Henry Smith

Henry Smith had gone through the necessary preparations to get ready. Clean shaven, he kept his short chestnut hair parted on the side. He wore slender framed glasses, the lenses only glass, an affectation to provide false leads in the event some unplanned circumstance provided a witness. An even six feet tall, he was lean but not skinny in his inexpensive grey business suit. He wore a white shirt and non-descript tie, his left wrist adorned with a knock off watch that was much cheaper than it appeared. Only thirty, he could easily pass for a handful of years younger or older. He didn’t look the part of a serial killer as he examined his reflection in the mirror. Although technically a serial killer by definition, he didn’t think of himself in those terms. First and foremost he thought of himself as a visionary, with a particular talent to inflict suffering. He took umbrage to the term serial killer, he considered himself to be the next evolutionary step forward, survival of the fittest and he perceived himself as an apex predator. He wasn’t like these others misbegotten psychopaths who heard disembodied voices telling him to kill, or felt guided by the moon, or talking house plants. He was an artist and suffering was his medium. He believed every person has at least one talent, whether it’s something completely banal like being able to roll your tongue over in your mouth, or catch a football. Henry’s talent was misery, and he took great pride in his ability to extract every last ounce of anguish out of his victims. And that’s why he specifically targeted women because he knew there capacity to endure far outstripped men.

In a newspaper article outlining his second to last kill, there was a report by a profiler who suggested the crimes were committed by a misogynist who was likely to have an underdeveloped maternal bond which may have contributed to a dissociative state allowing him to objectify his victims.

He was insulted and scoffed at the notion. Sure, he bore the scars of an abusive childhood at the hands of his mentally unstable mother before she killed herself, but he was raised in a strict religious environment by his domineering grandmother. Dissociative state? Nonsense.

He tabulated twelve victims over the last eight years, three in the last year alone. Each successive kill seemed to embolden him, fueling his desire for another. Each victim he created, he felt he was cementing his immortality and fame. All notoriety aside and on a personal level, he absolutely thrived on the chase, the capture, the execution. The sheer life and death power made him feel positively alive, extracting every last ounce of wretched existence from his prey had become a form of personal satisfaction he relished. This project was to be number thirteen, his self-appointed lucky number. This one had to be something absolutely special.

The day was still hot, the air thick as the sun began to make a slow descent toward the west. Having checked himself into a motel in the afternoon, he decided to survey the local area. Feeling hungry, he pulled the silver Chevy minivan into the parking lot of the roadside bar and grill simply called Teffy’s Tavern. The single story building’s outside appeared rundown, weather beaten paint that may have once been yellow cracked and peeled in patches along the wall adjacent to the parking lot. A half dozen other vehicles were parked in the gravel lot.

The interior of the tavern was dark and poorly lit, all the windows were either painted or covered by dark curtains. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The atmosphere inside the tavern was close and without air conditioning. Booths lined two of the walls and a few tables populated the open floor space. A long bar dominated the far wall and a pool table was in the back. Even in the poor light, continual walking had worn a faded but visible tread into the dark carpet.

A couple of people looked up when he walked in, more out of irritation at the splash of light spilling in from the outside rather than to see who had entered. To his quick count, there were nine patrons in the bar, most looking like what he presumed to be locals, as well as a middle aged man tending bar, and one serving woman. Three men occupied a table and were watching some sports highlight show on a television anchor high up on a wall while nursing bottles of beer. A booth had two women and they appeared to be near to finishing some type of food, four others, all men, lined the bar.

The bartender nodded by way of welcome but hardly saw him, Henry nodded in return. He selected a corner booth that allowed him to see everyone in the bar, and anyone else who might wander in.

The serving woman walked over. Looking up, he smiled. It looked like she had done some hard living in her younger days. She wore too much make up in an effort to hide the ravages of time, and he guessed she was on the wrong side of forty.

She set down a laminated menu in front of him and asked, “Something to drink?” her voice flat and perfunctory.

“Whatever you have on tap will be fine,” he replied politely, rewarding her with a warm smile, inwardly his skin crawled.

When she had left, he looked at the fare on the menu, some of it sounding enticing, but he decided against ordering anything. The serving woman returned with a pint of amber liquid and set it on the table.

