Original Lucky hostage (1 Viewer)

[dlavoc]

LUCKY HOSTAGE
By Dlavoc

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nel, move your ass!" Jen yanked open the door of the getaway car, trying to ignore the pain from the two bullet wounds in her abdomen.

Nel tossed the duffel bag onto the backseat, next to the hostage. Blood seeped through her tank top from a wound above her right nipple, darkening the fabric in uneven blooms. She didn't wince. "Relax," she muttered, sliding into the passenger seat. "We made it, didn't we?"

Jen slammed the driver's door shut and cranked the ignition. Behind them, the bank's alarm finally started wailing, distant and irrelevant. "Yeah, and half the cops in the county heard your fucking exit strategy." She jerked the wheel, peeling out onto the road.

In the backseat, Tom tried to breathe through the ski mask shoved over his head. His wrists were zip-tied behind him, the plastic digging into his skin. He'd been reaching for his phone when Jen yanked him off, just some guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now his pulse hammered in his throat, uneven and rabbit-fast. The car smelled like sweat and blood.

In the residential area Jen took a sharp turn without braking. Tom's shoulder slammed into the door. "Watch him," she said, nodding toward the backseat without taking her eyes off the road.

Nel twisted around, her fingers brushing the grip of the pistol tucked into her waistband. She studied Tom for a second before lighting a cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. The first exhale curled out through her nose. "He's not gonna be a problem," she said. Then, quieter: "You bleeding bad?"

"Fuck it," Jen muttered, wrenching the wheel hard right as the car fishtailed onto a dirt road. Trees whipped past the windows in a green blur. She reached down with one hand, pressing her palm against her abdomen like she could stanch the bleeding through sheer force. The fabric of her tank top was slick, sticking to her skin in a way that made her teeth clench. "We're not making it."

Nel exhaled smoke through her nose, watching the way Tom's chest rose and fell too fast under the mask. She reached back and yanked it off his head in one sharp motion. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. She traced the muzzle of her gun down his cheek, leaving a smudge of gunpowder. "No," she agreed. "We're not."

Jen braked hard enough to send gravel spraying against the undercarriage. The glove compartment popped open, spilling loose bullets and a half-empty flask. She grabbed it, took a swig, then tossed it to Nel without looking. "Fuck it," she murmured. "Might as well fuck that hostage."

Nel tossed the cigarette out, lifted the flask and drank until her throat burned. The whiskey pooled hot in her stomach, mixing with the ache radiating from her wound. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then crawled over the seat, straddling Tom's lap. His breath hitched as she ground against him, her skirt rode up her thighs. Jen watched, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Nel leaned in close enough for Tom to smell the tobacco and iron on her breath. "Last thing you'll ever do," she murmured. "Make it count."

Tom didn't resist when she unbuckled his belt. The zip-ties cut deeper as he shifted, but the pain barely registered, not with Nel's teeth scraping his neck, not with the way Jen was watching them in the rear view mirror. Nel hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and yanked them down just enough. Her tank top rode up as she arched back, revealing the dark streak of blood that had trickled down her ribs. Tom saw the exit wound when she twisted, a ragged hole in her back, still glistening. She didn't seem to notice.

Jen lit a cigarette one-handed, the lighter's flame trembling slightly. Her other hand was buried under her own tank top, fingers pressing into the mess of her abdomen like she was trying to hold herself together. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. "You gonna let him touch you?" she asked, voice rough.

Nel laughed. "Better than that," she pulled her panties aside, and guided Tom’s cock to her pussy.

Jen exhaled sharply through her nose and unbuckled her seatbelt with a click. The car idled unevenly, engine stuttering like it might give out any second. She turned fully now, knees digging into the driver's seat as she watched them. Blood smeared across the upholstery where she braced herself. "Fuck this," she muttered, and then she was climbing over the console, her skirt hiking up as she straddled the gear shift. The leather creaked under her weight. She rolled her hips once, twice, testing, before grinding down hard enough to make the stick wobble. Her breath hitched.

Nel didn't look up. She was too busy arching against Tom, her fingers tangled in his hair. The car reeked of sex and gunpowder now, the air thick with the sound of ragged breathing. When Jen moaned, low and broken, Nel finally glanced over. Jen had her head tipped back, her tank top rucked up under her breasts. One hand was still pressed to her abdomen, fingers slipping in the blood there. The other gripped the headrest. Nel smirked. "That how you wanna go out?" she panted. "Fucking a gearbox?"

Jen bared her teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Better than bleeding out quietly." She rocked forward again, the gear stick's cold plastic hilt disappearing inside her with a slick sound. Her thighs trembled, from blood loss or pleasure, it didn’t matter anymore.

Nel's laughter dissolved into a groan as she ground down onto Tom's lap, her skirt bunched around her hips. She pulled up her tank top, just enough for Tom to lean in and take one taut nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling slow before he sucked hard. The pain-pleasure of it arched her spine, her breath hissing between clenched teeth, and she let him. Why the fuck not? Everything hurt anyway.

Jen watched, her own breath ragged as she worked the gearshift inside herself with shallow, desperate thrusts. Her fingers twitched against her bullet wounds, sticky with blood, before she reached out, slowly, almost reverently, and pressed her index finger into the ragged exit hole between Nel's shoulder blades. The flesh gave way too easily, hot and yielding, and Nel arched against Tom's mouth with a choked-off gasp.

Tom felt her thighs tense around his hips, her cunt pulsing against his erection. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils as Jen twisted her finger deeper. Nel's moan was guttural, her hips stuttering in uneven circles, not trying to ride him anymore, just fucking shaking apart. Then her back stiffened abruptly, her head snapping back as she came with a sound like a sob.

Jen withdrew her finger slowly, glossy with blood. She brought it to her own mouth, licking it clean with a slow swipe of her tongue. Nel was still trembling, her sweat-damp forehead pressed against Tom’s.

"Always wondered," Jen murmured, smearing red across her own lower lip. She rocked forward on the gearshift again, her thighs flexing as she chased her own ruin. "If you'd scream louder for pain or pleasure."

Nel lifted herself from Tom's lap, her thighs trembling as she turned toward Jen, and leaned in, her tongue flicking out to trace Jen's clit. Jen shuddered, leaning back against the dashboard, the gearstick shifting inside her with a wet sound. "Fuck, Nel," she groaned, her fingers tangling in Nel's hair. "Don't stop." Nel didn't. She licked deeper, her tongue pressing against Jen's swollen folds, the taste of salt and iron thick on her tongue. Jen's hips jerked, grinding down onto the gearstick, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

Tom shifted beneath them, his cock slick with Nel's blood and his own arousal. He pressed against her again, but she reached back without breaking contact with Jen's pussy, her fingers wrapping around him. "Not there," she murmured against Jen's thigh, guiding him higher, her thumb circling his tip before pressing him against her asshole. He exhaled sharply as he pushed in, slow at first, eased by the sticky warmth of her blood. Nel's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away, just arched back into him, her tongue still working Jen in rough, uneven strokes.

Jen arched, her thighs trembling. "Fuck, fuck, " she gasped, her fingers tightening in Nel's hair. The pain in her abdomen pulsed in time with her heartbeat, sharp and bright, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

Jen grabbed the hem of her tank top and wrenched it up over her breasts. The fabric stuck for a second where blood had dried against her skin, then peeled away with a wet sound. Her tits were round and full, the nipples already stiff from adrenaline and the gearshift grinding inside her. She arched her back slightly, letting Tom see the twin bullet holes in her abdomen, one just below her ribs, the other a hair’s breadth from her navel, each ringed with crusted blood. The exit wounds on her back had left smears across the dashboard. She smirked down at him, her free hand skimming up her own stomach to thumb a nipple. "Like the view?" Her voice was hoarse, but the challenge in it was clear.

Nel moaned around Jen’s clit, the vibration sending a shudder through Jen’s thighs. Tom kept his thrusts shallow, barely pulling out before sliding back in, savoring the tight, yielding heat of Nel’s ass. The slow drag of his cock made her muscles flutter around him, her body responding even as she focused on Jen. She rocked back against him, encouraging him deeper.

With her free hand, Nel reached between her own thighs, fingers slick with blood and sweat. She circled her clit once, twice, before plunging two fingers inside her pussy, curling them just right. Her breath hitched against Jen’s skin, her tongue faltering for a second before doubling down, lapping at Jen’s clit in quick, desperate strokes. The wet sounds of her fingers fucking herself filled the car, mingling with Jen’s ragged gasps.

Jen’s thighs trembled violently. She rocked faster against the gearstick, the plastic hilt bumping against her cervix with every thrust. The pain bloomed white-hot, radiating from her wounds, but it blurred the edges of her pleasure until she couldn’t tell one from the other. "Fuck, Nel, I’m, " Her voice cracked as Nel sucked her clit harder, fingers still working inside herself. The orgasm hit Jen like a bullet, sharp and total, her back arching off the dashboard as she came with a sound more scream than moan.

Nel felt Jen convulse against her tongue. She pushed her fingers deeper inside herself, matching the rhythm of Tom's thrusts, the pleasure of his cock sliding inside her asshole blending with the throbbing heat between her legs. The world narrowed to the slick slide of skin, the way Jen's cunt pulsed against her mouth, until her own orgasm tore through her with a guttural sound, her spine bowing as she came around her fingers and Tom's cock in ragged, shuddering waves.

Jen slumped back against the dashboard, her thighs splayed wide around the gearstick still buried inside her. The twin bullet holes in her abdomen gleamed wetly in the dim light, each breath making fresh blood well at the edges. She exhaled sharply, her breath ragged, and fumbled for the pack of cigarettes crumpled on the dash. Her fingers shook as she lit one, the flame flickering before catching.

Nel sat back, pushing Tom deeper into the seat with her weight, his cock still snug inside her ass. She reached for the cigarette, their fingers brushing, both sticky with blood, before taking a long drag. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she tilted her head, studying Jen’s wounds with clinical detachment. "You’re looking good for someone full of holes," she murmured, passing the cigarette back.

Jen exhaled a laugh that turned into a wet cough, blood flecking her lower lip. She wiped it away with her thumb, smearing red across her cheekbone. "Speak for yourself," she rasped, nodding at the wound in Nel's breast, still sluggishly weeping. "Goddamn through-and-through didn't even make you flinch." She took another drag, the cherry flaring briefly before passing it back.

Nel grinned, and twisted slightly to offer the cigarette to Tom. His hands were still bound behind him, so she held it to his lips instead. He inhaled, the ember glowing brighter as smoke filled his lungs. Then Nel ground down on his cock with deliberate slowness, her ass muscles clenching around him. "Bet you never thought you'd fuck a dying woman while handcuffed in a car seat," she mused, her voice rough. "Life's funny like that."

Jen watched them through half-lidded eyes, her fingers idly tracing the edge of one bullet wound. The car was a death box now, sticky leather, spent shells rolling underfoot. "House," she slurred, nodding toward the tree line where a whitewashed porch glowed under the afternoon sun. "Fuck dying in this car."

Tom hissed as Nel climbed off him. She barely glanced back as she opened the door, her skirt riding up her thighs. The pistol hung loose in her hand, barrel grazing her bare leg as she staggered toward the house.

Jen leveled her gun at Tom’s temple. “Move,” she rasped. He stumbled out of the car, pulling awkwardly up his jeans with his tied hands. The house loomed, white clapboard, lace curtains, the kind of place that baked pies and never locked doors. Nel was already on the porch. She rang the bell with the barrel of her pistol.

The door swung open. A young woman blinked at them. Her mouth opened, then froze as Nel shoved the gun between her tits. "Inside," Nel slurred, blood dripping onto the welcome mat. The girl stumbled backward, eyes darting to the bloodied tank top, the pistol.

Jen shoved Tom forward. He stumbled past the threshold. The young woman, early twenties, backed into the living room, her hands raised. Nel kicked the door shut.

"Booze," Nel snapped, pressing the gun harder between the girl's breasts. The muzzle left a dark smudge against her shirt. "Where the fuck is it?"

The girl's throat worked silently for a second before she managed to point. "Top cabinet above the, "

Nel didn't wait. She shoved past, leaving streaks of red on the wallpaper. The liquor cabinet clicked open under her bloody fingers. Bottles clinked, bourbon, gin, something clear with a homemade label. She grabbed the nearest one by the neck and bit the cap off, spitting it onto the hardwood. The whiskey burned like salvation going down.

In the dining room, Jen dragged a chair back. Tom didn't resist when she shoved him into it, his wrists crossing behind the spindles. A new zip-tie hissed. "Stay," Jen murmured, patting his cheek. Her palm left a sticky print.

Nel reappeared with two glasses and poured bourbon into each. "To the last assholes standing," she slurred, sloshing liquor onto the counter. She climbed onto a barstool, her miniskirt riding up her thighs, and lit a cigarette . "Bet you never had houseguests like us, sweetheart."

The girl stared, first at Nel’s tank top, soaked crimson, then at Jen’s hand pressed against her abdomen, fingers glistening. The bourbon glasses caught the afternoon light, throwing amber streaks across the ceiling like spilled paint. Nel took a drag off her cigarette, exhaling smoke through her nose with the casual grace. "What?" she said, tilting her head. "Never seen a woman with bullet holes before?"

Jen knocked back the bourbon in one go. The liquor hit her torn stomach, like a lit match dropped into gasoline. She gritted her teeth, her free hand gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles bleached white. The burn radiated outward, searing through the bullet wounds, turning the pain into something molten and alive. She coughed, spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, then reached for the bottle again. "Fuck yeah," she rasped, pouring another finger. This time she sipped slower, savoring the way it carved through her like a blade.

