High School Gymnast, Episode IV: The Cabin
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Eliza takes the next step towards becoming a true sociopathic villainess


It was a beautiful, sunny day in June. Eliza had a big smile on her pretty
face as she carried her bags out to her black BMW. The eighteen-year-old girl
had just graduated high school and had received a full gymnastics scholarship
to her first-choice college. Now it was summer vacation, which for most girls
her age would mean going to the beach or shopping at the mall. But Eliza was
not like most girls.

Several months ago, she had been practicing her gymnastics late at school one
day, alone in the gym. A creepy, perverted janitor had decided to peep on her,
watching her nude body in the girls' locker room. Enraged, she had attacked
him and ended up killing him with her muscular body. The initial apprehension
she had felt, worrying about getting caught, was replaced with a feeling of
power and a lust for more blood when she realized she had gotten away with it.

A short while after that, she had caught a teacher dealing drugs on campus.
Initially deciding only to blackmail him, she had killed him instead when he
broke into her house with a knife. And a couple of weeks later, she had
stumbled upon a ring of car thieves who were using the high school's auto shop
as a chop shop. She had ended up killing the whole gang. Six men, all dead at
her hands. Each time she killed, each time she got away with it, she felt her
addiction to violence growing.

But still, she had never specifically set out to kill anyone. She had never
killed anyone who was totally innocent. Now, she decided she was ready to take
the next step. Now, she was no longer going to wait for opportunities to drop
into her lap. Now, she was going to become a true murderess.

"I still think this is a strange choice of vacation, sweetie," said Eliza's
mother. Her darkly tanned face had a worried and puzzled expression. "Why do
you want to spend a week alone in a cabin in the woods?"

"Oh, Mom," said Eliza. Her naive parents had no idea that her lethal, violent
side existed. "Finals at school were so stressful, I just want to relax and be
alone for a while."

"Let her enjoy this, dear. She's earned it," said Eliza's father. "Sure, her
grades could have been better, but she earned a full gymnastics scholarship to
a university with one of the best programs in the country." He turned to his
daughter. "We're very proud of you, honey."

"Thanks, Daddy," grinned Eliza, hoisting her bags into the trunk.

"Want me to help you with those?" he asked.

"Nah, I've got them. I'm stronger than both of you anyway. Gymnastics will do
that to a girl." Eliza casually flexed her large, bulging, hard 13-inch
biceps.

"Drive carefully," warned her mother. "Especially with that fast car." She
shook her head, her long black hair whipping from side to side. "It really
isn't right for a teenager to have a car like that."

"Aw, c'mon, Mom," said Eliza. "I told you, I won $100,000 on that scratch-off
lottery ticket while you and Dad were away on your second honeymoon. Too bad
you missed the ceremony with the oversized novelty check and everything." Of
course, Eliza was lying. She had actually taken the $100,000 from the car
thieves she had killed. "Is it so wrong to reward myself with a car? Besides,
now I won't be bugging you guys to buy me one."

"I suppose," sighed her mother. "Well, be safe."

Eliza kissed her parents goodbye, then got behind the wheel of her BMW and
drove away, a dark and wicked grin appearing on her face as she thought about
the fun that was in store for her.

* * *

FOUR HOURS LATER

Eliza parked the BMW in front of the cabin she had rented. It was at the end
of a long, twisting dirt road. She was glad her vehicle had all-wheel drive.
The cabin was at least ten miles away from the nearest civilization. Perfect
for what she had in mind. No one would be able to hear any screams...

She unlocked the door and stepped inside with her bags, nodding in approval as
she looked around. The cabin was small, but luxuriously furnished. The
kitchen, with brand-new cooking equipment, was next to a combination
dining/living room with well-crafted hardwood floors. The ceiling was high,
with wooden beams crisscrossing the space below. A fireplace stood against the
far wall. The bathroom was done in marble and would have been right at home in
a luxury hotel. A bedroom with a king-size bed and animal heads mounted on the
walls was in the back.

Once she was settled, she sat at the dining room table and reached into her
pocket. Pulling out a note, she reread the personal ad she had posted.

