Lianas Demise No-1 Long Odds (snuff) by Repentant Lurker

This was based on a poser character created by a poser artist called Suleyman. He intended for her to have many different deaths. This first story is faithful to the second series of pics he did although fleshes them out a bit. Fortunately I saved the images before Femmegore made them available to paysite members only so I’ll post them along with the story.

[b:qpe1lwnj]Long Odds[/b:qpe1lwnj]

I didn’t think it would be this way. Not like this. Not in some sleazy alley. Not in front of Tony’s. I didn’t expect it to feel this way either, didn’t expect it to feel so good. The pain hurts so much but it’s driving me wild! God I want to cum before I die! I wonder if I’ll have time to bring myself off before I go? If my killer lets me, doesn’t finish me off just yet. My arm feels heavy but I can just about reach my shorts. Oh yea! Oh that feels good! What? Why is Mickey here? And Tony? Why are they standing there looking at me? My beautiful body’s full of bullets and they don’t seem to care, they’re smiling, laughing. How did I get here, like this? I was expecting to be here this morning wasn’t I? But not like this. I was supposed to be inside playing the tables, taking the other girls money at poker. I should be blushing at Mickey’s careless throw away compliments or joking with Tony about his half serious advances to get me to come and work for him. What are they saying? How did it get like this? Think…

I remember thinking about how the day would go before I left the apartment this morning. I was checking myself out in the mirror, making sure I looked hot. I wanted to look good for Mickey when I saw him. I know he appreciates it when I make the effort and I love to see that little glint in his smiling blue eyes. I looked good too. My lovely raven coloured hair was just right, barely a strand out of place. Those silver highlights I had redone the other day made it look even more lustrous. It seemed to shimmer in the bright morning light. My face was made up perfectly; my bronze skin flawless; the careful application of some russet foundation had brought out the softness of my cheeks. I remember giving myself a playful sensuous stare. Gazing into the deep dark pools of my reflected eyes; blowing myself a pouty kiss then licking my soft full chestnut coloured lips. My outfit was great too. I was wearing my gorgeous knee length cowgirl boots which along with my tiniest pair of frayed denim hotpants which really showed off the athletic curves of my luscious long legs. I couldn’t help admiring how the tiny little lacy top I was wearing, open of course, accentuated the size of my ripe sexy firm breasts. It framed them beautifully emphasising just how full round and perky they were. I cupped them, pinching my perky chocolaty nipples, squeezing them hard until it hurt. I remember how the pleasure from the pain shot right to my pussy, causing the tiny little hot pants to moisten slightly. I can’t imagine what it must be like to live in one of the states that still has nudity laws. I’d hate to have to keep my lovely chest puppies covered. Not that we really have any laws left here. I suppose that probably has a lot to do with why I’m lying here now; all shot up and stretched out squirming on the ground; my beautiful breasts and belly full of holes, leaking my lifeblood onto the tarmac. It’s such a common occurrence to see pretty girls getting peppered with gunfire for business or pleasure one hardly bats an eyelid these days, not unless its to try and seduce a handsome executioner. I wonder which it was that led to my predicament, business or pleasure? Why is Mickey here? Smiling down at me looking pleased to see my beautiful bullet ridden body writhing beneath his gaze. He was so nice when I saw him earlier. What have I done to make him want to see me dead?