Nel swung her legs lazily on the barstool, watching the young homeowner tremble. The girl's eyes darted between their guns, their wounds, the blood pooling beneath their chairs. Nel grinned and tapped cigarette ash onto the pristine floor. "Relax," she drawled. "You're not dying today." She took another swig of bourbon, letting it trickle down her chin. "Unless you wanna."

Jen snorted and stretched her arms overhead with a grunt, her tank top riding up to reveal the smooth plane of her stomach, muscled and lean, save for the two puckered bullet holes leaking slow crimson down her hips. She hooked her thumbs under the hem and peeled the fabric off in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the counter with a wet slap. The wounds weren't neat, but the rest of her was untouched, almost mocking in its perfection. Tom's gaze snagged on the way her nipples stiffened in the air-conditioned chill.

She arched her back slightly, rolling her shoulders to feel the answering pull of her exit wounds on her back. The movement made her tits sway, full and round despite the blood loss, their dusky pink tips now inches from Tom's face. Jen smirked and traced a fingertip along the lower wound, collecting blood like it was lipstick. "Like what you see?" she murmured, smearing red across her own nipple. The contrast was obscene: pearlescent skin streaked with violence.

Her skirt hit the floor with a whisper of fabric. The panties followed, black lace, soaked through at the gusset, kicked aside with one booted foot. Jen leaned back against the counter, thighs parting deliberately. She dragged a fingertip through the blood smeared below her navel, drawing a wet line downward until she reached her clit. Her breath caught as she circled it slowly, her other hand kneading her breast, brushing the bullet hole just beneath. "Christ," she muttered, arching her hips. "Hurts so fucking good."

Tom's throat tightened. She was a ruin of muscle and blood, long legs flexing as she spread wider. Her abs tensed with each slow stroke of her fingers, the wounds weeping fresh where movement tugged the torn flesh. "Never seen a gunshot girl play with herself, huh?" Jen rasped, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger. "Guess today's your lucky day."

She dropped to her knees suddenly, her palms slapping against his thighs. Nel exhaled smoke through her nose, watching with lazy interest as Jen peeled Tom's jeans down his hips just enough to spring his cock free, already thick and flushed. Jen grinned up at him. "Good hostage," she murmured before wrapping her lips around him in one swift motion. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside, savoring the salt-slick heat as she took him deeper, her nose brushing his stomach.

Her throat yielded easily, muscles fluttering around him as she swallowed him whole. Tom groaned, his bound hands gripping the chair legs tighter. Jen hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard before pulling back just enough to trace the fat vein with her tongue, then plunged down again, her nose pressed into his pelvis. Every time she took him deeper, her left hand worked between her own thighs, fingers disappearing knuckle-deep into her pussy with a wet squelch. She fucked herself in time with her sucking, her wounded abdomen flexing, fresh blood trickling down her inner thigh.

Nel watched from the barstool, smoke curling from her cigarette, her own thighs unconsciously spreading wider. Jen’s rhythm was hypnotic, the wet suction of her mouth, the slick pulse of her fingers inside herself, but something flickered in the corner of Nel’s vision. The homeowner wasn’t cowering anymore. The girl’s hand crept toward Jen’s discarded pistol on the counter.

Nel fast, but not fast enough. The girl’s fingers closed around the grip just as Nel’s own gun cleared the counter. The two shots cracked almost simultaneously. The homeowner’s bullet punched through Nel’s left breast, exiting her back in a spray of pink mist. Nel’s shot hit lower, slamming into the girl’s pelvis, tearing through her womb before bursting out her lower back.

Neither woman screamed. The girl slumped against the fridge, as blood trickled down her thighs. Nel just blinked, then touched the new hole above her nipple with curious fingers. “Huh,” she muttered. “Symmetry.”

Jen looked up without pulling off Tom's cock, her lips stretched wide, her tongue still working the underside of his shaft, and watched Nel stagger toward the girl with a drunkard's grace. Tom groaned as Jen swallowed around him, her throat muscles fluttering in a way that made his hips jerk. She didn't stop fucking herself either, fingers pumping in and out of her pussy with a slick, rhythmic squelch.

Nel kicked the pistol away, the metal skittering across hardwood. "Name," Nel demanded, pressing her own gun under the girl's chin. The girl gasped, "S-Sonya". Her fingers twitched against the bullet hole in her pelvis. "Nice shot, Sonya," Nel muttered, glancing down at her new wound. "Got me well." She pressed a palm to her chest, blood welled thick between fingers, then wiped it across Sonya's cheekbone in a grotesque parody of war paint. "Now you're one of us."

Jen finally pulled off Tom's cock with an obscene pop, leaving him throbbing and glistening. She crawled toward Sonya on all fours, blood dripping from her abdomen onto the floorboards, and hooked a finger into the waistband of Sonya's shorts. "Let's see what you ruined," Jen rasped, pulling them down. The fabric peeled away wetly from the gunshot wound, exposing clotted blood and torn flesh. Jen whistled low. "Jesus. Right through the baby-maker." She traced a fingertip around the ragged edges, making Sonya whimper. "Guess we got something in common now."

Sonya shuddered against the fridge. The pain in her pelvis was a white-hot brand, but beneath it, impossibly, she felt the slick heat between her thighs thickening. Her breath hitched as Jen’s fingers traced her wound, the touch sending a jolt through her that was equal parts agony and electric pleasure. She should be screaming. She should be fainting. Instead, her hips jerked forward involuntarily, grinding against Jen’s bloody fingers. "Wh, why does it, ?" she gasped, her voice cracking.

Nel giggled, slumping against the counter. "Shock’s a hell of an aphrodisiac," she slurred, peeling her tank top over her head with slow, drunken grace. The fabric peeled away with a wet sound, half-dried blood sticking to her wounds. She tossed the shirt aside and shimmied out of her miniskirt. Naked except for her boots, she reached for Sonya’s collar. "Let’s see those tits, sunshine."

The buttons popped easily under Nel’s bloody fingers. Sonya’s shirt fell open, revealing pale skin, a lace bra soaked through with sweat. Nel hooked a finger under the strap and snapped it with practiced ease. The cups sagged, exposing small, pert breasts, the nipples already stiff despite the terror in Sonya’s eyes. Nel traced a bullet hole above her own nipple, smearing fresh blood across Sonya’s collarbone. "See?" she murmured, pressing their chests together. "Now you’re dressed for the party."

Sonya gasped, half-pain, half-something darker, as her bare skin met Nel’s. Blood slicked between them, warm and sticky. Without thinking, Sonya’s hips rolled forward, grinding her pussy against Nel’s thigh. The friction sent sparks lancing through her pelvis, the gunshot wound pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She moaned, low and broken, her nails digging into Nel’s shoulders. "F-fuck," she stammered, her breath coming in ragged bursts. "It, it feels, "

Nel grinned, all teeth and bloodied lips. "Yeah," she murmured. "Hurts so good, doesn’t it?" She rocked her own thigh upward, grinding harder against Sonya’s clit. The girl’s legs trembled violently, her knees buckling as pleasure and pain tangled into one relentless wave.

Jen’s grin was feral. "Want to ride him?" she rasped, jerking her chin toward Tom. Sonya whimpered, but didn’t pull away, just clenched her thighs tighter around Nel’s leg, her hips jerking erratically. "Come on, bullet buddy," Jen coaxed, smearing a hand down Sonya’s stomach to press two fingers into her ruined pelvis. Sonya screamed, but her hips rolled forward again, fucking Jen’s fingers instinctively. "Good girl," Jen murmured, twisting them deeper. "Now take what you need."

Nel pushed Sonya toward Tom’s chair. The girl’s thighs were slick, blood and arousal dripping down her legs, as she straddled him clumsily. His cock jutted upward, glistening with Jen’s saliva. Sonya guided him inside with a trembling hand, her breath hitching as she sank onto him.

Jen stalked toward the counter, her gait uneven but purposeful. "Two lungs, two holes," she mused, tracing a fingertip down Nel's ribcage. "Bet you whistle when you breathe now."

Nel smirked and poured two more whiskeys. "Fuckin' shame," she sighed, watching Sonya ride Tom with frenzied desperation. The girl's thighs trembled, her pelvis grinding down onto him with shallow, erratic thrusts. "Almost makes me wanna live longer." Jen lit a cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. "But... at least we're going out with some flair."

Tom groaned as Sonya clenched around him, suddenly, violently, her body shuddering through waves of pleasure. The pain from her gunshot wound had morphed into something electric, each pulse of agony sending fresh sparks straight to her clit. She whimpered, her nails digging into Tom's shoulders, her hips stuttering as her orgasm ripped through her. Blood seeped from her wound, slicking his thighs as she shuddered through the aftershocks.

Nel watched Sonya’s bliss-glazed eyes with detached amusement. She lifted her pistol lazily, three quick shots into Sonya’s ribs. The bullets punched through flesh and bone, spraying blood across Tom’s chest. Sonya barely flinched, her body too submerged in pleasure to register the fresh wounds. Breathing ragged but euphoric, she slid off Tom’s lap and staggered toward Nel on unsteady legs.

Her knees hit the hardwood hard. Blood dripped from her new wounds onto Nel’s boots as Sonya leaned forward, her tongue dragging thickly up Nel’s inner thigh. She lapped at the mingled sweat, then buried her face between Nel’s legs with a hunger that bordered on feral. Nel exhaled smoke through her nose, one hand gripping Sonya’s hair to guide her deeper. “Yeah,” she muttered, “make yourself useful.”

Jen watched, her fingers tracing the ragged edges of her own belly wounds. The pain was a live wire now, sharp, electric, thrumming all the way down to her clit. She grinned at Tom, her pupils blown wide despite the blood loss. “My turn,” she rasped, crawling toward him on all fours. Her tits swayed with the movement, their tips brushing his knees as she positioned herself over his lap. Tom groaned as Jen lifted her hips, guiding him toward her ass with slick fingers. She sank down slowly, her body stretching to accommodate him, the stretch bordering on unbearable. Her breath hitched, sharp, almost pained, but her hips rolled forward instinctively, taking him deeper.

Nel laughed around her cigarette, smoke curling from her nostrils. “Look at you,” she drawled, watching Jen’s thighs tremble as she worked herself onto Tom’s cock. “Fucking yourself stupid while you bleed out.” She took another drag, exhaling lazily. “Pathetic.” Jen barely heard her, too lost in the sensation of Tom filling her, the way her body clenched around him in desperate, involuntary pulses. Her hands braced against his shoulders, her nails digging crescent moons into his skin as she rode him in short, feverish thrusts. Blood dripped from her wounds onto his chest, mixing with sweat and the remnants of Sonya’s climax.

Nel squinted through the haze of smoke, the pistol dangling from her fingers like an afterthought. Jen’s moans were getting louder, guttural, unhinged, and her hips jerked erratically, her body chasing a climax she might not even live to finish. Nel watched the way Jen’s tits bounced with each movement, her nipples stiff, her stomach muscles taut beneath the bullet holes. “God, you’re ugly when you come,” Nel muttered, raising the gun.

Jen barely glanced up, too lost in the slide of Tom’s cock inside her, the way her ass clenched around him like a vise. “Fuck you,” she panted, her thighs trembling. “I’m gorgeous.” Her laugh turned into a gasp as Tom thrust upward, driving deeper. Blood dripped from her wounds onto his chest, mingling with sweat.

Nel rolled her eyes, exhaling smoke through her nose. The pistol barked twice, quick, clinical, each shot punching through Jen’s ribs. Jen arched violently, her cry more pleasure than pain, her ass squeezing Tom tight enough to make him groan. Blood welled fresh down her body as she sank her fingers into her own pussy with a wet gasp, twisting them knuckle-deep. “More,” she demanded, her voice raw, her hips grinding harder onto Tom’s cock.

Nel shot her three more times, two to the ribs, one grazing her hip, and Jen's body convulsed like a live wire, her ass clamping down on Tom's cock hard enough to make him gasp. Blood sheeted down her body as she fucked herself on him violently, her own fingers pistoning in and out of her pussy with a wet, obscene rhythm. "More," she gasped, her voice shredded, her teeth bared in a rictus grin.

Nel shoved Sonya's head deeper between her thighs, the girl's tongue lashing at her clit with desperate, weakening strokes. "Finger me," Nel ordered. The girl obeyed blindly, her blood-slick fingers pushing into Nel's asshole just as Jen's orgasm tore through her, her scream raw and broken, her body seizing around Tom in spasmodic pulses.

Jen shuddered violently, her back arching as her muscles locked in ecstasy. The gunshots had sent fresh waves of agony radiating through her ribs, but it only sharpened the pleasure, each throb of pain syncing with her contractions. She collapsed forward, chest heaving against Tom's, her lips finding his in a messy, breathless kiss. Blood from her wounds smeared across his mouth, metallic and warm.

Nel groaned as Sonya's trembling fingers slid deeper into her ass, the girl's other hand gripping Nel's thigh for balance. Sonya's breaths were ragged, wet gurgles punctuated by desperate licks, but she didn't stop. Her tongue flicked over Nel's clit in weak, uneven strokes, her own blood pooling beneath her knees. Nel exhaled smoke, watching Jen's hips twitch through aftershocks against Tom's lap. "Pathetic," Nel muttered, but her own thighs tensed when Sonya crooked her fingers just right.

Jen's lips pulled away from Tom's, her bloodied grin manic. She rocked her hips once more, Tom still buried inside her, before lifting herself off with a wet pop. "Again," she panted, swaying slightly as she turned to Nel. Nel exhaled smoke through her nostrils, eyes half-lidded, and leveled the pistol at Jen's round boobs. Two quick shots, Jen gasped, her body jerking with each impact, but her fingers dove back into her pussy instantly, twisting deep. "M-more," she slurred, her thighs quaking as she stumbled forward, leaving smeared footprints of blood on the hardwood.