"ATHLETIC TOMBOY SEEKS BETA MALE

Sexy, muscular college-age alpha female seeks young male age 18-25 for fun and
non-serious relationship. Must be short, thin, and a natural submissive. Don't
be shy! Actually, be shy as far as your personality goes, but don't be afraid
to respond to this ad. Your Amazon dream girl is waiting!"

Eliza smiled to herself. She had planned this for a while. Naturally, her ad
had received many responses. She had first weeded out the ones from bigger,
rougher men who just wanted traditional sex and didn't care which woman they
got it from. Then she had gone over the better matches very carefully,
weighing their pros and cons, until at last she had decided on a victim. She
smirked as she looked at his profile.

Peter, age 23, graduate student, 5'5", 125 pounds. Smaller than her. Shy, a
self-described natural submissive, and a virgin. Perfect.

She looked at her watch. She had already arranged to meet him in town in an
hour. Standing up and making sure everything in the cabin was ready, she
stopped to admire her reflection in the mirror before heading out.

Eliza was an exceptionally beautiful girl, with shoulder-length wavy dark
brown hair, brown eyes, and an elegant, model-like, high-cheekboned face.
Years of gymnastics and kickboxing had given her a body that was both heavily
muscled and very feminine. Her dancer's ass was round, steel-hard, and
slightly larger than average - big enough to draw positive attention without
being too big. A slim, 25-inch waist and a pair of gravity-defying, firm,
round, natural 34C breasts completed her hourglass figure. At 5'6" and 135
pounds, she was big for a gymnast, but just as elegant, fast, and graceful as
the smallest girl on any Olympic team.

Today she was wearing knee-high black leather boots with razor-sharp four-inch
stiletto high heels, tight, low-cut white pants, a brown leather belt, and a
white blouse. The lower part of her blouse was tied up to reveal her rock-hard
six-pack abs, and the top two buttons were undone to reveal part of her
awe-inspiring 34C tits. She had rolled up the sleeves of the blouse to her
elbows, displaying her brawny, heavily muscled forearms. Her watch - a man's
watch...she liked the look of it - was on her left wrist. Of course it was an
expensive brand, another reward from her stolen money. On her right wrist she
wore a black leather spiked bracelet. Black leather gloves completed her
outfit.

She especially liked the white pants and white blouse because they showed off
her deep brown tan. Her abs, arms, and even her breasts (the result of
frequent topless sunbathing) were tanned. She had inherited her Arab mother's
gorgeous brown skin, as well as Caucasian facial features from her father's
Spanish and Croatian background. The best of both worlds, she thought to
herself. She raised her arms and twirled in front of the mirror, then brought
them back down. Her watch did not slide - her wrist was big enough that a
man's watch fit on it perfectly. Grinning wickedly, she headed out to her car.
It was time.

* * *

"Peter?" Eliza asked, approaching the nervous-looking young man who was
sitting on a park bench. She had pre-selected the location, making sure there
were no security cameras that could pick her up.

"Y..yes," he said, standing up and staring at Eliza's beautiful hard body. A
bulge appeared in his pants. Although she was only an inch taller than him,
her high heels boosted her height advantage to five inches. His bulge grew
larger. He liked it when women were taller than him.

"You did like I said, right?" she asked. "You didn't tell anyone you were
meeting me here."

"Of course. I followed your instructions to the letter."

"Good. My name's Eliza." She shook his hand, enjoying the expression of pain
that appeared on his homely face as she squeezed him with her powerful grip.

"Nice to meet you, Eliza. You...you're even more beautiful than I thought you
would be."

She giggled. "Thanks. Come on, let's go somewhere more private. I'll take you
there in my car." The unsuspecting Peter got into the passenger seat of
Eliza's BMW, having no idea that he was going on his last ride...ever.

* * *

"Wow," said Peter as the car pulled up to the cabin. "This is really out in
the middle of nowhere."

"I don't want anybody disturbing us," said Eliza. "Come on, let's go in." They
had talked on the ride over. Eliza had told him all about her athletic skills,
knowing it would turn him on immensely. She had in turn smiled and nodded as
Peter told her about his background, which was just as unsophisticated and
nerdy as she had expected. He was going to be a perfect victim.

