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    Fematales
    Fematales
    Fematales
    Ebook124 pages1 hour

    Fematales

    By Carl Hose

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A collection of erotic horror featuring women who are as sexy as they are deadly. The women in this book kill for pleasure and revenge, delivering a graphic dose of gore and sex. Female serial killers, women who get off on causing pain, a psycho cheerleader, and abused women out for revenge are a few of the deadly females stalking the pages of this anthology.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCarl Hose
    Release dateJan 13, 2012
    ISBN9781452480060
    Fematales
    Author

    Carl Hose

    About Carl HoseCarl is the author of several works of fiction, including "Deadtown and Other Tales of Horror Set in the Old West," "Fematales Unleashed," "Dead Rising," "Dead Horizon," and "Pornocopia."Carl’s work has appeared in the zombie anthology "Cold Storage", which he co-edited. His work has also appeared in "Champagne Shivers 2007," "DeathGrip: It Came from the Cinema," "DeathGrip: Exit Laughing," the horror-romance anthology "Loving the Undead," the erotic paranormal ghost anthology "Beyond Desire," the "Book of Tentacles", "Through the Eyes of the Undead," "Silver Moon, Bloody Bullets," and several issues of Lighthouse Digest.Carl’s poetry appears in the zombie poetry anthology "Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes."His adult credits include fiction in Bi-Times, Swinging Times, Ruthie’s Club, Oysters and Chocolate, Good Vibrations, Three Pillows, the erotic anthology "Frenzy," and his erotic collection "Pornocopia."Carl’s nonfiction has appeared in The Blue Review, Writer’s Journal, and the horror film essay anthology "Butcher Knives and Body Counts."

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      Book preview

      Fematales - Carl Hose

      Fematales

      Carl Hose

      MARLvision Publishing

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2011 Carl Hose

      Cover art © 2011 Marcella Hose

      Table of Contents

      Introduction

      Bar Whore

      Black Widow

      Runaway

      Too Many Stiffs

      Hand Delivery

      Kill for Her

      Luck Be a Lady

      Rah, Rah, Rah

      Your Biggest Fan

      Fatal Blow

      Balance of Power

      The Ride

      Laura Lee and the Sickle

      Over Her Dead Body

      Lizzie Borden Took an Axe

      Introduction

      Fematales is a name I created by combining the words fatal and females. The females in this collection are indeed fatal. Some have good reason to be dangerous and others are simply psychotic.

      The women in this book range from abused women bent on revenge, who get it in decidedly bloody fashion, to misguided psychopaths looking for creative ways to satisfy their lust for blood.

      Did I mention Sex? You’ll find a lot of it in this collection, described in graphic detail. Sometimes sex is the driving force behind the killing, sometimes it’s not. Whatever its purpose, though, the sex is front and center in most of these stories.

      So is this a horror anthology or a collection of glorified porn? I’ll leave that up to you to decide. I wrote the stories as they came to me, for whatever reasons I felt the need to write them, and left it at that. All I can say for certain is this: if you like your horror with a healthy dose of sex, you’re going to find this anthology quite enjoyable.

      Bar Whore

      She took a drink of her wine and looked around. Nothing interesting. A bunch of pricks with egos. She knew all about the male ego and how to adjust it. That was her specialty.

      She finished her wine and headed for the ladies room.

      They watched her go. She felt their eyes on her as she crossed the room. A couple of drooling idiots. Each of them was certain he’d be the man she’d leave with. One of them would be unlucky enough to get his wish.

      She was a bar whore. That’s what men called women like her. A bar whore was always looking for love in all the wrong places, just like the famous country song pointed out.

      She peed and checked her make-up before returning to the bar.

      You look like you could use a little company . . .

      One of the drooling idiots had taken a seat next to her.

      Maybe, she said, smiling coyly.

      His face lit up with confidence. She laughed to herself. Men were so easy. A smile was all it took to make them feel like God.

      Can I buy you a drink? he asked.

      I’ve had enough to drink, she replied. Maybe we could leave.

      Yeah sure, he said. He could hardly believe his luck. I’m Jason, he added, offering his hand to her.

      She liked when they pretended to be gentlemen. It never lasted long, though. Once they fucked you, they reverted to being pigs. It was inevitable.

      His car was parked at the far end of the lot. Miranda insisted on driving her own car. As she drove, she thought back to a time when love mattered. It sure as hell didn’t matter now. She didn’t have time for something that had let her down too often in the past.

