View Full Version : Black Mountain

02-07-2010, 06:38 AM
(written and posted by hisdinner-- who didn't notice that Sarapul was the one logged in. Talk about being rusty!)

Black Mountain

Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To do a little slaughter...

They’d spotted her about ten days ago, on that first sunny day after weeks of torrential rain. The sun glinted off the puddles as she zig-zagged up the path that rose up to the top of Black Mountain. The switchbacks were steep. Lesser runners preferred lower hills. She’d been alone that first day and alone on each day since. Jack liked the route and said as much to Jill. Jill liked the way the trees obscured and then revealed the girl as she loped up the winding path.

“Like she’s taunting me,” Jill said.

“You usually run the canyons. Think you can take that uphill grade?” Jack shot a quick grin at his companion.

Jill snorted and kept binoculars trained on the runner. “I don’t plan to run, Jack. But you know I could.” She flexed her legs because she knew it made him want to bite them, and leaned further out the window of their car. “She’s around that last cut. How’s her time?”

Jack grinned again. Jill’s competitive blood was up. “Maybe thirty, forty minutes. I wasn’t really keeping track.” That would piss her off. Jill craved precision. She liked to know the capabilities of each girl they chose. Jill did not like the game if there was no contest. Jack enjoyed watching Jill work herself up for their next kill. His little jibes and irritations served them both. She got ready, and he got the pleasure of fucking a lioness before the hunt. Tonight would be a delicious prelude to the kill.

Jill stuffed the binoculars into their case and jumped out of the car to rummage in the trunk. He heard muttered cursing and clanking as she shifted some of their gear around. A faint scent of campfire smoke permeated the car as the wind pushed through the opened trunk and forced its way into the car. Jack grinned. Ahh—campfire memories. No matter how long you aired the gear between outings, some of that wonderful aroma persisted. Some of the last girl remained, too—a roast and some ribs. They’d gotten very good at what they did, but it was time to fill the freezer again. Mmm, Jack thought. Juicy, roasted runner girl.

He hadn’t always been Jack, but he’d always been a cannibal. His earliest memory was of watching his mother’s ankles swish past him, back and forth as she got ready to go out. His mouth ached and watered and he kept rising up on chubby knees to grab at her as she passed by, but those drumsticks, better looking even than turkey legs-- were rushing back and forth, first barefoot, then slick with stockings, then clicking past in heels, and his short stubby fingers just couldn’t hold on long enough to get a bite. The bell rang and his mama’s legs were joined by a sleeker, firmer set of legs—the babysitter’s. Mama thought he was trying to grab onto her and keep her home. All the little guy wanted was just one little bite. Mom took off. The sitter sat. And as soon as he was within chomping distance little Jackie got his first bite of girl. She was yummy. And teething was such a good excuse.

Jack returned to the moment and glanced at his Jill. They’d met at a supermarket, one of his favorite pick-up spots. She’d been petting the cucumbers and stuffing overpriced Chanterelles into her oversized purse. He’d been sizing her up as a potential dinner. Tall, slim, but muscled with some nice curves. Cute thing, too. She’d definitely hit the spot, yeah. She felt his glance and looked up. She stared at him after one brief, involuntary shiver. She sized him up, trying to decide just how much trouble she was in. Rather than blushing and moving away, hallmark of guilty shoplifters everywhere, she closed in on Jack. In seconds she stood no more than ten inches away, her eyes having never left him. He almost gulped. She smelled too good to eat—right away. As for Jill, she’d already realized that this was not the Undercover Vegetable Police. She assumed what most of the women did—that the guy was about to come onto her. None of them, not even Jill, got it absolutely right. Yeah, he wanted to fuck, but mostly he was shopping for his dinner.

So there they were, breathing in each other’s pheromones, toe to toe. Jill filled her irresistible chest and his eyes strayed to that show. She leaned forward and spoke right into his face.

“Listen, Jack.”

“I’m not Jack. My—“

“Yeah, you are. Jack--- Jill.” She poked his chest as she dubbed him Jack, then she touched her self—Jill!—letting her fingertip nestle against the velvety flesh that showed in the deep V of her sweater. That was all it took. He nodded his head in a sort of dazed fascination, and off they went, the new Jack and Jill. He had to admit, it had bugged him at first. No matter how many times he corrected her, she stuck to it—he was Jack, and that was that. As they got to know each other, it all seemed practically predestined. She accepted him—hell, she enjoyed him in way he’d never dreamed could be. How many girls take to the cannibal lifestyle so effortlessly? It made no sense, nothing about them did, but Jack didn’t care. How had he functioned solo? Jack and Jill was the only way to go.

