by Wol-vriey
Ma regarded Malone with aged eyes. “Shit serious, huh?”
He nodded back. “A kidnapping. The victim’s time is running out like it’s in the Olympics.”
Ma nodded. She liked Malone. He’d once helped her out of a problem that had threatened her with great loss of face. Now she always did what she could to help him.
“Yang Yang always need blood,” Ma said.
“I know.” Malone extended his right arm.
Ma Cure cut Malone’s arm with a crystal lancet. She collected the dribbling blood into a large crystal cup. When the bowl was full, she placed it aside and bound up Malone’s wound.
“Jade!” she called.
Jade Cure appeared at the inner door. She was tall and graceful, with twinkling eyes and perfect lips. Attractive, but reserved-looking; beautiful when she smiled.
Jade smiled on seeing Malone, then turned to her mother.
“You called, Ma?”
“Yes.” She nodded at Malone. “Malone need help. Bring frozen goddess.”
Jade nodded and left.
***
Yang Yang was a four feet high white stone carving. A lifelike representation of a naked serpentine mermaid—beautiful Asian woman to the waist, snake coils from there down. The snake coils coiled in a spreading cone, forming the base the statue rested on.
With the statue’s size, it should have been impossible for Jade Cure to carry. But it was hollow.
Jade placed the Snake Lady statue in front of her mother, then sat in the lotus position on the floor beside her. She pulled a little scroll from her pocket. She unrolled this in her lap, and then watched Malone, wondering what had brought him here.
Malone’s attention was focused on the Snake Lady statue. Ma Cure said Yang Yang was a goddess frozen as punishment for challenging the Eight Immortals to a duel.
“We begin?” Ma asked, her old voice ethereal.
Malone nodded.
Jade began reading from the scroll. An ancient Chinese spell that seemed to turn the room yellow. Ma stood and tilted the transparent bowl of Malone’s blood to Yang Yang’s mouth. The Snake Lady’s white lips stained red, like she’d just lipsticked them.
Jade kept reading. Yang Yang opened her eyes. She smiled, then opened her mouth and drank from the bowl of blood. Her body unfroze to the waist. She took the bowl from Ma with both hands. Ma stood back and watched her drain it.
Yang Yang handed the empty bowl back to Ma, then she turned to Malone.
He felt a cold shiver as her eyes met his. She was truly beautiful, but there was no humanity whatever in her gaze. There was however knowledge. The knowledge Malone needed. Unimaginable wisdom.
Jade was still reading from the scroll, her voice now a low background mumble as she repeated the spell to keep the goddess animate.
The Snake Lady smiled coyly at Malone, then addressed him in Chinese. Her voice was pleasant, guttural but seductive.
Ma translated. “She say: Blood always delicious, Malone. Tight ass fantastic also; accept sacrifice. What want know?”
Malone winced at Yang Yang’s reference to his backside. Sex was an ongoing issue between them. He explained about the missing Rachel Fischer.
Ma translated this to Yang Yang.
Yang Yang shut her white eyes for a moment, then opened them again and addressed Ma.
“Stolen girl alive,” Ma said. “Goddess ask: You want send you fight kidnapper?”
Malone thought quickly. This was unexpected. None of his previous consultations with Yang Yang had had to do with kidnappings—he’d had no need of translocation before.
He was suspicious of being thrown into the ether, with no control over where he’d wind up. I can ask for directions, then drive over. But that will waste time, and time is something Rachel Fischer doesn’t have. Still, I’ve got my gun.
He looked to Ma Cure for advice. She and her daughter both nodded, Jade’s lips moving silently in her chanting.
Malone looked back at the Snake Lady. “Yes, send me there. But not into a trap.”
Yang Yang smiled at Malone, the expression on her beautiful face so cold it chilled him. She winked at him.
She said some more to Ma. “Is done. But warning: Is danger, unexpected danger.”
“Can you be more specific?”
He never got an answer. With no sense of motion or changing locations, he suddenly found himself back in the parking lot outside Hailey’s Toy Factory.
