Warning: This story contains sexually explicit material of a
violent nature. It is intended for adults only. If you are
underage or are offended by such material, please leave.  Please
do not post this material to other sites.

Copyright 2005 by the author, Kelly Berks.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Amy was in trouble and needed my help. She had made a stupid
mistake years ago, and it was coming back to haunt her. Now, she
had a plan to eliminate the problem, but she needed my
assistance. Her plan was a good one, but not quite as good as the
one I had in mind.


The Best Laid Plans
By Kelly Berks


It seemed like I knew Amy for as long as I could remember. We met
a long time ago - long before she was married. Then we drifted
apart somewhat, and the next thing I heard was that she had
married some guy from her old neighborhood. That's not all I
heard. His name was Charlie, and he was supposedly a real thug.
He was into drugs and hung out with a gang which stole to support
their habit. How in the hell Amy ever got involved with this guy
is something I'll never figure out.

One night Charlie went out with a few of his buddies. The evening
turned nasty, and Charlie wound up in a heated argument with one
of the other guys in the gang. Words came to blows, and it got
worse from there. Charlie  wound up stabbing the guy to death.
They said that he actually butchered that fellow, which may have
helped Charlie when he was sentenced, because it showed rage
rather than planning, and apparently, crimes committed in rage
aren't as serious as when rage is absent, so you get only twenty
years instead of life, which is what happened to Charlie.

He should have remained in jail for all of those twenty years and
more, but apparently, that's not how the system works nowadays.
Six years after he was sent to prison, he was out. He was still
every bit as dangerous as he had been the day he went in, if not
more so, and he was angry that Amy had abandoned him while he was
there. He was determined to get himself back in Amy's life and to
pick up just where he had left off over six years before. Amy
knew it was trouble. She knew that he had killed and had no
remorse for having done so, and she feared he would do the same
thing to her if she didn't welcome him back into her life. But
Amy wanted no part of Charlie at that point. She had gotten her
life back on track and was wondering how she had ever gotten
involved with Charlie at all. It was like a bad dream from the
distant past, and that dream, or nightmare as it were, was
threatening to invade her present life. She knew she could not
have that and would have to find a way to prevent it from
happening. She devised a plan. It was perfect, she thought; all
she needed was a little help.

I stopped at Amy's house on Tuesday afternoon. It was an old
farmhouse a few miles out of town which she shared with a friend,
Peggy. I liked the place. It was a little run down, but it was
big and had a lot of space between it and the nearest neighbor.

During my conversation with Amy, she kept bringing up the subject
of Charlie and how much of a threat to her he was becoming. She
felt that he might go as far as killing her if she didn't accept
him back, and there was no way she was going to do that.

"I want him to go back to jail, and this time I want him to go
back forever. That's the only way I'm ever going to get rid of
him," she said at one point.

"And what is it he's going to do that will get him sent back to
jail?"

"Well, I was thinking that if he beat me up and raped me, they'd
send him back for a long time, what with him being out on early
release and all. He'd get at least the last fourteen years of his
sentence and probably another ten years added to it."

"Oh great," I said. "Yeah, I could see him raping you, but if he
got so far as to beat you up, he'd probably go all the way and
kill you. There's not a lot of margin for error there."

"No, that's not what I was thinking at all. What I was thinking
is that I'd invite him over and let him fuck me, then tell him my
roommate was going to be back, so he would leave. Then someone
else, who I trust, would come over and beat me up enough to give
me some bruises and all. Then Peggy would come home and find me
that way and would call the police and tell them he beat me up
and raped me. They'd test me and find his DNA and all, and he'd
be cooked. They'd put him away for a long time, for sure."

"And who did you have in mind as someone who would beat you up a
little?"

"Well, I know I have no right to ask you, but I trust you, and I
really do need someone to do this."

I paced around a little and said nothing, as if giving the whole
notion some serious consideration. Actually, the idea was a real
turn on for me, but I didn't want to let on or seem to anxious.

"I know it's a lot to ask," she added. She walked across the room
and retrieved a small tin off a shelf. She pulled the lid off and
pulled out some cash. "Here, this is the least I can do. It's two
hundred dollars. I want you to have it, if you'll do this for
me,"

"Oh great," I was thinking. I can really get into knocking her
around a little, and she's going to pay me to do it besides.

"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to do this," I said, again not
wanting to seem too enthusiastic about the whole thing.

"Please think about it. I really need someone to do this, and if
you won't, I'll have to find someone else, and it may be someone
I can't trust, so ..."

I interrupted her. "Okay, I'll probably do it, but I need to
think about it. If I do it, it's only to save you from that jerk,
because I really do think he's dangerous."

"Good, but I have to do this soon, ya know. He's a big problem,
and there's not all that much time to deal with him."