“You ready to order?” she asked, looking down at him.

“I think I’ll pass for now,” he answered, sliding the menu toward her across the table. If it wasn’t for the fact thirteen had to be special, he thought he might gut her just to end her suffering.

“You want to run a tab?” she asked, collecting the menu off the table.

“No, I’ll just pay,” he answered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some bills, handing her a five. “Keep it.”

She rewarded him with a practiced smile of feigned gratitude and left. Leaning back in the booth, he surveyed the talent inside the stuffy room more thoroughly. Of the three women in the beaten down establishment, none caught his eye, nothing was worthy of the honor of being his thirteenth conquest. He took a sip off the beer and frowned at the barely cool liquid.

Not that he had been expecting to find ‘her’ on his first stop, but he always hoped something would catch his attention, make him feel the twitch in his balls as he prepared for the hunt.

The door opened and another man walked in. A bear like bellow and some raucous laughter, he joined the three men at the table.

The lack of anything promising demoralized him. Then she walked in, bringing in her wake a gust of the afternoon summer wind and another flash of bright daylight.

Standing at best guess 5’9”, she was spectacular bathed in the backlight surrounding her from the door. Beautiful luxuriant long red hair bound back fell halfway to her bum. He was glad it was a rich red, he didn’t like the orangey red hair some redheads had it reminded him of clown hair. Her unblemished skin was slightly tanned. To him it didn’t look like she possessed the typical sea of freckles common to redheads. She was wearing a sleeveless white top and some green shorts with white athletic shoes. Her purse was fairly small and made of black leather. Her physique appeared athletic. Long, lean, and toned, like a swimsuit model. Her breasts were wonderfully round and firm pressing against the fabric of her top. She looked to be in her early twenties at most. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Smiling to himself, he knew it was her, it had to be her. He knew her type, beautiful, a life of means, no worries or concerns as life provided for her every want. She was perfect. She would be his crowning achievement. He could already feel the stir of excitement and anticipation in his genitals.

Still outlined by outside light, she turned in the door, big smile on her face as another woman appeared behind her, a blonde, a couple of inches shorter, but equally as lovely. Her hair was back and there was a pair of dark wide sunglasses on top of her head. Like her companion, she was dressed in a similar top and shorts, save hers were two different shades of pink.

The moment he beheld them together, a spark of inspiration erupted in his mind, an epiphany of sorts, something he had never before considered. What if he could take them both? Wouldn’t that be the ultimate crowning achievement? He leaned back in his booth and imagined the possibilities.

Henry’s weren’t the only set of eyes to fall on the two gorgeous women as they looked for a place to sit. The redhead pointed to a table a couple away from where the four men sat. Walking over and sitting down at the vacant table, the redhead shared a moment of eye contact with Henry before looking for the serving woman.

One of the men at the nearby table said something and Henry wanted to stab the man in the face, but suppressed a smile when the blonde gave the man a once over and a fuck off look.

He could barely contain his enthusiasm at the thought of taking two at one time, the ultimate threesome. He took a drink and a few carefully measured breaths, needing to calm himself, the thoughts racing through his mind almost tipping him over the edge and causing him to ejaculate. It was a sign. He chuckled softly, some way somehow, he would have them both.

But how? He could go out to the parking lot and fuck with their car, get it to break down outside of town, and he could ‘randomly’ show up to offer assistance. Or, he could wait for them to leave and follow them to see where they might be staying for the night. He absently nibbled at his right thumb nail as he tried to conceive of a way to get his hands on them.

One of the men from the table of four, not the one who had said something, got up and walked over to the women. Henry frowned. The man was a good couple of inches taller than Henry, younger, easy smile on his handsome face.

“Hi, I’m Cleeve,” he said, nodding his head.

“Emilie,” said the blonde, smiling.

“Vanessa,” said the redhead with a polite nod.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, slipping into an empty chair before either woman said anything.

“Actually,” said Vanessa, “We’re waiting on someone.”

“Why don’t I wait with you?” he offered, signaling the server.

Vanessa laughed, and shook her head. “There he is there,” she said, pointing right at Henry. The blonde turned her head to him then back to the redhead.

The man looked at Henry, a scowl on his stubble laden face.

