stay hard, but I
couldn't quite come.  She took full advantage, rocking, riding and driving
herself down on me.  I laid back, enjoying the sensation, and idly fondled
her breasts.  Her nipples were thimbles amidst wide, flat, bumpy auroelas.
I imagined slicing her breast open, nipple to ribs, to see what was inside.
It was a brutal thought, but my cock responded.

   She must have guessed what I was thinking, or near enough.  Her eyes
went dark and panicked again, and then she had another orgasm, shivering
and mewing; because of her imminent death or despite it, I couldn't tell.
Finished, she rose off my cock and washed it a bit in the water rising
around us.  She looked at me with frightened eyes.

   I reached around and turned off the running water.  "We should talk a
bit," I said, putting my arms around her and drawing those big breasts
close to flatten against my chest.

   "I don't want to die," she whispered.  "I don't want to talk about how
you're going to- I want to be surprised by death.  I don't want to plan it
like a picnic or- or an affair."

   "Hush," I said, "Don't worry about it.  Don't scare yourself.  It'll be
quick and easy."

   "Promise?" she asked.

   "I promise," I said.  I took her face between my hands and kissed her
deeply.  She paused, then responded, fishing my cock out of the water and
stroking lightly.

   "Again?" she asked, smiling sadly.  "Again, then I'll be ready."

   "Again." She threw her thigh over me, straddled, mounted.  I took her
face between my hands again and kissed her.  "You're so pretty," I said.

   She smiled gratefully, squirmed on my cock, and I slammed her head
against the ceramic tiles.  Her head made a soft crack and she went limp so
suddenly that I checked her throat to make sure I hadn't killed her
outright, the way Laura had died.  Her eyes were half-closed, but she had a
pulse.  I got Dad's straight razor, the same one Deborah had used, and slit
her wrists, holding them underwater so the blood didn't shoot all over. 
The water blossomed red.  Then her ankles, slashing deep.  She slid down in
the tub so her breasts and her face floated, and I watched her breath. 
After a couple minutes, the islands of her breasts tightened and quivered
in the water and she gave a harsh grunt.  I hooked a finger in her cunt and
lifted her hips above the water, and drew the razor firmly up her belly,
exposing her insides without cutting them.  I was getting a lot better at
this field dressing stuff.

   It was awkward getting her limp carcass out of the tub.  Her belly
cavity had filled with water, and her foot got tangled in her guts for a
moment.  I got her free, though, and took her downstairs and hung her next
to Debbie.  She really was an older, sexier version of Debbie, and I
admired her as I hosed her carcass down.  Butchering the two of them was
going to take a while.  I decided to quarter them and freeze the quarters.
***

   It was late afternoon.  I had just finished wrapping and freezing the
last of Debbie's mom when the doorbell rang.  It was the Leung twins, Syl
and Meg, and their mom.  Syl and Meg were tall, pretty girls with black
hair down the middle of their backs.  Their mother, Mariko, was smaller,
though not petite; she was pretty in a frumpy, severe way.  She wore
eyeglasses, baggy trousers, a plain blouse, and a shapeless dirty cardigan.
Her black hair was pulled back in a tight shaggy bun, and she looked
owlish. She had a big suitcase that nearly reached her hips beside her. 
The girls looked like regular American teenagers, cute and a little
self-involved.  The twins weren't very smart, though everyone liked them.
They were like long-legged elegant animals, like gazelles or baby giraffes.
They seemed even more vacant today than they usually did, smiling a bit and
swaying.

   "We got our notices," Syl said tentatively.

   "All three of us," Meg added.

   "We wish to ask a small favor." Mariko lowered her eyes demurely.  She
had a wide face, a broad nose and brown almond-shaped eyes, eyes made huge
by her glasses.  She didn't look up.

   But I was tired.  "Mrs.  Leung, this is something you should discuss
with your husband.  It been a long day, and-"

   "I talk it over with him a few minutes ago.  He can't come back for a
couple days.  He said it was okay if you-" she stopped.

   "I understand," I said.  "It's just that it's late, I'm awfully tired,
and I haven't had dinner yet."

   "If we go home, the meat trucks will be there first thing.  May we stay
here tonight?  Then tomorrow?  We can fix you dinner.  The girls, they want
to share you.  If you are willing."

   "What about you, Mariko?  Are you willing to share?" She looked like a
potato, but why leave her out?  The girls were Americanized clothes horses,
nice to look at but kind of shallow.

   She licked her lips.  "I have always been faithful to my husband."

   "Mom!" Syl protested.  "Come on.  We're not gonna tell.  We'll be dead.
And James-" she smiled at me- "He's a gentleman."

   "I have my honor," Mariko said softly.  "Will you please consider to do
this thing for us?"

   I looked at the three of them.  Mrs.  Leung looked grave and severe, but
the twins looked, well, I don't know.  They would be nice to screw anyway.
I was getting tired of killing girls.

   Syl gave me a dreamy smile.  "Tranquilizers," she said.  "Mom gave up
some of Dad's tranquilizers.  We really would like it if you did us."

