The Cruelest Game | By : dbud Category: 1 through F > Cruel Intentions Views: 4623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I make no money off this story and do not own Gossip Girl, Cruel Intentions, or Mr/Mrs Smith. |
By Dbud Warning: Story contains rape, snuff, and necro sex!!!!! Read at your own risk!!!!! Starring: Sarah Michelle Gellar as Kathryn Merteuil (Cruel Intentions) Leighton Meester as Blair Waldorf (Gossip Girl) Brad Pitt as John Smith (Mr. and Mrs. Smith) And a special appearance by Blake Lively as Serena van der Woodsen (Gossip Girl) Sitting in a limo in a dark alley, the athletic man in a grey suit looked out the window watching for anything out of the ordinary. The woman sitting next to him, and seeing his uneasiness, placed her hand on his knee. "Relax Mr. Smith, everything is okay. You are such a nervous Nelly." "It's just a limo isn't exactly inconspicuous. I usually try to keep a lower profile. You sure I can't talk you out of this?" "Like I said, I insist on being there when this little bitch gets hers. This high school slut thinks she can fuck my husband and get away with it!?!? I don't think so! I want to be there when the life drains from this cunt's eyes." The man sitting next to her took a deep breath, "Okay then. I suppose for what you're paying certain...considerations can be made for you." Kathryn Merteuil smirked to herself. She was used to getting her way and had been raised to believe that adding zeroes to a check could solve any problem. She was a trust fund girl and socialite living in Manhattan. She spent her days fucking anyone she pleased while simultaneously screwing over those who pissed her off. She'd been doing this since high school. Of course, eventually even she had to grow up. With no income of her own, she was blowing through her inheritance alarmingly fast. So, she had married an extremely wealthy man had begun spending his money. "Let me go in first and take care of the cameras and any guards. I'll call you when the coast is clear." As he began to step out of the car, Kathryn leaned in and slid her hand up his thigh, "I know I can be...ah, difficult to work for John but perhaps after we do this I can give you a bonus for your efforts." As she spoke, Kathryn grabbed his cock and balls through the fabric of his slacks. She felt him stiffen in her hand. "Let's, uh, get through this first and then we'll see." She smirked at him as he slid from the limo and once he was gone poured herself a glass of champagne and leaned back. Sipping the flute, she began to think about what she was going to be doing in a few minutes but the idea of murdering her husband's mistress wasn't a frightening one for her as it would be most people. Instead, Kathryn found herself getting very turned on. She had been doing things like this, just not this extreme, for years. Toying with and destroying people's lives were a hobby for her. She had personally seen that every person involved with getting her expelled from her prep school had been destroyed. Bankruptcy, revealing their sexual fetishes and affairs, even framing them for crimes were all the fun she had. But this, actually being present when her hired hit man, a very good looking hired hit man, wrung the life from this whore; well, she could feel her panties getting wet as she thought about it. Putting one of her heeled feet up on the door she spread her legs wide and began to rub herself between her legs letting her fingers slip inside her pussy. Kathryn's head fell back and she closed her eyes as she began to pant and massaged the soft pink area around her pussy harder and faster. "Oh fuck!" she moaned as she felt her orgasm welling. Just then though, as she was about to reach a climax, her cell phone beeped. Grabbing it excitedly, she answered it. "This is John. It's clear, come on up. But come in the back entrance and use the service elevator." "Ohhh John, I love when you say 'come in the back entrance' because I was just thinking about you doing just that." He hung up and she smiled to herself yet again, "This is so much fun." Lowering the partition between the passenger and driver's compartment, she spoke to the driver, "Wait here!" she said curtly. Not waiting for a response, she raised the black glass riser and stepped out, pulling her coat around her in the cold night air of New York. She moved down the alley, jerking away when she thought her coat might have touched the corner of a dumpster, "Gross!" Reaching the door at the end of the alley, she pushed it open and stepped through into a back hallway of the building. The sight of the security guard's body laying in a pool of blood against the far wall startled Kathryn and she nearly shrieked but managed to contain her emotion as she slipped past the body and stepped into the elevator. She didn't think much of him. The fact that his life and the life of the second guard and doorman working the late shift in the building had died for her twisted revenge did not occur nor matter to her. Pushing the button for the penthouse, she rode the service elevator up to the top floor and stepped off. She walked through the rear entrance and entered the kitchen... "In here," she heard John's voice and followed it through the opulent apartment until she reached the living room. She turned the corner and immediately a wide smile crossed her face as she saw the woman she wanted dead sitting on the edge of a chair. Standing in front of her, with a silenced handgun pointed at her head, was John Smith, the hit man who had left the limo a few minutes ago. The young woman was beautiful, tall, with long full dark brown hair. She had full breasts, not overly large or fake like some Park Avenue women but her best feature was by far her face. It was perfection Kathryn noted as she approached. Even though it was now twisted into a look of shock at the sight of the alumni of her prep school where she was a senior and also the wife of the man she was fucking. No, the young woman's face was beautiful, no way to deny that; large almond shaped and colored eyes, full pouty lips, high cheek bones and a perfect little nose that Kathryn was sure was the result of a plastic surgeon. From under the short skirt the woman wore came her second best feature, her long toned legs, ending in a pair of high heels that Kathryn noted were to die for. The nineteen year old girl stood as Kathryn Merteuil approached like she was greeting an old friend for lunch. "Blair! Blair Waldorf! How long has it been? Ages it seems like!" Kathryn's demeanor was over the top and with more flourish than was called for. She grabbed Blair by the shoulders and leaned in, stopping when her face was a foot or so away, and kissed the air. She then repeated the motion on the other side of Blair's head.
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