by Matt Shaw
I lowered myself to my knees. Harry tried to move away from me - no doubt remembering the feeling of my teeth against his shaft - but I held him in place before wrapping my lips around his dick. I started sucking and licking, keeping the fast hand movement going on the lower end of the shaft. Harry’s breathing changed - just as Frank’s had.
* * * * *
On screen my character positioned herself until she was straddling her teacher’s lap. Gently she lowered her sopping cunt onto his penis which slid in easily. I watched, for a minute, as I continued to wank the cock in my hand. I looked up at Frank. His eyes were fixed on the screen. I stood up, still wanking him with my left hand, and pulled my knickers down - from under my skirt - with my right hand. I stepped out of them and mirrored the position demonstrated on screen.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Ssh! I’ve wanted this for so long,” he slid into me easily. The lubrication I had squirted into myself earlier still doing its job of keeping me moist enough to take the sting off. I faked a moan of pleasure as Frank sighed with one of genuine satisfaction. “How’s that?” I asked.
“Amazing.”
I smiled.
* * * * *
The latex catsuit I was wearing had a zipper which ran the length of the under-carriage. It allowed access to either orifice without the need to remove the suit. I slid the zip from front to back freeing either option for Harry. I turned around and bent over in front of him. Slowly I backed into him - using my hand to guide his penis into my pussy. Once inside I started rocking backwards and forwards with a steady rhythm.
“Frank’s breathing sounded like yours does now,” I sighed as I rocked back and forwards on the erection, “…The feeling of my cunt, the wetness, the tightness…”
The fact Harry wasn’t telling me to stop just proved my point about how pathetic men were (are) when presented with a willing sexual partner. I’ll let him enjoy it for now. Just as I’ll let myself enjoy it too. Not because of the sexual feeling. But because I know what it means for Harry. That in itself is enough to get me on the verge of climaxing; not that I’ll go all the way with him. Not yet anyway.
* * * * *
“I’ve wanted this from the moment you came into my office,” he sighed.
“Me too,” I lied. “From the moment I first met you I just wanted to fuck you. I wanted to fuck your brains out. Wanted you inside me. Deep inside. Filling me. Fucking me.” The dirtier I spoke the more he sighed. Looking at his face, he didn’t know where to look, torn between watching me on the television - rimming the other school girl whilst teacher fucked me hard from behind, or watching me fuck him for real. I increased the pace, helped by his hands around my buttocks rocking me. His breathing quickening further. I knew it wouldn’t be much longer. I knew he was on the verge of ejaculating. His face contorted as he took a deep breath in and then…His whole body twitched. I slowed my rocking down to a gentler pace as he shot his load into my pussy. I smiled.
“Well,” he breathed heavily, “that was unexpected.” He started to laugh. As did I but not for the same reason. We weren’t sharing a joke. I had my own joke. I leaned forward and french kissed him - his hands still on my arse cheeks. I pulled them off and climbed from his now-shrinking penis, letting a little semen dribble out of my cunt and onto his lap. He looked down to the mess we’d made, “Completely creamed me,” he laughed. I smiled at him as I pulled my underwear back up.
* * * * *
I moved forward and let Harry slide out of me. His erection still standing proudly thanks to the viagra; not that I think he’d have had trouble maintaining an erection at this point in our relationship.
“And then I left the apartment. Went back to a new flat I’d moved into since our last encounter; somewhere you didn’t know about. Somewhere you wouldn’t find me.”
“You said you killed him,” Harry was catching his breath; still turned on from our encounter.
“It’s what I said to him, as I left, that killed him.” It’s what I said after I kissed him again. I moved forward and grabbed Harry by his hair and forced my tongue into his mouth. He didn’t fight me, he went along with it, clearly enjoying himself. Enjoy it whilst you can. Things are about to change. I pulled away. “I whispered to him,” I said as I moved to Harry’s ear once more, “…Welcome to the HIV club.”
I moved back and enjoyed the horror on Harry’s face. I couldn’t help but laugh, Frank had had a similar expression.
* * * * *
“What?” Frank stuttered.
“Don’t be surprised, honey, you did this to me. You and your dirty fucking friends.”
“What?” he stuttered again.
“Now whenever you have sex, whenever you start to feel a little under the weather…You can think of me, you can think of what I’ve done to you and why.” I gave him a wink and walked from the apartment before he had the chance to say anything else. Just as my life was over, so was his.
* * * * *
“Don’t worry,” I told Harry. “You won’t live long enough to have it ruin your life. You won’t even live long enough to know if - me fucking you - even passed it on to you. You won’t survive the night but I somehow don’t think you’ll be worrying about that yet. I think, despite knowing you’ll be dead today, you’ll be more worried about the infection possibly flowing through your bloodstream.”
Harry was clearly upset, “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked again - as though it hadn’t been discussed a million times before.
“Because you did this to me. Your actor - the man you made…” I stopped myself, “I wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. I wasn’t at that point of the story yet. I continued, “…he was HIV positive and now - thanks to you - so am I. And there’s a good chance you are too, just as there’s a strong possibility Frank, my agent, is as well.”