Was there a sign when I saw him back at the agency office this morning? I was having such a nice day. The sun was shining brightly and I was enjoying the warmth on my bare breasts as I strolled from my apartment. I love the walk into to the office, through the mean streets of the Free Quarter, enjoying the sense of excitement it always brings; the implicit danger; knowing that every passer by, every drug fuelled junkie lurking in dark corners, every car that drives by could unexpectedly, inexplicably become a lethal enemy. No posh private security to keep the residents safe here like there is in the Sanctum, just your wits and your gun and fortune’s favour. I remember the slight prickle of arousal I felt when I spotted a recent member of the Free Quarter’s least exclusive club, a sexy young blonde who lay slumped on the pavement; a lasting expression of mild surprise etched on her innocent looking face. Surprise no doubt at the ragged line of bloody holes that traversed her pretty chest, ventilating her perky little breasts. The unfortunate victim of some random drive by; I wondered how far up the street the next one would be, or would I discover the twisted wreckage of the, would be death dealer’s motor, testament to an intended victims reflexes, coolness and skill. I wonder now what the luckless blonde had been thinking before her nemesis roared past? How had her thoughts changed as death’s hands spat their unassailable path through her delicate body? How many victims of anarchy’s reign had she walked by that day? Not suspecting that she too would be lying tits up and lifeless before the sun hit its high. Had she thought as I did when I saw her sweet lifeless body? ‘Poor thing, but you should’ve been quicker, better prepared, I would’ve been. You wouldn’t catch me lying there on the street, legs splayed, showing off my cute little white panties looking surprised to find my tits full of holes.’ What will those that see me here think? Once my futile struggle to grasp onto life has been snuffed by inevitability. What is Mickey thinking as he grins down at me? Disdain? Pity? No I don’t see contempt or regret in his expression. His grin is the same as it was when I saw him this morning. That permanent twinkle’s there in his eye. Like he knows the answer to God’s big joke. I always felt so safe around him. Even now, in a weird way. I find it comforting, knowing that he’s here; that he had some hand in the reason why I’m scrabbling on the asphalt my tortured body shaking as I tremble in my doomed fight for survival.

I always feel at ease when I enter the agency. The sign above the window reminds me I’m part of the family that is Mickey’s Bounty Babes, Bouncers and Bodyguards. His carefully chosen crew of beautiful bad girls. I remember the pleasure at leaving heat of the streets behind me and enjoying the relatively cool air of the agency’s foyer. Feeling the cool breeze from the ceiling fan as it wafted against my hot skin. I smiled falsely at Chantelle, Mickey’s current secretary and fuck-toy de jour. She responded in kind before returning to busily doing her nails. Making sure that her pristinely preened Barbie doll looks met her usual standards of plastic perfection. Looking back who am I to judge after my brazen display of self centred vanity in front of the mirror this morning. I suppose at the time I was safe in the knowledge that I was one of Mickey’s warrior’s his carefully chosen experts in combat, not just some pretty little wall flower, only good for her skill beneath the sheets. I strolled confidently into Mickey’s office my false smirk for the tramp in the foyer breaking into a warm beam for my boss. He grinned back at me his eyes lighting up, instantly warming my heart, there’s no doubt that there’s not a little jealousy tainting my feelings for Chantelle. He was chatting on the phone and politely raised a finger, wagging it at the phone indicating that he would try to get rid of the irritant on the other end of the line that prevented him from greeting me properly as soon as possible. I waited patiently, leaning against the door frame, casually brushing my hair back with my fingers ensuring my sensuous assets were displayed to their best advantage. In the reflection of the glass of the door I could see Chantelle giving me a disgusted look from behind, causing me to smile inwardly revelling in her displeasure. Mickey soon hung up the phone and beckoned me over. “Anything for me?” I asked cheerily. “Fraid not. Some rich tosser who wants a pair of blonde bodyguards to accompany him to some fancy party. He just want’s to look important enough to needs protecting. Dianne and Chelsea?” He asked, I remember feeling pleased at how he asked my advice, making me feel valued. “Good choice” I acknowledged, they were a perfect pair for the job. Blonde, beautiful and if any trouble did turn up, deadly as a pair of pissed off vipers.

