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Back from hell dipped in fire water…
She was blazing gorgeous. She was a bad bitch!
Breathing fire, dripping Prada, burning desire.
She was the devil in Gucci, a cursed spell in Loui.
She killed with heels, her bottoms were dead. Stiletto all in his head.
Now, it was time to collect the bag…
“It’ll be easy.” At least, that’s what they said.
It wasn’t easy… She made a mess, the elixir didn’t work.
He wouldn’t sip her drink. He just wanted to sex her, but he was too fat and nasty to touch her.
Big Boss!.. Senator from Virginia.
The only way to pass stealthily into his circle was to impetrate with the words of a whore. She had the senator believing he could score.
However, he became leery quick; he tryed to kiss her “UGH!” She moved her lips.
An insult, a degrade, a slap in his beet red face. That’s how he took it.
“Ill!” She frowned, his teeth were too crooked.
He grabbed her and slapped her.
“Who sent you whore?” he screamed. Snatching her hair, pulling her across the floor.
He knew that she was sent, he could smell the deceit it always came with a stinch.
“Who sent you?” He screamed louder kicking Her in the stomach. He was wondering if anyone else was coming?
“I’m a senatora member of the United States Government!” His Fat ass was huffing and puffing.
She couldn’t believe that this Fat bastard had her, smacking her, and slamming her into tables and vases.
He was still screaming “who sent you?”
This wasn’t a part of her act, she was to sexy to be getting slapped. Her back up plan, her Berretta, she didn’t have it.
He grabbed her by the throat, and popped her Bvlgari necklace. She was filled with fire she swore that this fat mother Fucker would regret this!
She insulted his pride, she humiliated him. This was the impetus for his rage. Who ever sent her, would be the reason she was raped then killed.
Who sent her? Was a question that she would never answer…
“Who sent you!?” He screamed again. He would make her answer even if it took excision.
Cut her breast off!
“Listen…” she cryed
“I’ll… tell you… but they’ll kill me.” Her reticence was a lie.
He stopped in mid-swing, and picked her up. “Is anyone else… coming?” He asked a little hesitant.
“No!” She spoke the truth. she rolled solo, a one woman wrecking crew.
He eyed her incredulously so, then smacked her shades off! He needed to see her eyes, to see if she was a lie.
Him, slapping her was such a flagitious act, a crime that was punishable by the Ax!
He wanted to see her eyes, so her lids’ she bat.
Still seducing.
“I’m sorry.” she cried. “I told them I couldn’t do it.” Of course she lied. “They forced me… now I’m here at your mercy”
Lord have mercy on this fat bastard!
Her clothes were falling off, she was battered, almost naked.
O lord! She was sexy as hell! Her soul radiated through her eyes. She was an Angel at his mercy.
He could see it now: her being his side piece. Take her from a lowly stance to trips around the world.
Paris romance, Egyptian pyramids, lavish her with cars and cribs. Of course, his wife would never know. She would be his little secret, and he her hero.
All that she had to do was let him know: “Who sent you?”
A question that he would never know the answer to.
She sized him up. No weapon, she was partially naked, so she jabbed him in the throat, then kicked him in the testicles.
He was fat and slow. He lunged. She jabbed him again. He grabbed his neck, he coughed, he choked.
She laughed. Just her killer instinct. She kicked him in his knee, he fell with a yelp screaming “Help!” His fat ass shook the house.
This fat bastard was crying, mumbling something about “I’m a senator!”
Her turn!
The tables in this house were turned literally and figuratively.
His fat ass was on his back, blubber jiggling. He was having a heart attack!
She sat on his whale of a gut. She slapped him in his face. “You have me…” She shook her head. “Never!” She swung her hair over her shoulder. “I’m too beautiful for you.”
She looked him in his eyes, her eyes took his soul. She stabbed him in his head with the Louboutin Stiletto!
Dead bottoms!
Ugh! She made a mess, blood was all over.
He was dead, still she had to let him know, It, was her ritual. She whispered in his ear, hoping his soul could hear…

“Femme Fatale!”

Published by korymcclary1221

My name is Kory McClary, I am 34 years old. I am currently serving a lengthy sentence at the New Jersey State prison in Trenton, New Jersey. I am fighting for my freedom so that I may return to my family and loved ones. Yet, I know that it is a long, tough, and bitter battle to achieve that goal. But, with the grace of God Almighty, and for the sake of my family, I will fight on. I am using this blog as a medium to enhance my voice and to bring awareness to my unfair condition leading out of my unjust conviction. While spending almost all of my time in a cell, I chose to write so that I may voice the reality of my situation, because without awareness there can never be Justice...! To escape the harsh reality of prison, I use the pen to release my frustrations. I use the pen to manifest my imagination. And, most of all, I use the pen to Fight. I am fighting for my Life! Just by reading Kory McClary's Blog, you are giving my plight and my word's a voice. Thank you. Please, stay tuned...

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