Harry started to cry; this surprised me.
“I didn’t know!” he wept. “I didn’t know!”
“Okay, calm down. No sense getting upset yet. We have a long night ahead of us. In fact, what say we have a break?”
He didn’t answer me. He didn’t even acknowledge me. He just kept repeating again and again how he hadn’t known that his main actor had been HIV positive. Whether he knew or not - it didn’t matter. The fact was - he’d told him to fuck me bareback despite knowing I didn’t want that. I told him - I was going to do to him as he did to me. That was the first stage. He got what he deserved. And - as I had told him - it’s not as though he’d have to live with the consequences of our sexual liaison. Not like I would. Not point reiterating the point though; clearly he’s distressed. A time out will do us both some good. He just needs a little sleep and I have just the thing to send him off…
A TIME OUT
I walked over to the camera and checked that it was still recording while Harry tried to get his emotions under control. It was still recording. Good. I stopped it for a moment and pressed the rewind button on the side of the view-finder. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched our antics back on screen. Looks like I’d caught everything. Satisfied, I fast forwarded through to the end of the filmed footage and hit the record button again. I zipped the lower section of the cat-suit up again and walked back over to Harry. He was still snivelling but had managed to calm down some, at least.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Did you not even enjoy the sex?”
He didn’t answer me. Was he really giving me the silent treatment? I laughed and picked the hammer up.
“Look at this erection,” I said. I gripped it in my spare hand. “Still standing proud despite the news I’ve most likely infected you with HIV. Is now a good time to tell you about the drink you had? Yeah - about that - sorry…laced with viagra. This thing isn’t going down for hours yet. At least I don’t think it will be. Not quite sure what this is going to do,” I looked at the hammer and back to Harry’s face. You could clearly see the panic in his eyes.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
/>
Oh, now he wants to talk.
“Please - I’ve suffered enough. Just stop. Please.”
I like the sound of his begging. Weird to think that it’s making me a little wet. His voice is quiet, I do hope the camera picks it up so I can play it back again and again to my heart’s content.
“Condoms are used to protect people from HIV, and other sexually transmitted diseases and infections obviously. But they’re also a form of contraception. Like this here hammer…”
“Please,” his voice quivered as he looked at the hammer, “…don’t.”
“Ssh. It’s okay. In truth we should have done this before, you know, I slid you inside me. For all we know I might already be infected with your rancid seed. Only takes a drop of pre-cum…” I moved the hammer down and touched the metal head against his own head. He flinched but couldn’t go anywhere. He was mine to do with as I pleased. “The important thing is - we didn’t forget entirely to do it. And the chances of me being pregnant from that little encounter are probably slim. Still, for the sake of things to come - no pun intended - we take care of this now.”
He flinched again as I flipped the hammer around in my hand so that the head was facing upwards towards the warehouse ceiling…towards his testicles. I looked across to the camera, little red-light still flashing; still recording. I looked back to Harry.
“Do you have any children at home?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“And you never will,” I laughed.
With that I swung the hammer down and then straight up between his legs as hard and fast as I could. The sound of his testicles being crushed on impact were drowned out by his scream as it bounced off the four walls of the warehouse; an ear-piercing shriek of pain as his complexion immediately turned pale. A second blow, just as hard, and he was unconscious from the shock - just as I had expected, even though I wished he wasn’t. I couldn’t imagine the pain I had inflicted but still I wished he’d stayed conscious to suffer it for longer. I looked down at the mashed mess of flesh and blood which was once his balls. At least he’ll still feel it when he comes round. I put the hammer down on the floor and made my way to the camera. I leaned down so that my face filled the screen.
“To be continued,” I told the potential viewers.
I stopped the recording and turned the camera off in order to save the battery power whilst my mind reminded me of the conversation I’d had with Richard. The one which had stated the various strange tastes people had when it came down to their preference for pornographic films. I couldn’t help but wonder whether there’d be anyone out there who’d masturbate to this when it was uploaded - a part of them wishing they were in Harry’s position. I turned away from the scene momentarily and returned to the work-bench where I’d earlier left my food. Need to eat something. Feel sick I’m so hungry. Not taken my medication today either. Always feel bad when I miss a day; something which happens frequently due to the course of revenge I’ve taken.
HIV.
My mind drifted back to when I first had learned the news…
* * * * *
I had been feeling unwell for a few weeks now. At first the doctor just believed it to be a type of flu and, because I couldn’t shift it myself, prescribed me some antibiotics. I took them religiously until the course was complete, just as the instructions dictated, but ended up going back to the surgery within a few days as I still felt run down. It was on this occasion, when I described what I was feeling, that my doctor asked me back in order to complete some blood tests with one of the nurses; something I did within a few days of our appointment. He hadn’t told me what he was looking for. He simply said he wanted to rule some things out. I guess he knew to look for HIV because I’d been upfront with my doctor with regards to my profession. Doctor and patient confidentiality meant I felt as though I could trust him. After all - who’d he tell? No one without risking his job and I’m sure a little gossip wasn’t worth that much to him.