   "Okay.  Sure," I said.  "Come in.  Make yourselves at home.  Listen, I
need a shower.  I'm sorry, but I have to get cleaned up and rest.  Can you
find everything?"

   Mariko nodded.  "You take shower.  We find everything.  We fix dinner,
make your comfortable."

   It was a relief, in a way.  Three women in the big house; I wouldn't be
there alone with the TV.  I really was tired, but I hadn't gotten
half-undressed in the bathroom before Syl came in and smiled, helping me
with my jeans and undressing herself.  "I'll wash you," she said, and
started undressing.

   Syl was long legs, long torso, small breasts and little pointed nipples,
little loaves of buttocks.  She teased in the shower, but wouldn't let me
enter her.  "Later.  When Meg is with us.  Okay?"

   "Okay," I said.  I was tired.  I was that tired.

   Mariko made a rump roast, tender and exotically spice, with saffron rice
and steamed broccoli.  It was good and I ate a lot.  The women ate with me,
but nobody said much.  Mariko seemed to try to disappear, and the twins,
well, they were drugged and I guess kind of melancholy.  I was just tired.
Eating gave me a little more energy, but finished, I was still sleepy. 
They chased me out of the kitchen and I watched the news lazily for a few
minutes.

   The photo in the news was of Ali's face, looking over my shoulder as we
screwed and as she died.  I was surprised they showed it, though you
couldn't see any skin, really.  What you could see was Ali's face; her eyes
were gently shut and she had the loveliest, most serene smile.  I was happy
to see it, sort of; she was smiling.  But she was gone, and all I had was
the memory of her breasts and belly flattened against me, and her soft
voice as she died, "James."

   The newsman said it was on the internet, but I didn't look.  Maybe
later, I thought.  I felt sad and confused and a little lonely.

   Syl, slender brown body naked, came in and knelt at my feet.  "Can I
please you?  Or are you too tired?"

   "I am tired," I admitted.

   "Then come to bed and I'll give you a massage."

   A moment later Meg came out, slim, naked, a little shy.  "Mom said we
have to screw you.  You want some pussy?"

   Syl frowned at her sister.  "She didn't say we had to.  She said we
could if we wanted.  If he wanted."

   "He's going to kill us.  He's going to kill our stupid butts."

   "He doesn't have to.  He could make us go to the plant.  I want him."
She looked up at me.  "Do you want me?"

   "Yeah," I said, smiling at both of them.  "I guess so."

   "I want him first," Meg said petulantly.

   Syl was sweet and generous with her mouth and hands and cunt.  Meg was
sweet and selfish.  There was an odd gravity to fucking them.  They didn't
giggle and carry on, but they didn't seem frightened or even terribly sad.
Resigned, maybe.  They were neither very good lovers, but I came twice just
the same, once in each girl.  Lean, brown, slim bodies with me amidst them,
four brown breasts, two mouths; they were going to die, and the thought
inspired me.  Maybe inspired is the wrong word, but the thought of
slaughtering them excited me past my weariness.  I was a little rough when
I fucked Meg because she was so full of herself, but she didn't seem to
mind.  Syl offered me everything, and I took her gently.  She cooed and
purred and I wished I could have fucked her more.

   I was tired just the same.  I fell asleep with Syl's cunt around my
half-hard cock and Meg's trim belly under my head.  ***

   It was before dawn when I woke; I heard movement in the house.  The
twins were a sleepy naked tangle.  I got up carefully so as not to wake
them, and went into the kitchen.  There was fresh coffee in the pot, and
the door to the patio was open.  I got a cup and went out.  Mariko was
sitting on the step in the dark, coffee in hand, her calves drawn up to her
thighs.

   "Can't sleep?"

   "I die this morning.  I didn't want to waste that time in sleep." She
gave me a sad smile.  "You were very good with the girls.  You were gentle
and passionate.  I'm happy they were with you."

   "You didn't want to join in?"

   She laughed shortly, a light musical laughter.  "I have been out here
for a long time, trying to find the courage to kill myself.  I can't do it.
I don't think many women can."

   I didn't say anything, but I sat beside her.  She leaned close without
touching.  "You have a handsome manhood.  You are bigger than my husband. I
have always been faithful.  Always.  Do you think it matters now?"

   "If it does to you, then it matters." It was dark, but she didn't look
quite the potato I'd thought.

   "What are all you boys going to do when all the pretty girls are gone?"

   I shrugged.  "I don't know.  It'll stop before then."

   "Maybe.  For every seven dead woman, there are five dead man.  True
statistic, did you know?"

   "No, I didn't."

   "True.  Men kill for hate, for jealousy, or like your father, for honor.
There is no need to make drawing for men to kill men.  Only women."

   In the gloom, I was just beginning to get an impression of her.  Her
hair was down, falling to the middle of her back, brushed straight and
glossy black.  The eyeglasses were gone, and her eyes were lovely.  Her
legs were bare and shapely.  Like Mom, she had disguised her looks.  She
was beautiful.

   "You were thinking about killing yourself?" I asked softly.

   She smiled.  "In my bag, I have knives, guns, electric shock thing.  I
take many deadly things from my husband's collection.  But I don't have
courage."

   "You're pretty.  When I first saw you, I thought you were shaped like a
potato."