Why am I not fucking surprised about this? he thought, looking at the open doorway from which Frank’s accomplice had signaled him with a flashlight two nights ago.
He climbed into the rear of a burnt-out bus to think out his attack strategy.
CHAPTER 10
Posh, Herbie & Beth
Beth Riggs was a tall blonde with piercing amber eyes. Her nose was slightly crooked and her jaw a little square. She looked powerful—almost masculinely muscular.
Now in her late thirties, she’d been a prison warden before the world burnt to ash.
Beth was currently naked, seated on a sofa with blue plastic upholstery. She, Posh, and Herbie were in her living room, its beige carpet covered with a plastic drop cloth.
Beth ran her palms slowly down over her toned belly to her crotch, then back up to her breasts.
Her breasts were big, with tiny nipples. Her pubic mound was shaven. Her clitoris peeked out between the folds of her cunt wings like a little fingertip.
Beth looked Posh over, her eyes severe like Posh was a prisoner under inspection.
Posh looked back at her timidly, like she knew Beth liked. Her submissiveness wasn’t just an act—Beth scared her no end. She was glad Herbie was always present when they fucked.
“Take your clothes off,” Beth ordered. “You too, Herbie.”
Posh hastily did so. Beth’s voice always felt to her like a whip. Unlike fucking nice old Mr. Reuben with his cucumbers, she dreaded these sex sessions.
Herbie stripped off too. His cock was short and thin, his body skinny like he didn’t eat enough. He also had the beginning of a paunch.
Beth watched them undress. She loved seeing Herbie nude. For a man, he looked incredibly weak—she could flatten him with a single punch. And she knew he fucking knew it.
“Bring the toys,” she ordered Herbie once both her visitors were naked. Herbie rushed to comply. Beth spread her legs wide and pushed her crotch out so her cunt was splayed over the sofa edge. She crooked a finger at Posh.
Posh knelt between her spread legs and began eating her.
Herbie returned with Beth’s ‘toys’—a chopping board, a cleaver, and a bucket full of live chickens that clucked nervously and rolled their eyes in confused anticipation.
Beth took the cleaver from Herbie. He carefully laid the chopping board over Posh’s back and head.
“Yes, Posh,” Beth said. “Keep up a good tempo on my clitoris. Move your tongue faster, honey . . . like that.”
On that note, she pulled out a chicken from the bucket, placed it belly-down on the board on Posh’s back and hacked into it with the cleaver.
Her first chop broke the fowl’s back. Blood spurted between its feathers. It squawked and thrashed, seeking an impossible freedom.
Beth laughed.
“Herbie,” she said. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Herbie gulped. He hated these sessions as much as Posh did. But the money, the money . . .
“Wank for me!” Beth commanded harshly.
Herbie focused his eyes on Beth’s breasts, which were almost perfect. By imagining there was no dying chicken below them, he willed his penis to full erection.
He began stroking himself.
“Slower,” Beth ordered. “Wank slower. Remember, you don’t cum until I tell you to.”
Beth hacked into the chicken again, shattering both its wings. Blood fountained up from its body now, squirting to its heartbeat. The bird squawked continuously, its tongue poking from its beak like it was having trouble breathing.
Its blood dribbled off the board onto Posh.
Beth, her face now set in a grimace, attacked the chicken with the cleaver, hacking it into a mass of little pieces.
She was lost deep in sexual pleasure. Her hand moved in a blur, smashing the blade through the bird into the board beneath. She was oblivious to Posh’s shudders as the bird disintegrated above her.
Damn, Posh can eat pussy. Beth felt each tongue stroke tingle up into her nipples.
She groaned at Herbie, who was jerking off slowly, a look of pained concentration on his face.
“Does it disgust you, Herbie? That you’re getting off on watching me fuck up dead meat?”
Herbie grunted. He was excited now despite himself. He slid his hand slowly over his erection, careful not to push himself over the edge. It’s bad business to cum before Beth wants me to. She might hold back our fucking bonus.