Mickey came round from his desk and said hello properly, giving me a big hug, pressing my body into his so that my bare breasts pressed firmly against his hard torso. He broke off giving my bottom a playful squeeze. The playful glint in his glowed brighter for a moment, his permanent grin widened. I couldn’t help but feel my heart flutter and hoped my body didn’t betray me. Mickey was more than just a boss to most of the girls in his crew. He was our protector, our confidant, our mentor. I would say he was like an older brother but with my deep seated desire to have him bang my brains out I’m not sure it would be the most healthy of sibling relationships. I was not alone in my love of Mickey all the girls in his crew felt the same way. He was known on the streets as Mickey Sweet due the uncharacteristic kindness he showed to the girls who worked for him. Of course there were a few he had been forced to let go over the years. It wouldn’t do to let any kind of weakness show. If a girl let him down then she had to pay the price. I was there once. When Tina had lost a client she was assigned to protect. It was a sniper who made the kill. There was nothing that Tina could have done even if she’d spotted the shooter and been able to throw herself in front of her client the hollow point .55 shell that blew the heart out the back of the sexy rich bitch Tina was minding would have passed clean though her anyway and still done for its intended target. Honour still had to be served. There’s no reputation without face here in the Quarter. When the ill fated heiress slammed into door of her limo before crumpling to the floor in a languid erotic collapse Tina met her maker as sure as if the sniper had taken her down with a 2nd shot. Mickey had been so tender with her. He gave her a choice, asked her how she wanted it then at her request he held her in a soft embrace, reassuring her that he would make it quick. He waited till she was ready, stroking her brow and whispering sweet nothings till she was mentally composed asking him to deliver her. He placed his blade underneath her left arm pit and between her ribs in one cool swift movement, expertly piercing her heart. He withdrew the blade with a quick twist kissing her deeply to help her with the pain, then held her in is arms petting her softly till she emitted one last soft sigh and sank against him, limp in his grasp. He was as tender with her body, leaving her in the cool of the office before placing her carefully into the body-bin just before the bone wagon arrived and made a call to the morgue to make sure she didn’t get any unwanted special attention when she arrived. I wonder if he’ll make a similar call for me. Or will he leave me to the devices of the decadent flesh mongers. Will I end up getting a decent cremation or wind up working in a cold brothel?

Mickey sat me down on the couch and we chatted for a while making small talk playfully flirting like always. When we got down to business he was dismissive about offering me the job telling me it wouldn’t interest me before he’d let me know what it was. Clever now that I think back on it. Piquing my interest in a chore that I normally would have declined in a heart beat. Playing to my vanity. “It’s just a stint on the door at Tony’s” he told me “I’ll get someone else to do it. It’s way too mundane for a professional with your talent.” He started rifling through his card index looking for a more appropriate choice. He stopped, looking thoughtful for a moment “He is paying quite well though. Want’s too make sure he gets some one with a rep so the punters don’t take the piss while Carlos’ away.” He mentioned in an off hand manner “Where is Carlos anyway. How come he’s not working” I asked. The big burly Cuban doorman was as firmly fixed a piece of furniture at Tony’s as the granite on the bar. He was a sweetheart rivalling Mickey in the amiability stakes. He has a soft spot for me, calls me his Pequeña Primo, little cousin, because of our shared heritage, quite a bit of the blood spilling out of me has Cuban ancestry. Carlos is a lovely big bear of a man who could easily turn the softest of cuddles into a vice like death grip at a whim should he chose to. Making the boat trip as a child and growing up in Miami’s shanties he’s been a dealer of death since before his teens. There’s many a corpse who made the fatal mistake of under estimating his cheerful demeanour. “Tony has him on another job, a private matter, there’s a small gambling issue that needs to be settled.” Mickey revealed making it cleat that one Tony’s less fortunate customers wound not be returning to the club. “There’s a good chance Carlo will be back fairly early though” Mickey added, spinning his web expertly “So if you take the job you’ll probably get finished early.” It seemed like a simple earner. A couple of hours outside the club and then I could get inside and use my earnings as a stake to see if I could win some more. Most of the other girls would have had a little too much to drink by then and should be easy pickings. There’s hardly ever any trouble at Tony’s. Carlo’s reputation sees to that. I could easily deal with anyone foolish enough to come looking for a fight. That’s what I thought at the time. Of course it turns out that wasn’t the case. My tattered tits and perforated belly tell a different tale. I close my eyes and reach inside my shorts replaying those last moments in my mind. Using the memory of how the fatal shots ran me through to increase my arousal.