   She laughed, a sweet, delicate laugh.  "Kevlar vest.  It makes me look
plain and also twice somebody try to shoot me.  It hurts very much.  I have
bruises for weeks."

   I sighed and sipped my coffee.  "I wish things were different."

   She took my hands in hers, kissed them, raised them to her cheeks. 
"These hands, they kill my daughters.  These hands take my life.  Why does
my heart go fast when you sit here?  I want you so much I can almost taste
the flavor of your manhood.  You like this, do you not?  You make love to
girl, you kill her.  You like this."

   I considered.  "I like the sex."

   "You like the sex because you know, this little girl, this pretty girl,
she die soon.  Die by your hand.  Sweet nice breasts, you kill them.  Nice
wet sex, you have and then kill.  The killing, that is what makes you so
hot.  I know.  It makes me hot too even if I never cheat on my husband."

   "Maybe you're right."

   "I know I am right," Mariko said firmly.  Then she sighed, "I am married
woman.  I should not talk like this.  I talk dirty like this, you get
excited and force me to love you, you make me do with my mouth and you use
my body."

   She looked at me oddly, and I smiled at her.  I wasn't going to force
her anything.  She was way past pretty, though.  "You force me," she said,
then looked down.

   That was all we said for a while.  It was an easy silence; something
about her appealed to me, even though we'd barely spoken.  I was acutely
aware of her beside me even though we didn't touch.  Then, deliberate or
not, her thigh came over and pressed me.  I looked over; she didn't look
back, so I studied her.

   The sky was lightening and I could see her form in the easing darkness.
She had lips so full the boht of them almost described a circle, a wide,
strong jaw, and she was wearing only panties and a shirt, my shirt.  I
wanted her, a little.  It wasn't exactly that I knew I was going to kill
her; it was more that I knew I could do anything I wanted with her body,
and it didn't matter.

   "I guess you're right," I said.  Her skin was golden and creamy.  She
was beautiful.  "I think it does turn me on."

   "I know I am right.  I feel desire too.  My body says make love to this
man, make love very much, very quickly before you die.  I don't know why. I
just feel heat." Her black hair brushed her shoulders.  She pulled it back
with both hands.  "I get call yesterday, Ann Shrader.  She say she got
notice; she say many many women get notice because of Ali, because of you.
She say she come here, she ask you kill her.  I think many women will come
to you." She paused.  "I have money in my purse.  You take it."

   "You don't have to pay me." I felt weird about being paid.

   "You do job, you get paid." She smiled; she had a sparkling smile. 
"Besides, you think I will need money?"

   I shrugged.  In the darkness, birds were starting to sing in the trees.
Dawn was close.

   Mariko's voice was soft.  "So Ann Shrader call you?"

   She was asking something else.  "She was here."

   Mariko lowered her eyes, and her voice was even softer.  "I know it is
not my business.  You share with her?  You make love with her?"

   "Yeah.  Yes."

   "Good." Mariko nodded.  "Some boy at school make videotape, put it on
internet.  I see this videotape."

   "What videotape?"

   "You and Ali.  It is not too good quality, but you can see.  After you
cut her so much and she bleeds, and then you make love to her.  She put
legs around you, and you make love so nice to her, and the whole time she
smiles.  She smiles happy and she smiles serene.  Even when death take her
and she struggle some she smiles.  You don't know that, do you?  Her head
over your shoulder, you don't see her happiness.

   "Many women see this, I think.  They all think, I want to die like that.
I want to be happy and good man make love to me.  Me, I want that too, but
I must have my honor, because that is all I have left.  And many women get
notice, because Senator Walsh is angry.  Ali kill his brother, so many
women around here going to die too.  Many, many women."

   "I wish it was different.  I wish it was."

   "Do you truly?" Her eyes were wide and direct.  "Do you?"

   "I killed my sister and my mom yesterday.  My own mom.  That's how she
wanted it; I mean, instead of the meat plant.  So I did, but I was angry. I
hated her for letting me, for not fighting back or anything, for not
wanting to live."

   "I don't understand too.  I don't understand why we just accept this.  I
mean, everybody knows there are too many people.  Too many people, some got
to go.  Then I get notice, and I don't want to die.  Somebody else die, not
me.  But I accept.  My life is not so happy anyways, so I accept.  My
daughters, they are a little scared, but they accept.  They are different,
little bit different.  They have no promise to hold.  They always know,
even very young they know.  You grow up, you get notice, you die dead.  I
was different.  When I was young, my parents only worry was find me a good
husband.  It was how it was, it was a promise.  You live as long as you
live.  Promise to me broken now.  I have promise, but it is broken."

   "Promise?"

   "To live.  That is all.  When I was little girl, no popstab, no kill
women all over.  Promise."

   "I know what you mean.  It sort of doesn't make sense."

   "We all accept, I don't know why.  So many people, you got to fight and
fight just to live one day and then another one.  So hard to fight, to be
afraid all the time.  Easier to die."

   Mariko took her lower lip between her teeth, looking out into the
darkness, and for a moment I watched her.  There was a light in her eyes
that seemed absent in so many others.  She saw me looking and smiled,
dropping her eyes.  "Easier to die from you, too.  Will you make love to my
body after you kill me?"

