Snow White: Kill Bill Fic
O-ren Ishii lay bleeding onto the snow. Her hair had been piled up on the top of her head. The top of her head was gone now, and, like the blood, her long, dark hair flowed free. Red and white and black, like a fairy tale. It was all like a fairy tale, Beatrix thought. The good were punished, and the evil prospered. Or was it the other way around?
Funny, she’d fought her way through an army to end O-ren Ishii’s life, but it still felt kind of bad.
Once upon a time…
Ellie Driver and Vernita Green pretty much hated Beatrix on sight-because she was a stuck-up bitch and because she was Bill’s fair-haired girl- but O-ren Ishii seemed to find her kind of endearing. Miss Ishii was rumored to have an eye for the ladies, not to mention she was a bit of a stuck-up bitch herself. She had much grander ambitions than being a killer for hire-ambitions she would realize by becoming head of the Tokyo Yakuza.
Still, while she was a killer for hire, she was a real humdinger, a blaze. Watching O-ren Ishii work, it was hard not to get turned on. At least, it was for Beatrix.
The first time Beatrix kissed O-ren Ishii, there was blood on both their hands. If not for the blood, there probably would have been no kiss, but damn, there was something about watching the petite, reserved woman go berserk and take down three enormous men that made Beatrix want to get real close to her.
Real close.
Beatrix remembered O-ren Ishii’s lithe, little body pressed all the length of her own lanky frame. O-ren’s small, rounded breasts touching her own, fingers and lips on eager nipples. Beatrix remembered O-ren’s freckled skin filling her senses-sight, taste, touch, and smell. O-ren’s hand cupped against her pubis like a seashell, pretty and delicate but armor hard. Beneath that hand, Beatrix was molten inside, warm and liquid when O-ren’s fingers slipped between her lips. Beatrix remembered writhing in pleasure as O-ren’s hand moved between her legs, gliding over her sex, each pass enflaming her more and more … and, gradually, O-ren’s focus became smaller, narrower, tighter, till the hand was replaced by lips and tongue against the throbbing crux of her clit.
And Beatrix held on, with hands and arms, legs and clenched teeth, held onto O-ren Ishii as the sensations mounted, grew more urgent, more intense, till she was pulled taut to the limits of endurance, till it was almost pain, and her hips thrashed … she moaned, she screamed, then everything melted. The taut line she had been, like a wire pulled too tight, now released, undulating in soft waves, ripples of erotic bliss that seemed as if they might never end.
The day of Beatrix’s wedding rehearsal, when she ended up making a practice run at dying, she’d been sort of disappointed to see O-ren Ishii among her assailants. She should have expected it; it was business. Yet, it felt a like a betrayal. It wasn’t like they’d been in love-or even really friends-but she’d sort of hoped O-ren would sit this one out. Maybe it was the sex or the teasing about her name, but Beatrix had sort of thought O-ren liked her.
Hair as black as ebony, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow.
It didn’t matter any more. Beatrix crossed O-ren off her list. She’d fought an army to take the woman’s life. She was bruised and bloody, but, beyond that, killing O-ren hurt in a way that none of the others did.
Funny, she’d fought her way through an army to end O-ren Ishii’s life, but it still felt kind of bad.
Once upon a time…
Ellie Driver and Vernita Green pretty much hated Beatrix on sight-because she was a stuck-up bitch and because she was Bill’s fair-haired girl- but O-ren Ishii seemed to find her kind of endearing. Miss Ishii was rumored to have an eye for the ladies, not to mention she was a bit of a stuck-up bitch herself. She had much grander ambitions than being a killer for hire-ambitions she would realize by becoming head of the Tokyo Yakuza.
Still, while she was a killer for hire, she was a real humdinger, a blaze. Watching O-ren Ishii work, it was hard not to get turned on. At least, it was for Beatrix.
The first time Beatrix kissed O-ren Ishii, there was blood on both their hands. If not for the blood, there probably would have been no kiss, but damn, there was something about watching the petite, reserved woman go berserk and take down three enormous men that made Beatrix want to get real close to her.
Real close.
Beatrix remembered O-ren Ishii’s lithe, little body pressed all the length of her own lanky frame. O-ren’s small, rounded breasts touching her own, fingers and lips on eager nipples. Beatrix remembered O-ren’s freckled skin filling her senses-sight, taste, touch, and smell. O-ren’s hand cupped against her pubis like a seashell, pretty and delicate but armor hard. Beneath that hand, Beatrix was molten inside, warm and liquid when O-ren’s fingers slipped between her lips. Beatrix remembered writhing in pleasure as O-ren’s hand moved between her legs, gliding over her sex, each pass enflaming her more and more … and, gradually, O-ren’s focus became smaller, narrower, tighter, till the hand was replaced by lips and tongue against the throbbing crux of her clit.
And Beatrix held on, with hands and arms, legs and clenched teeth, held onto O-ren Ishii as the sensations mounted, grew more urgent, more intense, till she was pulled taut to the limits of endurance, till it was almost pain, and her hips thrashed … she moaned, she screamed, then everything melted. The taut line she had been, like a wire pulled too tight, now released, undulating in soft waves, ripples of erotic bliss that seemed as if they might never end.
The day of Beatrix’s wedding rehearsal, when she ended up making a practice run at dying, she’d been sort of disappointed to see O-ren Ishii among her assailants. She should have expected it; it was business. Yet, it felt a like a betrayal. It wasn’t like they’d been in love-or even really friends-but she’d sort of hoped O-ren would sit this one out. Maybe it was the sex or the teasing about her name, but Beatrix had sort of thought O-ren liked her.
Hair as black as ebony, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow.
It didn’t matter any more. Beatrix crossed O-ren off her list. She’d fought an army to take the woman’s life. She was bruised and bloody, but, beyond that, killing O-ren hurt in a way that none of the others did.