As for Jill, she’d never revealed her real name. Maybe she really was Jill, but he doubted that. Once they’d gotten to really know each other, it didn’t seem to matter much. The couple that kills together, thrills together, or something equally snarky—at any rate, the steady supply of girl meat was great, and the sex was almost better, something Jack would never have considered possible. Jack was far too busy enjoying life to sweat the small stuff.

“You ruminating or just chewing your cud? “ She was back inside the car, fiddling with a knife.

“Smartass.” Jack put the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. “Ready to go?”

“Let’s take another look at that turnaround on top.” Jill pocketed the knife then turned to Jack, resting her hand on Jack’s right shoulder. She kneaded the muscles there and he moaned.

“Hungry?” She made it sound like a proposition. Hell, it was—the best Jack had ever had.

He felt a stirring in his crotch that timed up perfectly with a rumbling belly. She chuckled and rubbed both parts, teasing him a bit.

“Keep that up and I’ll take Little Runner Girl down right now, the hell with the plan,” Jack said in a throaty growl.

“Could be fun. Why not?” She nibbled his earlobe and gave him one last pleasant squeeze before scooting back to her side of the car. Her grin was wicked, and her eyes sparked in the late afternoon sun.

“Hey, it’s fine with me, but you realize she’ll be on the way back down before we can get to the mountain. We’ll have to try and intercept her just above that fishing access road.”

“Not we. Me. You should park down the road out of sight. Two of us will spook her.”
He reached out a large, calloused hand and began to stroke the inside of her thigh. My my, thought Jack. Jill wants to go solo? He didn’t like the feel of it.

“So you plan to clonk her and get her out of sight all by yourself? “ He pictured the two women, the runner girl all sweaty and slick, his Jill so sexy in her tight jeans and sweater. They’d struggle a little, then Jill would bring out the sap and stun the Running Girl. His crotch stirred again.

“Something like that. I could be splayed out on the path, howling with a hurt ankle. All by myself, what a poor thing, and when she stopped—“

“Oh, yeah, baby—she would fall for that. When she bent over, you could clonk her over the head before she even saw it coming. Think you can drag her all the way down to the car, though?”

They’d reached the bottom of the road in record time. Jack realized he’d better watch his speed on the way back. It would be hard to explain an unconscious girl in the back seat to a traffic cop.

“Sure you don’t want to wait for tomorrow, get the van, follow the plan…” Jack hoped she wouldn’t.
In response, she motioned for him to pull over.

“Let me out here. “ She kissed him hard on the mouth, his lips smashed against his teeth. She checked her pockets, patted them as if satisfied, and slipped out.

“You sure about this?” Jack tasted a little blood in his mouth. She was already off the road and climbing up to the running path which ran on a raised embankment, parallel to the road. She turned and waved him off. Jill smiled as she watched the car disappear down the turnoff to the lake. Showtime.

Jack squirmed in his seat, adjusting himself. He always got a boner on their hunting trips. This was so weird, though. Jill liked an audience. She liked to do all the hard stuff and leave just the tastiest parts for Jack to do. At least, that’s how he’d always thought of their arrangement. They’d spot some girl they liked. They’d spend a couple weeks, maybe, watching her, enjoying the planning, enjoying the tensions that built up as they worked out the time and place for the kill.

Sometimes they killed them later, but usually, Jill cornered them and turned them into jelly and then Jack had a go at them, doing his best to fuck their brains out before the knife came out and slit their throats. Jack could field dress and bleed out a girl in amazingly short time, and their van was well equipped for temporary storage. Jack did love his knives, and he loved carving that cooling flesh into steaks and roasts and chops…oh my. That boner wouldn’t quit.

Jack squirmed again, realizing that if Jill clonked her hard enough, she might not be much fun to fuck. That sort of pissed him off, Jill taking some of the fun away. She’d have to hit her pretty hard. Jill had to be sure she could get the girl down to the car without any problems. Jack wasn’t happy at the idea of losing a fuck of this nature. The only thing better than fucking a terror-stricken girl was eating her afterwards. Jack decided that he would amble up to the trail and get in on things. Life was too short. Got to stop and smell the roses and fuck the meat girls along the way.

Up around the corner Jill stood in a thick screen of brush just above the running path. She steadied herself, trying to slow her breathing. She heard the birds chattering about the coming night, saw several huge black birds circle and land on a ponderosa pine across the trail. Finally Jill heard the steady slapping of a runner’s shoes on the hard-packed earth.

“Little bitch is coming.” Jill felt the rhythm of the girl’s strides, but she couldn’t see her yet. No matter. She knew exactly what to expect from the little tramp. She had years of research on that account.
The running girl came around a slight curve, and Jill stepped directly into her path , not six feet in front of her. From his viewpoint down below, Jack was puzzled. Guess she decided to jump her after all, he mused. Jill does like to scrap.

The runner, almost Jill’s match in height, hair color, and features, blurted, “Fuck me! –Isabella?”