   "No." I shook my head.  "No.  I don't like that."

   "No?" Her brown eyes were teasing.  "I am pretty naked.  You don't want
make love to my body?"

   She shifted, and I caught a glimpse of a breast.  It was high, full,
golden, perfectly formed.  Her nipple was dark, dark red; almost black. 
The aureola was a jutting, coarse cone, bumpy, and tilting upward was a
thick stub of a nipple, deeply cleft.  Maybe it was just that she was
exotic, but I caught my breath.  A thrill went through me; I didn't want to
make love to her lifeless body, but before, yes.

   Mariko drew a shuddering breath herself, straightening her shoulders,
and her breast disappeared.  "While I die, then.  Your manhood inside my
belly.  Inside me.  Yes." She put her hand on my knee, then drew it away
quickly, glancing at me.  "You force me to take you."

   I wanted to put my arm around her, to give her that small comfort, to
hold her lovely body for a time.  Her reticence infected me.  Like her, I
didn't dare.

   "Your mother, your sister.  And Ali Landry.  All gone from you.  You
don't say much about you.  Everything change for you too.  How do you feel?
Does your heart hurt?"

   I considered.  How did I feel?  "I'm numb.  I don't feel anything.  Ali
is gone.  Mom, my sister.  I feel empty."

   "Yet you are the one.  You kill them yourself."

   "What could I do?  What else could I do?  If I didn't, it would have
been worse for them."

   "You make love to them first, your mother, your sister?"

   I hesitated.  "Yes."

   Mariko sighed and nodded.  "Good.  I like to think they taste you inside
them.  I like that."

   She hesitated, then leaned against me a bit.  "How are you going to kill
us?"

   "Any way you like.  You decide."

   "I can't.  What I want shames me." She swallowed and shook her head. 
"You will kill my daughters first.  I wish to see this, to know they do not
suffer very much." She paused and sat straight.  Her shirt- my shirt-
wasn't buttoned, and I caught another glimpse of a dark nipple, erect, high
on a firm brown breast, tilted sharply upward.  "I can't offer you my body.
My body cries out to please you, to take pleasure.  I cannot do this.  But
if-" she stopped and swallowed.  "If you force yourself on me then my honor
is safe.  You understand what I say?"

   "You're beautiful, Mariko.  I mean that.  It's not just your looks,
either."

   "I cannot offer my body, my sex to you," she said more insistently.  "If
you want to make love to my body, my beautiful body, you must force me and
take me.  If you force then my honor is safe.  You understand?"

   She wanted her honor; she wanted sex.  "Yeah," I said.  "Yeah, I do."

   "My husband use my mouth and my sex and sometimes in my behind.  If you
want to use me that way you force me and make me do this.  You will do
this? You like this?"

   I flushed, but she didn't see it in the darkness.  "You're beautiful. 
I'd like to love you."

   She nodded, satisfied.  "Then you will punish me for saying these things
to you.  Punish me to take my shame.  You take my shame and you tell my
husband nothing, you tell him I honor him."

   "I don't think you need to be punished, Mariko."

   "No.  You be cruel.  You give me pain and be cruel.  You hurt me and I
beg you, stop, it hurts too much, you don't listen.  You be cruel.  You be
cruel."

   "I don't think I can.  There's pain enough, isn't there?  I can't be
cruel."

   Mariko lowered her eyes, long lashes brushing her cheeks, then looked up
at the dawn.  "My husband has a girlfriend.  He comes home, he says, I am
slut, I am only good to suck his manhood, I am worthless.  He says I give
him daughters who are prostitutes and they are worthless.  They are not
worthless; they are only young and stupid.  I tell my daughters, make love
to boys because you are young and why not?  My husband beats me sometimes
because I do this.  He has money; he buys protection for young girlfriend.
He doesn't buy for wife, for daughters.  So we get notice.  He is glad
because he doesn't love anymore."

   "I'm sorry."

   "It is not so bad, except now I got a notice.  My daughters, they don't
make love very good, do they?  They ddon't know how to please a man."

   "Mariko," I shook my head.  "I can't be cruel to you.  I can't do that."

   "Please.  You must.  You kill me very slow.  So slowly.  I scream, I say
stop, I beg, but you don't stop.  You kill me slow and be cruel."

   I studied Mariko; she was frightened; she didn't want to be tortured,
but she wanted her honor.  She wanted to die slowly, and I didn't want to
kill her at all, and not the way she wished.  Maybe I saw the same spirit
in her I saw in Ali.  I don't know.  I almost refused, I wanted to refuse.
"Mariko, I want one thing from you."

   "What is that?"

   "I'll do what you want.  I'll try to be cruel.  Until I kill you, I want
you to obey me, completely and without question."

   "Why this?  Why?  You tie me, you force me.  I don't fight so much."

   "You want me to be cruel.  I won't tie you; I'll bind you to your word.
Will you obey me willingly?  Will you do everything and anything I say?"

   Mariko's lips parted and she looked at me with dark pools of eyes.  "You
want me to be slave."