And all the while, Beth’s hand kept chopping up the chicken into an indistinguishable mess of bone, brains, meat, and blood . . . the ever-dripping blood.
***
Posh shuddered as the chopping board pounded on her. Thunk . . . thunk . . . thunk.
Shit, this bitch is fucking crazy. Okay, so what else is new? She wondered how in the world Beth Riggs or anyone got into cunnilingus while killing birds.
The chicken blood poured over her. Warm like skin lotion, it spilled over her back.
Shit.
Posh ate Beth’s cunt mechanically. She was not aroused in the least. She licked Beth’s clitoris and tongued her pee-hole and vagina.
“Give my asshole some tongue too!” Beth ordered in a drawn-out gasp.
Posh complied, sticking her tongue into Beth’s tight, pouty anus.
***
Beth finished chopping up the dead chicken. Using the cleaver like a spatula, she swiped its remains off the chopping board to splatter the drop cloth.
She replaced it with another live fowl.
Before hacking into this one, she smiled at Herbie. “Almost time for you to cum, Herbie.”
He nodded, his expression feverish. It was taking Herbie all his concentration not to ejaculate.
Beth hacked this chicken’s head clean off with her first chop. She raised the bird, pointing its severed neck at her breasts in turn, squirting its blood on them while its feet kicked spastically. The blood splashed her chest, then dribbled down into her crotch.
She felt her orgasm near now, extremely close.
***
Posh tasted the first dribbles of chicken blood as it ran into Beth’s cunt.
Thank heavens, she thought. She’ll soon be done.
The blood’s metal taste disgusted her, but she kept her tongue moving over Beth’s clitoris.
The sooner this is over, the better, she thought glumly. So she pays a bundle, but . . .
She felt the tell-tale thud of Beth splatting the chicken back onto the chopping board. She tensed, expecting the maniacal thudding to resume. It didn’t come. Instead, she heard the sluice of the blood-slickened blade, and the gentle press of the board on her shoulders and head.
She realized that Beth was skinning the bird.
Posh knew what was happening—Beth had done this before.
She turned to looked at Herbie. His face was white with disgust. She laughed in her mind. So you wanted to watch me, did you? Let’s see how you like this, you greedy son-of-a-bitch.
Pleased that Herbie would be sharing in today’s humiliation, Posh resumed licking Beth’s bloody vagina.
Now she did so with gusto, finger-fucking her to bring her off.
***
Like Posh, Herbie knew what to expect when he saw Beth skinning the dead chicken. Beth looked up once and smiled at him, licking her lips.
Her breathing’s coming faster and faster, he thought desperately. She’ll surely cum any second now, before she . . .
But no. Beth finished skinning the chicken and handed its bloody skin to Herb. “Put this on, handsome.”
Herbie took the skin from her with trepidation. Beth had skinned the fowl expertly. All its feathers were still intact.
Herbie slid the empty skin over his head like a hat. As he knew Beth would insist, he packed his hair up beneath the feather ‘hat’s’ rims.
That done he quickly resumed masturbating. If he lost his erection now, he’d never regain it—this shit was too fucked up. He knew what Posh would say about that: “This was your fucking idea.”
Herbie wondered how he could really be so greedy, out to make every single buck, no matter how dangerous. No, he thought again, I’m not greedy, I’m just realistic about how important money is.
Beth—breathing in short gasps now—was working inside the skinned bird’s body with a knife.
Herbie watched her with dread anticipation. He kept jerking off, just enough to remain hard. He was no longer in danger of ejaculating—his orgasm had fled back into his testicles.
Beth looked up at him. She handed him the dead chicken. “Here’s your wife, birdman, all prepped for your wedding night.” Her voice was a strangled croak. “Go on, hurry up, I want to see this!”
She pulled another live bird from the bucket and began maniacally hacking into it.
Herbie stared at the chicken. Beth hadn’t gutted it. She’d simply widened its cloaca, expertly sculpting it into a white meat vagina replica, complete with a flap of upturned flesh that looked like a clitoris.
“Hurry up!” Beth gasped.
