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The further adventures of Alex Fletcher, lady-killer. WARNING!!! Longtime readers ought to know what kind of a guy Alex is, and thus what sort of fate is in store for his secretary. So if you're uncomfortable with rape and misogyny, please don't read any further. Otherwise, enjoy the hell out of Alex putting his klutzy secretary in her place. ;)

(DISCLAIMER: I don't actually endorse misogyny. It's disgusting and reprehensible, but for the purposes of erotic fiction, I think a sicko like Alex HAS to be a misogynist in order to do the kinds of things he does.)

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It was 9:00 in the evening, and the rabbit named Alex Fletcher sat in his cavernous office at the top of the office building that housed one of the many subsidiaries of his father Benjamin "Big Ben" Fletcher's company, seen in a rare state with his suit jacket off, revealing the bright red suspenders he wore to keep his dress pants up (as he loathed belts), and his sleeves rolled up past the elbow and his necktie loosened. He still, however, wore his trademark purple-tinted glasses. He rarely took them off. It was only recently that he had begun wearing them as a force of habit, and thus begun to understand why his pal Biff insisted on wearing those stupid 3-D glasses all the time.

Alex was at the moment hunched over a pile of paperwork pertaining to his father's New York real estate deal, the one for which they had killed Chester Paladin and Diggory Cloverfield. Glumly, Alex looked up, bleary-eyed, and stared out the large windows that looked out onto his office's balcony. It was pouring rain, the sky a dark grey and water hammering against the windows. A terrible day to be shut up inside, he thought. After a moment, he thought, it was a terrible day, period. Worst of all days like this made his bad leg act up.

He looked back down at the paperwork. It was beginning to look like it would never get done. At least not until midnight. He wanted more than anything to stop working and stretch out on the nearby leather sofa for a few quick winks, but an earlier phone conversation with his father had made it clear that he wanted the work done before tomorrow, or there would be hell to pay. And Benjamin Fletcher was the one person, rabbit or otherwise, whom Alex feared and respected.

He reached out for his coffee mug, which had a bottle of Advil sitting next to it, and frowned when he saw it was empty. He needed some painkillers for his leg if he was going to finish this work before the deadline his father had set. And he despised swallowing pills dry. So he pressed the button on his intercom and spoke into it, loudly and clearly.

"Miss Wilkenson?"

"Yes, Mr. Fletcher?" replied a female voice. His secretary, Melinda Wilkenson.

"Bring me a cup of coffee," he said simply, and took his finger off the button without waiting for a reply.

A moment later, Melinda walked in, carrying a coffee pot. An attractive thirtysomething grey squirrel with brown hair and glasses. Melinda was his new secretary. His old one, Callie MacNeille, he'd been forced to fire a week ago after she made the mistake of knocking over and breaking the glass paperweight depicting two very masculine figures romantically embraced, which his father had given him last Christmas. She had been a stupid bitch, and he had dealt with her accordingly.

Melinda, though, was shaping up to be a much better secretary. Like any good woman, she was very attractive, had a big rack, was educated without being too smart for her own good, and was willing to dress the way her job required. To wear what he told her to wear.

Which was very little.

Melinda's outfit at the moment was the epitome of "slutty secretary," a small double-breasted reddish-brown blouse that barely came together due to her large breasts, a white dress shirt without a tie, unbuttoned all the way down to the tops of her breasts so her employer could see her cleavage, and a matching skirt that was far too short and often slid up her legs. And, of course, stiletto heels. She was still getting used to walking in them, and Alex knew that she would take them off when he wasn't around. He didn't mind that. At least she was smart enough to put them on when he summoned her.

"Here you go, Mr. Fletcher," she said, a bit timidly, knowing exactly how Alex tended to think of her, even though he himself never came out and said it. The dress code he forced on all of his secretaries and the rate at which he fired them said it all. Melinda found it odd that despite all the rumors of sexual harassment, none of Alex's former female employees had ever taken his ass to court. She figured it was due to his rich father's connections.