Nel chuckled darkly, watching Sonya's weakening tongue lap weakly at her clit. The girl's breaths came in wet, bubbling rasps now, her fingers still buried in Nel's asshole, though her movements had slowed to feeble twitches. Blood pooled thickly beneath Sonya's body, soaking into the hardwood, her pale skin turning ashen. Yet her tongue still worked, her last act of defiance against the void pulling at her.

Jen knelt beside Sonya, her own wounds gaping like ragged mouths, blood dripping from her lips as she grinned at the dying girl. "Fuck... you're stubborn," Jen muttered, then slid two fingers deep into Sonya’s asshole. Sonya jerked, a wet, choking gasp escaping her, but her tongue never stopped lapping at Nel’s clit, the rhythm weak but relentless. Jen’s other hand slid between Sonya’s thighs, fingers curling into her ruined pussy, probing the bullet-torn flesh with grotesque tenderness. "There it is," Jen crooned, feeling Sonya’s muscles flutter around her knuckles despite the blood flooding her insides.

Nel groaned, her hips twitching forward, pressing Sonya’s face deeper. Blood from Nel’s breast wound trickled down her ribs, dripping onto Sonya’s forehead, blending with the sweat and saliva. Sonya’s fingers, weak, shaking, worked deeper into Nel’s asshole, her thumb slipping inside Nel’s pussy with a slick pop. Nel exhaled sharply, her thighs tensing. "Oh, shit, " she gasped, her free hand clutching her wounded breast, fingertips pressing into the bullet hole with deliberate, bruising force. Pain lanced through her, sharp and white-hot, but her hips jerked harder against Sonya’s mouth, grinding her clit against the girl’s failing tongue.

Nel’s head tilted back, as a guttural moan tore free. Blood seeped between her lips, as her body locked up. Sonya’s fingers twisted inside her, crooking just right, and Nel came with a shuddering gasp. Her fingers digging into her own wounds, hard enough to make fresh blood well between them. She rode the aftershocks, her breath ragged, her vision blurring at the edges.

Sonya’s fingers slipped free, weak, trembling, her breath a wet rattle in her ruined lungs. She turned toward Jen, her lips slick with Nel’s blood and slickness, and leaned in. Their mouths met softly, almost hesitantly, a stark contrast to the violence surrounding them. Jen tasted copper and whiskey, her tongue sliding against Sonya’s with surprising gentleness. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, Jen’s bloody fingers kept working Sonya’s asshole, twisting shallowly as their tongues tangled.

Jen pulled back just enough to whisper, “Fingers,” against Sonya’s lips. Her hand slid away from Sonya’s pussy, gripping Sonya’s wrist instead, guiding it toward her own ass. Sonya hesitated, her fingertips slick with Nel’s arousal, but Jen pressed harder. “Inside,” Jen demanded, grinding her hips against Sonya’s thigh. Sonya complied, pushing two fingers past Jen’s tight rim. Jen gasped, her thighs tightening around Sonya’s leg, her body arching into the intrusion.

Their foreheads pressed together as Sonya worked her fingers deeper, the rhythm unsteady but relentless. Jen’s breath hitched with each twist, her hips rolling in shallow, desperate circles. Blood trickled down their bodies. “Look at you,” Nel muttered, her voice rough. “Two dying sluts playing with their holes.”

Sonya couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t stop. Her fingers pistoned in and out of Jen’s asshole. Jen groaned, teeth bared, her own fingers buried in Sonya’s ass. Sonya’s lungs gurgled, drowning in blood. It spilled from her lips with each ragged exhale, splattering Jen’s collarbone. Their hips rolled clumsily, grinding against each other’s thighs, soaking their skin with blood and slickness. Sonya’s vision darkened at the edges, but she curled her fingers deeper inside Jen, twisting knuckle-deep until Jen threw her head back with a wet scream.

Nel watched, swaying slightly, her breaths whistling through her ruined lungs. The gun lay heavy in her hand. She staggered toward Tom, her thighs streaked with blood. He groaned as she straddled him backward, her ass pressing against his cock. She sank down slowly, savoring every inch as he filled her. The stretch was wonderfully pleasant, and she rolled her hips lazily, relishing the way his cock throbbed inside her. “Fuck,” she muttered, blood trickling from her lips. “I love... the way you feel.”

Sonya and Jen convulsed together, their fingers buried deep in each other’s assholes. Sonya’s lungs bubbled, drowning in blood, but her hips kept grinding against Jen’s thigh. Their sweat-slicked bodies slid together, their moans wet and broken. Sonya felt her orgasm building, a dull pulse beneath the agony of her wounds. Jen’s thighs trembled violently, her fingers twisting in Sonya’s ass as she gasped, “Almost... there...”

Nel watched from Tom’s lap, her ass stretched tight around his cock, her fingers working her own pussy. Blood dripped from her lips as she exhaled smoke, her free hand raising the pistol. Jen met her gaze, chest heaving, and nodded once, sharp, decisive. Nel pulled the trigger. Three rapid shots punched through Sonya’s back, exiting her ribs in sprays of crimson before burying themselves in Jen’s chest. Their bodies jerked in unison, but neither stopped. Sonya’s fingers twisted deeper into Jen’s ass, her hips grinding forward reflexively. Jen arched violently, her thighs clamping around Sonya’s, her scream raw and wet, caught between agony and ecstasy as the bullets tore through her.

Nel groaned. “Beautiful,” she rasped, watching Sonya’s mouth open in a silent cry, her orgasm ripping through her just as the light left her eyes. The girl collapsed onto Jen, her fingers still buried knuckle-deep in Jen’s asshole. Jen gasped, her own climax cresting as Sonya’s corpse twitched against her. Blood pooled beneath them, mingling with slickness, their bodies locked together in grotesque harmony. Jen shuddered violently, her hips bucking forward once, twice, before she slumped sideways, her breath rattling wetly in her chest. A slow grin spread across her lips. “Worth… it,” she exhaled, then went still.

Nel rolled her hips lazily on Tom’s cock, her own wounds dripping fresh blood. "Guess it's just us now, bank boy," her fingers kept moving inside her pussy, her breath whistling unevenly through her punctured lung. Tom groaned beneath her, his bound hands flexing against the chair arms as she clenched around him.

She pulled forward slightly, just enough to feel the head of his cock catch inside her, then sank back down with deliberate slowness. Blood smeared between them, mixing with sweat and slickness as she rode him with dwindling strength. "See?" Nel murmured, her breath rattling. "Even dying... I'm still the best fuck you'll ever have." Tom gritted his teeth, his hips jerking upward instinctively despite his restraints. The zip-tie bit into his wrists, but pain barely registered anymore, not with Nel's ass clenching around him, her muscles fluttering weakly with each roll of her hips.

She pressed the barrel against her side. Her grin was bloody, delirious. "Let's try... something new," she leaned back against him, her spine arching, her ribs expanding as she inhaled, then pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her, exiting just beneath her opposite ribs in a spray of red mist. Her body convulsed violently, her ass clamping down on his cock like a vice as she came, a ragged, wet scream ripping from her throat. "Fuuuuck," she slurred, her hips grinding in erratic circles, her fingers digging into her pussy. Blood pulsed from the fresh hole, as her orgasm wracked her in shuddering waves. "That's... that's... oooh," she panted, her head lolling back against his shoulder. Her breath whistled through her punctured lungs, but her hips kept moving, riding him through the aftershocks with drunken determination.

Nel staggered to her feet, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. Blood dripped down her thighs as she stumbled toward the counter. She left the gun on the counter, and picked up a butcher knife with a drunken chuckle. "Hey, bank boy," she crooned, turning back toward Tom. She dragged the flat of the blade down his chest. "Know why I'm not cutting your throat?" She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Because I wanna feel you inside me when I..." She trailed off, coughing wetly, blood spattering his cheek. "When I fucking die," she finished with a grin.

Tom tensed as the knife grazed his throat, but then she stepped around him. The blade sliced through his zip-ties with a sharp snick. His hands were free. He didn’t move. Nel staggered toward the counter, grabbed the bourbon, and poured two glasses. "Come on," she rasped, sliding one glass toward him with blood-slick fingers. "Share a drink with a murderer." Her knees buckled; she caught herself on the edge of the counter with a wet cough. Blood flowed from her lips.

He stood slowly, watching the ruined span of her body. She was naked now except for her boots. The bullet wounds were artless, brutal: one above each nipple, two ragged exit holes on her back, fresh punctures weeping from her ribs. But her legs, long, lean, still defiantly strong, held her upright. She grinned at him, swaying slightly, the bourbon glass trembling in her fingers. “You gonna stare,” she rasped, “or fucking drink?”

His hand shot out, seizing her throat. She didn’t flinch. Just smiled wider, her bloody lips parting around uneven breaths. He could crush her windpipe now. End it. But her eyes, dilated, fever-bright, locked onto his. Something wordless passed between them: understanding, maybe. Or surrender. His grip loosened. Then, abruptly, he grabbed her waist with 2 hands, hauling her onto the stool beside him. She laughed, wet and broken, her thighs splaying open as she steadied herself against the counter. "Thought you'd choke me out," she mused, licking bourbon off her teeth. "Guess you're softer than you look."

Tom exhaled sharply, watching the way her ribs fluttered beneath her wounds. Each breath whistled, thin, reedy, like air escaping a punctured tire. "You're drowning," he muttered. Nel shrugged, taking her glass. "Yeah... well." She knocked back the bourbon in one go. "Lungs are... overrated." Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her thumb, smearing crimson across her cheekbone, and poured more whisky.

"You’ve got minutes," he said. Nel grinned, pouring another glass. "Minutes are... enough." She traced the bullet hole in her side, her fingertip disappearing slightly into the ragged flesh. Tom watched her ribs shudder, uneven, wet breaths, as she raised her glass. "To fucking... medical miracles," she croaked. They drank. Bourbon spilled down her chin, mixing with blood.

"Here’s the thing," she breathed, pressing the butcher knife into his palm. "I wanna feel it, all of it, when I go." Her fingers wrapped around his, guiding the blade toward her stomach. "Cut me open," she whispered. "Right here." The tip of the knife dimpled her skin just below her navel. "Let me watch my guts spill out while you fuck me."

"Better idea," he murmured, tracing the ragged exit wound beneath her ribs with his thumb. He pushed deeper, just past the first knuckle, and Nel shuddered, her breath hitching wetly. "Oh," she gasped, her hips jerking forward instinctively. "That’s, that’s new."

Tom looked around for a long object, his eyes landing on the dusty antlers mounted above the fireplace, eight tines, jagged and uneven like a crown of bone. Nel followed his gaze and grinned, coughing blood onto her collarbone. "Ohhh, you nasty fuck," she slurred, her thighs already spreading wider. The wound beneath her ribs glistened, edges puckered where the bullet had torn through muscle and viscera.

But then his gaze slid past the antlers, past the hunting trophies and cheap landscape paintings, to the wrought-iron fireplace poker leaning against the hearth. The tip was blackened from years of use, the handle wrapped in stained leather. Perfect. Nel's breath hitched as he lifted it. "Ohhh, that's... even better," she wheezed, her bloody grin widening. "That's gotta be, what, twenty inches?" Her fingers spread over the exit wound beneath her ribs, probing the ragged edges. "Think it'll fit? Or, you'll... have to... force it?"

Tom didn't answer. He just pressed the cold tip against her wound. Nel inhaled sharply, her ribs flaring unnaturally, but she pushed forward, impaling herself on the first inch with a wet gasp. The poker slid deeper, its rough texture scraping against torn flesh. Blood welled thickly around the intrusion, dripping down her thigh in sluggish rivulets. "F-fuck," she stammered, her fingers clawing at the countertop. "Hurts... so good..."

He twisted the poker slowly, watching her spasm. The metal slid inside her chest cavity with a wet, sucking sound, inch by inch, until Nel’s back arched, her mouth gaping in a silent scream. Blood flooded her lips, dribbling down her chin as the poker scraped against her ribcage from the inside. "S-see?" she choked out, her fingers wrapping around the shaft, guiding it deeper with trembling hands. "Told you... I'm full of... surprises."

The iron emerged from her exit wound just below her left ribs, a glistening, crimson point pushing through torn flesh. Nel laughed wetly. "Look at that," she slurred, tilting her chin down to watch the metal slide free. Blood dripped from the tip. She grabbed Tom's hand, and twitched the poker deeper, just enough to feel it grate against her rib. "Ohhh... fuck..." Her eyes rolled back, her hips bucking weakly. "That's, that's the spot, "

Tom twisted the poker, slowly, deliberately, until the entire length was buried inside her chest cavity. Nel's breath came in wet, bubbling gasps, her lungs filling with blood. But her fingers kept moving his hand, forcing him to saw the iron back and forth, widening the wound. "More," she demanded, her voice barely audible. "I... somehow... enjoy it."

Tom stepped between her legs, gripping the protruding ends of the poker like handles. He pulled her closer, metal grating against bone. Nel gasped, then laughed, a wet, broken sound. "Fuck," she slurred, blood bubbling between her teeth, "you treating me like... a grocery cart now?" Her thighs clamped around his hips, as she pressed her ruined breasts against his chest, the bullet holes weeping fresh crimson onto his shirt.

Her lips found his, soft, incongruously tender, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth before slipping inside. The kiss tasted of bourbon and iron. She moaned when he twisted the poker slightly, her body arching into the motion. Blood trickled from her nose, smearing across his cheek. "That's it," she breathed against his lips. "Now... fuck me." Her fingers curled around his cock, guiding him toward her pussy.