      She pulled into the Holiday Inn parking lot behind Jason. There was an available spot beside where he parked, but she drove to the far end of the building and parked there instead, grabbing her purse from the passenger seat. She smoked a cigarette while she waited for Jason to get a room. He came back a few minutes later, jiggling the room key like a trophy.

      While Jason worked the key in the lock, Miranda looked around the parking lot. It wouldn’t do to be seen entering the room with him.

      Well . . . ?

      He stepped aside to let her enter first, playing the perfect gentleman, but his demeanor changed as soon as the door closed behind them. He was all hands as he tried to kiss her. She dodged him and went to the bed. I want to do this my way, she said, dropping her purse next to the bed.

      Whatever floats your boat, he said as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

      Miranda started a slow, sensual dance, moving to music only she could hear. She closed her eyes and ran her hands slowly over her hips, up over her breasts, enjoying the feel of her own hands caressing her body.

      Jason stripped to his boxers and sat on the bed to watch her dance, rubbing himself as he did.

      Miranda turned her back to him and bent over, letting her short skirt ride up far enough to give him a peek of black panties. She gave him just enough time to get a good look, then she knelt between his legs and took hold of his cock, which was protruded above the waistband of his boxers.

      Oh, have I gotten you all worked up? she asked playfully.

      She slid her hand down the front of his boxers and squeezed his dick as she planted a kiss on its tip. She stood up suddenly, leaving him with his dick waving in the wind.

      He immediately went into his pouting phase.

      I want you to please me first, Miranda told him.

      She undressed slowly, removing her heels and stockings, then her skirt, and finally her blouse. She wore no bra. Her tits were firm and high, capped with perfect pencil-eraser nipples. Her panties were last to go. She dangled them in front of Jason’s face, tempting him with the fragrance of pussy.

      He reached for her.

      She stepped back.

      Do you want me? she asked.

      What kind of question is that? Of course I want you.

      She dangled the panties again "Do you need me?"

      I need you, he said, bobbing his head eagerly.

      She dropped her panties onto the bed beside him and ordered him to get naked.

      He stood up long enough to take off his boxers.

      She pushed him back on the bed. Sniff my panties while you touch your cock, she told him.

      He picked up her panties and sniffed them as he jerked himself off. He was like a puppet. She could make him do anything she wanted, so long as she kept the promise of sex alive for him. The thought of that gave her some measure of satisfaction, but nothing she could relate to sexual pleasure.

      She touched herself. No feeling, no excitement. She wanted desperately to feel something other than contempt. She got on her knees again and took his cock into her mouth. No pleasure there either, so she offered her bottom to him.

      Lick my ass, she said, spreading her pale, smooth cheeks wide.

      He probed her tight asshole. He teased it with the tip of his tongue, slid his tongue into her, lapped her up like a hungry dog. She rubbed herself against his face, working her ass down on his tongue, her eyes shut tight as she searched for some sort of pleasure in this dirty act.

      Nothing.

      If he could just make her come . . . .

      She pushed him onto his back and climbed over him, straddling his face. His tongue slipped in and out of her pussy, his lips caressed her clit. He worked hard to please her. She thought for a moment that he stood a chance. He was almost good.

      Almost.

      She pressed her hands into the bed as she fucked Jason’s face. She forced herself to moan, tried to convince herself she was having a good time.

      Please . . . make me come.

      There was desperation in her voice. Honest-to-God desperation.

      She was a bar whore and nothing else. Girls like her spent their whole lives looking for love in all the wrong places. Girls like her were used up and thrown away. Girls like her could be fucked but never loved.

      Miranda slid away from his face. She reached back to guide his dick into her. His cock slid in with ease, filled her substantially, but still she felt nothing.

      Tell me you love me, she whispered.

      She got no response.

      She covered his mouth with hers and thrust her tongue down his throat. His hands moved down her back and over her ass. He began lifting her to the tip of his cock and dropping her down again.

      Yeah, I love it, he grunted.

      He rolled her sideways and onto her back. His cock sank fully into her.

      Oh, yes, God . . . she moaned.

      Something happened. She felt a quiver in her belly—a slight tingle. She was coming alive again, beginning to experience a stir of emotion she hadn’t felt in such a long, long time.

      You like that, don’t ya, babe? he panted, thrusting into her with full force. You like that cock, huh? He pounded her pussy. All you bar bitches are the same. A couple of drinks and it’s hammer time.

      She froze beneath him. The tingling went away. She shut down. Her arms lay limp at her sides. Her legs were still open to him, but her heart was closed for business. She was again nothing more than a bar whore.

      A

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