Although she'd only been working for him for a little over a week, Melinda had more than once thought of quiting, because frankly Alex creeped her out. Everything about his appearance, attitude and mannerisms said he was the predatory type, from his narrow, hateful eyes to the way he made her help him take his jacket off when he came into the office, and made her help him put it back on when he left. But, with her piddily little apartment mortgaged to the eyeballs, she needed the job, and for such a jerk, Alex paid well.

Alex watched her as she approached, looking her up and down. Indeed he paid well. He liked his little whores. And so did his father. Sometimes Ben would swing by the office and would make a show of hitting on his son's secretaries and other female employees, something Alex enjoyed watching - especially when they resisted. His father had such a way with women.

And it was in the middle of this train of thought that the brief working relationship between Alex Fletcher and Melinda Wilkenson came to a halt. As Melinda was making her way over, almost to Alex's desk, there a sudden flash of lightning and a boom of thunder outside, that made even Alex jump. Melinda, though, still wobbly on her unfamiliar heels, tripped.

Alex had turned to look out the window to watch the lightning, and he heard her yelp. He turned back around in time to see Melinda falling towards him, pot of coffee in hand. Reflexively, he leaped out of his chair and jumped back to avoid being hit by her. She landed face-first in his chair (had he been sitting in it her face would have wound up right in his crotch). The coffee pot, meanwhile, landed on the desk and shattered. Both of them winced, Melinda covering her head and Alex bringing an arm up to his face as broken glass and hot coffee flew all over the desk....

....and the paperwork Alex had just spent the entire day on, and which he knew his father wanted him to get done before tomorrow. As Alex lowered his arm and beheld the sight of all of his work soaked in coffee and covered in broken glass, he felt his blood boil. Gritting his teeth, he turned and looked at Melinda, who was slowly trying to get to her feet, using the chair for support.

She was just lifting her head to look up at him and say sorry when he stepped forward and in one fluid motion slapped her across the face, hard. The way he knew his father would slap him come tomorrow.

"You stupid bitch!" he yelled. Another flash of lightning accompanied his outburst.

Melinda looked up at him, tears in her wide eyes. She shuddered, tried to say something, mouth moving up and down as Alex stood there, glaring down at her. "I--I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher," she stammered, holding her face where he'd slapped her.

"Sorry's not going to fix what you did! You--You ruined an entire day's work!" he roared, gesturing at the mess. "Look at it! Just look at it!"

"It was an accident," Melinda whimpered, half-afraid although Alex could tell from a brief flash in her eyes that she was also angry.

"And what do we do with accidents?" he said, stepping closer, grabbing the chair and throwing it violently out of the way, sending it rolling into the back wall with a loud thud, so he could stand directly over Melinda, and tower over her. She shrank back. "Well?" he barked. When she still didn't answer, he said, "We clean them up!"

Reaching down with both hands he grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and hauled her to her feet, her heels falling off, and gave her a rough shove towards the desk. She almost landed face-first in the glass but stopped herself with her hands on the desk edges, and lay there, panting. He grabbed the back of her head and shoved her face towards the puddle of coffee and commanded, "Lick it up!"

She struggled, then appeared to give for a second. Alex could tell that Melinda was lapping up some of the spilled coffee, mindful of the broken glass lest she cut her tongue on it. Smirking, he released her and stepped back to watch, feeling himself growing hard in his pants. If he was going to get into trouble with his father, he thought, then he was going to have some fun with the bitch responsible for it. He looked down at Melinda's ass, watching the way that short skirt rode up, revealing the tops of her pantyhose. Any further and he'd see her ass cheeks, he knew.

She was going to be a little more difficult, it turned out, because when he reached out and groped her behind and slid a finger underneath the bottom of the back of her skirt, she suddenly gave a scream that make him step back and spun, swinging her arm at him. He dodged, caught her arm, and pulled her close, and forcibly kissed her on the lips as she squirmed. He didn't give her any tongue; he knew she would bite. He held her so close, feeling those huge tits of her mashed against his chest, and he ground his hips against her body suggestively, letting her know exactly what he wanted as atonement for the error she had made.