Should have known he was concerned the illness was some kind of infection. He was asking about my job and what I’d been doing recently. A few questions in and he stopped beating around the bush and just came out with what he really wanted to ask: Had I recently had unprotected sex?
I remember breaking down before he’d even finished asking the question. For so long I had felt alone. I felt as though there was no one I could talk to. No one that would understand. Of course I told him everything and he suggested we got the police involved but I declined his offer of phoning them on my behalf. I didn’t want them turning me into a ‘case’. Besides - with what they’d done to me - that night - I couldn't say for definite that the News stations wouldn’t have got involved. And once the story of what had happened started to hit the headlines, it wouldn’t have been long before mum and dad would have read about it and seen how I’d been paying my bills.
Of course the doctor offered me the opportunity to speak to someone who’d had more experience in dealing with cases such as mine but I declined and the next time we spoke to each other - it was to discuss the blood test results. I was HIV positive.
* * * * *
As the doctor’s words echoed through my mind, I wanted to storm across the warehouse floor to where Harry was still unconscious. I wanted to take the hammer from where I’d dropped it and continually hit him with it until he breathed no more. I turned my back on him - out of sight and out of mind theoretically - and took a few deep breaths. I haven’t come all this way just to put him out of his misery before I’d really caused him as much pain as I possibly could. I want him to feel every bit of rage I have to dish. He hasn’t suffered nearly enough yet.
* * * * *
I moved out of mum and dad’s home - out of my old childhood bedroom, a place which seemed so safe - and returned to my own flat. Not for long though. I’d already told the estate agent I wanted to move out. I didn’t give them the reasons - the worry that…they’d…come for me here. With the savings in my bank, I moved to another location despite having up until the end of the month to move from the current address. I just wanted to get out of there. Get as far away as I could - as though running away would help me forget what happened or what I’d been left with (for the rest of my life).
The doctor was good. Again, he offered counselling sessions - either in groups or one on one. He told me it was sometimes good to talk to people who were going through the same as me but I didn’t listen to his advice; at least I didn’t take it onboard. I didn’t want people knowing my business. I didn’t want to see the looks on their faces when I told them that I was - in my eyes - as good as dead. Of course the doctor told me that, with medication, I could live a long life. It wasn’t the death sentence it used to be, but to me it was.
For a while, locked away in my new (rented) accommodation, I even contemplated taking my own life. On more than one occasion I tied the cord, from my dressing gown, around my neck and stood beneath the loft hatch with the end of the cord in my hand. The thought process running through my mind being to climb into the loft and hang myself from the rafter. Once - only once - I even managed to get into the loft with the loose end of the cord tied around the rafter, before bottling it and coming back down again.
Taking my medication daily, as ordered, I was nothing but a mess. I hated myself for what had happened because I put the blame on my own shoulders. It was me who put me into this situation. I was the one who had joined the industry, I was the one who had taken the booking offered, I was the one who…And then something snapped inside me; something which told me I wasn’t to blame, I wasn’t the cause…I was the victim. I was the victim.
Victim.
I was standing in front of the mirror - cracked in an earlier fit of rage and frustration mixed with fear for what the future could bring - when I snapped. I didn’t want to be known as a ‘victim’. What they did to me certainly made me one but - no - that’s not how I’d die. That’s not the mark I’d leave behind. My dark thoughts turned away from the appealing nature of
wanting to kill myself and turned to ideas - mostly images - of wanting to kill them. Not just kill them either. I wanted to hurt them as they’d hurt me. More so.
* * * * *
I was standing at the work-bench in the warehouse; remembering how I felt standing in front of the mirror. It was at that point I’d turned my attentions towards my agent. The mistake in thinking he was the one’d organised the shoot.
I turned back to Harry. Still unconscious. If it wasn’t my agent - who the hell was it? The job had come through to me via his email address so it was easy to see how I believed he was to blame. But…Someone else who had access to his computer. I wondered whether Harry would tell me - when he woke up. I doubt t. Scum as he is, scum as all of them are, they seem to be fairly loyal to each other. Even with the dead in sight. Unless - of course - he tries to use it as a bargaining chip; he’ll tell me who kick-started the whole thing in exchange for his freedom. Or maybe he’d ask for a quick death? I’m not prepared to give him either despite wanting the information. I thought Harry was the last. I’d hoped he was. I’d saved him to be; both by choice and the fact he was harder to get on his own.
Despite knowing the chances of him answering my question (who’d sent me to him) were slim to none, I had to try. I walked through to the back room again having earlier seen something which would be handy for now; a dirty old bucket half filled with (I presume) rainwater which had leaked from a hole in the ceiling above it. I lifted it via the white handle and carefully carried it back through to where he was bound to the pillar. I placed the bucket down and crossed over to the camera. A flick of the switch and the red light started flashing. Recording. I walked back over to the bucket of dirty water and picked it up with both hands.
“Wake up…” I gave him the opportunity to wake up without the water. He didn’t stir. So be it. I swung my arms and the water flew from the bucket and splashed across Harry. He woke with a start - immediately screaming. I wasn’t sure whether this was because of the cold water or the pain from his testicles. Truth be told; I didn’t care either way.