“You better believe you’re fucked, Little Rita,” Jill said, closing the distance between them.
Rita squawked and tried to stop short, but Jill used the girl’s momentum to toss her to the ground, grabbing an ankle as she fell. Jill held it with both hands and twisted it until it snapped. Soon as she let it go, she wrenched and twisted Rita’s other ankle in the opposite direction until she heard something pop. Rita screamed.

Down the hill, Jack caught his breath and stroked his hard-on. Oh, shee-it. This was going to be a good one. He wished he could hear what was going on.
Jill dropped herself on top of the injured girl, straddling her, resting lightly on Rita’s crotch. Rita squirmed and twisted, but Jill was able to capture both of Rita’s hands and hold them pinned to the hard ground above Rita’s head. Jill’s thighs pressed painfully hard into Rita’s injured legs and she howled again as Jill let go with one hand to wrestle something from her pocket. Now Jill held the struggling girl’s wrists with one hand. Jill didn’t show any signs of losing control. Rita’s legs hurt too much to use against Jill’s strong ones. Rita began to blubber and cry when the low angle of the sun’s rays revealed the glint of a knife held close to Rita’s face.

Jack was of two minds. He didn’t want to interrupt his lioness—she could get really bitchy when she didn’t get her own way. He really wanted a better view though, and he wanted to get a piece of this girl before she got too woozy. Still, he waited a few moments more from his snake’s eye view, just down the path and behind. Jill had her back to him, he couldn’t hear them much and all he could really see of their prey was those long, lovely, hurting legs of hers. It was enough for now, but just barely.

“Gah—put that away, Bella, geez!” Rita sputtered and tears streaked her face. She was smudged with dirt and she stank of fear. Jill laughed and lowered the knife to Rita’s neck.

“Don’t buck now—I might slip.” The knife grazed Rita and she mewled as blood drizzled down the nape of her neck.
Rita froze, her breathing coming in short gasps. She looked up at the beautiful girl and hated her more than ever. “Daddy’s taking you out of the will after this stunt,” she whined. “You cunt. Just wait til I see him.”

Jill smiled. “Funny. The will has been on my mind a lot lately. The price of oil is up, he’s down for the final count and I aim to cash in. For the full amount, little Rita. Buh-bye.”

Jill raised her knife high and sideways and slashed it across Little Rita’s throat with all her might. She rolled sideways, but not before a gout of blood striped her arm and part of her face in crimson. It looked black—like crude oil in the setting sun.

Jack stumbled up the little rise that separated them, yelling, “Hey! No fair, I didn’t get my fuck!”

It was the least Jill could do to oblige. After they dragged her sister into the brush and got her draining, they stripped and fucked on top of their discarded clothes. Jack’s back was raked and bruised when they were through, but she beamed in barely stifled pride. Jack was itching to ask her all about this lone ranger kill of hers, and what was up between her and the girl and all. He wasn’t sure just how to broach the subject, but he’d try. Later. Right now, he had some menus to dream about.

Back at the house, they swapped the car for the van and made their way back up the mountainside. They’d opted for caution, figuring Rita would be fine where she lay on the disused trail while they went home and got their custom meat wagon. Jill was still so jazzed up, she might have been high, but that was fairly usual after one of their kills. Hell, Jack was, too, he decided. And since she was in such a good mood, now’s as good a time as any, he figured. They were driving through the last dark mile before they hit the road that paralleled the trail.

“Jilly?” Jack cleared his throat and looked at her. Her face glowed a ghoulish blue from the speedometer lights. Kind of spooky.

She shifted around to face him more directly. “Almost there,” she murmured, seeming a little more relaxed now. Good timing, Jack reasoned.

“Did you know that girl?”

Jill surprised him by dissolving into a laughing jag so intense that she almost scared him. He couldn’t remember her ever doing that before, not even watching something hilarious on the tube. When her laughter finally subsided, they’d reached their dump spot. They hopped out of the van and opened the back. It was covered, ceiling, walls, and floor with heavy plastic tarps taped securely. Jack removed a body bag meant for bagging deer. They disappeared into the brush and bagged their kill expertly, returning to the van with the bag slung out between them. This was heavy work, and neither one spoke much.

For Jack, the best part was coming. When they got home, he could take his choice of parts from this ripe, juicy, tender, delicious girl and get ‘er cooking. His hardness returned as he pictured Rita laid out on his butcher table. He thought that a piece of her calf might be just the ticket, if Jill hadn’t ruined the meat by twisting it too hard. That made him remember the things he hadn’t quite heard from downwind. Had to ask her; it was just too weird.

“So, this meat here. You knew her?” He hoped she wouldn’t mind his prying. Her earlier reaction boded well, he figured.

Jill liked the way Jack referred to that miserable creature as meat. Perfect.

“She’s—she was—my sister.”

