by West, Sam
“You’re fucking amazing.”
“I know.”
Damply he nuzzled her neck. For a fleeting moment she thought of the tramp’s dog from yesterday, snuffling and snorting and licking…
She pushed the thought away, but was unable to supress the shudder. That was then. This was now. In one swift movement she pulled down the front of her dress to dispel the grotesque image.
Pam stared at her topless self in the mirror, drinking in the sight of her own beauty and the lustful man pawing her. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away and spun round, sinking to her knees.
She took his rock hard cock into her mouth and sucked.
Maybe I should just fuck him, he’s not likely to be able to come twice in the space of as many minutes…
Too late. The boy was already coming. He fisted her hair and his hot sperm pulsed in hard jets straight down her throat. Greedily she gulped down every last job, mentally ticking off the task in her head.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his cock twitching in her mouth.
Pam had never had such an effect on a man. It was intoxicating.
“Fuck me,” she said, lifting up her skirt to her waist and sliding her silk knickers down her slender legs.
He was still hard. Maybe he could come again.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Or a willy…
She smirked at her own pathetic joke, and turned her back to him so she was facing the mirror. She bent over at the waist and rested her hands either side of the doorframe, offering up her shapely arse to him.
He didn’t have to be asked twice.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he grunted as he shoved into her wet channel.
Pam tilted up her head and smiled at her reflection, watching the way her perfect tits bounced and swayed with his hard thrusts. This was just too easy…
“I’m going to fucking come again, I don’t believe it.”
Pam couldn’t either. It took Wayne a day to get another hard on after the previous one.
That’s because you were such a fucking dog…
Sure enough, he came. Panic splintered her brain.
I should’ve made him use a condom…
With a final groan, his hands went slack on her hips and his spunk dribbled down her inner thighs.
She wiggled out from under, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair.
“Don’t worry ‘bout getting preggers, I got the snip. I hate kids.”
Pam inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Didn’t stop any STDs though. Still. Nothing she could do about it now.
She gathered up her bags and made for the door.
“Wait,” the boy called after her. “Can I have your number?”
She turned around.
He looked so pathetic standing there with his still stiff cock sticking out of his jeans, his eyes wide and pleading like a love sick puppy . What a rush it was to have a man look at her in such a way. She was saved from answering when the door to the toilets swung inward and a young woman appeared. The stranger glanced from one to the other, and the boy hastily shoved his cock back in his jeans seconds too late.
Pam laughed at the woman’s shocked expression and strolled out of the coffee house without a care in the world.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
A few hours and another hotel later, Pam was ready. Despite her newfound wealth, she had opted for a less than ostentatious establishment in which to stay. Dirty business demanded dirty digs. Or at least, a two star place in Hackney. This way she was just the next borough away after she had killed Wayne.
After I’ve killed Wayne.
Maybe the full magnitude of her situation hadn’t sunk in yet, but the thought of it had no effect on her whatsoever.
She checked herself again for misgivings.
Nope. Nothing.
She patted the lamp that she now always kept on her in her shoulder bag. Casting a final glance around the simple and small hotel room, she shut the door behind her.
Pam pressed the buzzer of the flat she used to share with Wayne. She looked nervously around herself and pulled the hoody she wore tighter around her exquisite face. Thankfully there was no one around. Not that anyone would recognise her anyway.
“Yes?” came Wayne’s voice over the intercom.
“Hello Wayne, I’m a friend of Pam’s, she asked me to give you a message. Can I come up?”
“Pam? Is that you?”
Shit! She hadn’t even given her voice a thought. Of course it was still the same as it had always been. She smacked her forehead with her palm.
“Who’s Pam?” she asked, lowering her voice an octave.
“What the fuck is this? Where the fuck have you been Pam? Get up here now.”
The door buzzed and clicked, inviting her entry.
She was in.
A minute later she was back in her old flat. She had only been here a few days ago but it may as well have been a million years.
The place was a shambles. Empty beer cans, takeaway pizza boxes and dirty clothes littered the filthy carpet.
Wayne stood before her, staring at her in confusion. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and jogging pants. One side of his face was creased, like he had just got out of bed.
Which, she conceded, he probably had. It was only just gone noon, after all. A wave of contempt washed through her. Why oh why had she ever stayed with the lazy, good for nothing son of a bitch?
“Where’s Pam? Who are you?”
“Pam asked me to come and see you. I’m a friend.”
The confusion stamped on his face only amplified. Her voice was obviously troubling him, despite her attempts at lowering it. That, and perhaps he detected something familiar in her features. It wasn’t like she had changed into another person. She was still her, only beautiful, her features rearranged and moulded into perfection.
“Who are you?”
Pam merely smiled beatifically and unzipped her hoody, taking a step towards him. She noted that she must have gained a couple of inches in height in her transformation because now she was eye level with him where she had never been before. She wasn’t wearing heels either, just a pair of trainers and a baggy tracksuit so as not to draw attention to herself from anyone she might meet during her final mission of the day.
