The Taming of the Shrew p1 - Sex Stories

The Taming of the Shrew p1

... long silver katana in his hand, part of his sword collection. “What are you doing?” “I'm getting real tired of your shit. This is the last straw.” And, with a swipe of his blade, her head was cut clean off. A stab or two later and her vision went dark. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Half an hour later. The shade of Fiora emerged from the fridge. “... What happened? I'm dead? Where am I?” She looked around. There was a trail of blood leading to the fridge. She waved her hand through the handle. It went through with only mild resistance. She waved her hand through a few times. She was apparently intangible. She took a few breathes, though she likely didn't need them. Focusing, she reached her hand to the handle again. Her hand slowly became solid and she got a grip. She opened it. Inside were brown limbs, hands, breasts, a head. All neatly cut apart. And there in the middle was her head. She screamed, flitting around from side to side. “That fucker. Charles killed me? That fucker!” She slammed her fist into the counter, smashing a hole in it. Then she reached into her cupboard and drew out a lighter. She then flew up through the ceiling with it into their room. She threw open the closet. All their clothes were there, all the sexy ones she'd bought specially for him. She yanked them out, tossed them on the counter and set them on fire. The flame smelt beautiful. Screaming with rage she yanked open closets, short circuited wires, and ...

... smashed up the room as much as she could. She yanked down the red curtains, smashed every photo of them- at the theme park, in her beautiful vera wang wedding dress, standing amidst the flowers. Someone opened a door behind her. She span round, a shard of glass in her hand. It was him. Charles. “You're a ghost.” She flew at him, hands outstretched. She'd hurt him. He dived around her, into the room, whisps of ectoplasm splattering across his face. She span around and slashed at him with the glass. He pulled an arm up, and took a bloody slash across his arm. “We can talk.” He said, holding his blood red arm in front of him. She slammed past his arm, intangible again, and punched him in the face. He fell onto his back and slammed into the floor. “You want to talk?” She stabbed down at him with the glass shard. He rolled around, just taking a deep slash on his side. She continued, her voice filled with rage. “See, we're talking!” Charles rolled to the side and backed away towards the bed. She charged towards him again. He stabbed his hands into his pockets and then, somehow, grabbed her. She couldn't go intangible. With a twist he tossed her into the bed. She felt resistance from it. She couldn't move. She was stuck in it, her rear sticking out the top, her head sticking out halfway down the bed. “Iron springs. They bind ghosts.” She struggled and struggled, and almost got free, till suddenly she felt a resistance. Charles had a salt shaker and was drawing a circle around her, pouring ...