They sat down on the couch in the living room. Eliza gave her victim a
dazzling smile. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"No. Like I said, I'm a virgin."

She laughed. "I can see why." Despite the insult, Peter felt his dick growing
hard again. He was turned on by getting abused by girls, both verbally and
physically.

"Well, let's start out with some foreplay," said Eliza. "How about a little
kickboxing match?"

A frightened look appeared on his face. "I have no idea how to fight. You'd
kill me."

"I would," she chuckled. "That turn you on, baby?"

"Oh yes, Mistress Eliza. In school our social status, for boys anyway, was
based on how well we could fight. Girls didn't have to know how to fight, but
the ones that did were above everyone on the social status scale, including
the best male fighters. I was always getting beat up by both boys and girls,
and I was on the bottom of the totem pole. I developed an attraction to
getting beat up by girls as a way of compensating."

Eliza had a knowing expression on her high-cheekboned face. These beta males
were all alike. "I was one of the fighter girls on the top, as you've probably
guessed." She suddenly swung her leather-gloved left fist at him. Peter shrank
back in terror, but she stopped her swing millimeters from his face. "Haha,
just messing with you! But, like, seriously, try being more of a man. It might
help you get girls." Peter looked at his shoes.

"If we'd gone to the same high school I probably would've been beating your
wimpy ass and taking your lunch money on a regular basis," she continued.
Peter frowned uncertainly, not sure of how to react, then began laughing
nervously, still turned on by her abusive, dominant attitude but at the same
time wishing she could also be a little nicer.

"Okay, how about we just armwrestle?" Eliza said, placing her right arm into
position. His heart pounding, Peter touched his hand to hers. Armwrestling a
muscle chick had been one of his unfulfilled fantasies for years.

There was a sharp contrast between the two forearms. Peter's was thin and
pale, with no muscle tone. Eliza's, on the other hand, was thick, veiny,
tanned a dark brown, and had heavily developed muscles that rippled with her
slightest movement. The leather bracelet that covered the slimmest part of her
wrist had the effect of making her forearm look even bigger. She looked at her
male opponent cockily. "I have arms like a man. And you have arms like a
girl." He blushed with embarrassment.

"Whenever you're ready," she said casually.

"Okay...go!" Peter immediately began pushing as hard as he could, but Eliza's
massive brown arm didn't budge. She let him struggle for a few more seconds,
then immediately pushed his arm all the way down with a single powerful push.

"Wow, Mistress," breathed Peter. "So strong..."

"Yeah, that's what good genes plus years of gymnastics gave me. My wrist
measurement is over seven inches. Yours looks under six and a half." Eliza
removed her watch and tried it on his wrist. "See, a man's watch is too loose
on you." She then repeated the action with her leather bracelet. "That's an
adjustable woman's bracelet. The bigger size is just right for me, and the
smaller size is just right for you." She smirked as she put her jewelry back
on.

"The forearm is my favorite female body part," said Peter, his heart beat
still very rapid. "I just love the ones that are bigger than mine."

"Which would be most of them," Eliza laughed. "You're weird. Normal guys pick
tits or ass or legs as their favorite female body part. But I guess your
quirks are what I was looking for in my ad."

Peter's hope rose again, along with his cock. "So what next, Mistress?"

"Well, we could have a back handspring contest."

He pulled back timidly. "I couldn't. I could never be athletic enough to do a
back handspring. I can't even do a cartwheel."

"Well, in that case, maybe I'll just do a tumbling demonstration for you." At
that, Peter had to work hard to prevent himself from cumming in his pants.
Girls who could do back flips were another one of his fetishes. Somehow, she
seemed to know about everything that turned him on.

"That would be wonderful, Miss Eliza." Peter tried to think of his fat
eighth-grade biology teacher to stop himself from shooting his load right then
and there.