   "Yes."

   "You say, Mariko, kill your daughters.  I will not kill my daughters.  I
will not do this.  You say, Mariko, make love to me.  I have husband.  I
will not do this.  You say other things, okay, I obey.  I obey like a
slave."

   "I won't tell you to kill your daughters.  I'll do that.  But I want you
to make love to me.  I don't want to force myself on you.  I want you to
give it to me."

   "Then you do something to force me to do this.  You don't ask me to give
you; you take.  You make me to be slave.  Like chains.  Or like a gesture
even.  Like you tie my hand but not very tight.  You make me like that and
I have my honor.  I want-" her voice caught- "I want so much to fuck your
body and feel you inside me.  Don't make me to humiliation.  Make me to be
your slave, don't ask."

   She looked up at me with eyes that were at once afraid and defiant,
lovely eyes, brown eyes.  "You have no choice.  I am give you no choice. 
That's all.  You have no choice."

   She shivered and looked out into the shadows.  "You are right.  I have
no choice.  Then I will do this," she said.

   "On your honor?"

   "On my honor, I will be your slave."

   "Good." I put my arm around her shoulder and drew her gently against me.
She was shivering, and the look she gave me seemed, for the first time,
frightened.

   "I am scared.  Now I am scared."

   "Don't be.  It's going to be all right."

   "It will never be all right.  It will never." Mariko straightened her
shoulders.  "We should take care of my daughters now.  Before they wake. 
Is that okay?"

   ***

   I couldn't tell the girls apart in the early morning light; two long
slim brown bodies, tangled in sleepy affection, their long black hair going
every which way.  Mariko stood stock still next to me, watching her pretty
daughters sleep.

   One of them opened her eyes and Mariko stepped forward, pressing a small
black object to her neck.  She made a little choking sound and slid off the
bed, jerking oddly.  Mariko followed her down, pressing the black device to
her temple.  A couple tremors went through her slim body, but nothing
really dramatic.

   Say it was Syl.  I really didn't know.  Mariko gestured and I picked her
up and carried her out back to the picnic table, laying her gently on her
back.  It was almost routine now.  The first cuts- I made them in her
ankles- always gouted fast and hard.  The other cuts- neck, hips, wrists
and so on- bled increasingly less.  I cupped Syl's breasts in both hands,
watching her eyes.  One hip rose, and her belly hardened as her heart
struggled to a stop.  Then, slowly, she sagged back to the table.  Mariko,
standing behind me, watched it all with black, inscrutable eyes.  Syl had
never come awake.

   It must have been Syl, because when we went back to the bedroom, the
other one- Meg, I'm pretty sure- was crouched in the corner, terrified.  I
talked to her, but she kicked and clawed when I tried to get close. 
Mariko's eyes were blank, but her mouth expressed her pain.  It wasn't how
she wanted it.

   I finally lunged into the corner and got my hands around Meg's throat,
squeezing tight.  She kicked.  She clawed.  She fought with everything she
had but I didn't let go and the struggle was silent because I had her
throat closed.  Mariko was frozen behind us.  I squeezed and tried to keep
Meg from clawing my eyes.

   When Meg began loosing her strength, when her flailing began to become
weak and chaotic, Mariko finally groaned, stepped forward, and zapped her
daughter in the chest with her little black stunner.

   The pain surged through my arms and chest.  It hurt like hell and my own
muscles threw me off Meg.  I'd gotten some of the charge, and I lay dazed
for a moment.

   "Hurry up hurry up," Mariko murmured, her voice soft with misery.  "You
kill her.  Kill her fast.  Hurry up."

   I stood and staggered.  Muscles wouldn't work right, but the desperation
in Mariko's voice drove me.  My hands wouldn't work; they tingled and I
couldn't quite close them.  Meg, twitching on the floor and
half-suffocated, was worse.  I couldn't carry her.  My hands twitched and
wouldn't close.  What was I supposed to do?

   Then Mariko zapped her daughter again and Meg threw her head back.  I
dropped to one knee, and that one knee was centered on her throat.  I felt
her throat crush under my weight and I grabbed a breast to keep my balance.
Meg drew her legs up and humped her hips in the air, but she couldn't
dislodge me; she was as weak and uncoordinated from the shock as I was.  I
stayed there, one knee in her throat, for several minutes, until Meg's
twitching convulsive struggle grew uncoordinated, and then stopped
altogether.

   It was another fifteen minutes before my muscles would work okay, before
I could even think about carrying Meg's body out to the patio.  The whole
time, Mariko knelt over her dead daughter, stroking her black hair. 
Mariko's face was a mask.

   Mariko sat back against the wall as I gathered up Meg's body and took it
outside.  I hung them up by their wrists.  It was surprising how much alike
they looked, and how both of their faces seemed at peace, as if they'd only
fallen asleep for a moment.

   I hacked at Meg's head to get it off her shoulders, and then Mariko came
out, her golden body naked now, and showed me how to do it, cutting Syl's
head off with a slice here, a tendon there, twist and cut.  Mariko had
Syl's head off in a moment, the stump neat and clean, where I'd struggled
with Meg.  Mariko was grave and quiet, but she seemed to lose some of her
tautness when I bagged the girl's heads and put them in the freezer.

