Hell's Kitchen
#3 of Sara
Chapter 3
Sara sat bolt up right in her bed, her body covered in a cold sweat. She looked around, she was in her apartment, the photo of her boyfriend lay crumpled on the floor. She looked down at her self, but she wasn't hurt, no bites or claw marks of any kind scared her body. She was still extremely shaken from the dream, and there was a growing pain in her breast.
An intense burning pain shot into her right breast; she clutched it and gritted her teeth against the pain. A bright red glow shown from around her paw, and just as she though it would become unbearable the pain vanished. Slowly she brought her paw away, and gasped in shock. A block ring circled her right nipple, a tail moving slightly off towards her belly. As she looked at it she noticed that it looked oddly like a cockeyed six. She felt light headed for a moment, and then remembered what she meant to do.
The strange occurrence slipping from her mind, Sara began to think of a way to get back at mark. 'Hmm, maybe I could make him jealous.' Something told her that wouldn't work somehow, and she felt very cold for a second. She thought some more, then it struck her. That girl he was with was the real cause of all her problems, getting rid of her would torture mark to no end, the only question was how.
*****
"Achoo!" Sara sniffled and rubbed her nose under her scarf. The ally was very cold and she wished Wallace would hurry up so she could go someplace warm. A hit man wasn't very hard for her to find, the internet was a wonderful thing. She had dressed herself from head to toe, nothing of her fur showed and her tail and ears were tucked away. He had insisted on meeting in person, but she wasn't about to let him know what she looked like too.
A figure stepped into the ally off the street. He looked like a bum or beggar. Soon she could see he was an Irish wolf hound, exactly what Wallace said he was. "Well, lass, what ya be doin' in a place like this?" the Irish accent was almost comically thick.
"Waiting for the sun to shine." She said, the agreed upon answer from his e-mail. He smiled and nodded "there's someone I need... punished, and I don't care how." He nodded again, not saying anything "she's a female cat, you'll find her hanging near to him." she handed him a wrinkled picture a male fox next to a white cat.
He nodded again "don't be carin' how its done den, lassie?" he asked, grinning. He looked again at the photo, then up at Sara. Something in the back of his mind told him this woman was too brass to be the shy looking girl in the photo. He placed the photo in his back pocket, making a mental note of it. "So how much ye looking ta' pay, lassie?"
Taking a step closer to him, Sara pressed her paw against the crotch of his jeans "oh, once this is done we can have a nice, long," she gave him a squeeze, and he murred slightly "negotiation as to how much you're getting from me." she finished lustfully. Wallace gave her ass a firm squeeze and chucked before departing. Once he was gone Sara shuddered in disgust 'not even in you're dreams.' she thought. She hurried how, wanting to get warm, this was going to be fun.
Once at her apartment she got dressed in some nicer clothes, then hurried out the door again. She didn't know why, but she wanted to be there to watch as that little slut got snatched up, maybe even watch what he did to her. It wasn't hard for her to find mark, she knew his routine well. She kept her distance, watching from around corners or in alleys. There was no sign of his lover anywhere in sight, which she found odd, normally he took his girls everywhere with him.
Sara fallowed him the rest of the day. He made stops at the store and pharmacy, but no sign of the other girl anywhere. For the next two days she watched him, after the first she had received an e-mail from Wallace saying he had spotted the target. She cursed herself; he must have seen them together at there home or in the late night when she wasn't watching. He said he was going to strike the next day. Sara waited and watched for the event, but still she saw no sign of her.
Finally, Sara walked right up to him to find out where the other girl was. "Mark!" she yelled over at him as she crossed the street. He paused long enough to ask what she wanted, obviously in no mood to talk to her. "Well I saw you walking, but your new squeeze isn't with you, that not normal for you, is something wrong."
Sighing, mark looked down the street towards his apartment "she's been sick in bed all week. I've been running around getting what she wants for the past couple days while she rests." He gave her a critical look "why do you want to know."
"Oh, no reason," she stammered "well I really got to get going, bye." She hurried off; she would have to ask Wallace how he had seen her when she was indoors all day. She was so lost in though over it she didn't hear the person walking behind her. Just as she passed in front of an ally she faintly heard the rustle of cloths. Something hollow and metal whooshed through the air, and she felt the contact on the back of her skull before she was hurdled into darkness
Sara awoke, her head pounding. She moaned in pain, only to find it blocked by a piece of tape over her maw. Panic griped her as she looked around. She was in some run down fast food joint, in the distance she could hear sounds coming from the kitchen area. As she looked on Wallace emerged from the kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief, it was just a mix up, easily fixed. Immediately she tried to explain the situation, but her words were lost in the gag. She panicked again, babbling franticly.
Taking a photo from his pocket, he gave it a look, then to Sara, then said "yep, dat be you alright" he tossed it onto the ground. Sara gasped, she had somehow forgotten she was in the photo too. "now, now me' little friend, no point in trying ta' talk, oy ain't gonna bloody risk you screaming for help now am I?" he grabbed her but her scruff, only now did she realize that her wrists were taped behind her back, her ankles as well, he had even gone as far as to strip her naked. He carried her into the kitchen, explaining as he went. "oy was hired to kill ya, ie' dat oy was, by the girl whose boyfriend ye' be a stalkin', not dat oy care much mind ya, I'll probable kill da little lass too so she can't go blabin ta' da' coppahs'." Sara could see the area pretty well, there was a smooth top grill, next to that a deep fryer, and further on a cutting board and other items of the trade.