Tom hesitated, just for a heartbeat. "Don't make me... beg," she whispered, her breath a wet rattle. "Not when I'm... this close." He exhaled sharply, then thrust into her, slow at first, testing the give of her body around the iron still buried in her chest. Nel gasped, her back arching violently, her nails scoring his shoulders as her pussy clenched around him. "Ohhh, fuck, " she choked out, blood dribbling from her lips. "Feel that? That's me... dying around your cock."

He fucked her in shallow, measured strokes, each one dragging the poker through her ruined body. Blood sprayed from her mouth with every exhale, flecking his cheeks, her breath a wet, gurgling ruin. But her hips kept moving, stuttering, uncoordinated, her body refusing to stop even as it failed. "G-gentle," she slurred, her forehead pressing against his shoulder. "You're... being... gentle." Her laughter bubbled crimson between them. "Didn't... take you... for that."

Tom drove into her hard, one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The poker jerked inside her, scraping bone. Nel convulsed violently, her mouth gaping in a silent scream as her orgasm ripped through her. Blood erupted from her nose, her pussy clamping around him in erratic, pulsing spasms. Her fingers scrabbled at his back, clawing, desperate, as her body locked up, her spine bowing unnaturally. "Yesss," she hissed, her teeth red. "That's, that's, " Her words dissolved into wet, choking gasps.

Nel sagged against him, her breath whistling through the holes in her chest. Blood pooled between them, sticky and warm. "Told you..." she managed, her fingers twitching weakly against his wrist. "Best... last... fuck..."

Tom stepped back, letting her slump against the counter. She wobbled, but stayed upright, barely, her thighs trembling. Blood dripped from the iron still lodged in her torso, splattering the tile in slow, rhythmic drops.

Nel exhaled sharply, her fingers fumbling for her cigarettes. Her breaths were shallow, wet things, her lungs rattling like pennies in a tin can. She got the lighter on the third try, the flame flickering as she inhaled. Smoke curled from her nostrils. “Like... what you see... bank boy?” she rasped, bullet wounds weeping, iron poker protruding obscenely beneath her ribs.

Tom watched her, the way her chest barely rose. He didn’t answer. Just grabbed the poker, slowly, and twisted. Nel gasped. “Fuck,” she wheezed, smoke puffing from her nose. “Do that... again.”

He did. The iron scraped bone. She shuddered, her thighs slick with blood. Then, suddenly, she grabbed his wrist. “Please...” Her breath whistled. “Want you... inside my ass.” Tom stepped behind her, pressing against her ruined body. Her fingers, weak, trembling, guided his cock to her asshole. She exhaled sharply. “Slow... please.” He pushed, just the tip, and Nel’s breath hitched wetly. “Ohhh...” Her fingers dug into the countertop. “Feels... different...”

Nel’s cigarette dangled from her lips, ash flaking onto her blood-smeared chest. She exhaled smoke through her nose, her hips rolling in tiny, unsteady circles. The poker shifted inside her with each movement, inch by inch, grating against her ribs. Her fingers moved between her legs, rubbing lazy circles around her clit. “Mmm...” Her voice was wrecked. “Keep going... just like that...” Tom pushed deeper, slow, methodical, until her ass swallowed him completely. Nel groaned, her head lolling back against his shoulder. “Fuck... yes...”

The front door creaked open. A girl, mid-twenties, long legged, grocery bags clutched in white-knuckled hands, stood frozen in the doorway. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. The bags slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud. A carton of eggs cracked open, yolks oozing across the tile. The girl’s eyes darted from Nel’s ruined body to Tom’s cock buried in her ass, then back to the iron rod jutting obscenely from her ribs. “What the fuck,” she whispered.

Nel exhaled smoke through her nose, tilting her head slightly to peer at the newcomer. “Oh,” she rasped, blood dribbling down her chin. “Hey… you.” She lifted her cigarette in a weak salute. “You’re… late.” The girl, Sonya’s girlfriend, clearly, didn’t move. Her gaze flicked to Sonya’s corpse, sprawled bonelessly beside Jen’s, fingers still hooked inside Jen’s asshole. She blinked. Twice. Then let out a slow, shuddering breath. “Huh,” she muttered. “Guess I missed the party.”

Tom didn’t stop moving inside Nel, slow, shallow thrusts that made the poker shift wetly inside her chest. Nel groaned, her thighs trembling. “Yeah, well… make yourself useful,” she slurred, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen knife on the counter. “Cut… cut Tom’s throat or something. Or…” She coughed, blood spraying. “Or get over here and… fuck me too.” The girl just stared. Then, abruptly stepped over Sonya’s outstretched arm. “Fuck it,” she muttered, unbuttoning her jeans. “Might as well.”

Nel grinned, blood dripping from her teeth. “Atta girl,” she wheezed. “That’s the… spirit.” Tom watched, as the girl stripped off her shirt, her tits bouncing free. Small, perky, untouched by bullets. Nel made a low, approving sound. “Come here,” she rasped. Tom rotated the stool slightly. The girl stepped between Nel’s spread thighs. Her fingers ghosted over Nel’s bullet wounds, tracing the ragged edges with morbid fascination. “Does it…” she swallowed. “Does it hurt?”

Nel barked a laugh, coughing crimson onto the girl’s shoulder. “Nah,” she lied. “Feels… fucking amazing.” The girl, Kate, licked her lips, then leaned in, pressing her mouth to Nel’s right nipple. Her tongue flicked experimentally across the puckered flesh, avoiding the gunshot wound just above it. Nel shuddered, her breath hitching. “Ohhh… that’s… that’s nice,” she slurred, her fingers tangling in Kate’s hair. “Keep… keep going.”

Kate lifted her head, her lips smeared with Nel’s blood. “Tell me what happened,” she murmured, before sucking the other nipple into her mouth, her teeth grazing the swollen tip. Nel groaned, her head lolling back. “Robbery… gone wrong,” she managed, her voice thin. “Got… shot. Fucked… some people. Shot… some more.”

“Uh-huh,” Kate muttered, her fingers trailing down Nel’s stomach, avoiding the protruding poker. “And him?” She jerked her chin toward Tom, still buried inside Nel’s ass.

Nel exhaled smoke through her nose. “Hostage,” she croaked. “Turned… participant.” Her hips twitched weakly, grinding back onto Tom’s cock. Blood dripped from the poker onto Kate’s bare thigh. “Now quit… talking. Fuck me or… cut my throat. Either’s… fine.”

Kate’s fingers tightened around the knife handle. She exhaled sharply, then dropped it. The blade clattered against the tile as she grabbed Nel’s boobs instead, her nails digging into the bullet wounds. Nel gasped, her back arching violently. “There you go,” she slurred, blood bubbling between her teeth. “Finally… someone with… guts.”

Kate leaned in, her tongue flicking across Nel’s collarbone, lapping up the sweat and copper. “Tell me,” she murmured against slick skin, “how did you got yourself fucking impaled.”

Nel chuckled wetly, her fingers tightening in Kate’s hair. “Bank boy… has ideas,” she slurred, her hips rolling lazily against Tom’s cock. The poker shifted inside her with the motion, scraping bone. A fresh trickle of blood seeped from the exit wound. “You should… see what I did… to Sonya.”

Kate’s breath hitched. She glanced at Sonya’s corpse, mouth still slack around Nel’s fingers, eyes glazed mid-orgasm, then back to Nel’s ruined body. “Jesus,” she whispered. Her fingers traced the iron rod protruding from Nel’s ribs. “You’re… really fucked up, huh?”

Nel laughed, wet and broken, blood spraying onto Kate’s cheek. “And you’re just… figuring that out?” Her hips twitched weakly, grinding back onto Tom’s cock. The poker scraped bone. Kate shuddered, her finger sliding deeper into the bullet hole above Nel’s left nipple. “Does it, ” her voice cracked, “does it feel good?”

Nel exhaled sharply, her ribs flaring unnaturally around Kate’s probing fingers. “Hurts like… fucking hell,” she rasped. “So, yeah.” Kate’s breath hitched. She twisted her finger slightly, just enough to feel the ragged edges of broken ribs, and Nel’s back arched violently, her pussy clenching around nothing. “Ohhh, fuck,” she slurred, blood dribbling down her chin. “Right there… right fucking there.”

Tom thrust deeper, slow, grinding, the poker inside her chest cavity shifting with each movement. Nel gasped, her thighs trembling. “Gonna… gonna cum,” she wheezed, her fingers scrabbling weakly against Kate’s wrist. “Don’t… stop.” Then, abruptly, she shoved two fingers deep into her own pussy. Her breath hitched, a wet, gurgling sound, as her body locked up. Blood sprayed from her lips. Her cunt pulsed violently around her fingers, her thighs clamping tight as her orgasm tore through her. “Fuck!” she screamed, her spine bowing unnaturally, the poker grating against her ribs.

Kate watched, fascinated, horrified, as Nel convulsed, her body betraying her right down to the last shuddering gasp. “Name’s… Kate,” she blurted, as if introductions mattered now, as if names could somehow anchor this madness to something resembling sanity. Nel blinked, slow, drunken, her lips curling into a bloody smirk. “Nel,” she slurred, her fingers still buried inside herself. “And this... is Tom.” She jerked her chin toward the man still lodged in her ass. “Nice to... fucking meet you.”

Kate exhaled sharply, then hooked her thumbs into her jeans, shimmying them down her legs in one rough motion. The denim pooled around her ankles, revealing toned thighs and black lace panties already damp between her legs. Nel whistled, or tried to, the sound more a wet rattle than anything musical. “Nice,” she croaked, pouring whisky into a fresh glass with trembling hands. Kate stepped out of the tangled fabric, kicking it aside with deliberate casualness, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. The lace slid down her long legs. “Wow,” Nel slurred, smearing bloody fingerprints across the glass before sliding it toward her. “Bank boy... you seeing this?”

Tom barely moved inside Nel’s ass, but his eyes tracked Kate’s every motion as she peeled off her panties. Kate arched a brow, stepping closer, hips swaying with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how her body looked. Nel smirked. “Drink up, princess,” she rasped. “You’re gonna... need it.”

Kate grabbed the glass, knocking back the whisky without hesitation. Nel slid off the stool with a wet, ragged exhale, and hit the ground on all fours. “Oh fuck,” Kate breathed, watching Nel crawl toward her like some wounded predator. The iron rod jutted obscenely from her sides. Kate didn’t retreat. Just braced herself against the counter, thighs parting.

Nel buried her face between Kate’s legs without ceremony, tongue dragging through wet folds without preamble. Kate gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase on the countertop. “Jesus, !” Her hips jerked forward involuntarily.

Kate’s fingers knotted in Nel’s hair, and looked at Tom. “Were you fucking her in the ass when I walked in?” she asked, her voice uneven as Nel’s tongue worked her clit. Tom stepped around the counter toward the bourbon. He poured two fingers into a glass before glancing back at her. “Yeah,” he said simply, tipping the drink down his throat. “She asked nicely.”

Kate shuddered. “Never had a guy back there,” she admitted, breath hitching as Nel’s tongue curled deeper. “Just fingers. A hairbrush once.” Nel chuckled against her pussy, the vibration making Kate’s hips jerk. “Bank boy’s… gentle,” Nel slurred, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips glistening. “But first, ” Her finger pressed against Kate’s asshole, circling slowly. “Let’s see if you… like this.”

Kate exhaled sharply as Nel’s fingertip breached her, just the tip, slick with her own arousal. The feeling was odd but not unwelcome. Nel crooked her finger slightly, probing deeper in shallow, teasing increments. Kate’s nails dug into the countertop. “Fuck,” she breathed, her thighs trembling. “That’s, oh, ” Her words dissolved into a gasp as Nel added a second finger, stretching her wider.

Nel’s tongue returned to her clit, languid, unhurried, her lips sealed around the swollen bud as she sucked gently. The dual sensation sent sparks shooting up Kate’s spine. She arched forward, her breath ragged. Nel smirked against her, her fingers twisting deeper. Kate shuddered, her hips jerking forward involuntarily. Nel’s fingers pressed against her inner walls, just enough to make her gasp, her tongue swirling in tight, erratic circles.

Nel turned her head to speak, but only a thick, bubbling rush of blood spilled from her lips instead. Her lungs rattled, her chest spasming uselessly. She blinked, slow and unfazed, then grinned at Tom, and nodded toward Kate. Tom stepped closer, repositioning Kate. Nel’s fingers slid from Kate’s asshole, and wrapped around Tom’s cock, guiding him toward the tight, pink furl. Kate gasped. "Fuck, " Nel ignored her, burying her face back between Kate’s thighs with renewed fervor, her tongue lapping messily at Kate’s clit. Blood from Nel’s lips smeared slick across Kate’s skin, mixing with sweat and arousal.

Tom pressed just the tip inside, slow, deliberate, and held there. Kate shuddered, her breath hitching unevenly. Nel’s fingers found her own pussy, rubbing lazy circles around her clit with one hand while the other fumbled weakly at her breast, her thumb brushing the ragged edges of her bullet wound. Blood bubbled from her lips, smearing across Kate’s thigh as Nel’s tongue dragged upward in a slow, wet stripe.

Tom barely moved, just the barest push forward, letting Kate feel the slow intrusion. "Oh God..." she gasped. "Oh fuck, that's, " Her thighs trembled, but she rocked back onto him, inch by reluctant inch. Beneath them, Nel's tongue worked in wet, erratic strokes, her face smeared crimson where it pressed between Kate's legs. Blood gurgled in Nel's throat, her lungs drowning, but her fingers never stilled, rubbing her own clit in ragged circles.