But Melinda wasn't interested in paying. For the moment their lips parted, she wrenched her arm free and slapped Alex across the face, hard enough to knock off his glasses, which clattered to the floor somewhere nearby. Alex didn't bother looking to see where they fell. He simply laughed. He was enjoying this. He loved it when they played hard to get.

"You son of a bitch!" Melinda snarled.

He feigned shock and anger. "What did you call me?" he asked rhetorically.

"You heard me," she replied, struggling and breaking free. He released her and she slapped him again, although with less conviction because this time, she was crying. "You arrogant bastard. I knew I never should've come to work for you."

"If you're saying you're going to quit, Miss Wilkenson, don't bother, because you're fired," Alex said, expression darkening. He pointed to the door. "Get the fuck out of my office, and make sure you get all of your stuff because you're not ever gonna fucking come back here!"

Although Melinda's fate had been sealed the moment she'd tripped and dropped that pot of coffee, Alex took great enjoyment out of making her believing that he was going to let her go.

She backed up towards the door. Interesting, Alex thought. She was smarter than he thought. Usually the dumb broads turned their backs on him and he knocked them over the head with something blunt and heavy. But not this one. She was definitely going to be more interesting prey than usual.

He stood there with his hands on his hips as she reached the door, where she paused. He cocked his head. Now that she thought she was out of harm's way there was fire in Melinda's eyes. She pointed a finger at him, like a witchfinder pointing out a victim. "As soon as I get out of here, I'm calling the police!" she said. "You're going to prison, you fucking sicko!"

"I don't give a shit what you do, as long as you do it somewhere besides here," Alex replied.

Melinda hesitated a little longer. It was clear to Alex that his (apparent) indifference to her calling the cops was unnerving her. Very speedily, she turned, grabbed the doorknob, and flung the door open. Then she ran through the door and disappeared without even bothering to close it. Alex smiled, then turned, looking for his glasses. He saw them lying on the floor over near the window and walked over, bending down and picking them up as another flash of lightning flooded the office followed by a thunderclap. He smiled and put them back on, then sighed deeply and reached down, grabbing his manhood through his dress pants.

"It's party time, big guy," he said to his concealed cock, and laughed.

He shot another worried look at the ruined paperwork and fretted briefly at what he was going to say to his father, but the thought of what he was going to do to Melinda Wilkenson brightened his mood again. As brisky as his leg brace would allow, he strode across the office, taking his time. Even if he didn't catch Melinda before she got on the elevator, or if she was smart enough to use the stairs, all he needed to do to make sure she didn't make it out of the building was call to Biff, Fabian and Marty downstairs and they would collect Melinda and bring her to the designated place.

But as he exited the office, he was slightly disappointed but also relieved to discover that involving his friends wouldn't be necessary. Melinda was standing by the elevator, alternating between frantically pushing the call button and fixing her hair and clothes, trying to make herself look presentable. Alex almost laughed. The stairwell door was less than feet away. It looked like she didn't have the brains Alex thought she'd had. Now she had no hope of escape, unless she could fight him off, and there was little chance of that happening.

She didn't even notice him standing there until he spoke. "You dumb bitch," he sneered. She gasped and turned, a hand to her breast. "Did you really think I was gonna let you go? Especially after that bit about calling the cops?"

He crossed the distance between them fairly quickly. Despite Melinda being younger than him and in good shape, and him having a bum leg, he easily overpowered the frightened young woman. Not wanting any more trouble from her at this point, the minute he had her subdued he banged her head roughly against the elevator door. Once, twice. Three times until she fell into a daze and passed out. He released her and she slid limply, and sexily, to the floor at his feet.

Looking at her lying there helpless made him almost want to take her right there. But then the elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. He chuckled. Stooping down as well as he could, grunting at his leg, he scooped the unconscious woman up and dragged her back down the hall and back into his office. There, he lay her on the couch so she wouldn't be as difficult to pick up next time and walked to the windows. With an almost deliberate slowness he drew the blinds closed, shutting out the dim grey evening light, leaving the room in almost total darkness.

Walking to his desk, pushing a button that was hidden underneath a false ink pen fountain. Across the room, a portion of the wall slid away, revealing a secret passage, whose interior light came on automatically.

