had been fully righted, he brought her forehead crashing down onto the table. Her entire body jolted like she had been electrocuted. Jaz started screaming and didn’t stop.
“Hush baby, it’s the only way. I haven’t killed her, she’s just out cold. It won’t hurt her now.”
He proceeded to fist the back of the baggy t-shirt she wore and positioned the knife at the collar, readying it to slice downwards through the material.
“No,” his wife screamed, flying at him.
He felt her soft breasts pressing into his back and her hands reaching round to claw at his.
“Stop,” he gasped.
“It’s. Not. Right,” she panted.
She was determined, that was for sure. He could have easily shaken her off but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Enough of this bullshit!”
Jason Jacks had to shout to be heard over Jaz and Ed’s tussle.
Jaz went slack against him and buried her face into his back. He could feel the wetness of her face seeping through his t-shirt and the way her breasts jerked with her sobbing.
“Jazmine, if you want to save Ed from flaying the stupid bitch then get over here right now and bend over the table. And as for you Ed, you have to play by the rules, damn it. If Jazmine chooses to fuck me, then that’s just the way it has to be.”
“That wasn’t the deal! You said that it was my choice. I get to choose whether I flay Linda or you fuck my wife.”
The man shrugged. “If Jaz wants me to fuck her, then who am I to argue?”
“You complete cunt.”
The pressure lifted from his back, and with it any happiness Ed had ever experienced in his thirty-three years of life. There was only sadness now. Sadness and pain. He let go off the scruff of Linda’s neck and she slumped sideways, landing in an ungainly, unconscious heap on the floor.
“Oh, okay then, you win,” he said breezily. “Flay the bitch. But I want at least two long strips running parallel either side of her vertebrae. Come on then, get to work.”
Ed’s heart hammered violently when he crouched over the out-cold woman who was lying on her side. He put her into the recovery position and got to work sawing through her t-shirt. Undressing her would’ve felt too intimate. Beneath the t-shirt she was wore a sturdy looking, dirty white bra. He sawed through the back strap and was assaulted with vivid memories of fighting with this woman’s bra as a teenager. His fingers trembled so badly he dropped the knife.
The realisation smacked him full force in the face.
I can’t fucking do this.
You have to .
Picking up the knife once more, he made a concerted effort to get his nerves under control. Gently, he eased the bra strap off her shoulder. The cup of the bra went slack, but was prevented from completely sliding off her body by her arm which rested atop her breast. He was glad of this, although he didn’t know why it should make a difference, seeing as he was about to flay his fucking ex .
He pushed down slightly on her shoulder so he had a clear run of her back. His hand shook like an arthritic old man’s when he pressed the blade against the soft flesh just to the right of the nape of her neck.
Here goes …
Blood spilled over his white knuckles when he broke the surface of the skin. He swayed on his knees, lightheaded and nauseous.
“Oh God,” he groaned, unable to stop the tide of vomit that surged upwards from his clenching stomach.
Foul tasting vomit spewed forth, splattering his t-shirt and pooling next to him. He closed his eyes for a second, unable to stop the violent trembling that racked his body.
“You dirty bastard,” Jason laughed.
When he had sufficiently composed himself, he looked up.
“No,” he gasped, his overworked heart pounding even harder.
“I’m sorry, it’s for the best,” his wife said in a trembling voice.
Jaz had bent over the table across from him. Her large breasts swung forward, mocking him in their overtly sexual stance that seemed to scream; hey, I’m gonna
“Hush baby, it’s the only way. I haven’t killed her, she’s just out cold. It won’t hurt her now.”
He proceeded to fist the back of the baggy t-shirt she wore and positioned the knife at the collar, readying it to slice downwards through the material.
“No,” his wife screamed, flying at him.
He felt her soft breasts pressing into his back and her hands reaching round to claw at his.
“Stop,” he gasped.
“It’s. Not. Right,” she panted.
She was determined, that was for sure. He could have easily shaken her off but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Enough of this bullshit!”
Jason Jacks had to shout to be heard over Jaz and Ed’s tussle.
Jaz went slack against him and buried her face into his back. He could feel the wetness of her face seeping through his t-shirt and the way her breasts jerked with her sobbing.
“Jazmine, if you want to save Ed from flaying the stupid bitch then get over here right now and bend over the table. And as for you Ed, you have to play by the rules, damn it. If Jazmine chooses to fuck me, then that’s just the way it has to be.”
“That wasn’t the deal! You said that it was my choice. I get to choose whether I flay Linda or you fuck my wife.”
The man shrugged. “If Jaz wants me to fuck her, then who am I to argue?”
“You complete cunt.”
The pressure lifted from his back, and with it any happiness Ed had ever experienced in his thirty-three years of life. There was only sadness now. Sadness and pain. He let go off the scruff of Linda’s neck and she slumped sideways, landing in an ungainly, unconscious heap on the floor.
“Oh, okay then, you win,” he said breezily. “Flay the bitch. But I want at least two long strips running parallel either side of her vertebrae. Come on then, get to work.”
Ed’s heart hammered violently when he crouched over the out-cold woman who was lying on her side. He put her into the recovery position and got to work sawing through her t-shirt. Undressing her would’ve felt too intimate. Beneath the t-shirt she was wore a sturdy looking, dirty white bra. He sawed through the back strap and was assaulted with vivid memories of fighting with this woman’s bra as a teenager. His fingers trembled so badly he dropped the knife.
The realisation smacked him full force in the face.
I can’t fucking do this.
You have to .
Picking up the knife once more, he made a concerted effort to get his nerves under control. Gently, he eased the bra strap off her shoulder. The cup of the bra went slack, but was prevented from completely sliding off her body by her arm which rested atop her breast. He was glad of this, although he didn’t know why it should make a difference, seeing as he was about to flay his fucking ex .
He pushed down slightly on her shoulder so he had a clear run of her back. His hand shook like an arthritic old man’s when he pressed the blade against the soft flesh just to the right of the nape of her neck.
Here goes …
Blood spilled over his white knuckles when he broke the surface of the skin. He swayed on his knees, lightheaded and nauseous.
“Oh God,” he groaned, unable to stop the tide of vomit that surged upwards from his clenching stomach.
Foul tasting vomit spewed forth, splattering his t-shirt and pooling next to him. He closed his eyes for a second, unable to stop the violent trembling that racked his body.
“You dirty bastard,” Jason laughed.
When he had sufficiently composed himself, he looked up.
“No,” he gasped, his overworked heart pounding even harder.
“I’m sorry, it’s for the best,” his wife said in a trembling voice.
Jaz had bent over the table across from him. Her large breasts swung forward, mocking him in their overtly sexual stance that seemed to scream; hey, I’m gonna
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