Ain't Karma a Bitch?byabsintheminddgrl©
Andrew leaned heavily against the alley wall. He had lost a great deal of blood and it was beginning to take its toll. The rain was cold and bit into him like hungry teeth. He heaved a soul deep sigh and pulled himself off the wall. Cradling his mutilated stomach, he began to walk again.
"I've got to find a place to rest," he whispered to himself, "and hide."
He rounded the alley and began walking up the sidewalk. This was not the best part of town, but would probably be the last place the cops would look for him...at least for a while. Andrew spotted the marquise of a seedy little theater up ahead and aimed for it as best he could.
The sign sported a ring of lights that had probably blinked in sequence at one time. Now many of the lights were burned out and the remaining few sputtered and flickered weakly. DEEP BLUE, A CONFESSIONAL the sign read. Academy award winning, no doubt, Andrew thought.
The woman within the booth leaned with her hand on her cheek reading a magazine. As Andrew approached she slid her eyes towards him but made no other movement. Andrew dug in his jean pocket for a crumpled ten-dollar bill.
"One adult, please," he whispered. His voice had a watery, bubbly sound that he didn't feel comfortable with at all.
"Yeah, One adult," The woman's active eyes looked towards his stomach.
"Don't get the seats messy. I gotta clean 'em and I don't wanna be here forever."
"Right, I'll be careful," Andrew slid the ten at the woman.
"Two bucks change," One hand passed him two very used and very unscrupulous looking bills.
"I mean it about them seats. And don't be in there all night. I come in before my shift ends. Five AM on the nose," Her eyes slid back to the magazine.
Andrew made his way out of the rain and into the dark lobby of the theater. At one time the theater had probably been a real showpiece. The style was reminiscent of Art Deco with burgundy carpeting and long gazelle-like female reliefs on the walls. The carpet was long past threadbare and the once graceful 'ladies' now sported hand drawn additions and epitaphs. The long defunct concession stand now held empty pasteboard boxes and two large trash barrels. A broom leaned against an antique cash register. There was no one inside to take his ticket, so Andrew made his way to the only entrance into the theater proper. From the look of things on the screen the plot had thickened about as much as it could and was now coagulating into a steady stream of crap.
The woman on the screen was in the process of disciplining a couple of gentlemen and all the parties involved looked to be anything but interested. Andrew slid along the wall to the corner seat in the back row. There were only two other people in the room. To Andrew's right, in the other back corner, an old man. The old man appeared to be asleep. In the very front row, center, was a woman. Andrew wondered what sort of woman would be caught dead in a place like this at one in the morning and then decided he could guess. When the woman stood up and adjusted her very short, very low-cut dress he decided he knew. Andrew's stomach had really begun to hurt. He moved his hand away from his stomach and looked down. His once light blue shirt now looked black and was completely soaked through with blood.
His hand was also filthy with his gore. He leaned his head against the wall and hoped he wasn't leaning against anything too unsavory. So, maybe trying to rob that guy wasn't such a smart move. He looked down at the tear in his shirt, where his own knife had been turned on him. Usually he was so careful with the marks...so conscious of the level of danger they possessed. He supposed the thought of money and an impending fix were enough to make him lax in his judgment. Countless muggings and a few accidental murders had made him hard, but they'd also made him overly confident. Across the theater the woman in the too too short dress stood again and stretched her arms over her head. He had the impression she had been in the theater for a long while. She looked down as she again adjusted her dress. In the glow of the XXX flickering on the screen it almost seemed she glanced towards Andrew, under her lashes and smiled to herself. It seemed.... Almost seemed.... Her teeth glinted white in the dark, like pearls or knives. At the thought of knives his gaping stomach seemed to remember the outrage done to it and a fresh wave of pain shifted through his stomach and down to his groin.