Walking back over to the couch, he put two fingers to Melinda's neck, checking her vitals. A steady pulse. That, plus she shifted a bit and moaned. Good. She was alive. Now came the hard part for him with his bad leg. Even though she didn't weight much, carrying Melinda for anything further than a couple of feet would put too much strain on his knee and ruin his mood. Luckily, he had ways of circumventing that discomfort. And even more fortunately, it was less dignified for Melinda.

Grinning, he took her by the arms and hauled her off the couch and dragged her across the floor, and pulled her through the previously hidden doorway. Only few other persons knew about this hidden room. His three friends and father were four of them. So was the guy who'd designed and built it and been paid a king's random to keep quiet about it. Besides them, the only people who knew where those Alex took in there against their will. And to date, not a single one of them had ever come out - alive or otherwise.

If any of the women who applied for a job as a secretary at his office knew what lay in this room, or that their fates lay within it as well, they'd stay away from the building in droves. A wide corridor with mirrored walls and ceiling led into a spacious room. The walls of the corridor where lined with what at first appeared to be wax figures of nude women of various ages and species, all striking very sexy poses atop pedestals with nameplates and dates and each wearing an expensive silk necktie. Closer inspection, however, would revealing how startlingly real they were. This was what Alex called his "tie collection."

With some effort he lugged Melinda down the corridor and into the room beyond, which was, for a secret room, surprisingly plus. Linoleum floor, another leather sofa and armchair, and two large, cushioned tables not unlike the kind you would see in a doctor's examination room. The two tables were separated by a sheeted partition. A form lay on the table currently on the opposite side. As soon as they were in the room, Alex grabbed some rope which he always kept handy, and used it to bind Melinda's wrists together over her head, and then to bind her ankles.

After making certain she was securely fastened, he nodded in satisfaction and then walked back out into his office and went to the phone. He called Biff and the guys downstairs, instructing them not to wait for him. He'd take his Mercedes home. He didn't need to explain why. They'd find out tomorrow morning when he told them he needed a new secretary. Saying good-bye and hanging up, he returned to the mirrored corridor and, pushing the button on the wall, sealed the door from his side.

Now, he, Melinda and his other "guest," who he would see to in a moment, were totally cut off from the outside world. Both the corridor and the room beyond were soundproofed by the builder at Alex's request. They wouldn't be able to hear anyone outside in his office, nor would anyone there be able to hear them. And Alex liked to make a lot of noise.

He turned to the frozen forms of the women around him. "Hello, ladies," he said softly, lovingly. He walked to the nearest of them, and embraced her like a lover. "Did you miss me? I missed you."

She didn't reply. How could she? And that was just fine with Alex. He licked her cheek. "I've brought another new friend for you. And they'll both be joining you forever, my lovelies."

Turning, he picked up a remote control that sat on an otherwise bare white table between two of the figures, and pressed a button. Sexy music began playing on a series of speakers that ran the length of the walls. "Affection," by The Lost Boys. He cranked it up really loud, just the way he liked. Setting the remote aside, he started dancing down the hallway, occasionally pausing to grope one of his "girls," or teasingly tug on a necktie, or even cop a feel, before he shimmied his way into the room where Melinda was still lying unconscious.

He grabbed a hook on the end of a chain and swung it around as he circled Melinda's body, eyeing her. Here came what would be for him the only truly difficult part of the exercise. He knelt down, wincing at the pain from his knee, but the music spurned him on. He slid the blunt hook around the ropes around Melinda's wrists, then, grabbing both the chain and the edge of the table, whimpered and hoisted himself up. He leaned against the table for a little bit. Curse this knee, he thought. If he hadn't had that accident in college he wouldn't need the leg brace, or have to put up with the inability to kneel without feeling like he'd been shot in the leg.

The pain passed, though, and he smiled, knowing it was smoothing sailing from here on in. The chain was part of a pulley system he and his friends had rigged up, as a means to help him get one of his lovelies onto the table by himself. Grabbing the opposite end he tugged and pulled, hoisting Melinda off the floor and into the air. As he did so she began coming around, blinking slowly. His smile turned into a cruel smirk as she saw this, and then he walked over and maneuvered her hanging form until it was over the table, and then lowered her down onto it.

