Written by Me
(WARNING: This is an extreme snuff story. It is the third in a triology)
"There are quite a lot of experiences our human mind is surprising ill-adapted to deal with." Emily opined, slipping casually into teacher mode. "You would have thought that with the long, extensive, and rather imaginative history of human cruelty, evolution might have equipped us with more sophisticated coping mechanisms than, say, fainting... Still, I wouldn't have thought it wouldn't take rocket science to anticipate that a girl might just collapse on seeing her mother like this!"
Robert blushed at Emily's sarcasm and his own clumsiness, as he knelt over the contused girl's body, attempting to shake her enough to rouse her, without injuring her more. It hadn't occurred to him that Ellis might faint (and bang her head heavily on the corner of the kitchen table) after being frog-marched into the scene of her mother's tortured murder. It hadn't occurred to him because he was having much too much fun thinking about how he, and his sister-in-law and niece were going to snuff this pretty eleven-year-old young girl.
On a good day Robert could walk and chew gum at the same time, but it was an effort. So in the extensive list of things that hadn't crossed his mind, he hadn't thought about how Emily and Amy might be passing the time while he was out, fetching young Ellis.
Not that Amy had much sense of time passing. Her birthday had been a blur of darkly erotic adventures from the moment her mum had given her a bright shiny new handgun. She could feel its cold hardness through her skirt pocket. She pressed gun against her soft thigh, and felt her pussy itch. Her pussy was still warm and sensitive, after riding it into the pussy mound of a dying woman. She had had just the most intense cum ever. She put her top back on while her mum attempt to teach her teenage daughter a thing or two.
Emily washed Cheryl's blood off her hands and face, and took the damp flannel to her daughter's face, just as she had done so many times when Amy was a baby.
Tossing the bloody cloth to the floor, Emily took the largest kitchen knife she could find, and stood, poised above Cheryl's lifeless face, knife held in both hands above her head.
Emily patiently explained about the difficulty and effort involved in beheading someone, that it wasn't an easy or casual affair. But Amy took more notice of how pretty her mum looked. She didn't look 37, with very few lines on her clear face, and the extremely fair complexion of a strawberry blonde that made the slight rose in her cheeks seem very young. Several times Amy had been asked if Emily was her big sister. Naturally Emily loooooooooved that! They did look very alike ... Amy wore her hair shoulder length, but it was just as bright and sunny as her mum's. Both had rather small faces: Emily heart-shaped, Amy still with a touch of childish roundness. Both had clear blue eyes, set quite far apart, that gave them a strong Teutonic look, with a hint of Asiatic (which is what you get when you mix Dutch and Polish). Emily was a couple of inches taller, at 5' 7", but Amy was catching up quick. Amy shoulders were already as broad as Emily's and her breasts where already slightly larger. Amy still took an A cup with her mum, but would very soon need a B cup like Auntie Kate, and by the time she's sixteen, Amy might well swell to D cups like her Auntie Sarah. They all had similar narrow waists, but Emily's 38" hips were much wider. Amy's botty was still rounding out to a girlie botty.
"Are you listening" Emily sighed, Amy could be such a dreamy girl.
Emily swung down the kitchen knife as hard as she could. The blade sliced half-way through Cheryl's pale dead throat before sticking. "You see" Emily proclaimed, "it's not as easy as people think ... even with an axe and a big bloke, it often takes several goes ... remind me to put an axe in the car, next time ... here, you have a go."
It took both of them to tug the knife free of Cheryl's bloodless throat.
"It's not really a chopping knife, is it mum ... is more a carving knife" and with a slow strong deliberate swish of the blade, Amy sliced a deep cut under the dead woman's jaw.
The crash of a temple smashing into tabletop and crack of the back of head hitting the floor startled them both. They both stared at Robert, who grinned sheepishly back. At his feet lay the unconscious eleven-year-old body of Ellis Graham. Her mop of short bright orange hair was streaked, front and back, with wet crimson trickles of blood. When Robert drew Ellis into her kitchen, her brain collapsed with the effort of taking in the sight of her mum, spread naked on the table, limbs bound to the table legs. She couldn't take in what a long wooden pole was doing sticking out of her mum's bare bottom. She couldn't make any connection between that piece of wood, and the sharp stake protruding from the base of her mum's neck. She couldn't believe the sight of Amy, a girl just three years older than her, cutting her mum's throat while Amy's mum watched. Her brain went into overload, and just sort of shorted-out.
