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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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The Best Laid Plans
by Kelly Berks (kellyberks@yahoo.com)
***
Amy was in trouble and needed my help. She had made a
stupid mistake years ago and it was coming back to
haunt her. Now, she had a plan to eliminate the
problem, but she needed my assistance. Her plan was a
good one, but not quite as good as the one I had in
mind. (MF, v, murd)
***
It seemed like I knew Amy for as long as I could
remember. We met a long time ago - long before she was
married. Then we drifted apart somewhat, and the next
thing I heard was that she had married some guy from
her old neighborhood. That's not all I heard. His name
was Charlie, and he was supposedly a real thug. He was
into drugs and hung out with a gang which stole to
support their habit. How in the hell Amy ever got
involved with this guy is something I'll never figure
out.
One night Charlie went out with a few of his buddies.
The evening turned nasty, and Charlie wound up in a
heated argument with one of the other guys in the gang.
Words came to blows, and it got worse from there.
Charlie wound up stabbing the guy to death.
They said that he actually butchered that fellow,
which may have helped Charlie when he was sentenced,
because it showed rage rather than planning, and
apparently, crimes committed in rage aren't as serious
as when rage is absent, so you get only twenty years
instead of life, which is what happened to Charlie.
He should have remained in jail for all of those twenty
years and more, but apparently, that's not how the
system works nowadays. Six years after he was sent to
prison, he was out. He was still every bit as dangerous
as he had been the day he went in, if not more so, and
he was angry that Amy had abandoned him while he was
there. He was determined to get himself back in Amy's
life and to pick up just where he had left off over six
years before.
Amy knew it was trouble. She knew that he had killed
and had no remorse for having done so, and she feared
he would do the same thing to her if she didn't welcome
him back into her life. But Amy wanted no part of
Charlie at that point. She had gotten her life back on
track and was wondering how she had ever gotten
involved with Charlie at all.
It was like a bad dream from the distant past, and that
dream, or nightmare as it were, was threatening to
invade her present life. She knew she could not have
that and would have to find a way to prevent it from
happening. She devised a plan. It was perfect, she
thought; all she needed was a little help.
I stopped at Amy's house on Tuesday afternoon. It was
an old farmhouse a few miles out of town which she
shared with a friend, Peggy. I liked the place. It was
a little run down, but it was big and had a lot of
space between it and the nearest neighbor.
During my conversation with Amy, she kept bringing up
the subject of Charlie and how much of a threat to her
he was becoming. She felt that he might go as far as
killing her if she didn't accept him back, and there
was no way she was going to do that.
"I want him to go back to jail, and this time I want
him to go back forever. That's the only way I'm ever
going to get rid of him," she said at one point.
"And what is it he's going to do that will get him sent
back to jail?"
"Well, I was thinking that if he beat me up and raped
me, they'd send him back for a long time, what with him
being out on early release and all. He'd get at least
the last fourteen years of his sentence and probably
another ten years added to it."
"Oh great," I said. "Yeah, I could see him raping you,
but if he got so far as to beat you up, he'd probably
go all the way and kill you. There's not a lot of
margin for error there."
"No, that's not what I was thinking at all. What I was
thinking is that I'd invite him over and let him fuck
me, then tell him my roommate was going to be back, so
he would leave. Then someone else, who I trust, would
come over and beat me up enough to give me some bruises
and all. Then Peggy would come home and find me that
way and would call the police and tell them he beat me
up and raped me. They'd test me and find his DNA and
all, and he'd be cooked. They'd put him away for a long
time, for sure."
"And who did you have in mind as someone who would beat
you up a little?"
"Well, I know I have no right to ask you, but I trust
you, and I really do need someone to do this."
I paced around a little and said nothing, as if giving
the whole notion some serious consideration. Actually,
the idea was a real turn on for me, but I didn't want
to let on or seem to anxious.
"I know it's a lot to ask," she added. She walked
across the room and retrieved a small tin off a shelf.
She pulled the lid off and pulled out some cash. "Here,
this is the least I can do. It's two hundred dollars. I
want you to have it, if you'll do this for me."
"Oh great," I was thinking. I can really get into
knocking her around a little, and she's going to pay me
to do it besides.
"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to do this," I said,
again not wanting to seem too enthusiastic about the
whole thing.
"Please think about it. I really need someone to do
this, and if you won't, I'll have to find someone else,
and it may be someone I can't trust, so..."
I interrupted her. "Okay, I'll probably do it, but I
need to think about it. If I do it, it's only to save
you from that jerk, because I really do think he's
dangerous."
"Good, but I have to do this soon, ya know. He's a big
problem, and there's not all that much time to deal
with him."
I thought about it alright - for about an hour. I was
on board from the first minute I heard the plan, but I
wasn't really sure exactly what I wanted to do. I knew
I wanted to beat the crap out of Amy, but I really
wasn't sure why, and I hadn't developed the plan past
that stage - not at that point, anyway. All I knew was
that I found the idea of giving Amy a good beating to
be a real turn on, and I can't really explain why.
