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The Best Laid Plans
by Kelly Berks (kellyberks@yahoo.com)

***

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. (MF, v, murd)

***

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 its 
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 
they 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.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 36