“Why don’t you leave me your number and I’ll get back to you?” Emilie said, a lovely smile on her face, as she took out her cell phone and looked up at him.

He nodded, giving her the digits.

She entered them into her contact list, “Cleeve, right?” she asked with a smile.

He nodded, eyes still on Henry a moment before the smile reappeared and he was looking back at Emilie.

“Got it,” she said, rewarding him with a grin and a wink.

Opportunity Knocks

Vanessa got up and walked toward Henry, favoring him with a brilliant smile, the kind of smile that seemed to suck the breath from his lungs. She carried in her presence some subtle yet tantalizing scent.

He smiled back. He could barely contain his excitement, up close she was even more remarkable. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Henry.” He wanted her to know his name, wanted her to remember it, use it when she begged him.

“Vanessa,” she replied, smile still on her face.

“May I join you?” she asked, pointing to the other side of the booth.

“Sure,” he said, “some company might be nice.”

She looked around the bar then back at him, “You don’t appear to be one of the locals,” she said in a whispered tone before biting her lower lip between perfect white teeth.

He looked down at his grey business suit and then at the more casual blue jean attire of the locals. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

She nodded. “You do kind of stick out,” she said, her voice dulcet and sweet. There was an accent, very subtle he couldn’t place.

Emilie walked over, tucking her cell phone back into her purse. She beamed a smile on Henry and scooted into the booth beside Vanessa. Henry felt as though his heart might explode in his chest.

“Emilie, Henry,” Vanessa introduced.

The serving woman walked over. “What’ll you be having?” she asked.

“Cranberry juice, splash of vodka?” Vanessa asked. The serving woman nodded, then looked to Emilie.

“Same,” Emilie said.

“I’ll take another,” Henry said, holding his glass up. The serving woman nodded and vanished back toward the bar.

“I hope it’s in a clean glass,” Emilie whispered in a low voice and flicking a quick glance after the waitress.

Vanessa giggled.

“I think that might be extra,” Henry said. Emilie reached across the table and patted his arm.

“You’re funny,” she said.

“Thanks for letting us borrow you,” Vanessa said, casting a surreptitious look back over to the rowdy table of locals.

“No problem,” he replied, “Glad to help. You ladies passing through?” he asked.

“Just out from the coast, going east to visit some girlfriends,” Vanessa answered. “You?”

“I’m actually based on the coast, but work takes me all over this area,” he answered.

“What do you do?” Emilie asked.

The serving woman returned with the drinks. Vanessa reached for her purse, but Henry said, “I’ve got it.” Pulling out his wallet, he took out a twenty and handed it to the woman. When she started to get change from the glass dish on her serving tray, he held up his hand and said, “No.” She gave him a slight nod and turned away.

“Thank you,” said Vanessa, lifting her glass, ice cubes clinking, before capturing the straw between her full lips. Emilie lifted her glass and nodded, smiling.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. This was going well, he could already imagine how they would plead, how they would feel under his blade. He was impossibly hard already.

“I need a moment to freshen up, miles between pit stops, do you mind?” she asked, looking for Emilie to shuffle out of the booth so she could get out.

“I’ll come with,” Emilie said, pausing a moment to look at Henry, “You’re not going to spike our drinks while we’re gone are you?” she asked with a wink.

Also rising, but only half way, “Of course not,” he replied hastily, lowering himself back into after the pair departed.

They appeared to be talking to one another as they disappeared down the dark corridor to the ladies’ room. He smiled. Reaching into his pocket, he thumbed the vial there, toying with the idea of actually spiking their drinks now. But it was too soon, he wanted to learn all he could about each of them, it would heighten his experience and give him a broader foundation with which to experience their suffering, and after all, this kill had to be special.

Returning from the ladies’ room, they sat back down in the booth. “I needed that,” Vanessa said, taking her glass and having another sip.

“I know we’ve just met and I apologize if this comes off as cheesy or forward, but you are both amazingly beautiful,” he complimented truthfully.

“Oh yes very cheesy, no woman ever wants to hear how beautiful she is,” Emilie teased, playfully patting the back of his hand again.

“Are you like models or something?” he asked.

“No, nothing so glamourous,” Vanessa replied. “I don’t know if that kind of work would appeal to me.”