Kate's fingers knotted in Nel's hair, her hips jerking. "She's, fuck, she's not breathing anymore," Kate choked out, watching Nel's spasms. Tom said nothing. Just pressed deeper, slow, inexorable, until Kate's ass swallowed him completely. Nel's face remained buried between Kate's thighs, her tongue still moving in weak, reflexive twitches, even as her lungs stopped drawing air. Blood pooled beneath her from the bullet wounds in her tits and the poker still lodged in her ribcage, but her fingers kept rubbing her own clit in erratic circles.

Nel slid two fingers inside Kate's pussy, slow, inexorable, her knuckles pressing against swollen flesh as blood dripped from her slack mouth onto Kate's trembling thigh. Kate gasped, her fingers tightening in Nel's hair hard enough to rip strands free. "Oh fuck, fuck, " she chanted, hips jerking forward as Nel's fingers curled just right. Tom watched, motionless inside her ass, the poker still protruding from Nel's ribs trembling with each wet, shuddering breath she couldn't quite take.

Nel's tongue lolled against Kate's clit, weak, fluttering strokes, her lungs filling silently with blood. Her fingers pistoned inside Kate with desperate, arrhythmic thrusts, her other hand still rubbing her own clit in frenzied circles despite her body failing. Kate's breath hitched. "You're, oh fuck, you're fucking dying," she gasped, watching Nel's eyelids flutter.

Nel's fingers curled sharply inside Kate's pussy. Kate shuddered violently, her cunt clenching around Nel's fingers. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna, !" Her words dissolved into a ragged cry as her orgasm tore through her, her asshole clamping around Tom's cock in pulsing waves. Nel's tongue kept flicking weakly at Kate's clit, her fingers twisting in Kate's wet heat until Kate's thighs trembled uncontrollably.

Nel fell backward, collapsing onto the blood-slicked floor with a wet thud. The poker scraped against the tile as she landed, her arms splayed out bonelessly. Kate stared down at her, chest heaving, then rocked back onto Tom's cock, her ass swallowing him deeper. "Fuck," she breathed, rolling her hips experimentally. "That was... fuck."

Tom reached around, fingers splaying across Kate's tits. His thumbs brushed her stiff nipples, and she shuddered, pressing into his touch. "God, yeah," she muttered, her hand covering his, guiding him to squeeze harder. His cock throbbed inside her ass, stretching her in a way fingers never could. "Never thought I'd like this," she admitted, laughing breathlessly. "But fuck, it's good."

Nel lay motionless beneath them, her lips parted in death, blood pooling beneath her corpse. The poker jutted obscenely from her ribs, glistening under the dim kitchen lights. Kate glanced down, her breath hitching. "Should we, " She swallowed. "Should we move her?"

"No," he murmured, thrusting shallowly into her ass. The movement made Kate gasp. Tom's cock dragged against her inner walls. "Fuck," she breathed, her hips rocking back instinctively.

Kate slid two fingers into her cunt, slow, deliberate, her lips parting around a soft moan. Her eyes never left the bodies: Jen sprawled bonelessly beside Sonya's corpse, fingers still knuckle-deep in Jen's asshole; Nel's ruined frame splayed like some grotesque art piece, the poker protruding obscenely. "Jesus," Kate breathed, her fingers curling inside herself. "I somehow... find this really fucking hot."

Tom's hand wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, just resting. Testing. Kate exhaled sharply, her hips grinding back onto his cock. "Harder," she muttered, her fingers redoubling their efforts inside her pussy. "Don't fucking, ah, don't tease." His grip tightened experimentally. Her breath hitched, her cunt clenching around her own fingers. "Yeah," she gasped, her head lolling back against his shoulder. "Like that."

The pressure was just shy of painful, enough to make her pulse hammer against his palm, her vision spotting at the edges. Blood roared in her ears, drowning out everything but the wet slap of skin as he fucked her ass in slow, grinding thrusts. Her free hand scrabbled at his wrist, nails biting into his skin. Not to pull him away. To anchor herself. "Fuck," she slurred, her thighs trembling. "Fuck, I'm gonna, "

His fingers tightened. Her words dissolved into a ragged gasp. She came violently, her asshole fluttering around his cock, her pussy clenching around her own fingers. The orgasm ripped through her like a live wire, leaving her boneless and shaking. He didn't stop. Didn't ease his grip. Just kept moving inside her, slow, relentless, until she whimpered, oversensitive and raw.

Then, abruptly, he let go of her. Kate collapsed directly across Nel’s corpse.

Her bare chest pressed against the cold, blood-slick skin of Nel’s bullet-riddled torso. The poker shifted beneath her with a wet scrape of metal on tile. Kate exhaled sharply, then, compelled by something she couldn’t name, dragged her tongue along Nel’s slack lower lip, her hips rolling instinctively, grinding her wet cunt against Nel’s thigh. The friction sent sparks up her spine. She deepened the kiss, if it could be called that, her tongue probing past Nel’s teeth to lap at the blood pooled inside.

Tom chuckled, pouring bourbon into a glass. “Damn,” he mused, watching Kate’s hips hitch against the corpse. “That’s fucked up.” He took a sip. “And really fucking hot.”

Kate moaned against Nel’s lifeless lips, her tongue tracing the cold curve of teeth. Her fingers dug into Nel’s stiffening flesh, riding her thigh with desperate friction. "You like this?" she panted, glancing over her shoulder at Tom. Blood smeared her chin where it had dripped from Nel's mouth.

Tom swirled his whiskey, ice clinking. "Fuck yeah," he admitted, his eyes dark as they tracked the way Kate’s hips rolled. "Never seen someone get off on a corpse before." He took a slow sip, throat working as he swallowed. "Keep going."

Kate shuddered, grinding harder against Nel’s cooling thigh, her fingers digging into the dead woman’s hips. Blood smeared across her skin as she rutted, her breath coming in ragged pants. The bourbon sloshed in Tom’s glass when he poured another, his cock still slick from her ass.

“Fuck,” Kate gasped, her hips jerking erratically. “Never thought, ” Her words dissolved into a moan as she rubbed her clit against Nel’s hipbone. The corpse’s skin had cooled beneath her, but Kate’s thighs were slick with sweat, making each grind smooth and filthy. She arched sharply, her fingers digging into the stiffening flesh of Nel’s stomach, then froze, her entire body locking up with a ragged cry. “Oh God, oh fuck, ” Her thighs clamping tight around Nel’s leg as stars burst behind her eyelids.

Tom tossed back his bourbon, watching with quiet fascination as Kate shuddered through her climax, her fingers still buried in Nel’s bullet wounds. Blood streaked her wrists as she ground against Nel’s thigh, riding out the aftershocks. When she finally slumped forward, panting, Tom reached down, tracing the curve of her spine with whiskey-damp fingers. "You done?" he murmured.

Kate exhaled sharply, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her lips were smeared red. "Not even close," she muttered. "But I need a drink." She rolled off Nel's corpse, leaving streaks of blood and sweat on the tile. Tom handed her the bourbon glass without comment. She knocked it back in one swallow, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Fuck," she breathed, staring at Sonya's body, still slumped against Jen's, their limbs tangled in rigor mortis. "I wanna..."

Tom arched his brow. Kate swallowed hard, her pulse jumping visibly in her throat. "I wanna fuck her," she admitted, jerking her chin toward Sonya. "While you're inside me." Her fingers twitched against her thigh, nails leaving crescent marks in her skin. "Is that... fucked up?"

"Yeah," Tom said flatly. "But so's everything else today."

Kate knelt beside Sonya’s body, her fingers tracing the puckered edges of the bullet holes in her chest with a reverence that bordered on obscene. "She's still warm," Kate murmured, her thumb brushing Sonya's stiffening nipple before sliding lower, over the blood-matted hair between her thighs. "God, look at her, fuck, she's gorgeous." Her breath hitched as she hooked two fingers into Sonya’s slack cunt, probing shallowly. "Tom," she breathed, glancing up with fever-bright eyes. "I need her on top of me. I need you inside her while she’s on me."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, but he was already moving, positioning Sonya on top of Kate. Rigor hadn’t fully set in yet, her limbs yielded with a sickening plasticity. Kate sprawled onto her back beneath Sonya’s body, guiding one of the corpse’s hips between her own. Sonya’s head lolled forward, her matted hair brushing Kate’s collarbones, her slack mouth hovering inches above Kate’s throat. "Just like this," Kate panted, her hands gripping Sonya’s hips hard enough to bruise, if bruises could still form. "Fuck her, fuck her for me."

Tom pressed against Sonya’s asshole. The corpse didn’t clench around him, just yielded, cold and unresisting. Kate shuddered beneath them as Tom pushed in, her fingers clawing at Sonya’s thighs. "Yeah, like that," she gasped. "Make her move, make her fucking, " Her words dissolved into a ragged moan as Tom thrust, Sonya’s lifeless body rocking forward with each push, her stiffening nipples dragging across Kate’s chest.

Kate arched sharply, her hips bucking upward to grind against Sonya's thigh, each thrust from Tom jostling the corpse's weight against her. The friction was obscenely perfect; Sonya's skin still held residual warmth where it pressed against Kate's clit, the faint musk of sex and gunpowder clinging to her cooling flesh. Kate's fingers scrabbled at Sonya's back, desperate to fuse their bodies together. "Fuck, fuck, " she chanted, her breath hitching with every ragged gasp, her thighs trembling as she rode the edge.

Her orgasm hit like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from her lungs as her cunt spasmed against Sonya's thigh. Blood smeared between their bodies where Sonya's wounds pressed into Kate's sweat-slick skin. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, " she sobbed, her vision whiting out for a brutal second before she collapsed back onto the tile, panting. "Roll us," she gasped, shoving weakly at Sonya's limp shoulders. "Need you underneath her, wanna ride her while you fuck her."

Tom complied, grabbing Sonya's hips to haul them both over with a grunt. Kate ended up on top, Sonya’s corpse beneath her. Tom repositioned behind Sonya, thrusting up into her asshole. Kate rolled her hips against Sonya’s thigh, grinding furiously, her thighs slick with sweat and blood, while Tom’s thrusts jostled the corpse beneath her.

"Fuck," Kate gasped. "I can't believe... fuck... I'm grinding on a corpse, " Her hips jerked forward, teeth digging into her lower lip as Sonya's thigh pressed against her clit with each thrust Tom delivered. The corpse's arms splayed limp at her sides, but her body rocked beneath Kate like a macabre puppet.

She lifted her head abruptly. "Need you, inside me, right fucking now." Her fingers clawed at Sonya's shoulder, shoving the corpse sideways just enough to expose Tom's cock, before she sank down onto him in one brutal motion. "Ohhh fuck, " she whimpered, her cunt stretching around him. "God, yes. Just like that." Sonya's body slumped between them, one breast pressed awkwardly against Kate's cheek. Without hesitation, Kate bit down, hard, on the stiffening nipple. The flesh resisted before yielding with a sickening pop of severed tissue.

Tom watched, transfixed, as Kate chewed the dead flesh, before swallowing. Blood dribbled from the corners of her lips. She grinned. "Tastes fantastic," she mused, voice hoarse. Then she twisted, sinking her teeth into Sonya's other nipple, biting down until her molars met through the cold meat. She tore it free with a vicious jerk of her head, spit and blood dripping onto Sonya's ruined chest.

Tom groaned, his cock throbbed inside her, as Kate laughed around the mouthful of flesh. She swallowed again, before licking her lips clean. "Goddamn," she breathed. "Never knew I'd be into this." Her fingers traced Sonya's bullet wounds, dipping inside with morbid curiosity. The corpse's blood had thickened, clinging to Kate's fingers in syrupy strands. "Fuck... I imagine, " Her voice hitched as Tom thrust deeper. ", imagine it's me. My nipples bitten off. My cunt fucked raw after I'm already dead."

The fantasy hit her like a gut punch, her own corpse sprawled beneath some stranger, her tits mangled, her legs splayed obscenely. The image sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight to her clit. "Oh fuck..." she gasped. "I'm, I'm gonna, " Her thighs trembled violently as the orgasm tore through her, her cunt clamping around Tom's cock in pulsing waves.

They collapsed in a heap, Tom rolling Sonya's corpse aside with a dull thud. Blood smeared across the tiles where she slid. Kate staggered upright, her legs shaky, and stumbled toward the counter where the bourbon bottle stood. She poured two fingers into a glass with trembling hands, her breath still ragged. "Fuck... I think I want that to happen to me," she muttered, tossing back the liquor.

Tom's hands slid around her waist, and lifted her onto the counter. The tile was cold against her bare ass. He didn't waste time, ducking his head to drag his tongue roughly over one nipple, then the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive buds until she gasped. His hands splayed across her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts as he sucked her deeper into his mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair, arching into the wet heat of his tongue. Then her gaze snagged on the charging cord dangling from an outlet nearby.

She snatched it, wrapping the wire around her own neck. The rubberized coating stuck to her sweat-slick skin as she pulled it tighter, her breath hitching. Tom glanced up, eyes dark, but didn't stop. His fingers dug into her hips as he bit down on her nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. She yanked the cord taut, the pressure crushing her windpipe just shy of unbearable. Stars danced at the edges of her vision as she slid two fingers into her pussy, curling them deep.

The dual sensations, Tom's mouth on her breast, the cord strangling her, sent her spiraling. She fucked herself frantically, her wrist twisting with each thrust. Spit dripped down her chin. Her thighs trembled against the counter, sweat making her skin stick to the tile. Tom's grip tightened, bruising, as she choked herself harder, her fingers pistoning inside her cunt with reckless abandon.