"Wakey, wakey," he said, slapping her gently on the cheek.

"Mmm," she moaned.

"Wake up!" he said a bit louder.

"Huh? What?" she said, beginning to wake up. She saw him and immediately remembered what happened. "You! What are you doing? Where am I? What are you--"

Any further talking from her was silenced by his hand clamping firmly over her mouth. "You're in my private little retreat away from the cares of the world," he explained, opening a drawer in the table and rummaging through it with his free hand. "Very few women get to come in here. And they enjoy it so much, they never want to go."

From the drawer he produced a very special gag. It was basically a big, thick dildo with a rounded ball at the base and a black leather strap. Melinda's eyes widened when she saw it. The moment he took his hand off her mouth, she screamed, hurting his sensitive rabbit ears, and she fought very hard as he tried to force the dildo end of the gag into her mouth. In the end, he won out, though, slapping her across the face a few times, which served both to momentarily stun her and also shut her up. After that he had no further problems inserting the bulbous end of the cock-gag past her lips. He slid it down her throat until it vanished entirely and looked like an ordinary ball-gag, and then secured the strap around her head.

"There," he said, stepping back. "That should keep you quiet. And I would suggest not trying to scream with that thing in, or you'll strangle yourself. And we wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?" He chuckled. She simply stared at him with wide eyes. "No, of course not," he said.

With that, he began his work. Grabbing her blouse he tore it open violently, then ripped her shirt apart. He'd been dying to see her breasts ever since he'd hired her, and he got his chance now as he reached into the drawer and removed an X-acto knife. She whimpered around the gag, but he shushed her.

"Sshhh," he said, "lie still."

She obeyed. His intention was not to cut her. In fact he couldn't stand the sight of blood, strangely enough. Instead, Alex had a peculiar way with sexy lingerie, like the lacy black bra that separated him from Melinda's breasts. Rather than simply ripping them off like out clothes, Alex liked to handle bras, panties and the like delicately. And so as Melinda lay they, breathing deeply through her nose, Alex brought the thin blade down between her sumtpuous globes and cut the middle strap. Sticking the knife handle in his mouth, hen then parted the bra and was greeted by the sight of bare breasts and swollen nipples.

"Mmmm," he said around the knife handle, and waggled his eyebrows.

As "Affection" came to an end on the speakers and was replaced by the Eiffel 65 remix of "The Bad Touch," Alex repeated this process with Melinda's lower garments. He roughly tore off her too-short skirt, then very delicately used the knife to cut off her thong panties. He left her pantyhose on. Pleased with himself so far, he set the knife where Melinda could not reach it even in her tied-up state, and then began to go about getting things ready.

First he opened a mini-fridge, removing a bottle of chilled wine and a single glass and set them on the table in front of the leather sofa, and then he began to disrobe, talking as he did.

"I'm sorry about all those harsh words earlier," he said. "You see, I really do love women, in my own special way." He snerked, slipping his suspenders off and undoing his tie and removing his shirt. He unzipped his pants and letting them fall around his ankles, revealing his skimpy bikini briefs bulging with his arousal. Deftly, he stepped out of the pooled pants and sat on the leather sofa, and took off his shoes and socks. The right shoe and sock were somewhat difficult of course, with the brace, but he managed. He stretched luxuriously, and then got back up, wearing nothing but the briefs, and picked up the wine bottle.

"Either tonight or tomorrow, I'm going to love you the way no man has ever loved you in your entire life," he continued, and popped the cork. "Whoa!" he said, chuckling. He then poured himself a full glass of wine. With this in hand he sashayed back over to Melinda. He took a sip. "And by that, I mean I'm going to torture you. Slowly and painfully until you beg me to kill you," he added with deadly softness.

Melinda whimpered and squirmed. This was the reaction Alex had hoped for. He enjoyed watched her nude form writhe for him. He took another drink, savoring the wine.