“What do you do then?” he inquired.

“It’s all very boring,” she dismissed with a half chuckle.

“C’mon,” he prodded.

“Okay, but you were warned. I’m a special project administrator for Heller International. Coordinating blah, blah, blah. See, told you, boring,” she chided.

“Sounds prestigious,” he replied.

“You didn’t answer my earlier question, what do you do Henry?” Emilie asked.

“Regional sales rep for a tech firm. Evolution of technology is so rapid, seems like I’m here every other month with the latest and greatest,” he answered, sipping at the pint. “What about you Emilie, what do you do for work?” he asked.

“Well,” she started, leaning forward, “It’s all very hush-hush, I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you,” she finished, tone conspiratorial.

He chuckled. If only they knew. In time, he reminded himself, he might even throw that one back in her face. “No, really?”

She rolled her hazel eyes, “Just like Nessa, don’t say you weren’t warned. I’m in acquisitions for a brokerage firm that works with her company. I know,” she said, holding her hands up, “It’s all it’s cracked up to be.”

Vanessa laughed. Henry smiled.

The banter carried on for almost an hour. Henry sprang for another round. He was still no closer to devising a scheme to ‘acquire’ the women, until Vanessa spoke.

Test Drive

“Would you mind walking out with us, you know,” she said, looking toward the table with the four men using her eyes without moving her head.

“Oh for sure,” he replied with a grin. The women climbed out of the booth, purse straps over shoulders. Vanessa slid her arm through Henry’s and they walked out of the bar.

“I really appreciate that, sometimes, people can’t just let a girl be,” Vanessa said with a smile.

“I don’t know, I thought Cleeve was kind of cute, I may have to come back for that one,” Emilie said, giving the young man one more lingering look on the way out.

“That’s us,” Vanessa said, pointing to the pristine bright orange 1969 Camaro ZL1 in the parking lot.

“Whoa, that’s a beauty,” he said looking at the immaculate automobile,

“Nothing like some old fashioned muscle to get you from here to there,” Vanessa said.

“It’s in amazing shape,” he said, crouching down and inspecting the lines.

“Want to take it for a spin?” Vanessa asked.

“You’re kidding me?” he replied. “Fuck yeah,” he said.

She pulled the key out her purse and handed it to him.

Opening the driver’s door, he need to adjust the seat back before fastening the safety belt. Vanessa climbed in the passenger side.

“What about Emilie?” Henry asked, looking at the blonde as he put one hand on the wear and the other on the gearshift.

“She can wait here,” Vanessa said. “Now be careful, she’s got some pep,” she warned, placing her hand over his atop the gear shifter. He fired it up, a throaty roar as the V8 jumped to life.

Looking over at Vanessa, Henry nodded and smiled.

Leaning in close and whispering in his ear, “Can you feel how powerful she is? Like any minute she might cut loose and you’ll lose yourself to her?” Vanessa said, squeezing his hand slightly.

Henry nodded again, the car did feel powerful, rumbling menacingly. Putting the car in reverse, he slowly rolled back out of the parking spot. Shifting forward he turned the wheel and eased his foot down on the accelerator, moving the car toward the highway.

“Where to?” he asked.

“You’re driving,” Vanessa said, spreading her hands wide.

Punching the gas pedal, he peeled out of the lot, spraying loose gravel back at the other vehicles parked. The engine responded perfectly as he climbed through the gear. In what seemed like less than a heartbeat, the scenery was flashing by. A thought occurred to him. If he overpowered Vanessa out here, he could take her back to the motel and then fetch Emilie, he couldn’t believe his good fortune. Gearing down, he pulled over to a side road on the right and followed it down far enough to be out of sight from other vehicles that might be passing on the highway.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, turning in her seat to face him.

He nodded. “I like it,” he said. “What did it cost you to get her done up like this?”

She laughed, “I bought it new off the lot in La Harpe, Illinois for just over 7200.00 dollars,” she said.

“Wow,” he said, “What a steal, this thing is awesome.” Focused as he was on what he was about to do, he missed her clue, new off the lot, 1969 Camaro. He unfastened the seatbelt.