Gripping the skinned chicken by both wings, Herbie inserted his penis into its new ‘vagina’ and began fucking it.
***
A fresh wave of bird blood splashed Posh. The chopping board began slipping across her back. She grabbed it with a hand, steadying it. Beth was fucked-up enough to use her back as a chopping board and not notice. She paused in her tonguing Beth’s clitoris, rubbing it with her fingers instead, and watched Herb’s torment.
“Don’t be selfish with the chicken, Herb,” Beth gasped, “Make love to it. Give it pleasure.”
Posh grinned. Herbie looked like he wanted to cry as he screwed the headless, skinless bird.
Men are incredible, she thought, amazed that Herbie could actually maintain an erection.
Her enjoyment of his debasement was also getting her excited. Watching his cock disappear into and reappear from the chicken’s ripped hole was turning her on too.
Maybe today is a good day after all, she thought, as Herbie began grunting from the tight bird pussy, fighting not to cum before their employer did. He looked utterly ridiculous in his chicken-skin hat—a king wearing a crown of bloody feathers.
She returned her full attention to Beth’s bloody cunt, slipping a hand between her own legs while she licked the other woman to orgasm.
Above her another chicken disintegrated under Beth’s assault.
***
Beth came. She dropped the cleaver. She grabbed handfuls of shredded chicken meat and smeared the white pulp across her breasts.
“Sheeeeiiiiiitt!” she gasped. Her legs tensed hard around Posh’s head. Her ass clenched like she’d shit herself from the pleasure. Her pussy felt like a white-hot furnace, feeding fire through the rest of her body.
She squeezed her breasts through the gore, bucked her hips into Posh’s face. She rode Posh’s lips and tongue like her mouth was a horse.
Finally, her pleasure subsided. She lay back trembling.
Between her legs, Posh was still licking her like a dog, like she’d taught her too. Oh yes, girl. I trained you well.
Beth crooked a finger at Herbie, who was still fucking the chicken, a look of desperation on his face. “Okay, baby, cum for me now.”
Herbie walked over to her, his hips pumping.
Beth pushed Posh and her chopping board away.
Posh sat down on the floor, an amused smile on her face. She kept rubbing her clitoris.
Good bitch, Beth thought on seeing Posh was masturbating.
“Sit in my lap,” she commanded Herbie.
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He did so, facing away from her.
Beth now took over control of the chicken from Herbie. She reached around him with both hands, gripped it by its wings, and rammed it up and down on his erection.
Up and down, faster and faster. Harder and harder and harder and HARDER.
“You’re just a stupid cock, nothing more,” she laughed, as his breathing became ragged. Herbie leaned back on her, flattening her breasts on her ribcage, and gasped.
***
Herbie gritted his teeth and came, spurting into the chicken’s guts.
He hated it. Hated how horribly fantastic screwing the bird felt. How incredible this orgasm felt.
His semen spurted from him. It felt to him like someone was pulling a long spaghetti strand out of his balls.
Herbie’s eyes rolled back in his head. He went limp on Beth. He was relieved that she didn’t immediately push him off her. Her breasts were soft pillows cushioning his fall from grace.
Thank God, he thought. This is over.
Only it wasn’t.
***
Watching Herbie cum pushed Posh into her own orgasm. While her sensations flooded her, she kept her eyes on his ass, on his pumping groin as he spurted his seed into the bird, imagining it was her pussy he was flooding with it.
Her sex spasm ended. She relaxed, watched Beth and Herbie.
Herbie looked murdered. He lay draped over Beth like a starfish. The chicken in his crotch looked like a bald head.
Beth’s eyes were flickering with cold amusement. And there was something else in them . . . a deadly intent.
Posh was suddenly very scared. Oh fucking no!
It happened incredibly fast.
Before Herbie realized what was happening, Beth had extricated herself from under him and pushed him down on the sofa. Next she yanked the chicken off his limp member. Then she picked up her cleaver again.
***
Herbie watched Beth with disinterest. What the fuck now? She’s going to chop it up again?