   She was small, but not petite, Mariko.  Her sex was freshly shaven and
wide, the cleft deep and sexy.  Her nipples were erect, coarse and bumpy,
almost black and cleft at the tips.  I liked her skin; she was pale, but
there was a golden cast to it, like bronze polished white.  I watched her,
still shaking a little from the jolt, and once again astonished at her
beauty, at how it affected me.

   Mariko gave me a dark look, and picked up a knife impatiently.  I let
her go and watched.  Mariko gutted and dressed the dead carcasses of her
daughters, her hands quick and sure with a knife.  In less than half the
time it had taken me, she had both girls neatly gutted, bled and waiting to
be butchered.  There wasn't any room in the freezer, though.  "I call
processing plant.  They pick up, pay you for meat, so much for pound."

   "They pay you?" I was a little surprised.

   "Sure.  You get steak, roast at supermarket, you think it is free?"

   "Okay," I said.  "Fine.  Call them."

   "You kill me then?  Be cruel so I don't die for a long time?"

   "I want to make love to you, Mariko.  Call them.  Call them and then I
want to make love to you."

   She hesitated, then nodded.  I heard her call from the kitchen; she was
naked still, her daughters' blood smeared over her chest and arms.  I was
getting out of my own bloody clothes when she came back out.

   I took a wooden chair from the corner and set it in the middle of the
patio, then gestured to her.  She came over as I sat.  "Sit on my cock. 
Just sit, okay?  Sit and don't move and let me hold you for a while."

   Her face was still hard.  She straddled my thighs and I lifted her hips,
lifted her onto my cock.  She came down slowly, her thighs trembling as she
impaled herself.  She was hot, and tight, and so wet that at first I didn't
even feel the ridges of her vagina.  I pulled her hips down, held her
there, and gathered her against my chest, her rigid nipples pressing into
me, her hard breasts flattening against me.

   She started crying then, softly, and we stayed that way for a while, her
tears wetting my shoulder and neck.  She groaned and came when I started
moving, little rocking motions that teased her clit rather than moved my
cock within her.  She came, groaning, then sobbed, then, softly came again.

   The popstab guys, two of them wearing bloody overalls, came around the
house.  It surprised me they came so quickly.  Mariko started to climb off
me, but I held her hips close.  To hell with them; I'd done worse at
school. Mariko cringed against me, hiding her face, though, for the sake, I
suppose, of her honor.  They sort of grinned, but didn't really seem that
interested.

   I told the guys where the freezer was, in the garage, and explained
which head was whose and all that stuff, so they'd get the records right.
One of them checked things off on a clipboard, then looked up.  "This one
here, this is Mrs.  Leung?  You got her daughters, right?  We need her,
too. Her head, anyway."

   Mariko came again, her face against me.  "She's kind of special deal,
guys.  I want to have some fun with her before I wack her.  Can you get her
head tomorrow?"

   "Supposed to take her now.  We can kill her right here once you're done
fucking.  Won't take a minute."

   "She's the last one.  I want- well, I want to have some fun with her. 
You know?  Please?"

   They shrugged, sure, I can understand that, she's cute.  They tossed the
carcasses of Mariko's darughters over their respective shoulders and left.
We were alone again in the thin dawn light.

   I lifted Mariko off my cock and carried her into to the bathroom.  I
made love to her as we showered, long strong strokes that made her shiver
and cry out.  I only came once; I don't know how many times she came.  It
had to be a strange pleasure, fucking the man who had killed her daughters,
and who she knew was going to kill her.  Strange or not, it was intense for
her.

   Finished in the shower, I carried her, still wet, to the bedroom.  "I
want to tie your hands.  I have to get some things ready."

   "What things?  You don't have to tie."

   "Torture things, okay?  And I want to tie you, at least your hands."

   Mariko put her wrists behind her and I tied them as loosely as I could
without her escaping.  I didn't think she'd try, but I still wanted her
tied.  "It's going to be a while.  Stay here.  Sleep if you want.  It's
going to be a while."

   I left her and went to the living room and sprawled in Dad's lounger. 
It's funny.  I was still tired.  But I didn't want to kill Mariko, and I
didn't know how to get out of it.  I dozed a bit, trying to think of a
plan, and I was pretty sure she fell asleep in the bedroom.  Neither one of
us slept much last night.  ***

   I guess it was mean, but by then I didn't care.  I needed the head of an
oriental woman.  Annie Soo lived about ten blocks away with her dad and her
brother.  She had been Laura's friend.  They and a couple other girls had a
kind of secret retreat in the basement of an empty warehouse near the
Radcliff projects.  They went there a lot of times after school.  If she
wasn't there, I knew where to find her.

   Annie was third generation American.  She almost looked Italian.  She
was wearing a lumberjack shirt and jeans when I caught up with her, her
auburn hair in pigtails.  "Hey, Annie.  Can I talk to you?"

   She was a couple blocks away from their sanctuary, the straps of her
backpack making her boobs stand up.  "Hey, James." she smiled weakly and
waited for me.  "I haven't seen Laura lately," she said.