Her eyes rolled back, imagining Tom gripping a long knife, pressing the tip between her ribs, the blade sliding slow and inevitable through her lung. The fantasy hit like a bolt of lightning, her cunt clenching around her fingers as she imagined the cold steel parting her flesh, punching out her back in a spray of crimson. She could almost feel the scrape of metal against bone, the wet gurgle in her throat as blood filled her chest cavity. Her hips jerked. "Fuck, do it, " she gasped, the cord biting deeper into her throat. "Cut me open, right fucking now, "

Tom didn't move. His fingers dug into her hips as he watched her choke herself raw, her thighs spasming against the counter's edge. Blood trickled from her lip where she'd bitten clean through. "You don't, ah, don't wanna?" she slurred, her fingers twisting inside her cunt, wrist slick with her own arousal. The cord creaked as she tugged it tighter, her vision fracturing into white static. "Want you, to, fuck me, with a blade, "

"Not my thing," Tom admitted, voice rough. "But fuck if this isn't." He watched her fuck herself with jagged thrusts, her breath coming in wet, strangled gasps. "Keep going," he murmured, his grip shifting to her knees, forcing them wider. "Show me how bad you want it."

Kate's fingers twisted inside her cunt, wet, sloppy sounds filling the kitchen, while her other hand yanked the cord tighter. Her chest heaved, her ribs expanding against the noose with each desperate inhale. "Fuh, fuh, " she slurred, her hips rolling against the counter's edge, her thighs trembling violently. "I, I, " Her words dissolved into a choked whimper as her fingers curled deeper inside herself, pressing against the spongy wall of her g-spot.

Tom watched, rapt, as Kate's eyes rolled back, her lips parted around silent, strangled pleas. Drool slicked her chin. The cord had bitten so deep into her throat that the skin beneath it turned an angry purple, her pulse hammering visibly against the constriction. Her fingers pistoned faster, reckless, uncoordinated, her wrist twisting with each thrust. Then her entire body locked up, her spine arching sharply, as her orgasm ripped through her with brutal force. Her cunt fluttered around her fingers in erratic spasms, her thighs clamping tight around Tom's waist.

She didn't loosen the cord. Instead, Kate leaned forward, her vision tunneling, and pressed her lips clumsily against Tom’s. The kiss was wet, desperate, her tongue pushing past his teeth even as her lungs screamed for air. Blood from her bitten lip smeared across his mouth, metallic and warm. She didn’t care. The lack of oxygen made everything sharper, the taste of him, the sting of the cord, the way her cunt pulsed around her own fingers with every choked gasp.

Tom broke the kiss first, reaching for the pistol abandoned on the counter. The cold metal made Kate shudder as he traced the barrel up her inner thigh, slow, teasing. She didn’t loosen the cord, her vision spotting at the edges, but her hips jerked reflexively when the muzzle nudged her slick folds. With a wet gasp, she pulled her fingers free from her cunt and guided the gun herself, pressing the barrel flush against her entrance. The steel was unforgiving; she whimpered, arching her back to take it deeper, her thighs trembling.

Tom watched as she rocked against the gun. The cord creaked as she tugged it tighter, her pulse hammering visibly beneath the wire. Her fingers trembled where they gripped the barrel, guiding it deeper inside her with shallow, shuddering thrusts.

"You'd really let me?" Tom murmured, thumbing the safety off. Kate's pupils dilated, her hips stuttered forward, impaling herself another half-inch on the cold steel. She nodded frantically, her fingers scrabbling at his wrist, urging him deeper. She wanted this. Needed it. The fantasy coiled like a spring in her gut, the recoil punching through her pelvis, the bullet shredding her womb, her spine, the tile beneath her.

She choked herself harder, her thighs shaking violently as the gun's sight dug into her clit with every micro-movement. "Fuck," he muttered, watching her hips jerk in erratic circles. "You're actually, " His words cut off as Kate's cunt spasmed around the muzzle, her inner muscles fluttering against the metal in wet, obscene pulses.

Then she came, her spine bowing off the counter, her scream trapped beneath the cord's chokehold. Her thighs clamped around Tom's wrist, her cunt milking the barrel in rhythmic convulsions. Blood trickled from her nose where capillaries burst from the pressure. She didn't relent, just fucked herself through the orgasm with desperate, stuttering thrusts until her limbs locked up and she finally, finally, released the cord.

She gasped, her lungs burning, her fingers still twitching around the gun's grip. "You didn't, " she rasped, voice shredded. Her palm slapped against his chest, shoving weakly. "Should've fucking, " She coughed. "...pulled the trigger."

Tom pulled the pistol free with a slick, obscene pop. Kate shuddered at the loss, her thighs still flexing involuntarily. "It didn't feel right," he said flatly. His knuckles brushed her throat, tracing the raw indentation left by the cord. "You wanna die that bad? Do it yourself."

Kate coughed again, her fingers twitching toward the gun still clutched in his hand, and reached for it. Tom let her take it.

She pressed the muzzle against her lower ribs, just below the right breast, and inhaled sharply. Her eyes flickered up to meet Tom’s. He didn’t move. Didn’t stop her. Just watched, dark and steady, as she exhaled, and pulled the trigger.

The click of the empty chamber was louder than any gunshot could’ve been. Kate’s breath hitched. Then she laughed, raw, jagged, and tossed the pistol onto the counter. "Would’ve been poetic," she mused, fingers brushing the phantom wound. "Right through the lung. Slow. Messy."

"You’d choke on your own blood," he said. "Like Nel." Tom traced the raw furrow around her throat, pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. "That what you want? Drowning from the inside?"

"Yeah," Her gaze drifted to Sonya’s corpse, the ruined chest glistening under the kitchen lights. "Want you to carve me open while I’m still breathing. Peel my ribs back like a fucking..." She shuddered, fingers twitching against her own stomach. "Like a fucking present." Her voice cracked, half-laugh, half-sob. "Want to feel the knife twist right here, " She jabbed two fingers below her sternum, pressing deep enough to leave crescent marks. "Until I vomit blood all over myself."

Tom watched her with detached fascination. "You’d beg for it to stop halfway through."

"Would I?" Kate dragged her nails down her own abdomen, leaving reddening trails. She pressed her palm flat against her stomach, imagining the heat of a blade sinking in. "I'd arch into it, fuck myself on the knife like it's a cock." Her fingers twitched, mimicking the motion, her hips lifting slightly off the counter. "I'd beg, not to stop, but to go deeper."

Tom exhaled sharply, half amusement, half disbelief, but Kate was already sliding off the counter, her bare feet hitting the tile with a wet slap. "Better idea," she muttered, staggering toward the hallway closet. She flung it open, shoving aside a pile of winter coats until her fingers closed around fur, dark, sleek, the kind that whispered money and sin. She shrugged into it, the fabric whispering against her sweat-slick skin. Then she stepped into a pair of stiletto heels, the click of them against the floor unhurried, deliberate, like she was dressing for an opera instead of whatever fresh depravity she had planned.

From the depths of the closet, she produced a small, matte-black submachine gun, suppressed and compact. Kate tossed it to Tom without ceremony. Then she yanked open a drawer, pulling a twin-headed dildo, thick and ridged, with a suction cup base.

She slapped it onto the stool’s seat with a wet thwack, before positioning herself over it. She lowered herself slowly, breath hitching, until the first ridge nudged her asshole. A shudder ran through her as she relaxed, letting gravity do the work. The stretch burned deliciously, her muscles yielding inch by inch until the second head kissed her cunt. "Fuck," she gasped, as she sank lower. The twin ridges pressed against her inner walls in tandem, each millimeter of penetration sending sparks up her spine. "Oh, oh fuck, " Her thighs trembled, her fingers whitening around the stool’s edge. "So fucking full, " She sank down, inch by inch, until she was fully seated.

Tom watched, transfixed, as she rolled her hips experimentally, the dildo shifting inside her, pressing against sensitive spots with each tiny adjustment. Kate whimpered, high and broken, before lifting herself slightly and dropping back. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she, pistoning herself on the toy, her thighs slick with sweat and arousal. Every downward thrust forced the lower head deeper into her ass, the upper grinding against her g-spot. The dual stimulation short-circuited her thoughts, leaving only sensation: the stretch, the ache, the obscene wet sounds filling the kitchen.

She reached for the cigarette pack on the counter with trembling fingers, fumbling one loose while maintaining her rhythm. The lighter sparked twice before catching, as she inhaled sharply. The first drag burned her throat. She exhaled through clenched teeth, smoke curling around her face, before drawing the fur coat tighter around herself. The fabric swallowed her whole, hiding everything from collarbone to mid-thigh except the occasional glimpse of sweat-slick skin between the folds. The absurdity of it, luxury wrapped around depravity, made her grin around the cigarette. "So," she grinned. "How's my posture?" Her voice barely wavered, even as a particularly deep roll of her hips made her toes curl in the stilettos.

Tom chuckled, low and rough, racking the submachine gun's slide. "Perfect," he mused, watching Kate adjust the fur coat's lapel with casual grace, as if she weren't simultaneously riding a double-headed dildo. She took another drag off her cigarette, exhaling through her nose while her hips rolled in a slow circle, the kind of movement that suggested she'd done this before, with less blood on the floor.

"I feel..." The gunshot cracked through the kitchen. The bullet punched through Kate's right breast, before exiting her back in a spray of crimson that speckled the wall behind her. The fur coat muffled the impact. She didn't stagger. Didn't even pause mid-thrust. Just arched one eyebrow, exhaling smoke as she finished her sentence: "...like a fucking duchess." The cigarette dangled loosely between her lips, her hips still rolling in slow circles.

Kate inhaled experimentally, savoring the wet crackle in her chest. Blood welled up her throat, painting her teeth red when she grinned. "Mmm." Her thighs flexed as she dropped lower onto the dildo, forcing it deeper as she relished the dual sensations, the searing gunshot wound and the obscene fullness between her legs. "That's... the spot," she slurred, crimson bubbling at the corner of her mouth.

The bullet had torn through her lung, but she rode the pain like another toy, each ragged breath sending fresh rivulets down her ribs. "You, " Kate coughed, flecking the cigarette’s filter with blood, ", could’ve aimed for the heart." Her hips never stopped moving, the dildo’s ridges dragging against her inner walls in slow, deliberate circles. The fur coat absorbed most of the blood, leaving only a darkening patch where the wound wept. "But this," she gasped, rolling her shoulders back to feel the exit wound scrape against the coat’s lining, ", this is..." Tom shot her again, mid-word, the bullet punching through her left breast this time. The impact barely rocked her. "...perfect," she finished, exhaling smoke through her nose.

Her lungs gurgled. The cigarette trembled between her lips, its ember glowing brighter with each wet inhale. Blood sloshed in her chest cavity now, a sickening sound she could feel vibrating through her ribs every time she bottomed out on the dildo. "Fuck," she whispered, more to herself than Tom, her fingers tightening around the stool’s edge. The pain was electric, radiating outward from her wounded lungs in jagged bursts that synchronized with each thrust. She came like that, shuddering, her cunt and ass clamping down on the toy while blood dribbled down her chin and soaked into the fur collar.

Afterward, she peeled open the coat. The bullet holes were perfect circles, rimmed with torn flesh like blossoming roses. She prodded one curiously, watching fresh blood well up and slide down the curve of her breast. The cigarette bobbed between her lips as she exhaled smoke through her nose, then dragged her palm across the wounds, smearing crimson across her firm breasts. "Pretty," she dragged both hands down her belly, painting stripes of scarlet over sweat-slick skin. "Fuck, I... love how it runs."

Tom watched silently as Kate's fingers dipped lower, tracing the contours of her hips before sliding between her thighs. She rubbed her clit in slow circles, her own blood acting as lubricant. "Mmm," she hummed around the cigarette, exhaling smoke through her nose while her hips rocked lazily. The dildo shifted inside her with each movement, keeping her full even as she focused on the slick slide of her fingers. "I think... I want mоre."

Tom flipped the selector switch to full auto. Kate tossed her cigarette aside, and closed again the fur coat, its silky interior whispering against her wounded breasts. The dildo remained buried inside her, stretching her pleasantly with each shift of her thighs. She leaned back slightly, her fingertips brushing the stool behind her for balance. "Make it count," she murmured, then the submachine gun roared, stitching a line of bullets up her torso.

The bullets punched through the fur coat, muffled pops that sent tremors through her body. She gasped wetly, blood bubbling between her lips, her hips tilting instinctively to keep the toy seated deep. The rounds exited her back with violent sprays, painting the surface behind her, but she barely flinched. She moaned, rolling her shoulders back to feel the coat's lining catch against the fresh exit wounds. "Oh, fuck," she slurred, fingers tightening around the stool's edge as her thighs flexed. "That's... so much better..."

She opened her coat again, and studied the fresh wounds. Five new bullet holes in a neat diagonal line from her left hip to her right boob. She pressed two fingers into one hole, deep enough to feel the heat of torn muscle flexing around her knuckles. The dildo shifted inside her with the motion, she gasped around a mouthful of blood, her hips rolling instinctively to compensate. She giggled. "Guess I'm... ventilated now," she slurred, watching crimson drip down the fur's lining.

Tom tossed the gun onto the counter, and slumped onto the sofa. "You’ve got maybe ten minutes," he murmured, his gaze tracing the constellation of wounds: the first two shots puckered neatly above her breasts, the five new ones stitched diagonally across her torso, still weeping steadily, soaking into the fur’s dark lining. Blood dribbled down her sternum, dripped off her nipples. "Assuming you don’t drown first."