"It all depends on what happens with your, ah, predecessor over there," he said, nodding in the direction of the partition that hid the second table and its immobile form. Melinda looked over at it, then back at her captor. He explained, "Callie MacNeille, my previous secretary. She's been my guest here for about a week, ever since I fired her. I've spent a lot of time with her. She's actually managed to last quite a while. Tonight, I hope to finish her off, but I'm not sure whether to do it before or after you and I have our first round of fun."

He reached down and touched Melinda's belly, stroking it possessively. She was all his, now. As he touched her she arched her back, actually trying to get away, but she pushed her stomach up against his hand, and he slid it along the curve of her tummy to her breasts, and pinched each nipple in turn.

"Because you see, Melinda, if I may call you that, I've concluded that women are best when being submissive to men. And that they are at their most beautiful when they're in extreme pain and fear. Far be it from me to damage that lovely body of yours needlessly, though. My methods are far more.....subtle and affectionate than the garden-variety sicko you'd normally get raped by in some dark alley somewhere."

A muffled moan drew both their attention, and they looked over and saw the form moving on the table behind the partition. Alex smiled.

"Ah, Callie is awake," he said happily. Looking back down at Melinda, and she up at him, he added, "Guess that makes my mind up for me. You'll get to see firsthand exactly what's going to happen when I've decided I'm through with you. Not many of my girls get that opportunity. You should consider yourself lucky you picked today of all days to fuck up on the job."

Taking another drink from his glass, almost draining it, he set it aside and walked to the curtain and pulled it aside, revealing for the first time to Melinda her predecessor Callie MacNeille, a blonde, buxom feline, bound and gagged in a similar manner. The only difference was that Callie had a green necktie on, similar to the girls displayed in the adjacent corridor.

She looked severely worn out, as though she'd been through hell and back. And, indeed, Alex had taken her many times over the past week, and done many other things to her.

"Callie, I'd like you to meet Melinda," he said, stroking Callie's thigh. Callie looked over at the newcomer dreamily, as though she were barely conscious. Alex continued talking as though the poor thing actually understood what he was saying. "She was the replacement I told you about, but she turned out to be even clumsier than you. Didn't even last two weeks."

Callie moaned around her gag. Alex smiled and groped her breasts with both hands. Then with his back to Melinda, he slid his briefs down and off, standing fully nude before her for the first time. In any other situation Melinda (and Callie) might have found him attractive, considering he was fairly well built. But under the circumstances, Alex could forgive them for not fawning over him.

"And now, Callie, I'm afraid it's time for you to go and join the rest of the girls, so Melinda and I can have our fun," Alex said, turning to the side so Melinda could see his massively hard erection jutting from a neatly-trimmed nest of black pubes matching his combed-back black hair. "But I don't see why we can't have one last quick fuck for the road." He turned and grinned at Melinda. "I don't she'll be going anywhere, after all."

With that, he climbed up onto the table. This was something he was able to easily do, with only one good leg. He climbed atop Callie who did not resist him in any way. Despite her terror and disgust, Melinda could not look away, and, knowing this, Alex decided to put on his best performance. Guiding his throbbing his erection into her loose and well-used pussy he groaned loudly as he sank in and his loins came flush with hers. She moaned, and he leaned in and kissed her. Or rather, he kissed the gag.

Then taking hold of her, one hand on her hips and the other under her back, Alex began to make love to her, athletic body moving sensually, toned ass with its pert rabbit tail moving back and forth, making the barely comatose woman moan like a slutty dockside whore at low tide. Watching this, Melinda began to cry, and this only got Alex going further. He grinned over at her as he humped Callie, wordlessly letting her know that this was going to happen to her, too, as soon as he was done with his current piece of tail.

The sex went on for a while. Alex was never one for quickies, except with his buddies and sometimes his father. He made absolutely sure that the final time he raped Callie MacNeille would be an experience both he and Melinda would remember. Eventually, Alex's body locking up after one hard, final thrust signaled the end of the mating as he came into her depths, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Callie, for her part, had seemingly become more lucid during the lovemaking, and struggled weakly and whimpered around the gag.