“Pricy at the time, but who knew this thing would be worth so much now, only sixty nine of them ever rolled off the production line. She’s got a tweaked all-aluminum 427 engine, listed as 435 horsepower this girl easily gets over 500,” she informed.

He wasn’t a car guy, what she was saying didn’t matter much, he just nodded, the tingle in his balls started going crazy.

“Worth almost half a million as is,” she said.

“What?”

“This car,” she answered.

A Camaro worth that much, Vanessa was cracked, again, didn’t matter. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool wave coming over him, washing over his head and down into his shoulders, it was the same one he always felt when he knew it was time to strike. Into his hands, like power coursing through him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, so close he could feel her breath in his ear, her right hand on his chest.

He smirked, snapping open his eyes, he pivoted in the seat quickly and seized her by her right arm with his left hand, pulling her closer to him before grabbing her throat in his right hand.

She brought up both of her hands and grabbed his right arm. Laughing, she said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He growled, trying to choke her. “You will be my crowning jewel, you and your little friend!” he snarled, malicious grin on his face.

She grinned back, Henry’s world went black.

What happened?

Henry awoke with sock mouth, like someone had stuffed a woolen sock in his mouth and he slept with it overnight. He felt groggy, he thought his eyes were open, but everything was still black. He tried to sit up and panicked when he realized not only could he not sit up, he couldn’t move at all, he was completely immobilized. Panic gripped him. What the hell had happened? One minute he was tussling with Vanessa, the next he’s blind and couldn’t move.

“Aagh,” he made a noise, the effort difficult with sense of being smothered by an omnipresent uniform weight bearing down on him, strong enough to pin him but not so heavy as to prevent him from breathing all together.

“Help!” he yelled, though weakly, the weight on him preventing him from getting full throat.

“No, I think he’s awake now,” said a female voice, it sounded like Emilie, fairly loud but muffled.

“Okay,” replied Vanessa. Suddenly the weight was off him, bright light stabbing his eyes. He raised a hand to cover them as they needed to adjust, he didn’t get a chance to see what it was that had been pressing down on him.

Vanessa chuckled softly to Emilie as they looked down on him. Henry Smith. The moment they entered the bar they both felt an aura of wrongness about him, something that just didn’t seem right. An intuitive feeling that set inner alarms jangling. It was funny, he had taken such pains to make himself unremarkable, but now everything he had done to make himself innocuous worked in the women’s favor, no one would really remember him.

“Hello Henry,” Vanessa said, large smile on her face when he finally opened his eyes. His mouth still felt dry and he hadn’t shaken the grogginess yet. Looking up at her, he was befuddled. She was positively gigantic, her face loomed over him. “I know you must be confused and it’s going to be difficult to understand, but take a moment, it will come to you.” She leaned back to allow him to see the environment.

He didn’t know what to say, at first he thought he must be hallucinating. He laughed trying to figure out where the heck he was. The décor was the same as his motel room, he looked back up at the women then to the generic bedspread. The interior of the expansive motel room was the same, but huge, everything but him. Vanessa sat on one side of him, Emilie the other.

Emilie chuckled softly. “I think he’s starting to get it,” she said.

Vanessa smiled. “Are you with us Henry?” she asked. He thought she sounded far away as the lights seemed to dim.

“He’s going to pass out,” Emilie said humorously.

Henry fought the darkness encroaching on his vision, eyes clearing. Looking back up at the women as they towered over him, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and afraid inside the cavernous room. They were still dressed as he remembered from the bar, yet they were utterly titanic. How? He wondered. He laughed, “This isn’t happening,” he said, trying to convince himself of the utter improbability of what he was seeing.

Vanessa snapped her fingers, the sound a thunder crack to his tiny ears. “Henry?” she said, pulling his attention back to her.

Pulling himself into a seated position, he noticed his nakedness for the first time and felt embarrassed and small.

Emilie stood up, the mattress springing up with the removal of her weight.

“I don’t understand,” he said plaintively.

“What’s to understand?”

“I’m an alpha,” he responded meekly.

Emilie laughed. “An alpha?” she said, walking back to the side of the bed, quizzical look on her face.

“Whatever you think you were is irrelevant,” Vanessa stated, a dismissive wave of her hand.

“No,” he bleated, like a sullen child.

