This is How it Ended

by Verily Harden

  The next thing I knew, Dumb and Dumb were screaming like they’d been tossed feet first into a wood chipper. I never did hear them say a word, but brother, could they yell. The Old Man had started to turn to see what was going on when the firelight flashed on the metal blade that Sally swung at his head.

  I’d totally forgotten that early on we had placed weapons all around the cabin, just in case we were overrun by zombies. Sally had gotten herself free when the leader knocked her onto the couch, which would have been easy enough to do. The knot I’d used on the rope was one that only needed a tug on one end to undo.

  The leader ducked and the blade just missed him. Sally recovered quickly, and was soon swiping at him from the other direction. He was trying to get his gun up, but I put a boot in his ass and he dropped it. He rolled and tried to get to it, but I landed a kick on one leg that had him sprawled on the floor.

  Sally held the machete over her head like a samurai sword, looking down at him. The look in her eyes was frightening. I’d never seen anything like it in my meek wife before. Truth be told, it was really exciting, more exciting than anything we’d done before.

  The Old Man had turned over and had his hands up in surrender. He was giving her a pleading look, but I don’t think Sally had the slightest intentions of letting him live. Not after he and his little gang had busted into our home and threatened us.

  When the blade swung down, I was watching Sally and not the man. She was a strong, lethal weapon, bringing the edge of the machete across the leader’s throat in one quick stroke. His head was nearly severed by the blow, and blood splattered everywhere. We were both covered in the hot, sticky mess, and I nearly lost my lunch.

  It was one thing to kill the undead creatures, but something else entirely to take out other people. It had never occurred to us in all the times we’d been out scavenging that we’d have to take the life of a breathing, thinking being.

  All three men were lying in spreading pools of blood, between the front door and the center of the room. Sally was breathing hard, the machete hanging limply from her hand.

  “I guess we should clean this place up,” I ventured, when she still hadn’t said anything after several long minutes. “And we could do with a wash up ourselves.”

  Sally snorted and turned to set the machete on the thick wood slab that was our mantle.

  “There’ll be time for that later,” she said as she began stripping off her dirty lingerie. “Right now, I’m in the mood for a good fuck.”

  I stared at her, open-mouthed. She was so calm it was scary, and the look she tossed me as her bra went flying to land on the Old Man’s face made me shiver. My dick instantly got hard. This was a side of my wife I’d never seen before. I’d been the master in our relationship for a long time now, and I wasn’t sure this was a twist I could live with.

  But the sight of those rock-hard nipples! Sally had a thick, trimmed bush that I got a good look at as she slid her panties down. The scrap of lace landed in a puddle of blood from the first two men she’d killed. She didn’t notice, but only watched me.

  It took a couple of tries before I could get enough spit in my mouth to speak. I cleared my throat to get everything working again, and tried to keep my eyes up. I wanted to get into that pussy so bad it was all I could think about.

  “Well, Slave. Are you going to come lick my cunt, or am I going to have to punish you?”

  Sally had put her hands on those lovely hips, fingers splayed over the marks my earlier play had left. I was so excited I was about to bust the fly on my jeans. I leaned down and picked up the riding crop, and went to kneel before my Mistress.

  I held the crop up, and she took it from me, flicking it across her palms a few times before she landed a soft blow on my shoulder. The next blow was a little harder, on the other shoulder.

  “Look at me, Slave,” she whispered.

  I obeyed instantly, of course. I looked up into her beautiful face, which was filled with wonder. She slid the crop down my cheek and into the open neck of my shirt.

  “I think we need to get you out of all these clothes. I don’t like having your body hidden from me.” She waited as I knelt in silence before her. She hadn’t told me to undress, after all.

  “Strip, Slave. Then I want you to lick my pussy for a while.”

  When I had been the master I’d taught her to put her desires after my own. She always had to suck my dick and play with my balls until I either came, or decided to fuck her. She only got such attention once I was satisfied with her performance.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and began pulling my clothes off. I threw them away as she’d done with her clothes. We’d never wear that stuff again, not after what had happened tonight. In fact, I foresaw a trip to an adult bookstore in our future. I’d need proper slave attire, and there were bound to be all kinds of toys to make our new roles more fun.

  When I was naked, I waited patiently for my mistress to tell me what to do. My cock was a stiff as it had ever been, tight with the desires I could feel running through my body. I was eager to please her, to taste her and touch her any way she wanted.

  If I’d thought our sex life had gotten a little stale, I was pleasantly surprised at how tonight’s near disaster had taken us on an entirely new path. I guess there was always some good to come out of even the worse situations. All I could think about was how much fun we were going to have in the next few hours.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Sally went to the couch and stretched out, plopping the pillows until she was reclining with one leg over the edge and the other along the back of the couch. Her spread legs showed every bit of her pink and juicy cunt, and I couldn’t stop looking at it. I was nearly crying, I wanted to fuck her so bad.

  Sally waved me over. “Get down on your knees, Slave, and lick me. Suck my clit like you’ve never sucked it before.”