Kate grinned, more red than teeth now, and lifted a trembling hand. She pressed her fingers against her lips, inhaled sharply, then coughed violently. Blood sprayed across her wrist in a fine mist. "Mmm," she hummed, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. "Tastes like... pennies." Her voice was wet, ragged, every breath a struggle. She shifted her hips slightly, just enough to feel the dildo’s ridges catch inside her, and moaned, her thighs trembling.

Then, slowly, she slid off the stool, legs shaking, and dropped onto her hands and knees. The dildo stayed lodged inside her, shifting obscenely with every movement. Blood pooled beneath her, as she crawled toward Tom. Her breath came in wet, rattling gasps. She paused halfway, just long enough to cough, drooling blood onto the tiles. Then she grinned up at Tom, her chin dripping red. "Gotta... return the favor," she slurred, nuzzling against his thigh.

She took him into her mouth with a wet, shuddering gasp, the metallic tang flooding her senses as her tongue dragged along his shaft. Tom exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tangling in her hair. Kate's lungs gurgled with each attempted breath, her nostrils flaring as she deepthroated him with reckless abandon, her throat muscles fluttering erratically around his cock.

Beneath the fur coat, her fingers twisted the base of the twin-dildo, shifting the angle sharply so the lower ridge ground against her asshole while the upper head pressed mercilessly against her g-spot. The dual penetration sent sparks dancing behind her eyelids, her inner walls spasming around the intrusion. "Mmff, " The vibration around Tom's cock made his grip tighten in her hair, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Blood dribbled past her lips, her throat convulsing around him in wet, irregular swallows.

She rocked back slightly, just enough to let him slide deeper, before pistonning herself on the dildo again. The motion made Tom groan, his thighs tensing beneath her trembling hands. A shudder wracked her body, half pleasure, half drowning, as she redoubled her efforts, her fingers working the dildo's base in frantic circles.

She came like that, choking on blood and cock, her cunt and ass spasming around the toy in erratic convulsions. Her thighs locked, her spine bowed, her lungs desperately sucking air that wouldn't come, only gurgling, only blood. Her vision tunneled, but she didn't stop, just kept bobbing, kept twisting the dildo deeper, until the orgasm crested violently. He gasped, thrusting forward instinctively as her throat pulsed weakly around him, her ruined body still obedient even as she drowned from the inside.

With a wet pop, she pulled the dildo free, and staggered upright. The fur coat slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her heels. Blood sheeted down her torso now, rivulets branching around each bullet hole. Her breath came in wet, useless hitches. She swayed, drunk on hypoxia, and ran her hands through her hair, stretching her riddled body for Tom’s hungry gaze. She grinned wider, arching her back to make her tits jut forward, proud of her gorgeous riddled body. Then she turned, slow, theatrical, knowing he’d see the seven exit wounds punched through her back like a macabre constellation.

She stumbled to the counter, and grabbed the whiskey bottle. She upended it over her chest, gasping silently as alcohol seared into the bullet holes. Blood and liquor swirled together, dripping down her abdomen in warm ribbons. Her lungs fluttered uselessly, her vision spotting at the edges, but she relished the burn, the way her body jerked involuntarily with each failed breath.

Tom watched from the sofa, idly stroking himself as Kate collapsed onto all fours again. Her shoulders heaved, her spine arching obscenely as she crawled back toward him, each movement accompanied by wet, sucking sounds from her chest. When she reached his knees, she looked up with glassy eyes, her mouth working silently around words that wouldn’t come. Tom tilted his head, thumb brushing her blood-slick lower lip. "Want to die with my cock in your ass?" His voice was conversational, as if asking about the weather.

Kate nodded frantically, and hauled herself onto Tom’s lap, her movements sluggish yet determined. Her hips lifted, trembling, as she guided him to her ass, still stretched and slick from the dildo. She sank down slowly, her ruined body shuddering with the intrusion, her breath nothing but wet, gurgles. Blood dripped from her chin onto his chest.

The doorbell rang.

A crystalline chime, absurdly cheerful against the wet, guttural sounds filling the kitchen. Kate froze mid-thrust, her hips stuttering as Tom’s cock twitched inside her ass. Blood dripped steadily from her chin onto his bare chest. They locked eyes, hers dilated, his dark with amusement, before the chime came again, insistent. Someone was leaning on the button.

Kate wheezed something that might’ve been laughter and slid off Tom’s lap with a wet squelch. Her knees hit the floor hard, her palms slapping tile already slick with her own fluids. She crawled toward the door, fingers leaving glossy streaks on the hardwood, her breathing an obscene symphony of gurgles and clicks.

The doorbell chimed a third time, sharp, impatient. Kate hauled herself up using the doorframe, her bloodied fingers slipping twice before she found purchase. She left four perfect crimson prints on the white molding, like some grotesque modern art piece. With her free hand, she wiped clumsily at her chin, smearing rather than cleaning the blood. Then she turned the knob, leaning heavily against the door as it swung open.

The young blonde neighbor. Her mouth opened, no sound came out, as she took in Kate: naked except for splattered stilettos, seven bullet holes weeping down her torso, blood dripping onto the tile. Kate grinned wider, gurgled, stepping back on wobbling legs. She gestured grandly into the carnage, bodies strewn like broken dolls, Tom lounging with his cock still glistening from her ass, before collapsing onto all fours again.

The blonde didn’t scream. Didn’t run. "Hi. My name is Pam. I was watching through my window." She stepped over Sonya’s splayed corpse, gaze locked on Tom’s erection, still glistening with Kate’s blood. Her white dress clung to her slender frame, riding up scandalously high on her thighs. The thigh-high boots creaked, their spiked heels clicking against tile streaked with gore. "I almost blacked out when you bit off the nipples of that gorgeous corpse."

Kate collapsed backward onto Tom’s lap, her bullet-riddled body convulsing as blood frothed between her lips. Her fingers clawed weakly at his thighs, her hips twitching in useless little circles, still chasing sensation even as her vision tunneled. Pam stepped closer. “I counted every shot,” Pam murmured. “Seven holes and still moving? That’s dedication.”

Kate’s breath was nothing but wet gurgles now, her lungs drowning in their own ruin. Her hands trembled as she reached back, blindly grasping Tom’s cock, smeared with her own blood, and guiding it back to her asshole. She loved how smoothly he slid in, like her body was made for it. She whimpered silently, her hips twitching in shallow circlets.

Pam knelt before them, and leaned forward, her breath hot against Kate’s ruined chest. “You’re prettier bleeding,” she murmured, before sealing her lips around Kate’s left nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the puckered bullet hole beneath it. Kate shuddered violently, her back arching off Tom’s thighs as fresh blood welled up into Pam’s mouth. The metallic tang made Pam moan, her fingers digging into Kate’s hips as she switched to the other nipple, biting down just enough to make the wound weep anew.

Kate’s lungs spasmed uselessly, no air left, just blood and the suffocating pressure of Tom’s cock buried to the hilt inside her ass. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t beg, could only twitch and tremble as Pam’s fingers slid effortlessly into her cunt, curling upward to press against the spongy spot behind her pubic bone. Her hips jerked, her thighs quaking, her entire body reduced to a writhing, blood-slick mess of overstimulation.

Pam's fingers twisted deeper, knuckles pressing against Kate's pubic bone in slow, deliberate circles, each motion sending fresh tremors through Kate's bullet-riddled body. Blood bubbled from her lips in silent, wet gasps, her lungs drowning in their own ruin.

Pam leaned down, her tongue flicking against Kate's clit in teasing strokes before sealing her lips around it. The suction was vicious, relentless, Kate's hips jerked involuntarily, her ruined body convulsing between them. Then Pam bit down hard. Kate's back arched off Tom's lap in a silent scream, her cunt clamping down around Pam's fingers as the pain-pleasure explosion tore through her. The clit came away in Pam's teeth with a wet snap, blood flooding Kate's thighs in a hot rush.

Tom groaned, his fingers digging into Kate's bullet-riddled breasts as his orgasm hit. He came inside her ass in thick, pulsing spurts, the warmth spreading deep as her muscles milked him dry. Kate's body locked up, her cunt spasming around Pam's fingers, her ass clenching rhythmically around Tom's cock, as her final orgasm wracked her broken frame. Blood poured from her gnawed clit, pooling beneath her twitching thighs.

Pam pulled back with a wet pop, Kate's severed clit still clamped between her teeth. She grinned around the bloody prize, before swallowing with a theatrical gulp. Kate's eyes rolled back, her mouth gaping soundlessly as her hips bucked in erratic little jerks, her body still chasing sensation even as death tightened its grip. Then she went still, slumped against Tom's chest.

Pam traced a fingertip down Kate's slack jaw, smearing blood across her chin. "So," she murmured, tilting her head toward Tom like they were discussing brunch plans, "what's your name, handsome?" Her teeth were still pink from swallowing Kate's clit. She didn’t wait for an answer before leaning forward and clamping her lips around Kate’s left nipple. The flesh gave way with a wet tear as Pam bit down, her molars meeting through ravaged tissue.

Tom watched as Pam chewed methodically. Blood seeped from between her lips when she finally swallowed. "Tom," he said, absently stroking Kate’s cooling thigh. Pam hummed appreciatively and moved to the other nipple, her fingers already working the bullet hole beneath it, probing the edges until fresh crimson welled up. She lapped at it first, then sank her teeth in.

The nipple came free with a wet, fibrous tear. Pam leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. Tom shoved the corpse aside without ceremony; it slid off the sofa with a dull thud. He stood, stepping over Nel’s glassy-eyed stare and Sonya’s gnawed breasts to reach the counter. The whiskey bottle gleamed under the kitchen lights, half-empty and sticky with fingerprints. He poured two fingers into each glass.

Pam climbed onto the stool beside him, slow, deliberate, her white dress riding up. No panties. She hooked one boot heel on the stool’s rung, as she took her glass. “Cheers,” she murmured, clinking hers against Tom’s before downing it in one swallow.

She set the glass down, fingers trailing absently over her thigh, then higher, parting herself with two fingers. Already slick. She sighed, rolling her hips slightly as she rubbed slow circles around her clit, gaze fixed on the corpses sprawled between them. "I kept thinking," Pam murmured, voice husky, "how this girl's asshole must've felt when you fucked it after she died." Her fingers dipped lower, teased her entrance before sliding back up. "Did it still clench?"

Tom chuckled, swirling his drink. "Like a vice." Pam's fingers quickened, her breath hitching. The corpses lay where they'd fallen, Nel's poker still protruding obscenely, Sonya's lips peeled back in rigor-mortis ecstasy, Kate's bullet-riddled chest still glistening. Jen's round boobs were shiny with drying blood where Nel had painted them earlier. Pam's boot heel dug into the stool's rung as she spread wider. "Tell me," she gasped, "would you... fuck my throat until I suffocated?" Tom shrugged. "Maybe." Pam moaned, rubbing harder. "Would you like it if I... cut off my own boobs and cooked them? We could eat them together. I'll be naked, all... mutilated for you."

"I'd rather keep them on you." Tom swirled his whiskey, watching the amber liquid cling to the glass. "Easier to grab when I'm fucking you from behind."

Pam's fingers slowed mid-stroke, her mouth twisting in theatrical disappointment. "Ugh, typical." She rolled her eyes, but her thighs squeezed together involuntarily at his words. "Men always want the boring option." Her free hand cupped her left breast. "They’d look gorgeous in a pan, little seared edges curling up, fat rendering down to nothing. You wouldn’t even need oil." She sighed, then brightened suddenly. "What if I just cut one off? Compromise."

Tom watched her fingers resume their lazy circles. "Still no."

Pam huffed. "Then... do you mind shooting me instead?" She leaned forward, her fingers still working herself, her pupils blown wide. "I want you to shoot me full of holes, like Kate, but then..." Her breath hitched as she circled her clit faster. "Then pretend you're the one bleeding out. Weak, gasping. And I'm fine." Her tongue darted out to wet lips already gleaming with spit. "I'll fuck you like it's your last fuck, not mine."

"Fine," he said, setting the glass down with a soft click. "But you'll have to sell it."

Pam practically vaulted off the stool, her boots clicking sharply against the tile as she rounded the counter. The corner jutted out just enough, she pressed against it, rolling her hips slowly at first, the laminate pressing insistently against her clit. Her dress hiked up further, the hem catching on the edge as she ground harder. The white fabric was damp with sweat and speckled with Kate’s blood.

She exhaled through her nose, slow and deliberate, arching her back to press her pelvis flush against the counter’s edge. The pressure was delicious, just shy of painful, and she rocked into it with mounting desperation.

Tom didn’t warn her. The submachine gun coughed twice, muffled pops that barely registered over Pam’s ragged breathing. The bullets punched through her abdomen. Her body jerked, her hips stuttering against the counter as twin jets of blood sprayed onto the tile behind her. Her orgasm hit instantly, violent, convulsive, her cunt clamping down on nothing as her knees buckled. “Fuck,” she gasped, fingers scrabbling at the counter’s edge, her voice giddy. “Do it again, right, right through my, ”

Another burst, four rounds this time, ripped through her tits. The bullets punched neat holes through her white dress before exploding out her back in wet, crimson plumes. Pam gasped, her body arching violently as the bullets sent fresh shockwaves through her already spasming cunt. Her thighs trembled, as she ground against the counter’s edge. "Oh, oh fuck, " she slurred, her voice thick with pleasure. Blood sheeted down her body, soaking her dress entirely. She shuddered, her fingers digging into the countertop, her orgasm rolling through her in relentless waves. "I... I can't, " she wheezed, hips jerking uncontrollably.