“Wait,” Emilie said to Vanessa, touching her on the shoulder. “What do you mean Henry?” she asked.

“You don’t understand, I am destined for greatness, my vision, my work.”

The two women exchanged glances momentarily. “Work?” Emilie asked.

“You wouldn’t understand, couldn’t, it’s beyond you, silly, stupid, vapid creatures you are,” he said.

Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “I guess we’ve been told.”

“I don’t know how you’ve done this thing to me, but you need to fix it. My legacy cannot end this way,” he continued.

Emilie tapped an index finger against her chin before snapping her fingers. “I think I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “Henry is no ordinary guy are you?”

He shook his head.

“Our little Henry is a murderer, and I’m guessing he’s the guy the newspapers have been calling the Southwest Slasher!”

Vanessa nodded, “”That would explain a few things,” she said.

Looking down, Vanessa moved her hand beside him, tapping him lightly on the chest with the nail of her right index finger. “You’ve been a very bad man Henry,” she said in a serious tone.

“Ignorant cunt,” he replied.

“Whoa,” said Emilie, “There’s no need to use the C word,” she admonished.

Vanessa pressed down firmly with the finger tapping his chest, pinning him to the bed. “They say you torture your victims Henry, keeping them alive for days, playing. How many have there been, 5, 6?” she asked.

“I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” he replied.

“There’s something I want you to understand, your life is done. You are now nothing more than an amusement, an idle fancy to entertain us, a plaything for us to use and be done with,” Vanessa said as she stood up. Reaching under her top, she pulled it over her head and off, exposing spectacular breasts, each were the size of a small house. “You and I are going to have some fun,” she said, cheerfully. “Well me more than you.” She tucked her thumbs into the elastic band of her shorts and with a little hip shake and wiggle, slid them off, exposing her smooth clean sex.

“This isn’t real,” he mumbled, standing up and staring up at the fully nude woman towering over him. Out of his periphery, he could Emilie seated on the other bed in the room.

Vanessa smiled. “But it is real Henry. You like games, so now we’re going to play one. Do you see the pillows?” she asked, pointing toward the headboard of the bed his was standing on.

His gaze followed her hand. Looking at the pillows they seemed to be a couple of hundred feet distant. He looked back at her and nodded.

“If you can make it there, you might survive this encounter,” she said with a wink and a grin. “I’ll even give you ten second head start. Emilie will count”

“I don’t understand,” he protested.

“1,” Emilie started.

“Wait, please, I don’t understand,” he pleaded.

“2, better hurry, 3,” Emilie advised, still continuing to count.

He started to move toward the pillows, but the bedspread was spongy and the footing made it hard for him to run.

“4, 5, 6,” she counted.

He tried to run faster, but he not even halfway to the pillows yet.

“7, 8, 9,” she continued.

He was huffing and puffing, spurred on by fear.

“9 and a half, 9 and three quarters,” Emilie said, tone becoming more excited.

From his new perspective he was only about thirty feet from safety when she called out ten. Suddenly the ground bounced beneath him as Vanessa flung herself onto the bed. She landed with her arms partially outstretched, hands over top of him.

“Got you!” she said, curling the fingers of her right hand under him and pulling him toward her face. She had his legs and hips pinned in her grasp, but his shoulders and arms were free. He put his hands out in a feeble defensive gesture as he approached her face.

“No!” he shrieked. “You can’t do this,” he whined.

“Can’t?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice, holding him high over her perfect nude body. Sitting up, she switched her hold, now restraining his arms as well as his legs.

“Look how beautiful she is,” Vanessa said, turning him so he could see Emilie.

Emilie laughed as she stood, moving slowly, seductively, her hips gyrating sensually as she removed her top and tossed it back on the bed behind her. Turning, she put her legs together and bent over straight legged, pulling down her shorts and panties together, the gusset of the panties clinging to the diamond cleft where her pussy was before reluctantly letting go and sliding down her shapely legs.

Vanessa brought Henry to her mouth, sucking his head between her lips and licking at his face, the way she might for lollipop. As she sucked him in, he thought his lungs might explode from the pressure. “Ready?” Vanessa asked, looking at Emilie.

The blonde nodded, big smile on her face.