"Eh, save the fucking formality and politeness for a fucking job interview or
something," she said with a casual wave of her thick wrist. "Oh, and yes, I'll
be doing my tumbling in my high heels." With that, she suddenly hurled her
body into a blindingly fast tumbling pass, starting with a front tuck, then
going into a roundoff, two back handsprings, a whip back, and finishing with a
kick-full. Spinning around, she announced, "Now some standing tumbling." She
elegantly backflipped back over to him, doing two standing back handsprings,
two whip backs, and a full twisting layout. She landed perfectly on her
stiletto heels next to the couch after completing her full, raised her toned
arms in a gymnastic 'Y', and took a bow.

Peter stood up, applauding vigorously. "That was fantastic." He suddenly
realized that his hard-on was now glaringly obvious. He sat back down in
embarrassment.

"Eh, those were actually pretty easy for me," Eliza bragged. "The cabin is
small, so there isn't enough room for me to do my really long tumbling runs. I
can backflip all the way from one end of a football field to the other. And I
can do it faster than some men can run. Okay, let's do one more foreplay game
before we get to the REAL fun stuff. The game is called Hunt. I give you a
five-minute head start, then I hunt you down."

Peter agreed without question, having no idea of the danger he was in. He
thought she had nothing more than a harmless game in mind. As he ran out into
the woods, the main thing he was thinking about was how fantastic the
female-dominant sexual intercourse with Eliza was going to be.

Eliza grinned wickedly as he disappeared from sight, then took out one of the
weapons she had brought with her - a powerful, accurate scoped crossbow and a
quiver of steel bolts with cruelly sharp, curved-hook arrowheads. She quickly
and expertly prepared the weapon, then sat down on the couch, looking at her
man's watch. She knew that with her level of fitness and his lack of it, she
could catch him quite soon if he had a five-minute head start. While waiting
for the time to be up, she practiced her aim. When it was time to go, the look
on her model-like face was one of cold, evil sadism.

* * *

Peter ran through the woods halfheartedly, finding the going over the rough
terrain, thick underbrush, and fallen tree branches slow. He grunted, tired
already even though he hadn't been running very hard. Damn, he wished he was
in half the shape Eliza was in.

Thinking he heard something behind him, he stopped and turned around. No one
seemed to be there. He continued on, only to have the feeling of being
followed return. He was about to tell his imagination to stop working overtime
when he heard Eliza's voice, faint but distinctive: "I seeee youuuuu!"

Something about the tone of her voice alarmed him. He couldn't put his finger
on what it was exactly, he just knew that suddenly he had a sense of
foreboding. Trying to get his bearings, he realized he had no idea where
either the cabin or the road was. For the first time that day, a cold chill
began to run down his spine.

"Just nerves. Nothing to worry about," he began repeating to himself, trying
to make the fear go away. He ran faster, but he could be running in circles
for all he knew.

"Where you goinngggg, baaabbbyyyy?" came Eliza's voice, much closer this time.
His heart pounding, he now felt like a rat that knows it has a hungry tigress
after it.

"Just nerves. Nothing to worry about. Just nerves. Nothing to worry ab-" he
repeated.

Suddenly, there was a whizzing sound. Something flew through the air and
slammed into a tree trunk one foot away from him. He turned to see. It was a
wicked-looking crossbow bolt. Looking behind him, he saw Eliza standing at the
top of a ridge about a hundred yards away. A crossbow, aimed directly at him,
was in her leather-gloved hands.

"Is this your idea of a crazy joke?" he demanded.

"No joke, sweetie," she taunted him. "I said I was going to hunt you down, and
that's exactly what I'm doing." She suddenly fired again. This time, the bolt
sailed two inches over his head.

"I could have killed you with either of those shots," she informed him, her
tone utterly emotionless. "I could have finished you with a shot to the back
several minutes ago, the first time I called out to you. But I don't want this
to be too easy. I want some sport. But I'm warning you now. That was the last
shot I'll miss on purpose. I suggest you start running."

Peter felt cold fear take him with its icy grip. He also felt wetness in his
groin area. He had pissed himself. But there was no time to worry about those
things now. He began to run, desperately trying to go as fast as he could.
Eliza moved after him at a fast clip, slowly and steadily catching up to him,
reloading her crossbow as she jogged.

