Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book four

Sam watched Billy go over to the leather bag where he had secreted the weapons with which to kill her. The plan was to slit her throat with a large, razor-sharp hunting knife, the saw her limbs off, disembowel her, and use the body parts to incriminate Clete for her murder, but not until they had shown the black sheriff the film they planned to sell in the brothels of Europe. The murder of the wife of a state politician would not go well for Clete, and Billy was gloating over Clete's date with the executioner.

Billy started the three video cameras one by one, then positioning the uncertain and frightened girl in the proper spot between them, thrust his hand into the leather bag for the huge Bowie knife. Sam waited, his heart rising to his throat at the thought of seeing DesirЋe's throat gouged open and her hot blood arcing from the severed arteries onto the carpet, the innocent blue eyes that would open wide in wonder, then dim with the rapidly encroaching oblivion of death. Billy was drawing out the knife when Sam's hand grasped his wrist and forestalled the movement.

"Wait a minute," Sam said. "Wait a minute, buddy." His grip was strong and Billy's eyes bored into his questioningly.

"I've got an idea," Sam said. He felt Billy trembling with pent-up energy, unreleased in the gruesome way it had been planned. "Got an idea. Come on outside." He drew Billy out onto the landing, near the rail that looked down onto the marbled entrance hall twenty feet below.

"This girl is one sweet piece of ass," Sam coaxed, nudging his friend with his shoulder. "Why snuff her so quick? Why not make use of her first? Give us something to remember her by." He saw Billy's lips curl in a thin smile. "Make her do a strip for us first, film the thing. Plant it in Clete's house, or something. Add to the evidence."

Billy's smile slowly broadened. "You know, Sam, you're one devious son of a bitch."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Billy nodded, looking toward the door. "Yeah, I'm getting a rhino horn on me just thinking about it."

When they re-entered, they found DesirЋe standing there, her sweet face full of fear and expectancy.

"Now, bitch," Billy said, pulling out the gun again and pointing it at her heart. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you to. If you don't, I drill you a new asshole right in the middle of your chest. Understand? Exactly what I tell you."

DesirЋe nodded hesitantly, her magnificent bosom heaving with her quickened, panicked breathing.

Sam was coming back now from the car, a large ghetto blaster in his hands. He plugged it into the car batteries they had set up to drive the cameras and lights. He turned it on and the tape inside began playing a rhythmic disco tune.

"Now, what I want you to do is please me so much I won't want to shoot you."

DesirЋe stammered, "Y-y-you mean, you won't kill me?"

Billy grinned. "That's right, baby. If you please me real good, I won't shoot you." Turning slightly away from her, he winked at Sam, who felt his skin crawl with apprehension for the girl. It seemed the closer they got to carrying out their plan, the more Sam regretted having made the suggestion in jest.

"Now, Dezzy," Billy went on. "I want you to do something you've never done before in your life, but I want you to do it really, really good. We're going to play this music and sit down in these fucking hand-carved chairs and you're going to make like a harem girl and do the sexiest striptease in the world. Got it?"

DesirЋe was shaking her head in disbelief, in utter revulsion. How could they ask her – But they weren't asking, they were commanding, and whatever their reasons were and however unreasonable their demands, she had to go along with them. They had a big gun pointed at her solar plexus, the barest twitch of a finger between her and oblivion, and they would have to have what they wanted. She couldn't leave this world without seeing Mark once more and declaring her love for him.

Sam saw the girl's distress and knew she was about to blow it. If Billy lost his temper, he'd whack her right here, and Sam knew that that would be the end of this beautiful and innocent girl. He touched Billy on the arm and whispered, "Bill, I don't think we should leave the car out there in plain sight. What if someone comes along? Why don't you go hide it up in the hill behind those rocks. Meanwhile, I'll prime the bitch and make sure she does a good job. If she's expecting to get snuffed at the end of it all, she's not going to make us happy beforehand." He smiled. "Don't you think?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah, you're right, but don't do anything with her until I get back." And he turned and hurried out of the room. Sam and DesirЋe could hear his footsteps thundering down the stairs, and slapping across the terrazzo of the entrance hall.

Sam turned to DesirЋe and tried to reassure her with a smile. "He's crazy, you know. He's gone off the rails since his brother was killed. There's no telling what he might do if you don't cooperate."

DesirЋe shook her head while the tears rolled down her creamy cheeks and Sam wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure he knew how.

"But I've done nothing," she sobbed. "I didn't hurt his brother, so why am I here?"

"You're Clete's woman, and that makes you a target."

"No!" DesirЋe fairly screamed. "I'm not Clete's woman. I hate him. I'm married to Mark Denning."

"Yeah, yeah, we know that, but you've been fucking Clete."

DesirЋe turned away. How did they know about Clete? It mortified her that anyone should know, but it had only been once that she knew of, or at least remembered well, for Hemmings' hypnotic manipulation of her mind had made her forget the first time, weeks ago, when under the influence of drugs that Priscilla Devereaux had slipped into her drink and she had allowed the older girl to seduce her into a position where Clete had been able to fulfill his dream of using her hot, wet baby cunt for his own pleasure.

"Now, DesirЋe, before he gets back I want you to understand that you're going to have to please him, any way you can. If he says jump, you say how high. If he wants you to suck his cock or eat his shit, you do it, just because he's got the gun, and don't believe he won't use it."

DesirЋe spun, her arms crossed over her breasts, shivering with fear. "I don't think I can go through with it. I'm not a dancer, I've never done… that."

Sam said slowly, in words spaced for effect, "You will have to, and do it well. Keep a big smile on your face, move like a belly dancer, push your crotch forward, and show him your pussy. Take your clothes off, all of them, slowly, but not too slowly, and whatever he tells you to do, don't say no. You do. You watch me, and I'll show you exactly how and when and what. And don't let your smile slip. You want him to think you like him, and if you show anything else, well, remember, he's got the gun. Bright eyes and a smile, don't forget, and if you turn him on, so much the better for you."

DesirЋe opened her mouth with alarm. "Turn him on! But if he gets turned on, what then?"

Sam was glad that his friend returned before he had to give an answer to that question. He didn't like being in the middle of the lovely young woman's outraged innocence and Billy's lust for vengeance. There was little more he could do for her short of physically confronting his unstable friend.

DesirЋe's eyes were wide with dread when Billy walked back in and he swayed his hips to the pounding music, moving over to the ghetto blaster to turn it even louder.

"Baby, baby, baby," he intoned, lifted his arms over his head and swiveling his hips, pushing his visibly hard cock forward against the inside of his pants. Sam could see that Billy had not only re-parked the car, but that he had had a long line of the white powder from their sales inventory. He was looped, aggressive and horny, and he hoped that DesirЋe didn't slip up or he would be wiping her guts off the wall within a short time. Please, DesirЋe, don't make me watch him blow you away!