He hissed and moved himself in his seat. At his movement the woman's head came up and she almost seemed to test the air, her tongue moving over her lips like a snake. Andrew decided he had to get a better look at the damage done to him and gingerly unzipped his pants and pulled his shirt out. Pretty bad. Maybe not as bad as he'd thought, though. Maybe more blood than actual guts. A small reprieve from impending death. He laughed inwardly at his gallows humor. As he was perusing his gut he suddenly noticed the light from the screen seemed to turn to shadow. He looked up and standing one row in front of him, legs at least a mile long with the hem of a short dress just barely dipping below her puss, was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She was pale, almost ghostly in the flickering light, and yet he could see her features plainly as if she were illuminated from within. Full, red lips wore the teasing smile of a prostitute. Andrew found himself leaning forward in spite of his injury. She leaned forward in response resting her hands on the back of the seat in front of him. Her black hair falling forward over her brow and past her shoulders reminding him of some dark bombshell from Hollywood's Golden Days.
"Do we have a boo-boo?" she asked her voice dark and heavy, like velvet.
"Em...yeah, I guess." Andrew had a sense of unease; he shrugged it off to the mild shock he was probably dipping into.
"I'm a nurse, of sorts. Would you like me to look at it?" she began to move towards the end of the row and to the aisle.
He shrugged, though the thought of having her a little closer was inviting. He suddenly didn't think his injury was so bad and the movie seemed to be inspiring him to a steady recovery.
She walked around the last seat on the row in front of him then began to stroll down the row he was on. He inexplicably felt his cock harden at the sight of her rolling walk. He moved his hand down from his stomach and rubbed himself, willing his erection to chill, just for a moment. He didn't notice the blood he transferred onto his white jockey's. She seemed, again to sniff the air and he watched her tongue make it's long slow circuit around her full lips. Hand or no hand, his prick refused to be restrained and he reached into his pants and took hold of himself. In the gloom of the dingy theater he saw the woman's hand snake out of the darkness and cover his own hand. Her skin was cool to the touch and he moved his own hand to allow her to encircle his engorged cock.
"My my, aren't we the big boy?" In her voice was laughter and a hint of disdain, but her long fingers squeezing his shaft were distracting him from all else.
She moved so that she knelt on the sticky floor beside him and he swung his legs to the side to straddle her. He had a perfect view of her pale cleavage and noticed that the fabric barely concealed her nipples the dusky edge of her areola peeking out. The faint lines of a tattoo circled around her throat, too dark to see in the cinema light. His stomach still ached but the ache in his dick as her hand milked him was completely enveloping his thoughts. His shirt was pulled up under his armpits as he slid down into his seat and she slid her other hand out to touch the wound in his stomach. The blood had begun to congeal, but at her touch it started to flow again. She leaned forward, as if to inspect his injury and reached her pink tongue to taste him.
Andrew flinched, "What the fuck are you doing?" His mouth professed outrage but his cock seemed to harden impossibly at the tasting.
She looked up into his eyes and ran her tongue down his stomach and to his heavy throbbing cock. Still looking up at him she ran her wet tongue up the length of his dick and to the head. A milky drop at the tip found it's way into her mouth and she smiled and licked her lips at the taste.
"You taste good all over, Andrew," she whispered and pushed her mouth back onto his prick.
"Hey! How do you know my na..." his question drifted off as her mouth moved up and down on him, sucking and pulling his body to a climax.
Abruptly, she let go of him and stood up. Moving her black dress up he saw that she wore what had to be the smallest thong known to fashion. The fabric barely covered her twat, her pink lips peeking out just as her tits peeked from her top. She was shaved to a mere strip of dark hair. She moved the fabric aside revealing her pussy to him. He reached out a hand to touch her and she slapped it away.
"Not for you to touch," she smiled wickedly at him, her knife-like teeth glinting again. She turned around so that her round ass was to him and positioned her pussy above his straining cock. He grasped the base and guided himself into her box. She was wet and he slid in feeling her walls grasp on to him. Placing both hands on the armrests she began to piston her body up and down. He felt the moisture of her cunt drip down his cock and he knew, knife wound or no, he was gonna cum into this freak-nasty stranger any minute. He glanced over at the only other occupant of the theater and saw the old fucker was still asleep. Had to be drunk to sleep through the noises this bitch was making. A shuddering moan came from deep in her throat and she rode his rod harder, her wet pussy slapping down on him. Up on the screen the actors rode each other and Andrew couldn't help thinking his own personal porn was much more entertaining.
He felt himself about to come and wrapped his hands around her small waist, "I'm gonna cum," he stated the obvious.