Peter was crying and praying as he ran. How could it have ended up like this?
Why had he agreed to this? But there was no way he could have known. How could
such a beautiful, charming young woman be so brutal, sadistic, and good at
killing?

Peter ran up a slope, desperately trying to get over the top of the ridge
before Eliza could fire. But the curvaceous brunette was much too quick for
him. She calmly took aim at the running man in front of her, then loosed her
bolt.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" The crossbow bolt slammed into the back of his right leg,
driving all the way through the bone and sticking out the other side. He fell,
howling in agony and clutching his crippled leg.

Eliza looked up and smiled. A perfect shot, exactly where she had intended it
to hit. She wasn't going to kill him yet. She still had more fun to have with
him.

He looked up at her as she approached, moving fast despite her four-inch high
heels. He tried to crawl away, but discovered that he was in too much pain to
move. He managed to squeak out just one word: "Why?"

She stood over him. Bending down, she whispered three quick words in a
dominant, icy voice:

"Because I can."

She suddenly backhanded him across the face with her leather-gloved left fist.
The impact sent blood flying, and one of his teeth wobbled loose. Stunned by
the blow, he slumped down, semi- conscious. She put her crossbow on her back
and picked up her male victim, easily able to handle his 125-pound weight in
her arms. He drifted off into sleep from shock as she carried him.

* * *

Peter woke up and looked around. He was lying on his back on the hardwood
floor of a cabin. He had had a horrible dream about a sadistic chick with a
crossbow chasing him and...

He tried to move his leg and felt a sharp pain. Looking down, he saw with
horror that it was no dream, that he had really been shot in the leg with a
crossbow bolt. The bolt itself had been yanked out, but the gory wound was
still there. A steady trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor, forming a
small but growing red puddle.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," said Eliza. "Though, of course, not
for long." He trembled when he heard that.

She got up and approached him, her stiletto heels clicking on the wooden
floor. "I'm a pretty badass markswoman, aren't I," she boasted, holding up her
crossbow.

Peter only moaned.

She kicked him in the side with her big black boot, breaking one of his ribs.
"When I ask you a question, you will answer me, cocksucker," she snarled.

"Yes, Mistress Eliza! You're an amazing markswoman! Oh, I wish I was as good
as you! Maybe I wouldn't be in this mess!"

"I bet a wimp like you doesn't know anything about weapons," she smirked.
Peter looked like he had no answer. Seeing her draw back her booted foot
again, he quickly said, "That's right, Mistress! I don't. They've always
scared me."

Eliza laughed. "Man, you really are a wuss," she taunted him. She backflipped
over to her bag and took out the two other weapons she had brought with her -
a short sword and a .357 magnum revolver. Getting an idea, she tossed her
victim the revolver and a box of ammo. "That one's unloaded. Just load it,
shoot me, and you'll be free. Well, you'll still have your crippled leg, but
you'll at least be able to try to call for help."

Peter picked up the revolver. He tried to open it to load the bullets, but no
matter what he tried, the mechanism wouldn't budge. As he grew more and more
frustrated, Eliza began roaring with laughter.

"That's something any man should know," she sneered. "When a woman is better
than a man at it, the man's made an EPIC FAIL."

She cartwheeled to him, snatched up the gun and ammo, and quickly and expertly
loaded it. She was so quick that even though he had been watching her, Peter
still didn't know how to do it.

"Males these days," she said, shaking her brunette head. "Now we women have to
pick up the slack because you guys have become a generation of metrosexuals
and pussies." She cocked her large, shiny weapon, then suddenly fired two
shots, one into each of Peter's feet. As he screamed like a girl, she coolly
blew the smoke away from the barrel, expertly twirled the revolver, then put
it into a holster at her side. Despite his pain, Peter's cock began rising
again in tribute to her. He was turned on by women who knew how to handle
weapons.