The evening has been uneventful. I’m enjoying the balmy warmth of the night, chatting to the punters as they entered the club, ensuring that all have right to be there and relieving the weapons from those that aren’t to be trusted. Many of my friends are inside and I’ve enjoyed chatting with them as they’ve arrived parrying any banter about my temporary employment with quick witted barbs about how I’ll fleece them at the tables later. It’s been quiet for a while when a black saloon pulls up at the end of the alley. Just the hood’s visible at first then it creeps forward. The movement alerts my senses there’s something sinister about that slow crawl. Suddenly a dazzling light flares from the driver’s window. I hear one of the doors slam. I try to peer down the alley but can only squint, blinded by the intensity of the light. I have a sense of a figure that’s left the car but can’t see. Suddenly, a glint of light that reveals the deadly image of a silenced gun barrel pointed right at me. I raise my own weapon, too late. Before I can aim I hear the quiet phut of the pistol sending the first of its lethal contents my way. At the same time a bullet thuds into the smooth brown skin of my belly just above my navel. I gasp staggering back a step or so, clutching at the agonising wound. I raise my gun again not trying to aim just hoping to get off a few blind shots in the hope that one may hit my hidden assailant. Again too late. Before I can pull the trigger a second round hits me, tearing into of my bare right breast, piercing the succulent flesh just below my nipple. The impact causes me to reel twisting me round so I’m more in the open. Four more rounds hit me in quick succession. The first strikes just below my ribs on the right hand side rending the organs beneath. Then two land in my ripe left breast, one to the side and one just below my nipple. Luckily, not perhaps the best word in the situation but one that describes the low probability of the predicament, both rounds crash into my ribs. The brittle bones shatter agonisingly but my heart still beats and I still have one lung to breathe with. The last of the four plunges deep into my right tit, high on the inside. I am knocked backward several paces, arms out stretched, somehow keeping my footing. I can see the silhouette of my assassin taking aim once again. The effort of holding my weapon is too great. My arms fall to my sides and the gun slips from my grasp. A third slug rents trough my right breast between the two previous shots nicking the edge of my aureole. I see my killer cock his head sighting carefully before he fires again. This shot bursts into my stiff nipple destroying my sensitive but. I gaze down at the destruction of my body feeling my legs starting to go. The assassin double taps the last two rounds into the soft curves of my lower belly one hitting just below my navel and the other ripping into the top of my shorts driving agonisingly into my soft flesh carrying the button securing my hotpants on its way. With this last invasion my knees buckle. I stagger back once more no longer able to keep my balance. My tight rump thumps into the ground in a decidedly ungainly manner. My back arches and I collapse prostrate on the asphalt. My body is engulfed by the sweet pleasure of my agony. I can’t help but attempt to pleasure myself.

I look up at the pair if villains above me trying to make sense of the situation. Examining their faces; Mickey’s hard but boyish, framed by his choppy light hair is eyes as ever blue and bright glinting with that self satisfied glow that always prevails; Tony, grey haired with sunken eyes the years have taken their toll on the aging gangster. I try to hear their words. “I told you she was a tough one.” Mickey’s chimes his voice edged by dark humour. “You shouldn’t have given me such long odds.” He chuckles. “Still on her feet after taking a full clip! You my friend owe me ten large.” Mickey declared holding out his hand expectantly. “I knew I should have tried harder to get her to work for me.” Tony grumbles, reaching into his jacket to pull out a large wad of notes. “I could have bribed the little bitch to take a dive!” He laughs clapping Mickey on the back and turning to re-enter the club. Mickey stands watching me for a moment. “Why” I whisper weakly. His eyes crinkle momentarily the glint flickering “Just business honey. I’m not so sweet as people think.” He tucks away the wad of cash. “You were the only lass tough enough to win me the bet. Sweet dreams Liana my love” He says blowing me a kiss and following Tony into the building.

So that was it. A simple bet. A wager between two men so steeped in death that the killing gorgeous young girls like me for fun means nothing. My curiosity satisfied I close my eyes and set about trying to bring myself to climax before I go. One hand works between my thighs and the other squeezes my ragged right breast. I sense a shadow falling across my lids and open them to see the huge frame of Carlos standing above me. He’s holding a silenced Beretta. A wisp of smoke still curling from the barrel lays claim to the guilt of the weapon. The expression on his face is like that of a child who’s just broken their favourite toy. He waits patiently for me to bring myself off. It doesn’t take long. I’ve loved pain all my life. Both giving and receiving. The brutal agony of the fusillade Carlos sent my way grips my body like a vice mingling with the pleasure from my sex to wrack my body with a terrific orgasm. I writhe on the floor gasping looking up into the sadness Carlos’ eyes. When my spasms subside he stoops down. Placing his arms underneath my gently lifts me into his embrace. I place my arms around his thick neck and lean in to him, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “I’m glad it was you Carlos” I murmur softly. “Goodbye Pequeña Primo” he says kissing me lightly on the forehead as my eyes close and death’s grip finally takes me; my valiant body finally giving up with one last shudder.