  I complied, using one of the small pillows that had fallen off earlier to cushion my knees. I’d be down there for a while, pleasuring my mistress, so I might as well be comfortable.

  The first taste of her moist folds was heavenly. Having come so close to losing my precious wife had made me appreciate her womanly charms. I went to work with my tongue, probing the sensitive folds with long, slow strokes. When I got to her clit, Sally moaned and grabbed my hair. She shoved my face down until all I could see was the thick thatch of hair surrounding her cunt.

  I took the hint and concentrated on sucking the little nub. I let my tongue play around her entrance, lapping up the juices that flowed from her. She was sweet and salty, ambrosia on my lips.

  Sally thrust her hips up, and I slipped a finger in her hole. I thrust in and out as she bucked against me, sucking harder on her clit. When I drew the little nub of flesh between my teeth, she cried out with pleasure.

  I sucked even harder, nipping the sensitive clit gently with my teeth and ramming my fingers in her as she came with a scream.

  We were both breathing hard by the time she was done, but my job wasn’t finished. Sally tugged on my hair and drew me up, kissing me deeply and probing my mouth for every drop of her cum. She grabbed my dick and shoved it inside her, using her thighs to pull me completely in.

  “Fuck me, hard, Slave. Fuck me like those animals would have. Ram it in.”

  I had no intention of saying no, and proceeded to give her anything she wanted. It had never felt this good before, and I was afraid I’d come too soon. Sally had taken a grip on my shaft at the root, using her fingers like a cock ring. I held myself up and watched as I plunged deep into her pussy, straining to give her the hardest ride I could.

  When she came again, it was all I could do not to shoot my wad deep into her hot, wet pussy. I didn’t want this to end, but I knew I couldn’t hold out. Sally eased up on my cock, and I plunged into her like a bucking bronco before the final hard stroke before I came with a shout and filled her with my cum.

  I collapsed on top of her and we lay panting until we finally got our breath back. We were both slic
k with sweat and sticky with cum.

  I could smell the coppery blood combined with our scent, and my dick was already getting stiff. I hoped Sally wasn’t done yet, because I wanted to fuck her many more times before we had to stop and clean the place up.

  Sally was playing with my hair as we lay still and enjoyed the flickering fire. I trailed gentle kisses on her neck and chest, fingering her tits idly. We were sated for the moment, but there was lots of the night left.

  “What do you think about what happened tonight?” Sally asked me, her voice low.

  I shrugged. “It was bound to happen, I guess. We’d been so sure we were the only ones left, but how could we really know? At least it worked out okay.”

  She giggled and tugged at my ear. “I think the leader kind of liked you. He had a bulge in his pants the minute he saw you.”

  “Well, thinking about him fucking me in the ass wasn’t nearly as bad as the thought of what those other two would have been doing to you.” I shuddered at the memory. It had been a close one.

  “I think I like the idea of doing you in the ass for a change. We should look for a big dildo while we’re out the next time.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but Sally could feel my cock pressing urgently against her thigh. She reached down and began to jerk me off. I guess the idea wasn’t so bad, after all, if it could get me hard like that. I had the feeling we were going to be coming up with all sorts of new games to play.

  My thinking was getting fuzzy as my climax began building, and soon all that was on my mind was spraying my load on Sally’s belly and wondering what she’d want to do next.

  She was my Mistress, and satisfying her was my only task, after all.

  THE END

  DUCK AND COVER

  The bombs fell at precisely 1:40 pm on a bright and sunny late-spring Friday. Most everybody at the office who could slip out early had already left, and the others were taking a long lunch. Except for me. I was in my cubicle as usual, having a sandwich from home, along with a bag of chips and a soda from the break room.

  I’d have left out early myself, except the boss had hit me up with some unexpected spreadsheets that had to be done by quitting time, or my head would roll. Typically, the bastard had waited until the end of the week to hand me a load of crap.

  So, I was crunching numbers and trying to find a trail through somebody’s incompetence that would let the company keep its head above water for another quarter when someone decided to nuke the country.

  Or, that’s what the reports I could catch on my emergency radio said before the static overtook the airwaves and the news died with a whimper.

  I sat at my desk for a few minutes after the radio went out, staring at the calendar from Mountain House I’d gotten with my last order. I was more stunned by the afternoon’s events that I had imagined I would be. I was a prepper, and I thought I’d worked through every emotion and every scenario there was relating to The End of the World as We Know it—known in prepper circles as TEOTWAWKI.

  My best guess would have been a viral attack, something that would wipe out enough people to make it easy to take over the country while leaving superstructure intact. Instead, it looked and sounded like someone had let the big dogs off their chains and bombed us to hell.

  The office floor was still quiet, and I figured I was the only one left inside our offices, at least. The other employees hadn’t made it back, might not have been able to, depending on what was going on outside. Or they might have headed for home or to look for their families, if they realized what had happened.

  I didn’t have a family, and no way was I going to be out this soon following a nuke. I’d have to hunker down and shelter in place, as the government liked to call it. I was prepared to take refuge in various locations around the city, having worked out different routes to my apartment and further on to my bug-out location (BOL) out in the country.