When he was finished, Alex pulled out, a long string of thick cum hanging off his still-hard cock. He'd be soft soon, but it wouldn't matter. When he was done with Callie, he'd need only to begin playing with Melinda for a little bit before he was able to get it up again. Although Melinda no doubt expected him to get down off of Callie, Alex did no such thing. He remained on top of her, straddling her waist.

He undid Callie's gag and pulling it out. A dildo, just like the one currently filling Melinda's throat. She coughed and spat, taking a deep breath. Then, she spoke, her voice dry and cracked.

"Please, Alex," she begged weakly. "Please..."

Alex took hold of the end of the green tie she was wearing. Fine silk. "That's right, you whore. Beg. Beg for your life. Make me work for it." He gave the tie a playful tug, gently pulling the knot against Callie's throat just a tad.

"Please, don't...." Callie whimpered. "I don't want to die...."

"You should've thought about that before you broke my father's paperweight," Alex said harshly. Then he yanked harder on the tie, tightening the impromtu noose around Callie's throat. She gagged immediately, eyes widening. Alex watched intently, gradually pulling it tighter and tighter, drawing the strangulation out, killing Callie slowly. "That's it, try to breathe like a good girl," he cooed. "Fight. Make it fun for both of us."

He could feel himself starting to get hard again, licking his lips as he was now pulling on the tie so hard it was as if he were a rodeo cowboy riding a bucking bronco and hanging onto the reigns for dear life. Underneath him, Callie's eyes bulged out cartoonishly, and her pretty little tongue stuck out grotesquely as she struggled for air that never came. And then she went, her body shuddering and then finally lying still. Alex kept a tight hold on the tie for a minute or so longer just to make sure. Then, finally, he let go, the tie flopping down onto one of Callie's breasts. Her head rolled limply to the side, and a thick blob of drool Alex wouldn't have thought the water-deprived woman would've had slowly dribble out of her slack mouth, and off the tip of her hanging tongue.

"There we go," he said, both to himself and to Melinda, who he otherwise ignored for now. Climbing off of Callie, he adjusted the tie, straightening it and smoothing it out. He stood back and looked at her. Then, frowning, he reached down and tilted her head back up, and with thumb and forefinger pushed her tongue back inside her mouth, but left her mouth hanging open. He thought idly that with it open like that she would look like she was begging for some cock.

"Much better," he said, nodding in satisfaction. He turned back to Melinda. "Now, how about you and I--"

He stopped midsentance, blinking. Melinda lay there unmoving, eyes wide. Walking over, Alex felt her neck for a pulse, and got none. She was dead. For a moment he thought, ludicrously, that she had died of fright. Then he realized what had actually happened. She had died of fright, in a sense. She'd forgotten his warning earlier, and had tried to scream around the cock-gag in her throat while she watched him have his way with Callie, and had accidentally strangled herself. What an idiot, he thought.

Scowling, he pushed her off the table. Since the hook and chain was still attached to her ropes, after falling off she hung there by her wrists, swinging slowly back and forth with her stockinged feet dragging softly on the linoleum. "One for the trash bin," he said to himself. He didn't keep the ones who died on their own.

He sighed and checked his wristwatch. It was by now almost midnight. He could feel his cock going limp again. As quickly as he could, he dressed himself again, staring disdainfully at Melinda's hanging corpse the entire time, enraged that she had denied him the pleasure of humping her brains out before she died. But that was why she was going out with the trash, and would never get to wear one of his neckties, and why Callie would, proudly posed in his collection. With his mind off his sex drive, Alex now had to think of what to tell his father about the paperwork. And when he realized it was only midnight, his mood brightened a bit. He could still salvage this. Although stained in coffee, the documents would still be legible, and he had been almost done when Melinda had had her accident.

All he needed to do was carefully clean away the glass, and then he could sit down and quickly finish up the last few papers. That way, he could get it done. His father might still slap him for the state the documents were in, but he knew he'd be forgiven for getting it doen anyway. He turned to Melinda, and nodded at her. "Thanks for dying on me prematurely, Miss Wilkenson," he said. "If you hadn't, I don't think my libido would've allowed me to finish my work. Perhaps there might be a place in my little collection for you, after all."

He walked out. "Somewhere in the corner," he added under his breath.

The End