The mallet rose. Tender flesh lay beneath its violent arc. Tension and fear, and the echoes of sex, scented the air. Down came the thickened end, crashing and crunching through tendons and muscles to the bony layers beneath, cutting a dent into which it stuck for one horrific moment.
Blood spat, oozed, stained the surfaces. And still the deed was not done. Still more vicious bludgeoning was required in order to please the Head of the Gang: The Big Boss, She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Sound narrowed – rasping breath; shocked disgust, and a slight frisson of lust, from the watching woman; the rhythmic thumping of weapon upon bloodied remains…
…until, with an evil grin and a maniacal laugh, the ersatz murderer hefted the wooden dealer-in-death from the pitiful mess, shrugged aching shoulders and, lighting the dog-end always nestled behind an ear, said, ‘Christ, tenderising steak for you is a right bugger, Madam! Hope it’s worth all this effort!’