   "Is there someplace we can talk?  It's really important."

   "What about?  Do you know where Laura is?"

   I hesitated.

   She drew back a little, her wide eyes growing suspicious.  "Where's
Laura?"

   I thought about lying to her, but she was pretty sharp.  "She's gone. 
She got her notice."

   Annie's rosebud mouth dropped at the corners, and there were abrupt
tears in the corners of her eyes.  "I thought so." She shook her head and
hugged her books to her breasts and sniffed.  "You kill her?" she asked.

   "Yeah." I didn't hesitate; she was already suspicious.  I guess I
couldn't blame her.  "She asked me to."

   "Yeah, I know.  I mean, I know she wanted to screw you.  We talked about
it." She swallowed and sniffed, then wiped her eyes with the cuff of her
flannel shirt.  "You screw her?"

   "She wanted that too."

   "Did you?"

   "Yeah."

   "What do you want to talk about?"

   "Not here, okay?  Somewhere private."

   "About Laura?"

   "Sort of."

   She studied me a moment, then nodded.  "Okay.  Come on."

   It was five or six blocks, and we only talked once the whole time.  "I
heard all the women and girls in school are going to be snuffed.  It's
because of you and Mrs.  Landry.  Some mucky muck got pissed."

   "I heard that too.  I hope not."

   Annie led me into the warehouse, down some stairs, and into a bare
concrete room next to the elevator shaft.  She went across the small room,
leaned agains the wall, then slid down and hugged her knees to her chest.
"What did you want to talk about?" Her brown eyes were direct.

   What was I going to say?  I needed to get close to her to use the
stunner, but I couldn't make it across the room.  Easy, I thought.  Walk
across the room, casually, then zap her.  Easy.  I couldn't quite move.

   Annie rested a cheek on her delicate knee, still watching me with bright
eyes.  "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" she said.

   "Why would you think that?" She didn't answer, staring at me intensely.
I shrugged.  "It's not what you think." That was lame.  But I could get
some other girl.  It didn't have to be Annie.  I like Annie; I liked her
directness.  For a second I really did think I'd let her go, but then I
realized I wasn't going to.  She was going to die, and I was going to make
it happen, and I wanted to fuck her badly because of that.  Don't ask me to
explain it.  You could say I was turning into a crazy pschyopath, and maybe
I was, but the rest of the world was pretty much the same.

   Annie sighed and shrugged.  "Okay," she said, raising her head.

   "Okay what?"

   "Go ahead and do it.  Are you going to shoot me?  Or stab me?  Just go
ahead." She leaned agains the wall, straightening her arms at her side so
her shoulders rose.  It made her breasts tilt upward and I watched them
avidly.

   "You get your notice?" I asked.

   She shook her head.  "Not yet." Her eyes were bright and unreadable. 
"Laura loved you, you know.  She wanted me to be your girlfriend because
she couldn't.  Because she was your sister." Her bright eyes saddened for a
moment.  "You can fuck me if you want.  It doesn't matter." She got to me
somehow and I looked down on her in confusion.

   "Annie, look, I'm sorry," I said finally.  "I'm not going to do anything
to you.  I miss Laura.  You were her best friend.  I thought.  I don't know
what I thought.  I'm leaving."

   I did.  I turned and walked away, leaving Annie sitting against the
concrete wall in the half-shadows of that room.  I felt weird; it wasn't
like I had any qualms about killing Annie, but she knew, and that stopped
me.  She was cute, though, and I would have liked to fuck her.  I sort of
wondered if I was turning into some kind of murdering monster, but hadn't I
walked away from her?  Hadn't I let her live?  It was stupid.  Annie should
never have been my choice.

   I wasn't home five minutes when Annie knocked on the door.  She came in
when I opened it, and pushed it shut herself.  She didn't have her books
with her, and she didn't say anything.  I wasn't sure what she wanted.  Me?
Sex?  Did she want to die?  I'm not sure she knew herself.

   I took the little stunner out of my pocket and pressed it to her chest.
Her eyes flashed; she gave a hard jerk and then collapsed on the floor.

   I pulled the shirt off over her head and used it to tie her arms behind
her back.  She groaned and twitched as I worked.  I hadn't knocked her
cold, just dazed her, so I worked quickly.  She had nice breasts, full and
low on her chest, with wide, relaxed nipples that were the palest pink.

   "James," she groaned as I unfastened her jeans.  She kicked a little,
and squirmed.  I got the stunner out and almost hit her with it again,
zapping one of her now-bare breasts.  "Don't-" she begged, her voice
rising. "Not that, please.  It *hurts.*" I hesitated, looking into Annie's
eyes.  She went limp in my hands, her eyes fearful.  "Please, don't," she
whimpered.

   I didn't, but I didn't undress her either.  I picked her up and carried
her to the kitchen, setting her down on the counter next to the sink.  Her
head hung over the sink.

   "I thought you were nice," Annie sobbed as I turned to the knife rack.
"Laura told me you were nice."

   "I'm not, I guess.  Not anymore." I got a nice, heavy butcher blade and
pressed her head back into the sink, so her slender throat was bared.

