to grab the wire, but her chewed fingernails were too short to dig in. She tried to grasp his gloved hands at the back of her head, but she was too slow. Her arms flailed around trying to hit him. Her foot connected with his shin. That would leave a bruise, he thought. He pulled the wire tighter. Its sharp edges cut into her flesh, slicing into her like a hot knife through butter. Her breath came in gasps; the more she struggled for breath the bigger and harder his erection grew. His breathing became harder and faster. The wire was swallowed up by her larynx. Blood ran down the front of her clothes. Her end was very close now, he could feel it. It was about time too. His muscles were killing him. The drunken old bitch had put up quite a fight. Her struggle became feeble. She stopped fighting as her last breath left her and the wire cut through the arteries in her throat. Blood from the severed artery spray-painted the cupboard and his face. He felt her final breath escape. The sound of her last breath tickled his ear like a lover's whisper. Blood and spittle dribbled out of her mouth. He smothered the need to howl with pleasure as he came in his pants and allowed a loud moan to escape from between his lips. Her body fell to the floor with a thump. Looking down at her, he thrust his gloved hand inside his