Page 3 of Dead Woman Walking

“Oh, gawd no! Not to a party!”

My eyes glance down at myself. I am in a black leather skirt with a gray sweater over my thin black top. Chains and belts cover my chest and waist. Thisismy normal everyday wear.

“This?” Blair racks through her closet and shows me some hot pink short ass dress.

“Over my dead fucking body!” I laugh.

She stares at me, chewing on her bottom lip.

“What?” I question.

“I’m trying to see if that could be arranged… Your dead body, I mean.”

My eyes roll as she flashes an amused smile.

“Come on! It would look amazing on you,” she beams, eyes sparkling when she looks at me.

I won’t deny that the small dresswouldlook stunning on my curves. “Not hot pink,” I grumble.

Excited, she jumps around a bit, obviously happy she’s getting something out of me.Ugh, she’s got me agreeing to wear her clothes.

Blair and I have the same body type: small hips, round ass, and thick thighs. Our stomachs are round, and our breasts huge. We aren’t small girls, and our outfits put that in the spotlight, though our styles are different. Blair is very…pink. She is soft and warm, with little need for makeup, and she wears her hair curled at her shoulders.

I am dark, chains, and leather. My dark curls rest over my shoulders in a mess.

She throws probably her only black dress at me.

“Fine,” I sigh, not caring enough to fight. “Can I shower here?”

“Do you even have to ask, Art? Go ahead.”

Nodding, I grab one of her clean towels from her closet and move to the bathroom. Inside, behind the locked door, I glance at myself in the mirror. I get a lot of compliments about being stunning and at a quick glance, I amstunning.Bright golden eyes with dark curls falling against my bronzed skin. But the more I stared, the more I realized some of the flaws my brain would pick at.

My eyes run over my wide hips and over the curve of my round stomach. My teeth chew on the inner part of my cheek. As my eyes dip lower to my wide thighs, I sigh and decide it is time to shower.

I slowly begin to unclip all the leather straps that cross around my sternum. My heavy breasts sagging a bit from the small loss of support. Then I remember… Brahms’ veiny long finger brushing my pierced nipples. They budded under his warmth. My breath picks up, feeling the room close in a bit. I blink, trying to calm the heat brewing between my thighs. I shouldn’t be thinking about those fuckers. They were just some random guys wanting to humiliate me, and it worked. Shaking my head, my fingers unzip my leather skirt, but I slow my movement. I can almost feel the cold tip of Jason’s knife as he dragged it against my skin.

Once my skirt drops, I see my bare pussy, still glistening from that interaction. Impulsively, I reach down and run a finger through my folds, kind of like how Ghostface did with my underwear. Wetness surrounds my finger immediately.

My eyes close, my body warming and aching. My mind wanders as my finger pushes in and out of me. I picture Jason’s finger wrapping around my neck while Ghostface pumps his large fingers in and out of me. A soft noise escapes my throat, jolting me back to reality. Shaking, I pull back and take a deep breath.

I shouldn’t think about this. This just proved I needed some form of therapy.

Pushing off the rest of my clothes, I try my best not to look at myself too much before stepping into the shower. The moment the warm water hits my skin, a sigh escapes my lips and my eyes close again. My head tilts back, and I feel Brahms’ hand covering my whole breasts. My hips push out toward Ghostface’s fingers. My eyes snap open, glancing around.

No one was here, but his hands felt like they were still on me. Those men were criminals, and I shouldn’t be thinking about their crazy hands on me. I shouldn’t be soaking wet like this. How dare they fucking touch me and fuck with my head? If I ever see them again, I’m going to punch them in the dicks. Yeah… Just spend years punching anyone with thosespecificmasks.

With a sigh, I grab the soap bottle.

Those thoughts are stupid, I can’t do that. That would further prove the point that I needed therapy.

2

Art

I finally slide the last leather strap into place before looking at myself in the mirror. The dress is fully black, hugging my mid fish-netted thighs. It clings to my curves all the way to my breasts. There is a peekaboo opening, showing off my cleavage. But I added the chains that sit under them, and they went down my ribs like a corset.

“Awooga! Damn!” Blair fans her hands like she is trying to cool herself down. She looks just as beautiful with a silk rose gold dress and some silver jewelry. “Would smash hard.”

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