Jill was driving now, as they’d both learned it was a better idea with Jack so distracted by upcoming events, menu planning, etc. It was a good thing. Jack would have driven right off the road.

“The hell you say—your sister?!” He turned around as if to unzip the bag and take a better look.
That set off another laughing jag. This time, Jack joined in. “Your sister? Your fucking SISter?” he repeated, over and over, and each time, that would set them both off again.

“It was really necessary, Jack,” Jill said, hiccupping a little as she settled down. “She was such a worthless piece of --- never mind. Let’s just say she deserved it, but killing her right now serves a greater purpose. Mine.” Jill looked like the cat who ate the canary, alright. She looked happier than he’d ever seen her, Jack realized.

“So you two didn’t get along?” Jill looked at him and burst out laughing again.

“We fought from the time we were born. Barbies, books, boys…you name it. What I had, she wanted, and the sneaky little bitch was never content with plowing through her share of Nicky C’s fortune. She started setting Daddy against me when he started getting really sick. I know what she was trying to do. But I beat her to it! Ha! Big time!” Jill drummed on the steering wheel triumphantly.

Jack was pretty sure he was having a little stroke just now. Just now, had his Jilly mentioned Nicky C in connection with the dead girl? Her sister, the dead girl? Which made her—

“You’re Nicky C’s daughter?” Jack’s voice sounded as quavery as his bowels felt. This suddenly wasn’t going very well at all. Not well at all.

Jill beamed at him. “And sole heir to his whole estate, now that she’s cooling off. Huh…”

Jill seemed to realize some little item of concern just now. Good! Jack was losing his mind here, looking all around, expecting the goons to surround them at every turn. Nicky C was old, old mob money, and he’d made it to his deathbed with most of it. He was legendary, the Mobster Prince, the One Who Got Away With It All. And how had he done it? The guy had either paid his way or paved it with the bones of those who had a bone to pick with him. Guys like that always protected their own. Did they let the little princess out by herself to run? God, I hope so, thought Jack. Oh please, let her be a loose cannon.

“What? You look sick, Jack. Most people think it’s so cool to meet a Mafia princess.” Jill feigned a pout.

“Most people didn’t just KILL a Mafia princess. Most people don’t have a sack of Mafia princess meat cooling in the back of their goddammed VAN!” Veins were popping out on Jack’s forehead.

“But don’t you see? It’s so perfect, it’s why I picked you. You EAT the evidence!” Jill gave him a jovial slap on the back.

Jack found himself going deep down inside himself to his secret hidey hole for a little quiet contemplation. His jailhouse lawyer seemed to live there. At least, it was his voice Jack heard. Oh, Jack, Jack, Jack. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. How many times have I told you that? You get conned into taking the fall for every half-baked schemer in the city. Now, what have you gone and done? Jack?

“Jack?” It was Jill this time, looking a little concerned. “You ok? Because I just thought of one little problem.”
It was Jack’s turn to go all hysterical. His laughter had a distinctly maniacal twinge, though.

“Just one little problem? Well, hey! And here I was thinking I had the WHOLE FUCKING MAFIA about to be up my ass!” Jack couldn’t help sounding a little stressed. The C family stretched their tentacles far and wide.

Jill seemed oblivious to Jack’s rather shaky state of mind. She tooled along in the van, keeping her speed in check, with just the tiniest frown line creasing her perfect face.

“It’s just that, if we eat her up, we’ll have to wait so damned long! Couldn’t we leave something, I dunno, a finger or her ugly head or something in a dumpster somewhere so---“


“—So that they can find her and—“


“And we can get all those millions of dollars a whole seven years sooner?”

She was using her sexiest wheedling tone, the one Jack imagined Little Rita had tried on Daddy.

Jack saw a dump truck coming at him—no, he saw the whole fleet of C-Co dump trucks, one of Nicky’s many business ventures, loaded with shit and coming right at him. He saw bomber jets and tanks and fireworks and heard the pow! Pow! Pow! And the screaming missles and it was all going to come down on his poor little head. Poor Jack. Poor Cannibal Jack. How could he even work up an appetite in the face of this?

“How many millions?” Jack managed to say.

She smiled.


Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To do a little slaughter.
Their deed all done
They had to run
They'd killed the mobster’s daughter.

Pie Chart
02-08-2010, 12:36 AM
A very neat story. Look forward to some more. Series perhaps? Poiswsibly based on their sadventures on the run ...


02-08-2010, 03:27 AM
I feel a little foolish about posting this under Sarapul's (aka my husband's) account, but oh well. At least I wrote some new cann porn. I enjoy doing serials and I agree, PieChart--I think these two could get into some interesting trouble along the way to their idyllic cannibal island.

02-08-2010, 02:29 PM
Cannibals & poetry.........simply madness. :)