I called Amy that evening and agreed to being a part of
her plan. I didn't tell her that I was thinking about
some modifications of my own that would make her plan
more interesting and convincing.
It was Tuesday, and Amy needed to do the whole thing on
Thursday night, because that was the night that Peggy
had a meeting and would be out for the evening. Amy
said that Peggy came home on Thursday nights at exactly
11 PM without fail, so it could be timed perfectly for
her to come home, find Amy raped and beat up, and call
the police.
All of the elements fell right into place; there was
simply nothing that could go wrong, or so it seemed.
Amy told me exactly how she thought she should be
beaten, so as to cause a lot of bruising and such, but
no serious injury. I listened to her explanation very
carefully. I listened and I understood exactly what she
wanted. She had thought through this thing completely.
Thursday evening came around pretty fast. I had
developed a bit of anxiety about the whole thing, but
that was to be expected; after all, this is not the
kind of thing you do every day, and you need to have
things planned out so you get them right. I had pretty
much completed my thinking on what I was going to do
that night. It was not precisely what Amy was
expecting, but it was the same general idea.
Amy called me at about 9:30 PM. All she said was that
Charlie had just left, and that she was ready for me.
She didn't come out and say that Charlie had just
gotten finished fucking her and left, but I knew what
she meant. I got to Amy's place about twenty minutes
later. We would have plenty of time to do what we had
to do before Peggy returned home.
When I got to the front door, she was waiting right
there for me. She was wearing a bathrobe, tied in
front, covering everything. She was rather modest, I
thought; in fact, it occurred to me that I had never
seen her completely naked, not once in all the years I
had known her. Oh, there was a time or two that she had
fallen out of a top or had something open up
unexpectedly, but that was it. This night would be
different entirely.
She immediately noticed the large trash bag I was
carrying and asked about it.
"Well, I've added a few things to the scenario," I
said. "A few things for me, if you don't mind."
"What kind of things?" she asked.
Pulling a folded-up tripod out of the bag, I replied,
"Well, if I'm going to do this I want some sort of
record of the whole thing."
I set up the tripod and pulled a video cam out of the
bag next. "I don't know if I'll like this or not, but I
know I'll probably never get a chance to do something
like this again, so I want something to remember it
by."
Amy seemed shocked. Up to that point, she thought that
I was forcing myself to get involved with this because
she needed me to, and that she was really imposing on
our friendship, but this cast a somewhat different
light on my motives.
"Don't think that I'm going to get off on this, or
anything. It's just that It's something you don't do
every day, and I think it should be recorded," I said.
Amy seemed to accept the notion, although she didn't
get over her surprise completely.
"Well, I guess it's okay, if you think so, but you'd
better be careful with that damn video afterwards."
"Don't worry, I will be," I said, as I finished setting
up the camera and carefully aiming it in the direction
where I thought the action would take place.
Amy started to say something, but before she could, I
hauled off and punched her in the gut with the hardest
shot I could muster. Her hands flew out towards me and
she doubled over, falling backwards onto the couch. She
was totally stunned and unable to do anything but put
her arms around her middle as she gasped for air. That
kind of punch in the gut, especially when it catches
you off guard, can just about render you helpless.
I stood there for a minute, just watching her trying to
recover. She finally looked up at me, and I took a step
towards her and nailed her with a backhand across the
face, snapping her head sharply to the left. Before she
could do anything, I slapped her hard with my open
hand, snapping her head back in the other direction. I
enjoyed that and thought it made good video, so I
continued, hitting her that way maybe twenty times.
She was already groggy. I pulled her up, undid the tie
on the front of her bathrobe, pulled it off, and threw
it across the room. I had her completely naked now, and
regretted the fact that I was not going to be able to
fuck her.
I let her have it in the gut again, and she flew back
onto the couch as she had done before. I slapped her
around for a few minutes, then I grabbed her hair,
pulled her face back and punched her in the mouth, hard
enough to split her lip open and start a rush of blood
running down her chin. Still holding her hair, I
punched her directly in the nose, hard enough to break
it I thought, but there was no big rush of blood, so I
knew I probably hadn't succeeded.
Another shot in the nose, this time harder, felt good,
but also apparently didn't do the job. The third time,
I really hauled off and let her have it. This time, I
felt her nose sort of give way, and blood spurted out,
hitting me in the stomach, but I wasn't worried about
getting blood on myself, because I wasn't the one
they'd be looking for.
I laid her back down on the couch and punched her in
the face a few more times, then I began a thorough job
of punching out her tits. I was impressed by the sound
of my fists impacting her tits and was hoping the video
cam was doing a good job of recording all of the
sounds, which I thought were impressive.