  I shook off the daze from realizing the moment I’d spent so much time and money preparing for was at hand, and grabbed my “get out of Dodge” bag from the bottom desk drawer. I never went anywhere without my GOOD bags, the main one being in my battered diesel truck downstairs in the parking garage.

  The one in my desk was a smaller unit, but they basically had the same stuff in them. If I had to, I could head out for home with just what I had on me right now. The bag I held contained three days worth of freeze-dried food packets, an emergency blanket, candles and matches. There was a length of fishing line and hooks, small sample medicine packs, a water-filtering straw, a multi-tool and a nice, sharp knife in a sheath that I could slip onto my belt.

  Tucked away in a special pocket was my everyday carry weapon, a Glock pistol. I had two spare clips in the bag, and six more in the bigger bag in my truck.

  I’d go after the main bag a little later, once I’d set myself up in the chosen spot I’d picked out the day I came to work for the company. I hefted the bag and made my way down the hall to the stairs. I checked out the other offices as I went, but there wasn’t a sign of anyone else on the floor.

  If there was time, I could come back and look for anything that might be of use while I waited out the safe fall-out period. You could never have enough food and bottled water, and I knew some of my coworkers kept snacks in their desks. There were vending machines and coffee supplies in the break room as well.

  I had a brief moment of concern for anyone who didn’t make it to shelter, but it quickly passed. It wasn’t as if the information wasn’t out there. The rumblings on the news should have clued in anyone with any sense that things were heating up around the world and something was about to break.

  My first job was to secure my location, so I could ride out the first week or so, until the Geiger counter in my truck gave me the all clear. Having checked the weather just before the bombs fell, I knew the wind was blowing any potential fallout away from my bug-out location, which meant it would be okay until I could make it out of the city, as long as the winds didn’t change.

  Or the enemy dropped bombs just to be sure they finished off America. I shook myself out of that mindset and got back on track.

  The stairs were clear as I made my way down to the sub-basement where I’d scoped out the perfect place to ride out the next few days. I looked through the small, reinforced glass window, scoping out the lowest level of the company’s parking garage. It looked clear, the usual cars that were always parked on this level mostly gone.

  I eased through the door, and began walking towards the left, where there was a certain door I’d had my eye on since before the first day I came to work here. It was no coincidence that my own truck was parked in the corner just past the door. I’d chosen this job for a reason, and I was about to see if my research had paid off.

  When I reached the door, I pulled out my key ring. I flipped the keys around until I found the one I was looking for. I’d spent a lot of my break time looking for this key, haunting the janitorial closets throughout the building until I found it wired with a few others hanging on a nail. It had been in the last closet I’d searched, oddly enough the one on my own floor. Judging by the amount of dust covering the keys, they’d been unused for a while.

  It had taken me a month of overtime to finally manage to get inside the room without anyone wondering what I was doing. I’d had to try each of the keys until I found the one that unlocked the door. Then I’d had to time my exits to when no one else was on that level of the parking garage before I took the chance to slip inside.

  What I’d found couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a fairly large room, which had once held the building’s old heating and cooling system, before a more modern unit had been installed on the roof. All the old equipment was still inside, I’d guess because it hadn’t been worth the expense of having the huge, heavy machines removed.

  There was a lot of dust, and it smelled of oil and old wood, and it looked like nobody had been inside for years. It was far enough below ground that it was perfect for sheltering after a nu
clear attack.

  Over the past few months, I’d begun stocking the room with things I’d need, like extra water, food, a cot and some blankets. I’d even managed to sneak in a chemical toilet. All in all, it was a good a location as anyone could have wished, and it was all mine.

  While I’d been preparing the old furnace room, I’d often thought about what I’d do if something happened while there were lots of people around. Should I try to help them, or let them fend for themselves? I knew I couldn’t save everyone, and my beliefs were that people should take care of themselves, but the truth was that most of my fellow citizens believed the government would look after them if any disaster—man-made or natural—happened.

  I struggled with the thought, and had since I’d first looked into the prepping movement. It was a hard decision, and one I’d hoped I never had to make. So I was counting myself a lucky man as I left the room. The bombs had fallen, and I was alone in the building.

  I still needed to get my gear out of the truck, and make sure the vehicle was a secure as I could make it before I locked myself inside my bunker. If the wind shifted, or another bomb dropped closer to the city, I wouldn’t have much time. I needed to finish up and settle down to wait things out.

  I was focused on my truck, pulling my gear out and piling it on the floor, when a movement out of the corner of my eye brought my head around with a snap. Great. Caught out with my ass facing the wrong way. I pushed the thought away. I’d slipped up, but it could have been worse. At least I’d seen the movement before somebody clocked me over the head.

  As I stood, frozen with my hand on my gun holster, a woman stepped into the dim light from one of the sparse overhead fixtures. When she saw me, she stopped and stared, eyes widening.

  She looked familiar, a short, thin brunette dressed in a knee-length skirt and simple blouse. She wore a sweater instead of a jacket, and low-heeled shoes. Typically conservative office dress around here. Recognition began to dawn, and I remembered seeing her in the clerical pool for my own company.