With a powerful toss he sent her hurdling against the grill's front, landing upside down. She was certain a rib was cracked and she didn't want to move. Her position left her bent doubled over, her weight on her neck and shoulders as her feet almost touched her face. She could see him approaching through the tears of pain that clouded her vision, with what looked like a funnel in hand. He made some comment about taking pride in his work as a torturer, but she wasn't really paying attention. Still she tried to beg him to stop, that he had the wrong person, but her cries fell on deaf ears.
He knelt next to her, steadying her with a paw on her rump. In a move too fast for her to see, he impaled the thin end of the funnel not her tail hole. She howled in pain as he worked it in as far as it would go, blood trickling up her back. She couldn't struggle away as he held her in place with one paw, the other using a pot to scoop something up next to the grill. Her pain filled brain didn't immediately recognize the sizzling, bubbling sound, but once she saw it crackling and boiling in the pot above her she redoubled her struggles. The grin on his face froze her blood as he tipped the pot over into the funnel. There was a loud hiss, and then the scolding oil washed into her bowls. Her back arched as she howled again in pain, violent convulses racked her as the oil seared her organs. His paw released her and she threw herself to the ground, writhing and twisting on the floor.
Wallace left her to her torment as he set about the next bit of fun. He turned the knobs on the grill all the way up with several loud clicks; there was a 'whoosh' sound as the burner kicked on. He enjoyed watching her writhe for several minutes, until she just lay on the floor and quivered. He stepped up to her as she lay on her back. With a strong stomp to the stomach he sent the oils shooting out of her anis in a strong stream, now heavily mixed with blood. He lifted her up by her taped wrists, carrying her over to the side of the stove opposite the fryer. She was dazed and put up no fight, until she felt the heat nearing her flesh.
Bending her over at the waist slowly, he brought her breasts closer to the surface of the grill. She struggled a little as she felt the heat, with a quick push he pressed her nipples to the grill, her head whipped back in a scream as she managed to lift her self away from the burning plate, only to be forced entirely against the surface. A strong paw at her shoulder blades held her down as the other freed a bulging cock from the wolf hound's tight pants. Without hesitation he forced the head into her scolded tail hole, hilting himself in one thrust. The force caused her exposed pussy against the grill as well, sending her into another fit of convulsions. The pain and smell of her cooking flesh was more then enough to make her sick as she retched into her mouth. Having no where to go she was forced to swallow it again.
After several minutes of brutal humping, Wallace finally came deep into her guts. As he pulled out thick globs of cum, blood, and fecal matted poured onto the grill's surface, burning and cooking, adding to the sickly sweet small of roasting meant. Lifting her by the scruff he pulled her off the grill. The entire front of her body was a mix of red and black flesh. She had stopped screaming, her throat already raw. he held her up to his face, her body totally limp and asked "I bet ye want dis' a be over, huh lass?" her head nodded ever so slightly as tears trailed down her muzzle and fell to the tiled floor, a shuddering sob the only noise she could make.
Wallace smiled sweetly at her, even as his middle digit trailed over her nether lips, pushing inside her as her head wiped back in a noiseless scream. "Too bad." he said mercilessly as he tossed her onto her back on the grill. She found her voice enough to howl again in agony. This time he went slowly as he pressed his cock against her sex, rubbing the head against the burnt lips before pushing inside her. He grunted at the tight squeeze as he inch by inch speared her on his cock. Once fully hilted in her he pulled out and gave a brutal thrust, the force caused his cum to squirt from her destroyed ass where it sized and crackled like an egg on the frying pan.
Again and again he fucked into her, the forced keeping her pressed to the burning surface of the grill as she wailed and sobbed. He griped one of her breasts, squeezing it roughly as the skin broke off it, revealing the tortured tissue beneath. The heat of the grill caused the tape binding her to melt, and soon her hands and feet were free. A paw griped her jaw as she kicked and clawed at him as he continued to rape her mutilated sex. With a curse he jerked her head back, dunking it into the searing oil of the deep fryer. She kicked and writhed violently as her feeble claws could do nothing to break his grasp. He brought her head back up, the tape now gone she screamed, an act that brought its own pain with it. Screaming hurt, crying hurt, breathing hurt, living hurt. With what seemed like a gift from god to her, Wallace finally grunted and poured his seed into her body. Once done he threw her to the floor like a used rag. Her ears, now stiff and brittle, broke into shards as she hit the floor with a crispy crunch.
She rolled and twisted on the floor, finding no escape from the inhuman pain that consumed her body. Again she felt the hand at her scruff, which now tore away in his grasp, causing her to drop to the floor once again. This time he seized her by the throat, lifting her limp form like a rag doll. "Well me pretty, or once pretty, lass, times comes for us to be partin' ways." Sara gave thanks to god, and hoped that he would just slit her throat or shoot her in the head and let her die, she was not so fortunate. He dumped a bad of white powder over her, and it burned on her exposed cuts and burns. With a grunt he hurdled her against the wall, audible cracks sounded as several of her ribs broke, followed by a splash. The violently bubbling oil churned as Sara writhed in pain amongst the burning liquid, which quickie turned from amber to a muddy brown, then a deep red. After a minute that never seemed to end the violent splashing stopped, and the frothing fluid calmed.
Wallace walked over to the fryer, smiling. The oil was too polluted to see through, but he didn't need to see through it. Clutching the lip of the fryer was a single arm coming from the oil. It had a flaky, golden brown look to it, and taking one finger of her hand he found it snapped off with ease. He popped the digit into his mouth, moaning as he savored the taste. "Mmm, taste like chicken." he said to himself as he turned to leave. The cooks were in for a nasty surprise in the morning, or a tasty snack.