Vanessa sucked him into her mouth, this time all the way. He tossed and tumbled, buffeted about by her tongue, a lingering hint of the cranberry vodka cocktail lingering there as she drenched him in her warm saliva. Suddenly there was another tongue, intertwining with the first. He felt himself draw into the other mouth. He opened his mouth and tried to gobble for air, swallowing more saliva than anything else. White molars flashed around, he thought for sure he was going to be chewed at any moment. When the kissing stopped, Vanessa drooled him into the palm of her right hand. Emilie sat at the edge of the bed, legs parted wide. Vanessa kneeled in front of her, Henry still in her palm between the women. Pushing her legs open wider, Vanessa used her free hand to spread the puffy lips of Emilie’s glistening pussy, her clit was starting to stiffen at the anticipation of the pleasure she was about to receive. Vanessa closed her hand back around Henry’s tiny body.

He was powerless to move in any way other than to try and turn his head. Inverted as he was, he watched as he was lowered to the other woman’s massive vagina. The aroma of excited genitals filled his nostrils as his face was pressed against the tightening tissue. Gently, almost tenderly, Vanessa stroked the length of Emilie’s pussy with him, circling around the weeping pink opening, teasing her, using him to heighten Emilie’s sexual need. Rubbing him across the sensitive area more vigorously as Emilie’s excitement mounted, she turned him, quickly pushing him inside the wet pussy feet first all the way to his chest. A finger to either side of his head, Vanessa pushed him some more, he felt himself being drawn into the tight channel, muscles undulating all around him as he was swallowed inside the vagina.

Vanesa, leaned in, tonguing Emilie’s delicate femininity, lapping away at all of the delicious fluid seeping out her. Emilie had her hands on Vanessa’s head, pulling her closer with the impending climax, her breath coming faster and faster as he pulse raced. Unable to stop the inexorable tide of exquisite pleasure Emilie surrendered to orgasm, pushing Vanessa’s head back and bringing her legs together quickly as the first wave of the orgasm rolled through her, followed by another, then another.

Henry remained pinned, held fast by her convulsing vagina and the iron force of her legs. Had he breath in his lungs, he would have screamed as his body was crushed by her unrelenting pleasure. He felt bones in his ribs snap. He thought for sure he would suffocate.

Slowly, wicked sensations fading, Emilie parted her legs, opening herself. Vanessa smiled, slipping first one then another finger into Emilie. Finding Henry’s head, shed grabbed it between thumb and forefinger, pulling him free of the pussy.

“Mmm, that was nice,” Emilie admitted, tussling her own hair as she lay back on the bed, the sensations lingering in her body.

Vanessa smiled and stood up, “My turn,” she said, rolling Henry onto Emilie’s tight tummy.

Lying on his side, he coughed and shuddered, mewling in pain. “Please, stop,” he begged, unable to get a full breath.

“Stop?” Emilie said, sweeping a hand across her belly and capturing him in her grip. “We are only getting started,” she said with a giggle.

Vanessa crawled onto the bed beside Emilie, the two sharing a kiss, while Emilie with a slick Henry in her hand, massaged the erect nipple and sensitive aureole of Vanessa’s left breast.

She was on all fours, bum in the air. She held his lower body in her mouth while she worked fingers in and out of Vanessa’s snug anus. Plucking him out of her mouth, Emilie pushed him feet first into the opening, his ribs screaming agony at the pressure she was applying but his little body didn’t go in. Emilie frowned, turning him slightly, she tried again to slide him in, twisting him to facilitate entry. He felt his leg folded at an awkward angle, but Emilie was undeterred in her effort, driving him harder against the tight bud. Suddenly he felt his lower leg snap and he was pushed into Vanessa’s ass to his chin, the tight sphincter closing around his neck and holding him fast, while the rest of his body felt crushed by her powerful muscles. Successful, Emilie leaned in and licked Vanessa from behind, tonguing first the redhead’s pussy then trailing her tongue up the crease to his head. Smiling, she puckered her lips and kissed his whole head. Crawling under Vanessa into a sixty nine position, Vanessa on top, he watched Emilie lapping away. He could actually feel her fingers through the thin connective as Emilie inserted two into Vanessa’s ravenous pussy, each thrust stabbing excruciating pain in his broken leg.