Emily gave Robert a gob full of abuse, but Amy got on with dealing with Ellis.
The difference between 14 and 11 is the difference between a body half way through transforming itself into a woman, and one just at the start of that journey. Ellis was slim, pencil thin. Her breast buds stood high and proud on her bony chest not because they were big, but because she was so small. A tomboyish girl usually found in the upper branches of very tall trees - or performing clever but pointless daredevil acts on the tops of high walls or the roofs of buildings. Amy's little bother Joe, thought Ellis was really neat, and contrasted Ellis' energy and bravery with his elder sister's need to sleep till noon and the lethargic way she draped herself around the house. But then, Joe was an eight-year-old little squirt, so what did he know.
Amy was reasonably pleased with the knot she'd tied around Ellis' scrawny neck. Medium gauge nylon washing line is a difficult medium to work with. She gave the plump bulge in her uncle's trousers a quick squeeze, just to get his attention and bring his mind back into the job in hand. He grinned like a giant oaf when he realised what Amy had done, and reached up on tiptoes to string the washing line around the main beam in the kitchen's ceiling.
With everything prepped, Robert and Amy crouched over Ellis, and lightly tapped the side of her cheek to try and wake her.
"Oh for goodness sake" Emily whined. A cascade of water drenched the girl's face, and she spluttered back into uncomprehending life. Amy and Robert, hands under arms, dragged her to her feet. Emily put the bucket down.
Ellis looked up at Emily with big wet green eyes. "What are you doing ... what is this ... what have you done to mummy?"
The questions tumbled out as quickly as her eyes filled with tears.
"Shall we hang her now" blurted Robert, well over excited, his big hands straining on his end of the washing line, ready to yank the girl off her feet.
"Shut up Robert" Amy and Emily both said at the same time, and laughed at their synchronicity.
Emily took the young girl's face in her hands, squeezing till Ellis' cheeks puckered, and lowered her own face till her nose touched the stubby tip of Ellis' cute turned up nose. Hot tears flowed down over Emily's fingers.
"You know your mummy is dead, don't you." Ellis nodded weakly. "And a couple of hours ago, we killed your daddy too." Ellis stared blankly into Emily's face; unable to marry the kind tone of Emily's voice and sweet form of her pretty face with the horror she was describing. "You wouldn't want to live without your mummy and daddy, now would you." Ellis didn't respond. "So we're going to have to put you out of your misery, aren't we ... that would be kind thing to do, wouldn't it."
Ellis sobbed quietly, still gazing blanking into Emily close face, aware of the sent of Chanel and the warmth of Emily's breath on her wet face as she spoke. "Please" she leaked in a whisper, "please don't kill me, please ... oh please. I won't tell, honest." Panic began to rise in her voice, and she broke away from Emily's cradling hands to look at Amy. "Please Amy" she pleaded with her one time play-mate, "pleeeeeeeeease".
Amy stepped forward and wrapped her fourteen-year-olds arms around the young girl in a surprisingly motherly gesture. She bent down to Ellis' small ear and, winking at Robert, whispered, "we'll be quick."
"NNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnn...." Ellis screamed as Robert yanked on the washing line, which snapped shut around Ellis' neck, strangling the "O" of "NO" as her body was dragged up by her neck. Emily and Amy had to step back smartly to avoid Ellis' arms and legs flailing around wildly. Robert yanked again, lifting the small girl a foot off the floor, and then again, and again, and again.
Ellis dangled high from the kitchen ceiling, her legs blindly kicking, her clawed fingers grasping at the washing line biting tighter and tighter into her throat.
Emily lunged at Ellis' feet, and struggling to hold them tight together, waited while Amy improvised a knot of tea-towels to bind Ellis' ankles. Suffering from a couple of bruised kicks to her chest, Emily grabbed Ellis' arms, and forced them sharply behind Ellis' shoulders, while Amy repeated her tea-towel trick.
With Ellis properly trussed ("Shit, let's remember to do that BEFORE we string them up" Emily complained to no one, rubbing her left breast, where she'd been kicked) the girl could merely twirl slowly, making almost silent strangulated gurgles, bulging eyes looking pleadingly at her former friends below.