She scowled as she noticed his hard-on. "Damn, do you get turned on every time
you see a woman who's more of a man than you are? You are such a schmoe.
You're a creep, getting a sick thrill out of seeing a woman do what you can't
do. Did you really think I would have sex with your scrawny, ugly ass? I only
fuck men who are at least as strong, athletic, and good in combat as I am.
Needless to say, that's a very small pool, and you don't even come close to
it." All Peter could do in response was whimper. He hung his head in shame,
shame at his lack of masculinity. She glared at him and punched him hard in
the jaw with her big, efficient, leather-gloved right fist, breaking it.

"I think it's time for another gymnastics demonstration," said Eliza. "You've
seen what I might do in a floor routine, now I'll show you my balance beam
skills." With that, the sassy schoolgirl leapt high into the air, gripping one
of the wooden beams tightly with her leather-gloved hands. The muscles in her
big, deeply tanned forearms stood out as she gripped. Then she used her
upper-body strength to press herself into a handstand on the beam. She walked
on her hands the full length of the wooden beam, showing no signs of
discomfort. Finally, she got back to her booted feet, raising her arms into
another gymnastic 'Y'.

"I don't hear applause," she said, tapping her .357 threateningly.

Peter began clapping, under duress but also turned on by her gymnastics
skills. His raging erection certainly showed it.

"I was just warming up," she boasted. "Now check this out." With that, Eliza
executed three standing back handsprings in a row on the beam, nailing each
flick-flack perfectly despite her high heels. She landed in a full 180 degree
split on the beam after her final flick-flack. Getting back to her feet with
an elegant front walkover, she followed that up with a front tuck immediately
followed by a gainer backflip. She executed a couple of athletic, catlike
leaps, then stood on her hands again, split her legs 180 degrees, and spun
around like a helicopter.

Finally, Eliza got back to her feet and pranced to the end of the beam. Peter
was watching her with wide eyes and a massive boner, incredibly turned on by
her skills and only wishing she was his real date and not a sociopath out to
kill him. The pretty teenage girl took a deep breath, then launched herself
into her most difficult beam tumbling pass - a standing back handspring
followed by three consecutive split-leg layouts. She nailed each move
perfectly, however, and smiled in triumph. Then a wicked grin of pure sadism
suddenly appeared on her beautiful face.

Eliza dismounted the beam with a double back salto. Her perfectly aimed
flip-stomp delivered her right onto Peter, her razor-sharp high heels each
landing on one of his kneecaps! They stood no chance as the impact shattered
them both easily. As her opponent began screaming, she disciplined him with a
hard stomp on his face from her big black knee-high leather boot, driving a
hole from her stiletto into his cheek. She withdrew it with a squishing sound.

"Awww, do your knees hurt, baby?" she taunted him. When his only response was
continued screaming, she kicked him in the face. A vicious bone-crunching
sound was heard.

"Yes, Mistress Eliza! You're hurting me so badly! Please, have mercy!" he
shrieked.

"Oh, I'll give you something to forget about that." With that, Eliza suddenly
executed two lightning-quick but perfectly aimed stomps with her high heels,
completely destroying both of his testicles. Peter's screams became higher
pitched.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she mocked him. "I should have given you a chance to say
goodbye to your manhood. Not that you had much of it. I'm more of a man than
you ever were. You're scrawny and weak and pale and have no idea how to fight,
while I'm muscular and dominant and darkly tanned and a combat expert, whether
it be with guns, bows, swords, or hand-to-hand. You wimpy beta males disgust
me. Christ, after I'm through with you I'm going to have to go to town and
find a muscular man with a big cock to fuck me to balance out all this shit."

She tapped her heel on the wooden floor. "You're really starting to bore me,
Peter," she said casually, with the attitude of a natural born sociopath. "So
let's finish up, shall we?" She did a cartwheel over to the dining room table.
Removing her revolver from its holster, she laid it on the table next to her
other two weapons, the crossbow and the sword. She then took out a small pie
chart with a spinner. The chart was divided into three equal sections labeled
GUN, BOW, and SWORD.

"Now to decide how I'll finish you." Eliza spun the wheel, watching it with a
playful smile. Peter, still moaning in pain, had by now accepted his death and
wished only that it would all be ended soon. Looking at the expression on the
dark brunette's model-like face, he wondered how such a beautiful teenage girl
who seemed to have it all could end up like that.