   "I don't want to die," she wailed.  That was the last thing she said.

   I pressed the blade to the base of her throat and cut, sawing the blade
back and forth across her throat, working it nearly a third of the way
through her neck.  Annie jerked and struggled, but not effectively.  I
cupped my hands under her chin when the red blood gouted, so it wouldn't
splash all over the kitchen.  Annie gurgled, inhaling her own blood through
her throat.  She squirmed and twitched, her eyes still intently on me.  It
surprised me how much blood she had in her.  After a couple minutes, she
lay still, the blood a trickle from the dark gap under her chin.  She'd
pissed her jeans, so it was just as well I'd left them on.  Once I was sure
she wouldn't twitch or jerk off the counter, I left her there and went to
the bedroom where I'd left Mariko.  I'd only been gone a couple hours.  She
was asleep.  I went to Mom's room.  In Mom's jewelry box, I found a nice,
big loop earring.

   Mariko was awake, sleepily staring at the ceiling when I returned.  I
climbed on the bed, sitting on her belly, then leaned forward, kneeling on
her upper arms.  Mariko gave a harsh whimper and squirmed, but her arms
were still tied and I had her pinned.

   The earring wasn't sharp, and Mariko's thick, dark nipple was
surprisingly tough.  I had to twist and push, twist as push, to get the
thick gold metal to penetrate and pass through her nipple.  Mariko gasped
and shuddered as her flesh tore.  Once she cried out, but I worked the
metal through her nipple.  I didn't go through her nipple, but pushed
through her aureola, close to the edge, so the ring had to pass through
almost two inches of flesh.

   One time her nipple, slick with her blood, slipped out of my fingers.  I
squeezed her breast harder, pinched her nipple, and finally the gold popped
out of her nipple on the opposite side.  I had to get pliers to straighten
the ring; I'd bent it pushing it through Mariko's breast.

   I got up when I had the ring closed and looked down on Mariko, her
pained face, her injured and bleeding breast.  She was panting, but once
she caught her breath, she swallowed wetly and spoke.

   "Now you kill me?  Hurt me very much.  Kill me slow.  So slow, so much
pain."

   "I told you I agreed to be cruel."

   "Little nipples small thing.  Hurt me much more.  Hurt me very much
more. Kill me so slow, and if I beg to die or to stop, you don't listen."

   I went to the bathroom and got a washcloth and peroxide.  Mariko
shuddered when I began washing her breast and disinfecting her nipple.  Her
wound- filled now with the thick gold ring- was ragged, but it had stopped
bleeding.  "Why do you do this?" she asked when I finished.  "Why?"

   "Suppose I don't kill you.  What will you do then?"

   "What do you mean?  You kill me.  You promise.  Kill me slow.  You
promise cruel."

   "Slow," I agreed.  I took her hip and her shoulders and turned her on
her belly.  "Cruel, yeah.  As cruel as I can be." I cut the ropes from her
wrists, took one hand and rubbed her wrist.

   Mariko sobbed and flipped back over, rubbing her own wrists, wincing at
the pain of restored circulation in her hands.  "You kill me.  You
promise."

   "Cruel, I promised."

   Fear and desperation filled her eyes.  "Please.  You kill me.  Kill me."

   "Cruel, I promised.  You told me to be cruel, no matter how much you
protested."

   "No.  Kill me.  Kill me slow.  So it hurts."

   "How much slower can this be?  How much more can it hurt?"

   Mariko glared at me with blank, fierce eyes.

   "Do you know Annie Soo?  I killed her a few minutes ago.  I'm going to
give popstab her head and say it's yours.  You can stay here from now on.
Or you can leave." I paused.  "I'd like you to stay."

   I turned and went back to the kitchen.  Annie had pretty much stopped
bleeding out.  I worried her head off with the butcher knife and bagged it;
the popstab people wouldn't recognize Annie's head for Mariko's; all they
would know was oriental.

   From the bedroom, I heard a harsh scream of hatred and anguish.  I knew
she wouldn't kill herself, though.  And I wouldn't do it for her.  ***

   "You'll wear the ring until I kill you, or die myself.  Do you
understand?"

   Mariko, grave and fifteen years older than me, nodded, looking up at me
with dead blank eyes.  She knelt beside the bed as I instructed her.  I
didn't want a slave.  Even less did I want to be alone.  I commanded her
because that was our agreement, not because it pleased me.

   "Hate me as much as you need to.  I don't want you to leave me.  You're
safe as long as you stay here."

   "I am safe from all but myself.  Why?  Why do you do this?"

   "I saved your life, and I saved myself from loneliness.  I bet there was
a time when doing stuff like that was the decent thing to do."

   The hatred in her eyes lost some of its heat; or maybe I just hoped so.

   "Make love with me," I said, more softly.  Mariko stood and lay on her
side facing to me.  She lifted one silky golden thigh over my hips, slid
closer, tilted her pelvis just so.  I barely had to shift forward and I was
inside her tight, hot cunt and she was rocking against me lightly.

   She may have hated me, but she came three times, crying out with a feral
urgency each time.  The fourth time, I joined her.  I couldn't say why my
eyes kept tearing up.
   THE END

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