Katrina's End
by Darker
Why do I do it?
When famous mountaineer George Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb Everest, he replied ‘because it’s there’. It’s the same for me. I do it because they are there. I do it because I can. I do it because I enjoy it. And why shouldn’t I? When a mere C-note can buy me access to the heavenly body of a sexy, slender, teenage goddess, why would I deny myself that simple pleasure? What is a piece of paper compared to the living, vibrant flesh of a young woman?
I pick my girls carefully. They have to be perfect. They have to be classy. I don’t go for any street whore; I seek out the finest females that the brothels and whorehouses have to offer. However, true beauty is rare, so I usually see just three or four at a time, visiting each of them a few times a month.
Katrina had been one of my favourites for years, but our time together was coming to an end. Tonight I would ‘take her upstairs’. The true connoisseur knows what that means - and it will become clear to you, dear reader, as I describe this most special evening to you.
Katrina was tied to stairway railing on the fourth floor of the brothel, ‘Pussy Paradise’, where I had frequented her semi-regularly through the past six years. Laura, the brothel keeper, had done a good job for me, with moody lightning and music, a comfortable leather armchair set up in front of Katrina, and the beautiful young woman dressed in a most sexy outfit.
“Oh, it’s you.” She said when I walked up the stairs, put my briefcase on the floor and sat down in the chair.
“You remember me, Katrina? I’m surprised. You are quite a popular girl I hear.” I said as I got comfortable in the chair with a cigar and a nice glass of brandy.
“I think you also see me quite a lot, right?” She said and giggled nervously. I nodded approvingly.
“Why am I tied up? Do you like it like that?” She asked curiously.
“Yes, I do.” I replied. “But I want to see you struggle free. Can you do that for me, Katrina?”
She immediately started pulling on the ropes. I enjoyed watching her young, slender body at work. I could see the muscles working under her skin; I could see the energy in her young form. The knots had not been tied to hold. It didn’t take her long to get free.
“Do you want me to come over to you?” She asked from where she sat on the floor.
“No, Katrina. Please take your top and panties off. But leave the fishnet pantyhose. Just rip your panties off.” I commanded. She obeyed without a thought.
“OK. But why are we up here?” She asked, once again a nervous edge to her voice, as she pulled off her top, revealing her sweet young tits that I knew fitted perfectly in my palm. “Why not in my room?”
“You know that they take the girls upstairs when the customer has a special request, right Katrina?” I said as she pulled the fishnet pantyhose down over her ass, just enough to unclip the strings of her panties.
“I’ve heard rumours, but you know how girls talk.” She replied. I could hear that she struggled to conceal the nervousness in her voice. She didn’t do a very good job of it. However, she had now removed her panties and stood there, stunningly beautiful and naked - save for the fishnet pantyhose.
“I’m afraid the talk is true, Katrina.” I said and opened the briefcase in front of me. The top opened towards her, so she couldn’t see what was inside, though she strained her pretty young neck hard enough. I pulled a single leather glove out of it and put it on.
“But they say that… surely you wouldn’t?” She stammered, now no longer caring to conceal her anxiety. I took large pistol from the briefcase and pointed it at her. She jumped up from the floor, both scared and confused.
“You stay there or I shoot.” I stated. She froze and looked at me with abject terror in her eyes.
“Please, Sir, what are you doing?” She whimpered, staring as if mesmerized at the large silencer that extended from the nozzle of the gun. “Did I ever do anything that displeased you? Sir, did I?”
“No, Katrina, you have always given me excellent service. I have no complaints at all. You are one of the most enjoyable young ladies I have ever had the good fortune to meet.” I explained, the cigar in the corner of my mouth, the gun firmly in one hand and the glass of brandy in the other. “That’s why I want to end it like this – while it’s all still good. I want to remember you as a shining young flower, not as an ugly, depressed, over-the-hill hooker.”
“But Sir, you can’t do this! I’ll scream!” Katrina yelped.
“You scream all you like, Katrina. The floors, walls and doors on this story are all sound-proof. And even if anyone should hear you, it won’t make any difference. The staff knows what I’m doing. I already paid Laura 10,000$ for your life.” I explained and enjoyed watching the terror in her young eyes getting turned up an extra notch.
“10,000$? But that’s ridiculous!” She yammered. “I bring in more than that in a single week!”
“Sure you do, but there are a lot of young girls that are eager to work here. You are easily replaced. You are, after all, just a piece of meat.” I felt a great satisfaction at the sight of sadness in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Katrina, but we both know that is the plain truth. Another girl is already in your room, spreading her legs to make money for the brothel. So tonight they will make just as much money as always – plus the 10,000$ I put down for you.”