She instantly stopped! As if she were a robot or on autopilot. He began to push up into her again, but felt her remove herself from his shaft.
"Not yet, big boy." She moved her hand over her pussy throwing her head back as she rubbed her clit, then put her wet fingers to her asshole.
"Would you like to fuck me in the ass?" She smiled naughtily.
"Dumb question. Yeah, ride my cock bitch."
He grinned at her as she positioned her pink asshole above his cock. She slid down onto it and he shuddered at the tight hole closing around his head. The slowly, her head bent forward she began to piston on him. He held onto her waist, guiding her onto his shaft as she held onto the seat in front of her. Her moans echoed the slut on the screen, almost cry for cry.
"Yeah, take my cock. You're so fuckin tight!" Andrew again felt the looming climax and his breathing changed to herald that event. He gripped her hips tightly, hard enough to bruise her pale skin.
Again, with cruel abruptness she stopped riding him.
"Fuuuuuuck!" he breathed, "Let's finish already."
She turned around and leaned forward, her face just above his. He felt her hand graze past his cock as it strained for her touch and she again reached down and touched his wound. The bleeding was quite copious now, as if the motion of his body while she fucked him had opened the floodgates. Surprisingly it didn't hurt, but the sight of so much fluid seeping from his stomach was scary. She reached her hand up to her mouth, it was covered now not in her juice but his blood. She licked her forefinger then brought each of the other fingers to her mouth in succession. The sight was both extremely sexual and disturbing. He started to say something but she brought her blood stained lips to his ear.
"Now, I promise to finish you off, big boy." She again slid her wet pussy down onto his still enormous erection.
She slowly moved on top of him while touching her fingers again and again to his injury and bringing the crimson flow to her lips. She would lift nearly off his cock then slam back down his full length, her fingers mimicking the same motion with her mouth. It was the most sexual thing he'd ever experienced. Somewhere in his mind, the memory of a long ago college course seemed to drift to his mind. What was it, blood, sex, and a dark and beautiful woman? He shook his head as his climax for the third time rose and knocked on the door.
"Oh fuck, yeah. Fuck me, bitch!" He cried hoarsely.
He closed his eyes as the moment arose. He felt her hands on his body...one to his stomach, one gripping the base of his cock...one on his shoulder, one on his leg behind her. His eyes flew open! Four hands, Four fuckin hands?! His eyes darted around anxiously even as his cock began to convulse in her twat. The pressure of her walls on his shaft as she milked him with her body as she had with her hands. Hands! It felt like he was being molested. He looked up into her face and saw her eyes, black with dark intent leaping from them. Her tongue now rolled out of her mouth long and red. Now he could see the tattoo more clearly, a string of severed heads small and black around her neck like a necklace. Andrew felt himself cumming even as he tried to recoil from the hands, the tongue, the dark dark eyes. The seat held him in place as she rode him to her climax, screaming a guttural shriek.
"Hailmaryfullagrace," he began to mutter.
"Oh, no no no, big boy. Let's get the name straight." She pulled her hot pussy off of his spent tool. "I'm no shrinking violet, no martyr, no pale and pensive icon."
He stuttered sitting slumped in the chair. His pants pooled around his ankle, his blood again beginning to congeal, his semen dripping down his leg, "Who are you?"
"Behold, little man, I am Nitya Kali, Goddess of Blood and Destruction, Divine Mother. You do well to feel the honour of my attentions." Kali reached down touching his injury then plunged her hand into it and up into his chest. Pulling his still beating heart out she held it in front of his clouding unbelieving eyes.
"You know what they say, little man. Crime never pays. Perhaps if I'd not tasted the filth of drugs and the copper of your blood on the air I would have looked past you, but you were just too sweet a morsel to pass up." She shoved the now still heart into her mouth and swallowed it whole, as a snake would. He took a sudden breath then died. Kali straightened her short dress down on her long legs. Tucking two of her arms away within the dress. Looking as if she'd just been to an art show and not an illicit fuck in a seedy movie theater.
"You were a tasty treat. Perhaps we'll meet again, in another life. Damn, that pesky Karma," she said with a grin and turned walking down the row then headed for the doors of the Exit.