“I told you. I’m a friend of Pam’s.”
Pam was naked beneath the hoody. It was with a mix of anger and elation when she saw how his eyes bulged at the sight of her perfect tits. Anger that, technically, he was being unfaithful. Elation that the look in his eyes right now was the one she had always dreamed of seeing.
Wayne licked his lips as if they were suddenly dry and she watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly up and down.
“What is this? Why are you showing me your tits? Where’s Pam?”
“Pam’s never coming back, but she asked me to suck your cock on her behalf.”
“Wh…what?”
“You heard, lover boy.”
“Now hang on just a minute. I don’t like being taken the piss out of. Where is she…”
His voice trailed off when she kicked off her trainers and stepped out of the rest of her clothes. She stood naked before him, hand on hip, defiant and proud.
The bulge in his tracksuit bottoms was all too obvious, and in that moment she hated him. She went to him and fell gracefully to her knees.
She pulled down his tracksuit and his cock filled her mouth, bitter tasting and sweaty. It was probably still coated with spunk from the porn he was bound to have watched last night.
Pam sucked him down, effortlessly deep throating him.
“Fuck,” he grunted from somewhere above her.
She got to work, holding herself steady against his bare hips and bobbing her head up and down the hard shaft.
It didn’t take him long.
Twat, she thought. It usually takes him fucking forever to come.
His cum pulsed in hard jets, hitting the back of her throat in its familiar, slightly fishy sa
ltiness.
Bastard.
“Oh baby, that was so good. I can’t believe that just happened.”
She remained crouched where she was, holding his still hard cock in her hands.
“Believe it, sugarplum.”
She had planned to tie him to the bed, fuck him, and slit his throat. She had brought the handcuffs in her bag. She had thought that would be the kindest way to do it. He did so love his violent, BDSM pornography, at least that way he would die happy with a goddess fucking him to death.
But right then, compassion for him wasn’t at the top of her priority list. He had just let a strange woman into his home, watch her strip naked and let her suck his cock. And all the while he had no idea where or how his girlfriend was.
I could be dead for all that prick cares.
So screw him. He didn’t deserve to die in such a nice way. What she did next was spontaneous, born of pure instinct and hurt anger.
Wayne howled in agony when she inserted the tip of his still stiff cock into her mouth and chomped down hard with her molars. Her jaw clamped around his flesh like a rabid dog and she twisted and pulled, a guttural growl wrenched up from deep inside her, from a dark place she didn’t know existed. There was an eruption of blood in her mouth, coppery and hot. It was surprisingly easy to sever the tip of his penis, it came away in her mouth like an unchewable piece of gristly steak. She spat it out, her mouth swimming with blood.
Wayne howled. Pam was getting quite used to the sound of men howling. He lay on the ground in the foetal position, sobbing and screaming and making sounds that could’ve been words but it was hard to tell. Maybe he was talking in tongues.
The entirety of his front was one big, red stain. Bloody hands cupped his severed penis while he gibbered incoherently.
Pam kneeled down next to him, cocking her head to one side and thoughtfully examining him.
“You’re a bastard Wayne, I cannot believe you would be such a man whore. How many other women have you fucked behind my back?”
He looked up at her blankly, his eyes glazed, like he wasn’t really seeing her. His breath came in ragged little gasps and she continued to eye him dispassionately. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
“Christ Wayne, you taste like shit.” She let out a little laugh. “Just what you used to say when you went down on me, isn’t it Wayne?”
He was trying to say something, there were definite words there amidst the pathetic mewling.
“What was that, sweetheart? Speak up for God’s sake.”
“Ambulance. Call an ambulance.”
Or at least, that was what she thought he said. She shrugged.
“I don’t think so darling. As a matter of fact,” she said, getting to her feet to cover the short distance to the kitchen, “I need to finish you off once and for all.”
She opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out a bread knife, running her forefinger lightly over the serrated edge.
“I’m sorry Wayne,” she said, not feeling sorry at all. “It’s just the way it has to be. The Djinn says I have to kill everybody in my life, and unfortunately for you, you are my everybody. So, goodbye Wayne.”
One hand remained pressed to his groin, the other splayed in front of his face as if that would protect him from the knife.
It didn’t. The knife came down in a long arc, stabbing him in the chest. Pam grunted with the effort. This wasn’t the best knife she had chosen, the tip of the blade was blunt before it curved under into the serrated edge. It wasn’t designed for stabbing, just sawing. It took a bit of elbow grease and going in at an angle but she managed to drive the knife home.
He was on the way out now. Blood pooled around the blade of the knife, and she pushed it in deeper. Strange gurgling sounds escaped his lips, and blood dripped from his mouth along with his moans.