He didn’t know how much time passed, each moment an eternity prolonged by the torture of his tiny broken body. When Vanessa finally experienced orgasm, the spasms of her body compressed him inside her dark tunnel, her tight asshole choking the life out of him with each pulse of pleasure. Spots dancing at the edge of his vision, he prayed unconsciousness would claim him and bring his suffering to an end, but as the wave began to subside, the promise of oblivion dissipated.

Vanessa rolled over onto her back, fleshy cheeks squeezing his face as she lay next to Emilie. Emilie said, “Your butt is so tight, I don’t know if I can pluck him out without breaking his little neck,” rolling onto her side and stroking Vanessa’s face and hair.

He didn’t hear the sound the slap made, but he did feel the ripple through the cheek as Emilie slapped Vanessa’s bottom.

Vanessa laughed. Hoping up off the bed, she walked to the bathroom. Lowering the toilet, she sat down. Tightening her muscles, she pushed against, driving him out through her anus. He winced, teeth clenched together as she slowly expelled him, He hung suspended a moment, dangling over the white porcelain, before finally he was free splashing down into the clean cool water.

He cried out, his leg and side causing him pain. He was trying to get to the shallower water near the front of the bowl as Vanessa unleashed a torrent of urine, spraying a thick stream into the water where he struggled to gain some purchase, the salty spray getting into his eyes, mouth and pushing him back and creating a froth atop the surface of the water. Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, she dried herself and dropped it into the bowl. Getting up off the toilet, she turned back to press the handle.

“No, don’t flush,” Emilie said, dropping her ass onto the toilet seat. Like Vanessa before, she urinated, the warm amber liquid raining down on him.

The slope of the toilet bowl and the slipperiness of the porcelain coupled with his battered condition made it near impossible for him to gain any type of footing to prevent himself from sliding into the deeper water.

Finished, Emilie also dabbed herself and dropped the tissue into the bowl. She reached for the handle. Vanessa put her hand on Emilie’s. “You know we still have a ways to go, we might still get some use of him,” she suggested.

Emilie looked down at him and seemed to ponder a moment. “He looks pretty pathetic, I don’t know if he has much left in him,” she said.

His broken body floating amidst the foam in the toilet, breathing coming in ragged gasps. “No more,” he croaked.

Vanessa exchanged a look with Emilie. Reaching into the toilet, she grabbed him by his uninjured leg and lifted him out of the bowl, lying him on the linoleum of the bathroom floor.

“Thank you,” he managed between sobs, his broken leg obscenely angulated at an improbable angle.

Emilie shook her head. Moving her right foot over him, she used her big toe and pressed down on him over his hips. He struggled, trying to push back at the pressure. There was an audible cracking sound. She removed her foot, a surprised expression on her face. “That was loud,” she said.

“I think that was his pelvis,” Vanessa said, nodding.

Henry clutched at his hips, the pain agonizing.

“I should have just finished it, but the sound startled me, I didn’t think it was going to be that loud,” Emilie said.

“Here,” said Vanessa, placing the heel of her left foot at Henry’s feet, shifting her weight forward slowly. He screamed as best his shattered ribs would allow as the bones in his feet and ankles were pulverized. There was nothing he could do as she continued lowering her foot, over his broken lower leg, his thighs, fractured pelvis. He pushed his arms up against her descending foot, but they broke under the force. There was a pop and her foot was all the way down. Lifting her foot, Vanessa examined the remnants of Henry, his ruptured body clinging to the underside of her foot. Scraping him off on the edge of the toilet, she let his corpse fall into the yellow water below before taking toilet paper and wiping off her foot.

Emilie grabbed a tissue and knelt down, wiping up the greasy stain on the floor, before dropping the tissue into the toilet and flushing it.

Walking out of the bathroom, Vanessa said, “That Cleeve was kind of cute,” she conceded, picking up her shorts.

“Right?” said Emilie enthusiastically.

They exchanged a smile as they dressed. Once done, Emilie opened the door and stepped out. Vanessa stopped at the door, brought her hand to her mouth and blew a kiss back into the empty room, “Goodnight Henry,” she said, before closing the door behind her.