She was probably half conscious at that point; I don't
know for sure. I went over to my bag and got what I
needed to implement the next part of my plan. It was a
knife. Up till that point, her plan had merely been
exceeded by my actions, but that was about to change.
Her carefully crafted plan was being discarded, and
mine was being substituted for it. My plan was better -
well, if not better, at least a lot more interesting.
I walked over to the couch and positioned myself next
to Amy, so as not to come between her and the camera. I
looked at the knife. The knife blade was thin, and its
edge and point were razor sharp. I placed the tip on
her lower belly, on her right side so as not to pierce
where her pussy was. I couldn't do that, you know,
because it contained all that semen, with it's all
important DNA, and if it were cut, the resulting blood
might wash away the evidence which would be used by the
prosecution later.
I gripped the knife handle firmly with both hands. As I
began to press the blade into Amy's belly, she
responded by flinching a bit, and purely as a reflex
action, I think, her hands reached down and grabbed
mine on the knife handle. It really wasn't very violent
at all; the sharp blade just slipped into her belly and
proceeded into her soft gut. Her feet came up a little,
and I felt her hands tighten on mine as the blade
disappeared into her.
I expected to hear a loud scream, but all she could
manage was something that sounded like "Aaah!" When the
blade was all the way in, I wiggled the knife a bit to
try to get enough sensation to get a scream out of her,
but what she came up with was another "Aaah!" sound. It
was somewhat louder this time, so I wiggled the knife
around some more to get more response.
I pulled the thing out and moved it up a few inches. I
pushed it back into her there, and her hands held mine
and again followed the motion of the knife as it sunk
into her. A few more repetitions of this, and her hands
were no longer gripping mine. She was still alive, but
now her reaction was limited to a flinch as the knife
entered a new place on her body.
I reached up toward her right tit with my left hand and
squeezed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
Stretching it out as far as I possibly could, I very
carefully sliced the entire area covered by the areola
cleanly away from her tit and placed it on the coffee
table next to us. It left her tit with a large round
bloody area, which was expanding as the skin stretched.
I then proceeded to remove her left nipple in the same
way and placed it on the table next to the first one.
They made a cute matching pair, I thought to myself.
I think she was alive at that point, and I thought I'd
better get things over with, so I pushed the blade of
my knife up under her rib cage and carved out the area
where I thought her heart would be. She twitched and
quivered a bit, then she was completely still.
Oh, I had to "arrange" her properly on the couch. I
propped her head up on the arm of the couch, leaned one
leg against the back and laid the other down, stylishly
bent at the knee. Her eyes were open, and she was
looking upward. I stepped back to have a look. She was
absolutely perfect - the way I had always imagined
seeing her when she was alive. Peggy would get a real
visual treat when she got home in about an hour.
It occurred to me that I had never gotten the $200 that
Amy had promised me to help her, and after all, I had
done much more than I had agreed to, so I was more than
deserving of the money. I knew Amy had meant to pay me,
and that it was an honest mistake on her part not to,
so I wasn't mad or anything, but I still thought I
deserved the payment, so I decided to get it for
myself.
I opened the tin where Amy kept her cash and found a
total of $416, which I took. It had turned out to be a
great evening. I had enjoyed helping Amy; had gotten
some wonderful video, and had been paid $416 for my
efforts. It doesn't get much better than that when you
think about it. Oh, I'm not going to say that I
experienced some super hard-on, or earth shaking orgasm
while I was doing what I did. Actually, it was almost
like I was in a trance or a dream, or something like
that, and then it was over, and I woke up.
It's just that some dreams can get you excited later
when you think about them and it helps all that much
more when you have a video of the whole thing. It lets
you know that the dream was more than just a dream - it
was reality.
Anyway, I threw the knife back in the garbage bag and
pulled out a sponge, which I used to soak up some of
Amy's fresh blood. I then put the sponge in a lunch bag
to keep it moist. I did the same thing with Amy's
nipples, which still looked every bit as cute as when
they were decorating her tits. I packed up my video
stuff, had one last look around and left.
As I drove away from Amy's house, I went back over the
whole thing in my mind. Who else but an angry, bitter
ex-husband would inflict that kind of damage to a
woman. That's exactly how the police would see it. They
would also discover his spunk and DNA inside her, but
that's not all they would find.
I parked about a block from Charlie's house, got out
and walked to where his old junker of a car was parked.
It wasn't hard to jimmy his door open. I used the
bloody sponge to apply a generous amount of wet blood
on flat of the knife blade, then placed the bloody
knife on the passenger side seat, leaving a perfect
outline of the blade, which the cops could match to
Amy's wounds. I threw it back into the garbage bag.
Then I took the sponge and lightly dabbed some blood
streaks on the steering wheel and seat. That went back
into the garbage bag too, and the garbage bag went into
a trash dumpster about two miles away.
Charlie was sentenced to life in prison, so Amy's plan
worked in a sense. And of course, in another sense, it
didn't. Well, you know what they say about the best
laid plans.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 36