Robert clambered up onto the kitchen table, standing over the dead body of Ellis' mother, and dragged the nylon washing line along the massive ceiling beam, inching Ellis' hanging body toward her mum, till she was hanging directly over her mummy's bare chest.
Emily and Amy were delighted at Robert's, for once, good idea. Now, they both realised, if they opened up Ellis' small firm belly, her guts would tip out over her mother's chest, neck and face. The two girls beamed at other, as Amy held up the long kitchen carving knife.
Small problem was, by moving Ellis, the line holding her had dropped just a little to the floor, just enough for Ellis, standing on tip toes, to support herself on her dead mum's ribs. She was just able to suck a little air down her constricted trachea. Not enough to stop her from being strangled to death ... but at this rate, Amy was going to miss the four o'clock appointment Robert had arranged for her fourteenth birthday present.
"Argh" observed Robert, and he wondered off.
Amy clambered up on the kitchen table, and undid Ellis' simple white cotton blouse, pulling it open and forcing it down over the girl's lilly white shoulders, so that it was wedged between her bound arms. Ellis tried to look at Amy with a pleading glare, but she couldn't look down with her neck stretched nearly to breaking point.
"Look mum" Amy commented, "she's got the same bra I used to have", as she slid the flat blade of her knife between the goose-bumped soft swelling of Ellis' AA cup breast, and the elastic of her tiny white bra. Turning the blade outward, Amy slid the knife up and sliced through the bra, which pinged open. Amy wiped the limp bra cups off Ellis' chest, and slowly ran the knife up the side of Ellis' breast. The cold of the metal made Ellis' pale pink nipple grow and darken.
Amy deliberately dropped the knife. It plunged, tip first, into the soft fatty wobble of Cheryl's right breast, just below the flat nipple. With her hands free, Amy pulled down Ellis' skirt and panties, till they dangled round her ankles.
Ellis now stood, exposed, precariously balanced, her toes aching, trying to find a solid perch on her mothers body, the line around her neck slowly pulling the vertebra of her spine apart.
DING-DONG chimed the front door. Amy froze standing on the kitchen table, and face pale, turned to her mum. Emily exuded calm. See smiled at her daughter, drew her gun from her trouser pocket, kissed its barrel and winked.
Two neat young men in there twenties, dressed suits and clipboards and smell of moral rectitude smiled insincerely at Emily (who had a sudden panic: had she wiped all the blood off her face?).
"Mam" the one with even more perfect teeth started off on automatic pilot. He oiled the phoney plastic charm of an American missionary, sent to tame the Godless (surprisingly, this evidently extends to England), and makeover the whole world into the image of Salt Lake City (glossing over the Olympic bribes and rampant incest).
"Mam, do you believe their is too much evil in the world, would you like to see a world with more love".
"How fascinating" Emily truncated his auto-patter with her best girlie charm, "why don't you come in". She waved the two in and pointed them at the kitchen.
Mr-More-Perfect-Teeth-Than-The-Other-One cried out "Oh My GOD!!!!!". Which is fairly stupid thing to say when faced with a image of utter Godlessness, as he opened the door into Emily and Amy's impromptu torture chamber, with it's naked impaled corpse and young girl being hung from the ceiling. The other one strained to see past his colleague, but had his vision obscured by his brains being blow out through what had been the front of his face, as Emily shot him neatly up through the back of his head.
Falling, his dead body knocked over Mr-Perfect-Teeth as well, who, panicking, scrabbled to get himself out from underneath, shouting something incoherent about "Oh Sweet Jesus". Emily tried to get him to shut up, she wanted to say something like "I hate fucking Mormons" before wasting him. She wanted him to know that it was personal, to look her in the eye when she said it. But he wouldn't stop talking (Americans, er!), fidgeting to get away.
She looked up at her daughter; "Do you want him?" Amy shook her head. Emily pointed her gun at the young man's heart ... which did silence him for a second, "You know laddy, the bad news is ... God died a long time ago." The bang of the second shot rang around the kitchen, making Emily feel a little self-conscious ... hoping the neighbours wouldn't hear ... then she remembered, she WAS the neighbour!