I thought about it alright - for about an hour. I was on board
from the first minute I heard the plan, but I wasn't really sure
exactly what I wanted to do. I knew I wanted to beat the crap out
of Amy, but I really wasn't sure why, and I hadn't developed the
plan past that stage - not at that point, anyway. All I knew was
that I found the idea of giving Amy a good beating to be a real
turn on, and I can't really explain why.

I called Amy that evening and agreed to being a part of her plan.
I didn't tell her that I was thinking about some modifications of
my own that would make her plan more interesting and convincing.
It was Tuesday, and Amy needed to do the whole thing on Thursday
night, because that was the night that Peggy had a meeting and
would be out for the evening. Amy said that Peggy came home on
Thursday nights at exactly 11 PM without fail, so it could be
timed perfectly for her to come home, find Amy raped and beat up,
and call the police. All of the elements fell right into place;
there was simply nothing that could go wrong, or so it seemed.
Amy told me exactly how she thought she should be beaten, so as
to cause a lot of bruising and such, but no serious injury. I
listened to her explanation very carefully. I listened and I
understood exactly what she wanted. She had thought through this
thing completely.

Thursday evening came around pretty fast. I had developed a bit
of anxiety about the whole thing, but that was to be expected;
after all, this is not the kind of thing you do every day, and
you need to have things planned out so you get them right. I had
pretty much completed my thinking on what I was going to do that
night. It was not precisely what Amy was expecting, but it was
the same general idea.

Amy called me at about 9:30 PM. All she said was that Charlie had
just left, and that she was ready for me. She didn't come out and
say that Charlie had just gotten finished fucking her and left,
but I knew what she meant. I got to Amy's place about twenty
minutes later. We would have  plenty of time to do what we had to
do before Peggy returned home. When I got to the front door, she
was waiting right there for me. She was wearing a bathrobe, tied
in front,  covering everything. She was rather modest, I thought;
in fact, it occurred to me that I had never seen her completely
naked, not once in all the years I had known her. Oh, there was a
time or two that she had fallen out of a top or had something
open up unexpectedly, but that was it. This night would be
different entirely.

She immediately noticed the large trash bag I was carrying and
asked about it.

"Well, I've added a few things to the scenario," I said. "A few
things for me, if you don't mind."

"What kind of things?" she asked.

Pulling a folded-up tripod out of the bag, I replied, "Well, if
I'm going to do this I want some sort of record of the whole
thing."

I set up the tripod and pulled a video cam out of the bag next.
"I don't know if I'll like this or not, but I know I'll probably
never get a chance to do something like this again, so I want
something to remember it by."

Amy seemed shocked. Up to that point, she thought that I was
forcing myself to get involved with this because she needed me
to, and that she was really imposing on our friendship, but this
cast a somewhat different light on my motives.

"Don't think that I'm going to get off on this, or anything. It's
just that It's something you don't do every day, and I think it
should be recorded," I said.

Amy seemed to accept the notion, although she didn't get over her
surprise completely.

"Well, I guess it's okay, if you think so, but you'd better be
careful with that damn  video afterwards."

"Don't worry, I will be," I said, as I finished setting up the
camera and carefully aiming it in the direction where I thought
the action would take place.

Amy started to say something, but before she could, I hauled off
and punched her in the gut with the hardest shot I could muster.
Her hands flew out towards me and she doubled over, falling
backwards onto the couch. She was totally stunned and unable to
do anything but put her arms around her middle as she gasped for
air. That kind of punch in the gut, especially when it catches
you off guard, can just about render you helpless. I stood there
for a minute, just watching her trying to recover. She finally
looked up at me, and I took a step towards her and nailed her
with a backhand across the face, snapping her head sharply to the
left. Before she could do anything, I slapped her hard with my
open hand, snapping her head back in the other direction. I
enjoyed that and thought it made good video, so I continued,
hitting her that way maybe twenty times.

She was already groggy. I pulled her up, undid the tie on the
front of her bathrobe, pulled it off, and threw it across the
room. I had her completely naked now, and regretted the fact that
I was not going to be able to fuck her.

I let her have it in the gut again, and she flew back onto the
couch as she had done before. I slapped her around for a few
minutes, then I grabbed her hair, pulled her face back and
punched her in the mouth, hard enough to split her lip open and
start a rush of blood running down her chin. Still holding her
hair, I punched her directly in the nose, hard enough to break it
I thought, but there was no big rush of blood, so I knew I
probably hadn't succeeded. Another shot in the nose, this time
harder, felt good, but also apparently didn't do the job. The
third time, I really hauled off and let her have it. This time, I
 felt her nose sort of give way, and blood spurted out, hitting
me in the stomach, but I wasn't worried about getting blood on
myself, because I wasn't the one they'd be looking for.

I laid her back down on the couch and punched her in the face a
few more times, then I began a thorough job of punching out her
tits. I was impressed by the sound of my fists impacting her tits
and was hoping the video cam was doing a good job of recording
all of the sounds, which I thought were impressive.

