This is an excerpt from Muder in The Bluegrass by L. W. Fugett. Grabbed from Google Books.
You can buy the book from Amazon:
Plot (SPOILER): Nude dominatrix kills a man by stepping on his neck and choking him with her whip after he submits to her by worshiping her feet and pleasing her orally.
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Forty miles to the west, another part of the tragedy played out in the peaceful countryside of Prewitt. Only the participants could have had an inkling of what demons lay wait.
The third floor of the clubhouse was stygian dark, arcane and foreboding with its leather bonds, hoods, and implements of deviant punishment-pleasure. Whips, paddles, cat-o’-nine-tails, flesh clamps, and bindings lined walls and hung from meat hooks suspended from the ceiling. One might think it a dungeon from the dark ages were it not for the contemporary sexual implements, the oversized phalluses, the anal inserts and vaginal manipulators, from which one could pick and choose, all salaciously arrayed, displayed in a manner designed to elicit degenerate eroticism.
Even more compelling was the pungent odor, not solely of yesterday’s sex or sweat or stale perfume, but of something more. It was an affront to the senses of the godly soul, something profoundly primordial, bestial, a malevolent fetor, perhaps of evil. Were the room an entity, would surely be testooned with a garland of brimstone.
Zenia Antonucci snaked the leather whip across the naked back of William Quesnell as he knelt on all fours before her, his eyes glazed as if he were drugged and near narcosis. She satin a captain’s chair, naked save for leather hood and wristbands, her legs lasciviously spread with her partially shaved vagina almost at eye level with her submissive subject.
She snapped the whip and a red welt rose on Quesnell’s buttocks. He quivered but made no sound. “You have to earn my favor, you pathetic cunt,” hissed Zenia. “Do you want my favor, bitch?”
“Yes, mistress,” Quesnell managed, almost in a whisper. As he spoke, he raised his eyes, the measure of which was nearly imperceptible, but an infraction reproachable, garnering another crack of the whip and a second welt.
She extended her foot and caught him on the top of the head. His head bowed, and she lowered her foot to beneath his chin. “Do it, worm,” she ordered. He obediently began licking her foot. “Get the toes, you cocksucker.” Again, he obeyed her command and began sucking her toes, salivating with the honor.
“Eyes up, you sniveling piece of shit.” He raised his eyes until he was looking directly at her vagina. She ran her free hand down her stomach to her thigh and began rubbing erotically, slowly inching her way to her vagina, her eyes locked on his, enjoying the emotion his glassy eyes could not hide. “This pussy is too good for that puny little cock of yours, bitch,” she said, as she opened her labia and began massaging her clitoris, slowly, salaciously with movement meant to arouse and taunt. She was caught up and getting excited. “You want some of this, you pathetic joke?” She inserted a finger, then two, then three. Suddenly she reached for him, sank her hand into his hair, and yanked his face into to her vagina. “Make me come, you worthless pig,” she screamed as she laid the whip across his buttocks, again and again until they dripped red and he was but a whimper.
In an instant, she wrapped the whip around his throat and placed her foot on the back of his neck, pressing his face to the floor. She looped the whip into a half-knot and pulled, cutting off his wind. Tighter and tighter she pulled, his face and eyes bulging, first turning blood red then to a bluish hue as the blood flow and oxygen were stemmed. In only a moment, he lay dead.
Mavis, who had been sitting in the shadows, walked over uneasily and looked down. “Is he… ?“
“He’s dead,” Zenia said, “and it felt good. I’ve come close to doing it many times, but we needed him then. Now we don’t. He was the weak link in the cocaine chain. Nobody knows we were involved except him.” She looked down at the corpse. “Now we’re home free. The lid is blowing off the courthouse in West Liberty. All cocaine leads will be traced, and this piece of pussy would have sold us out.”
“But the toxic dumping?” whined Mavis.
“Only Fat Tony knows why we wanted the mining company and Jacoby place, and he’s such a dumb shit, he thinks it was his idea.”
“Billy didn’t know?”
“No, he was the cocaine connection to those nitwits in West Liberty. Give me a little credit, lover. I’m smarter than those puny little dicks, especially that one.” She looked down at Quesnell, naked, pathetic, with the whip still around his neck. “The cunt was such a flog freak, he didn’t even have a legal claim on this place. We’ve got it free and clear, all to ourselves, baby. Now, go out and bring his car to the door. He goes to the same place Gregory went, into the Licking River.”
Zenia saw the look of apprehension on Mavis’ face; she needed a drink badly. “No booze tonight, lover. We need to be sober.” Zenia pulled Mavis to her naked body and kissed her hungrily, pushed her head down to her naked breasts and felt her mouth take her nipple. Slowly, Mavis slid to her knees, her hands on Zenia’s buttocks, her mouth and tongue finding the spots. In only a moment, both were on the floor, lost in each other— beside the still warm corpse.
…