Then, with a wet gasp, she stepped back, legs wobbling, peeling herself off the counter’s edge. Her breath came in ragged hitches as she peeled the soaked fabric away from her chest. She examined the four bullet holes in her tits. The wounds were perfect, four neat entry holes, symmetrically spaced across her tits, already weeping rivulets down her ribs. "Mmm," she murmured, tilting her head appreciatively. "God, they're gorgeous." The flesh puckered beautifully, still weeping rivulets of crimson. She pinched her nipple, hard. "Should've let me cook them," she sighed, smearing the blood across both breasts in lazy circles. Then she tugged the dress back up, covering them, like a gift to be unwrapped again later. "Now... now let's pretend... you're the one bleeding out," she whispered, licking her lips as she stumbled toward Tom.

Tom slumped forward theatrically, pressing a hand to an imaginary wound. Pam caught him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breath hot and ragged against his ear. "That’s it," she cooed, guiding him onto the sofa. She knelt between Tom’s legs, her breath already labored from the bullets shredding her lungs. Blood bubbled at the corners of her lips when she exhaled. "Look at you," she cooed, stroking his thigh. "So weak... So... helpless." Her fingers trailed higher, wrapping around his cock. "Let me make it better."

She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head before sinking deeper. Blood dribbled from her lips with each bob of her head, streaking his shaft crimson. Her lungs gurgled wetly, but she didn’t stop, just adjusted her rhythm, her throat fluttering around him as she fought to breathe through the fluid flooding her chest.

Tom groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair as he let his head loll back, playing the part perfectly. His hips bucked weakly, feigning desperation, while Pam hummed around him, the vibrations sending fresh jolts of pleasure up his spine. She pulled back just enough to gasp, blood-flecked spit stringing between her lips and his cock. "That’s it," she rasped, her voice ruined. "Just... let go." Her thumbs dug into his thighs as she swallowed him again, her throat convulsing wetly around his length, her punctured lungs rattling with every breath.

She stayed like that for a long moment, lips sealed around his base, nose pressed into his pelvis, before finally pulling off with a wet pop. Blood dripped freely from her chin now, splattering across his thighs. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing crimson across her cheek. "Thirsty?" she whispered, tilting her head toward the counter. Tom gave a weak nod, and she grinned, teeth stained pink, before staggering upright.

The boots wobbled but held. Six exit wounds dotted the back of her white dress, each weeping steadily as she swayed toward the counter. Her breath came in wet hitches, lungs drowning, yet she still managed to roll her hips with each step like this was a fucking runway. Blood smeared the counter where she braced herself, fingers slipping once before gripping the whiskey bottle’s neck. She turned, slow, theatrical, letting Tom see the crimson blooming through fabric stretched taut over six entry wounds on her chest. "Last drink?" she rasped, holding up the bottle with a bloody grin.

She unscrewed the cap, taking a long swig straight from the bottle. Whiskey mixed with the blood on her lips, dripping down her chin as she gasped. "Fuck," she coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing crimson across her cheekbone. Her lungs gurgled with every breath, but she grinned anyway, wild, unhinged, as she swayed back toward him, the bottle in hand.

She climbed onto his lap with deliberate slowness, her booted legs straddling his thighs. She took another pull from the bottle before tilting it toward his lips, letting the amber liquid spill over his tongue, some of it dribbling down his chin. Tom swallowed it down. Pam grinned, her breath whistling wetly through perforated lungs. "Good boy," she cooed, her voice thick with blood and whiskey.

Her free hand reached between them, guiding his cock up to her soaked pussy. She paused, just for effect, letting them both feel the heat radiating from her cunt, the way her thighs trembled with anticipation despite the blood loss. Then she sank down, slow, torturous, her walls fluttering around him before she'd even taken him halfway. "There," she cooed, her voice bubbling slightly as blood welled up her throat. "There's... your last fuck." Her hips rolled in slow circles, savoring each inch as she took him deeper.

Tom played along, his fingers clawing weakly at her thighs. Pam moaned, a wet, gurgling sound, as her cunt clenched around him in response. "Shhh," she whispered, stroking his sweaty forehead with her free hand. "Doesn't... hurt anymore, does it?" Her hips rolled lazily, her cunt pulsing around him in slow, rhythmic squeezes. "I'll make it... good for you." Blood dripped from her lips onto his chin as she leaned down, her breath ragged, her lungs drowning, and kissed him. The taste of copper and whiskey filled his mouth.

Her hips continued their slow undulation, her inner muscles fluttering weakly as she lost coordination. "Almost... over," Pam lied softly against his lips, her voice thick with the blood pooling in her ruined lungs. She lifted herself slightly, her thighs trembling violently, before sinking back down with deliberate slowness, dragging out the sensation as if it were Tom's fading pleasure rather than her own failing body. "Do you mind... if I... cum... before... oh... god..." Her words dissolved into a wet gurgle as her hips stuttered erratically, her body betraying the act as her orgasm ripped through her. "S-sorry," she gasped. "Got... carried away."

Tom played his role. "I'd like to die with my cock inside your ass," he whispered. She grinned, blood dripping freely from her chin, and nodded with exaggerated sympathy. "Ohhh... poor thing," she cooed, already lifting herself off him. "Last wish... granted." Her fingers trembled as she guided him from her cunt to her asshole.

Despite the blood filling her lungs, Pam positioned herself with theatrical care, one boot planted on the sofa, the other knee sinking into the cushions, before easing back onto him. Her asshole yielded smoothly, slick with her own blood, and she sighed as he stretched her open. "There... there you go," she murmured, stroking his hair with bloody fingers. "All better now." Her breath hitched wetly as she adjusted her angle, letting him sink deeper. "There you go... nice and deep..."

Tom groaned, half performance, half genuine as her tight heat clenched around him. Pam rocked gently, her movements growing less coordinated as her lungs struggled. Blood dribbled down her chest, before dripping onto his stomach. "Feels... good?"

He nodded weakly, playing along. She smiled, a grotesque, wet thing, and stroked his cheek with her thumb, smearing gore across his stubble. "Shhh... I know it hurts," she lied, her breath whistling through perforated tissue. Her hips rolled in slow circles, her ass swallowing him deeper with every motion. The blood made it effortless, hot and slick, coating him as she ground down. "Want me... to take this off?" She plucked at her dress, the fabric soaked with crimson. "Or... the boots?" Her voice hitched wetly as she adjusted her angle.

Tom smiled, "Keep the boots." Pam grinned, blood dribbling down her chin. "Knew you'd... say that," she slurred, her fingers hooking under the sodden hem of her dress. She peeled it upward slowly, revealing inch after inch of blood-streaked skin, the fabric sticking momentarily to fresh bullet wounds. The dress finally cleared her head, matted blonde hair clinging to its bloody interior as she tossed it aside. Her palms slid up her torso, leaving smears of crimson as they cupped her ruined breasts, fingers sinking slightly into bullet holes. "Still... pretty?" she gasped.

"Perfect," he whispered. She guided his hands to her bullet-riddled breasts, pressing his fingertips into the wounds until they sank knuckle-deep. Warm blood pulsed around his fingers, slick and thick, as her nipples hardened against his palms. She sighed, rolling her hips in a slow, sticky circle, her ass clenching around him. "You feel so... good inside me," she moaned as she tilted forward to kiss him. Her tongue pushed past his lips, metallic and whiskey-soaked, while her hand slid between them to rub her clit in lazy circles. Blood dribbled from her chest onto his stomach.

Tom bucked upward, while she shuddered atop him. "This... this doesn't hurt now, does it?" she lied, her voice thick with the blood flooding her trachea. Her fingers sped up, her breath hitching wetly as her thighs tensed. Her ass spasmed around him. "It's okay," she gasped. "I'll... make you feel good before... before..." She trailed off as her hips stuttered erratically, her body betraying the act as her orgasm tore through her. "Nnngh, fuck, " she slurred. "S-sorry," she choked, crimson bubbling from her nostrils. "Got... distracted."

Tom let his head loll back. "I'm dead now," he whispered, his body going limp beneath her. Pam gasped, her fingers stilling mid-stroke before sliding into her cunt with a wet squelch. Two knuckles deep, her slick walls clenched around her own digits. "I'm fucking... a corpse," she wheezed, her punctured lungs struggling to keep up with the fantasy. Blood flecked her lips with each ragged inhale as she rocked forward, her fingers pistoning inside herself while Tom's cock filled her ass.

She moaned, a wet, bubbling sound, as her thighs trembled violently. "Ohhh... you feel... so cold already," she lied, her hips rolling in slow, exaggerated circles. Her ass milked him shamelessly. "You... died... so hard for me," she gasped, her free hand stroking his slack jaw. Her fingers left crimson streaks across his cheekbone. "Poor... beautiful... corpse." Her voice dissolved into a gurgle as her body betrayed her, her cunt spasming around her fingers while her asshole pulsed around his cock in erratic, drowning contractions.

She tried to speak again, but only blood spilled out, dark and frothy. Her lungs had finally given out. Her chest heaved uselessly, ribs straining beneath bullet-riddled flesh, but no air came. Her eyes widened. Then she doubled over, her forehead pressing against Tom's shoulder, her hips jerking erratically as her orgasm approached. Her cunt squelched around her fingers. Her ass clenched rhythmically, milking him as he groaned, and began cumming inside her ass.

She trembled violently, her body wracked by silent screams. Blood poured from her nose, her mouth, the holes in her chest. Her lungs had fully collapsed, only wet gurgles, yet her hips kept moving, slower now, weaker, but still rolling in slick circles. Tom’s cum filled her ass in thick pulses. She felt each one, her body responding instinctively, her cunt clamping around her own fingers as she came with him. Her eyes locked onto his, glazed, drowning, but her grip tightened around his wrist, forcing his fingers deeper into her weeping bullet wounds. A grotesque parody of comfort.

Tom pushed her upright by her ruined tits, fingers sinking into the holes. She swayed like a doll with its strings slashed, but her lips twitched, bloody, slack, into something resembling a grin. Her knees dug into the sofa on either side of his thighs, her boots still planted firmly. "Let's see if you still can bring me the cigarettes."

Her breath didn't come anymore, just wet, clicking sounds from her chest, but she moved anyway, her body obeying through sheer force of debauched will. She slid off him with a slick pop, her asshole gaping slightly, his cum mingling with the blood dripping down her inner thighs. Her palms slapped against the tile as she hit the floor, her elbows buckling once before she caught herself. The crawl was obscene: her back arched, her bullet-riddled breasts swaying, each movement squeezing fresh rivulets from her wounds. She dragged herself forward with her elbows, her boots scraping against the tile, leaving smears of crimson in her wake.

Tom watched her progress with lazy amusement. She reached the counter, her fingers trembling as they clawed at the edge for purchase. Blood streaked the cabinetry as she hauled herself upright, her boots sliding slightly on the slick tile. Tom shot her again without warning. The suppressed burst punched through her back, three new holes that erupted from her already ruined breasts in sudden gouts. Pam barely flinched, one hand braced against the countertop, while the other fumbled for the cigarette pack and lighter.

Her body swayed, her knees buckling slightly, but she adjusted her stance, boots planted wide, as if refusing to collapse before her task was done. Blood dripped steadily from her slack mouth onto the countertop.

She turned, smiled, and staggered back toward him, her steps slow and unsteady, her chest a ruined mess of bullet holes. Yet she grinned, her lips slick crimson, holding the cigarette pack and lighter. Her boots scuffed against the tile as she swayed. Tom watched, amused, as she dropped to her knees before him. She managed to retrieve a cigarette with trembling fingers. She placed it between his lips, and he grinned around it. She flicked the lighter with practiced ease, her wrist shaking as she held it up to him. Tom inhaled deeply, exhaling smoke into the space between them.

She collapsed on the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. She reached between her legs, her fingers slick with blood, rubbing slow circles against her clit. Tom exhaled another plume of smoke and said, voice low and appreciative, "Those high boots look very good on your long legs."

Pam grinned, and lifted one booted leg deliberately, resting the heel on his thigh. She traced a bloody finger along the leather, leaving crimson streaks, before sliding two fingers back into her gaping cunt.

"I'll fuck your corpse in the ass, you know," Tom murmured around the cigarette, watching her fingers work lazily between her thighs. Pam's grin widened, her boot slid higher up his thigh.

Her free hand lifted to her mouth slowly, fingers glistening with her own juices. She locked eyes with him as she dragged her tongue up the length of her middle finger, then the ring finger, each movement exaggerated, obscene. The blood on her chin smeared against her knuckles as she sucked the tips. Then she reached behind herself, and pushed the first digit in, her asshole yielding as her spine arched. The second finger followed, stretching herself obscenely wide. Her breath hitched, or tried to, but only a wet gurgle escaped her ruined lungs. The third finger went in as her hips jerked involuntarily, her cunt squeezing around the fingers of her other hand.

Her heart gave one final, shuddering thud, then nothing. No pulse. She had a few seconds left, she knew. The stretch of her ass around three fingers burned deliciously. Her vision blackened at the edges. But she held on, just long enough, her boot trembling against Tom’s thigh as her legs spasmed apart. *Almost.* The pressure coiled tight, her nerves screaming for release. *Just a little more.*

Tom watched, cigarette dangling from his lips, as her back arched violently. Yes...*yes*, she felt it cresting, that final, impossible wave. One last spasm, her asshole clenched, then released in a slow, fluttering pulse around her digits. *Almost.* Her hips jerked forward involuntarily, her cunt squirting weakly onto the tile. The orgasm wasn't full, just a ghost of one, but it didn't matter. The view was perfect: her legs splayed, boots gleaming with gore, thighs twitching in uneven aftershocks. She'd timed it right.

The last flicker of consciousness bled away. Tom exhaled smoke through his nostrils and leaned forward slightly, admiring how her fingers stayed hooked inside herself, like she'd simply fallen asleep mid-fuck.