She was probably  half conscious at that point; I don't know for
sure. I went over to my bag and got what I needed to implement
the next part of my plan. It was a knife. Up till that point, her
plan had merely been exceeded by my actions, but that was about
to change. Her carefully crafted plan was being discarded, and
mine was being substituted for it. My plan was better - well, if
not better, at least a lot more interesting.

I walked over to the couch and positioned myself next to Amy, so
as not to come between her and the camera. I looked at the knife.
The knife blade was thin, and it's edge and point were razor
sharp. I placed the tip on her lower belly, on her right side so
as not to pierce where her pussy was. I couldn't do that, you
know, because it contained all that semen, with it's all
important DNA, and if it were cut, the resulting blood might wash
away the evidence which would be used by the prosecution later. I
gripped the knife handle firmly with both hands. As I began to
press the blade into Amy's belly, she responded by flinching a
bit, and purely as a reflex action, I think, her hands reached
down and grabbed mine on the knife handle. It really wasn't very
violent at all; the sharp blade just slipped into her belly and
proceeded into her soft gut. Her feet came up a little, and I
felt her hands tighten on mine as the blade disappeared into her.
I expected to hear a loud scream, but all she could manage was
something that sounded like "Aaah". When the blade was all the
way in, I wiggled the knife a bit to try to get enough sensation
to get a scream out of her, but what she came up with was another
"Aaah" sound.  It was somewhat louder this time, so I wiggled the
knife around some more to get more response. I pulled the thing
out and moved it up a few inches. I pushed it back into her
there, and her hands held mine and again followed the motion of
the knife as it sunk into her. A few more repetitions of this,
and her hands were no longer gripping mine. She was still alive,
but now her reaction was limited to a flinch as the knife entered
a new place on her body. I reached up toward her right tit with
my left hand and squeezed her nipple between my thumb and
forefinger. Stretching it out as far as I possibly could, I very
carefully sliced the entire area covered by the areola cleanly
away from her tit and placed it on the coffee table next to us.
It left her tit with a large round bloody area, which was
expanding as the skin stretched. I then proceeded to remove her
left nipple in the same way and placed it on the table next to
the first one. They made a cute matching pair, I thought to
myself.

I think she was alive at that point, and I thought I'd better get
things over with, so I pushed the blade of my knife up under her
rib cage and carved out the area where I thought her heart would
be. She twitched and quivered a bit, then she was completely
still.

Oh, I had to "arrange" her properly on the couch. I propped her
head up on the arm of the couch, leaned one leg against the back
and laid the other down, stylishly bent at the knee. Her eyes
were open, and she was looking upward.  I stepped back to have a
look. She was absolutely perfect - the way I had always imagined
seeing her when she was alive. Peggy would get a real visual
treat when she got home in about an hour.

It occurred to me that I had never gotten the $200 that Amy had
promised me to help her, and after all, I had done much more than
I had agreed to, so I was more than deserving of the money. I
knew Amy had meant to pay me, and that it was an honest mistake
on her part not to, so I wasn't mad or anything, but I still
thought I deserved the payment, so I decided to get it for
myself. I opened the tin where Amy kept her cash and found a
total of $416, which I took. It had turned out to be a great
evening. I had enjoyed helping Amy; had gotten some wonderful
video, and had been paid $416 for my efforts. It doesn't get much
better than that when you think about it. Oh, I'm not going to
say that I experienced some super hard-on, or earth shaking
orgasm while I was doing what I did. Actually, it was almost like
I was in a trance or a dream, or something like that, and then it
was over, and I woke up. It's just that some dreams can get you
excited later when you think about them, and it helps all that
much more when you have a video of the whole thing. It lets you
know that the dream was more than just a dream - it was reality.

Anyway, I threw the knife back in the garbage bag and pulled out
a sponge, which I used to soak up some of Amy's fresh blood. I
then put the sponge in a lunch bag to keep it moist. I did the
same thing with Amy's nipples, which still looked every bit as
cute as when the were decorating her tits. I packed up my video
stuff, had one last look around and left. As I drove away from
Amy's house, I went back over the whole thing in my mind. Who
else but an angry, bitter ex-husband would inflict that kind of
damage to a woman. That's exactly how the police would see it.
They would also discover his spunk and DNA inside her, but that's
not all they would find.

I parked about a block from Charlie's house, got out and walked
to where his old junker of a car was parked. It wasn't hard to
jimmy his door open. I used the bloody sponge to apply a generous
amount of wet blood on flat of the knife blade, then placed the
bloody knife on the passenger side seat, leaving a perfect
outline of the blade, which the cops could match to Amy's wounds.
I threw it back into the garbage bag. Then I took the sponge  and
lightly dabbed some blood streaks on the steering wheel and seat.
That went back into the garbage bag too, and the garbage bag went
into a trash dumpster about two miles away.

Charlie was sentenced to life in prison, so Amy's plan worked in
a sense. And of course, in another sense, it didn't. Well, you
know what they say about the best laid plans.