“Sir, I beg you, I don’t want to die! I’m only 24! I have done nothing to deserve this! Please, Sir, please! ” Katrina sobbed, having obviously accepted the fact I had bought the right to kill her, and now instead appealing to my morals – or pity.
“I remember when I first fucked you. Katrina. You were only 18. You had just started working here. You were so nervous, but so full of energy and a desire to please. I’ll never forget the look of pure happiness in your eyes when I came inside you. You were so proud of your job and your body, and you took great pleasure in giving pleasure to men. You told me, that you needed the money for your college fond so you could become a veterinarian.” I mused, recalling my happy memories of a not too distant past. “But now you are different. Sure, you’re still a great fuck, but you have become a machine. You have no enthusiasm, no pride, no dreams. And you never went to college, you blew all the money on clothes, booze and drugs. Your body might still be that of a 24 year old woman, but your spirit has faded, Katrina. It’s sad but true.”
“But why don’t you just stop seeing me?” Katrina sobbed. “You don’t have to kill me! If I don’t please you any more, just pick one of the other girls.”
“I am going to pick one of the other girls, a young and shining one, one who is what you used to be, Katrina.” I said – actually I already had my eyes on Katrina’s replacement. “But I want to have closure, and I want to have something special to remember you by – some experience with you that no other man has ever had. That’s why you’ll get a bullet in your chest right now.”
“No, Sir, please!” She screamed.
*THUD*
I guess the silencer worked pretty well. It sounded more like a wet clap than a bang. Still, the effect on the poor girl was profound. The bullet hit her directly in the chest. The impact almost knocked her backwards over the railing, but she managed to steady herself by grabbing the railing with her right hand while clutching the hole in her chest with the left.
“Oh… my God… you… shot me…” She whispered, while staring at me with panic stricken eyes. She was swaying back and forth, like she couldn’t make up her mind as whether to tumble back over the railing, or go face down on the floor. Instead she slowly slumped down where she stood, as if the strength slowly drained from her body.
“Tell me, dear Katrina, what does it feel like?” I said, put the gun down and took a swig of the brandy, followed by a deep puff of the cigar.
“Oh… oh… it hurts… so much!” She whimpered, her voice weak and trembling from fear and pain.
“I tried to miss the heart, and I think I managed. I think I hit the upper part of your left lung there.” I stated, matter of fact. “The wound is fatal, but it will take you a few minutes to die. Your left lung will collapse and your right lung will slowly fill up with blood. You’ll drown in your own blood, Katrina. At least, that is my best guess.”
“Please… oh… Sir… don’t let me… die… like this!” The poor girl pleaded, her big, brown eyes staring at me, imploring me. Then she started coughing - a thick, wet, rasping cough.
“Sounds like my diagnosis was accurate.” I confirmed. “Do you feel you’re the blood fill you up? Do you feel how it gets harder to breathe? Do you feel a metallic taste in your moth?”
The poor creature was too occupied by her own fear and pain to respond. She just sat there, with a confused, fearful and utterly pathetic look on her face as her whole body shook with every wet, gurgling cough she made. I let the cigar hang at the corner of my mouth and pushed my right hand down my pants. Katrina’s fear and helplessness was making me hard.
“Even as you die, you’re making me hard, Katrina.” I said and let out a short laugh. “When you’re done expiring, I think I’ll have to go down and fuck your replacement. She really is quite a firm, cute and sexy blonde. But even as I fuck her, I’ll be thinking of you, Katrina, and how you died. It really is quite sexy seeing you loose control like this.”
I sat there for almost fifteen minutes, watching Katrina grow weaker and weaker, her coughing ever more laboured, the look on her face ever more desperate. It filled me with an exquisite mix of sadness and joy, and a strange but not entirely unpleasant feeling of finality. It was sad that she should die, a woman who had once been so perky and full of life, but it really was the best thing that could happen, both for her and me.
Finally her body spasmed violently, before collapsing into a still heap on the floor. I finished my drink and my cigar while I watched her sexy, dead body. Then I got up and walked downstairs. I was so hard and horny, and very eager to meet Katrina’s replacement. The young girl was in her room, ready for me. Her name was Cindy; she was so young, so full of energy and innocent smiles. She told me that she only worked part-time at the brothel to save up money for college.
The circle of life was completed, I thought, as I plunged myself into her young, tight pussy.
THE END
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