Silence settled like dust in the kitchen. And Emily suddenly became intensely aware of something, which Amy articulated with a "Poooooooh", screwing up her nose and pointing at the brown stains running down Ellis' legs, and puddled in little pats on her mum's chest. Ellis had shat herself. Amy smiled, and traced an index finger through a line of runny light brown shit, and wiped it across Ellis' pale pink thin lips.
Robert burst into the room, "What's wrong, I heard gunshots, you haven't wasted her already without me ... who are they ... and pooh, what's that smell".
"Nothing's wrong. No. Just a couple of dead Mormons. And Ellis' shit" answered Emily in order, as she dragged Perfect-Teeth out of the way.
"Oh" said Robert, realising he wasn't going to be offered any more satisfactory explanation, so instead, he triumphantly held his hand aloft, "Look" he announced. In his hand, a large heavy five-pound hammer.
Emily clicked immediately, "Wow Robs, darling, two ideas in one afternoon, you'll be needing a lie down soon ... come on then". Robert climbed on to the kitchen table, and motioned Amy to stand clear (she jumped down). He bent down to the level of Ellis' knees. "Emily" he commanded, "hold her legs still here", and with a giant swing of his long arm, swung the hammer round on to Ellis' shin. The quick sharp crack of Ellis' leg bone breaking distorted the pretty girl's face into a silent tabeaux of agony. The shattered leg unable to support her, and losing the marginal perch her other leg had, Ellis' neck strangled even tighter. Emily took hold of the second leg, as Robert shifted his bulk and brought the hammer down with a second massive jolt.
You could see the girl's face turn from pale to a ghostly blue.
Emily climbed on to table, as did Amy, the two of them pushing Robert off. Emily took the heavy hammer. She carefully felt for a rib, and then with both hands, smashed the hammer round in a half-body circle till a satisfying SNAP could be heard. Emily worked methodically, first an upper rib on one side, then one on the other, then back again.
Amy watched, close up, feeling so close to her wonderful mummy, till Emily had broken the first half dozen, and you could really begin to see Ellis' chest cavity begin to cave in. The Amy took out her kitchen knife, and dallied with it for a minute, playing the tip of the knife between Ellis' immature pussy lips, and trying to flick it up her underdeveloped clit hood. Then abruptly, Amy stuck the knife an inch into Ellis' lower belly.
"Duh" Amy cried, self-mockingly, as she realised she'd stuck the blade in pointing down, not up, as she wanted. She pulled out the knife. Its tip was dressed was a thick coat of bright crimson blood. She held it up close to her face, and then reached across and offered it to her mum. Emily stopped her hammering, the carefully licked down from the tip of the knife. Amy put the knife in her own mouth, and smiled at her mum. Her lips dribbled blood red.
Amy stuck the knife into Ellis' a second time, and this time, with both small teenage hands on the blade, drew the knife up over Ellis' belly, across her stomach, up to the bottom of the increasingly shattered rib cage. She signed to Robert for help, and together they pulled back the skin and stomach muscle, opening up Ellis' tummy. The smell was so intense, Amy nearly fainted. Bloody rivered down Ellis' thighs from the opened guts. The coil of Ellis' intestines slowly began to snake out of her body cavity. The cream-grey tube, you could see the bulges where the shit was passing through her, crawled down her leg, and began to pile into a tangle across her dead mum's cooling dead tits.
Amy pushed her face into the gore of bloody organs, and stepped back off the table, her coated in a blood mud-pact. Emily looked into Ellis' body closely too, poking it with finger. She jumped when Ellis' liver fell out, but not completed, being strung up by it's attaching blood vessels.
Emily and Amy slipped their arms around Robert, and together admired their handy work, as Ellis swung slowly above her mum, her guts spilling out, her chest smashed in, her purple face bug-eyed, tongue poking out of her mouth.
"What a dame fine piece of work" Emily announced, proudly, "interruptions notwithstanding", kicking the dead Moron with slightly less perfect teeth.
"Do you think she's dead yet" Amy ventured.
"For her sake, darling, I do hope so." Then Emily crouched down, opened up the flies of the nearest moron, fished out his limp cock, and sliced it off with the kitchen knife. Handing the bloody slug to Amy with the words "souvenir darling".
Amy wraps it in kitchen paper and pops it in the backpack.
"Come on you two, it's nearly four, and time for my present"
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