The spinner finally came to rest on the area marked SWORD. Eliza grinned
wickedly. "Ooh, goody, my favorite." She looked around. "Such a beautiful
cabin. I'll have to do this outside, there'll be too much blood." With that,
she suddenly kicked her victim in the head with her big black boot, knocking
him out.

* * *

Peter was standing on one end of a football field. At the other end, a hundred
yards away, he saw Eliza, dressed in a medieval Joan of Arc-style form-fitting
chainmail suit. She flashed him a smile, then performed a roundoff followed by
a series of back handsprings at him. Her backflips were incredibly fast, and
she was coming right at him.

He looked down and saw a machine gun in his hands. He pointed it at her form
and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He began poking and yanking at
the various mechanisms on the weapon, then trying to shoot it again, not
having any idea what he was doing. Nothing worked. Meanwhile, Eliza's flick
flacks were becoming faster and faster. By the time she reached midfield, she
was nothing more than a blur. It took her less than three seconds to cover the
remaining distance to him and then she was on him, backflip kicking him in the
neck and severing his head from his body. Peter's head flew through the air
and landed in the grass. He watched his headless body, blood spraying from it
like a fountain, run around in circles for a few seconds, then collapse.

Eliza picked up his head, kicked it through the goal posts, and raised her
arms. "Three points." She clapped her hands together like a cheerleader and
did a standing back tuck. "Did you have a fun ride, Peter?"

* * *

"Did you have a fun ride, Peter?" Eliza's voice came to him. He opened his
eyes and discovered that he was in a large garbage bag. Eliza was peering down
at him through the bag's opening. Her sword was sheathed on her hip. Peter
glanced down. His head was still attached to his body. It had been just a
dream. Then he looked back at Eliza and remembered that he was in a real
nightmare, one from which there was no escape, so superior were his female
opponent's combat skills.

She roughly yanked him out of the bag. Peter looked around and saw that he was
in the woods. He heard the sound of rushing water. A fast-moving mountain
creek was nearby.

Eliza smirked down at her helpless male victim. He had a look of total defeat,
hopelessness, and submission in his terrified eyes. She smiled. This was what
she killed for. This was what she was addicted to. The feeling of total
domination and control. To have the ultimate power of life and death over
other human beings.

"Goodbye, Peter," she said simply. Using her strength, she picked him up, then
hurled him high into the air. With blazing speed, she then drew her sword,
raised it above her head, and began spinning it around, superhumanly fast. As
Peter came crashing back down, he met the spinning sword. It was as if he had
fallen into the rotors of a helicopter. Her lethal swordswomanship skills
sliced his body into dozens of bloody pieces.

Eliza looked at the gory scene and laughed. She let the emotions flow through
her. She had done it. She had committed her first true murder, her first true
hunt-and-kill. But certainly not the last.

She turned serious again and looked around carefully. She was in the middle of
the woods, miles from civilization, but the smart and lethal brunette knew
there was no such thing as being too careful with a situation like this.

No one else was there, however. She began picking up the body parts and
tossing them one by one into the creek, finishing with the bloody garbage bag.
No trail of blood from the cabin to the river, thanks to the bag. All the
evidence would flow downstream and wouldn't be found until they were far, far
away. There would be no connection between the body parts and her rented
cabin. After the bag, she chucked some bloodsoaked rags into the creek. She
had thoughtfully cleaned up the blood in the cabin while Peter had been
unconscious before taking him to the stream. When she was done, she washed her
blood-soaked sword in the flowing water until it was shiny and clean.

Back at the cabin, Eliza fixed herself a dinner of steak and potatoes. After
eating, she retired to the comfortable bedroom. Lying on the large bed with a
mystery novel, she looked up at the animal heads mounted on the wall and
wished she could put Peter's head up there.

She thought about the future. She still had the rest of the week at the cabin.
And then she would be starting college in a couple of months. A new life, new
adventures, no parents watching over her. New opportunities for killing.

She smiled.

THE END

Comments, compliments, and constructive criticism encouraged.

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