“Fuck you, Wayne, I hope you rot in hell.”
She watched him twitch and the life drain out of him. All she felt was a sense of elation at his demise.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Who’d have thought killing would be so easy.
So that was it for the day. Chores complete. And it wasn’t even yet two o’clock.
She left the knife in his chest and went over to the sink to wash her hands and stick her head under the tap to rinse out her mouth. That done, she took a damp cloth to the knife and wiped down the handle of the knife.
She wondered if she could be done for his murder. Obviously, her fingerprints would be all over the flat because she lived here. But would Wayne have her fingerprints on him in such a way that would indicate that she murdered him? And if that was the case, would they match up her prints here with the other three men she had killed?
Immediately she broke out in a cold sweat.
Shit. This isn’t good.
Hurriedly she got dressed, doing her best to quash the rise of panic. Well, at least she knew what her final wish was going to be.
To get away with murder. She smiled grimly to herself.
Once dressed, she left her old flat with the hood pulled up over her face. Best thing she could do for the rest of the day was to lie low. At least she’d had the foresight to pay for her hotel in Hackney with cash and had used a false name.
She would just go back to the hotel and wait for the Djinn.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
She was dozing lightly in her hotel bed when the Djinn appeared. Sleep had not come easy, she was as excited as a kid at Christmas Eve and wasn’t even aware that she had fallen asleep. Since yesterday afternoon, she had spent her time divided between pacing the tiny hotel room, reading trashy magazines with women in it that weren’t even half as pretty as her and gazing at her reflection for hours on end. She had also enjoyed a little masturbatory session in front of the mirror.
“Wake up Pam,” the sexless voice said, penetrating her dream.
In her dream she was murdering Wayne, except she was a spectator, watching herself do it. She was also more concerned with how hot she looked when naked and blood splattered, and paid little heed to her ex-boyfriend dying in a pool of his own blood, clutching his chewed off cock.
“Mmm,” she said, struggling to the surface of sleep, stretching slightly and luxuriating in her own beauty.
She had slept naked and was aware that the sheet had tugged down her body with her stretch, revealing a bare breast. She didn’t bother to hide herself and sat upright, squinting in the half-light at the bedside clock. The glowing digits clicked over to 6.00.
The Djinn towered over her and she blinked myopically up at him.
“Did you sleep well, beautiful? Are you all set for the final hurdle?”
“More than ready.”
“Good. Tell me Pam, what is your final wish?”
Pam had been thinking about this. A lot. On the face of it she had everything she needed. Looks and money.
But she hadn’t forgotten the possible, multiple murder charges to boot.
“When you made me beautiful, did you change me in any other way? Like, do I still have the same basic DNA? Do I still have the same fingerprints?”
“Yes Pam, you do.”
She thought about this.
“So technically I could be done for the murders I committed?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I look completely different?”
“Yes. Your appearance is just your appearance. Physiologically you are still the same woman.”
“Then my wish is to get away with the murders. Like, can you change my name? And alter my fingerprints so I’m untraceable?”
“Yes, of course. And a wise wish, might I add. Although, if that is your wish it might be policy to wait until after you’ve completed your final task before I grant it. There is a chance it could get very messy.”
Pam knew this wasn’t going to be pretty and she sat up straighter in the bed.
“What do you mean, messy?”
“I want you to kill for me, Pam.”
Her heart tr
ipped that little bit faster.
“I’ve already killed for you. You can’t want more.”
“The blood must flow, Pam. The innocent must suffer.”
“Innocent? I would hardly call the men I killed innocent.”
“Wayne was.”
“No, he wasn’t,” she replied, knowing in her heart he spoke the truth.
He was a violent prick, but did he deserve to be murdered in cold blood?
No, of course he didn’t.
“You have killed Pam, and you have killed well. All you have to is take it to the next level. Six innocent lives must be taken.”
Pam discovered she was shaking.
“I can’t do that.”
“But you must.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, drawing the sheet around her goose bumped body.
“You have no choice. It’s them or you. Do you want to die, or do you want to live a long, happy life with your wealth and your beauty?”
I’ve got this far...
“What do you want me to do?” she asked in resignation.
Even though he hadn’t asked her yet, she knew she would say yes, whatever it might be.
“You must take the lives of six innocents, Pam. The only criteria they must fill is that they have to be strangers to you. Young, old, male, female, the strong, the vulnerable, it matters not.”
“But you say innocent? What do you mean by innocent? How am I supposed to know what kind of people they are?”
“I don’t mean innocent in the true sense of the word, I mean innocent in that they are innocent of ever having crossed you. They have to have done nothing to you to warrant being killed by you.”
“You’re sick.”
“And you are on the brink of the life you have always dreamed off. Don’t throw all your hard work away now.”
Pam only realised she was crying when the salty tears slipped past her parted lips. She was crying for the girl she had been and the monster she had become.