Bob and Emma chatted excitedly about their day, re-living some of the high points and giggling like teenagers about green spangles and rolling eyeballs. But between times, Bob couldn't stop his thoughts wandering back to Kasia.

He threw another log on the fire and watched the sparks race up the chimney, then slumped down next to his wife on the couch and sighed.

"It's a bloody shame we'll have to snuff her, I'm getting attached, and we can't let that happen," he confided.

A flash of jealous anger flushed Emma's cheeks. "Damn right we can't! She's going tomorrow. No ifs or buts. I'm looking forward to it to be honest. She's a little whore, and I'm going to make her pay. You should never have encouraged her, Bob."

Bob nodded. He knew it had to be done. The heat of the thrill would wither the remorse, he told himself. As he started thinking about the 'how', he put his arm around his wife's waist and gave a little squeeze.

"Love you to bits," he joked.

Emma sighed.

"Well," said Bob, "it's my turn to decide the method again isn't it?"

"Er, technically, no," Emma replied indignantly.

"You decided yesterday," Bob mansplained, "it's my turn now."

"No, we agreed that I decided for all three, to save on cleanup, remember?"

"Well if that's true, then logically she has to go in the Masher."

Emma pouted. "The little one didn't. Your new girlfriend stole that one from me."

Bob laughed. "I didn't see you complaining."

"I wouldn't mind the masher," Emma continued, "it was a blast. And so was the roller. We could run her up and down in that, starting it high so it just squeezes her tits a bit, before lowering it by an inch with each pass, Bob. Then when her hips and ribs are crushed and she can hardly breath, we could take her out, and have more fun with her while she begs for death. Or you could put her in one of the presses and rape her ass while she gets slowly crushed or spiked. I'd love to watch that. I'd kinda like to hate-rape her with the Ripper too. Or smash her to bits with a sledge-hammer. It'd be a nice work-out. God I can't decide. I know I shouldn't be so jealous, but that's how I feel. The thing is, Bob, you're a fucking idiot. Do you think I can't see that you're infatuated with her? Do you even think of the practicalities? It ends tomorrow, we'll do her after she's done her cleaning duties."

At Emma's words, a rising disquiet stirred in Bob's soul, and by the time she had finished her little rant it had punctured his consciousness.

He sighed. "Sorry Emma, I can't. Lets just make it quick. I'll put a bullet in her brain, after that she's all yours if you wanna have fun with her body."

"Oh come on Bob! You're just making fucking excuses to give her the easy way out. And it's such a waste. At least let me shoot her. I'd start with the legs to stop her running. If you can't bear it, just leave me alone with her for a while. Then you don't need to know."

But Bob was steadfast. "No. Just allow me this one thing. You can have your fun when Dave comes back."

A strong relationship always entails a bit of give-and-take, and after a bit more wrangling Emma reluctantly agreed. After all, the thought of taking out her frustrations on that bitch's corpse with a pick-axe did seem like a fair consolation prize.

Bob sat glumly and swirled his whisky in bruised contemplation. She was right of course. He had been a fool. If only he had kept his head, they could have had their fun with her, moved on, and looked forward to the next victim. Now he had become smitten, and it was going to bring him pain.

The couple finished their drinks in silence. They both had stuff to do the next day, attending to day-to-day jobs around the farm, and so decided to turn in early.
Bob woke with a start. Still early, it was just starting to get light.

An empty space next to him. Bob got out of bed, trying to shake the drowsiness from his head. Where was Emma?

He flicked the light switch to no effect. "Probably a fuse gone," he thought.

He pulled on jeans and trainers and padded down the stairs. Still no Emma. The front door was ajar, and Bob exited into the gloom.

"Emma?" he called. He was met by silence. Bob had the sense that something was wrong, a dull feeling that he had been here before. Everything was still, an uncanny hush mixing with the ghostly morning gloom to cast a miserable pall over the world.

Driven by instinct, he jogged up the path to the barn, his legs heavy. He didn't want to be having to deal with this shit before coffee.

Bob entered the tool store. The trap door to the factory was already open, and lights were on. As he descended, he heard a noise in the Factory, and ran towards it.

He could hear Kasia pleading, and Emma's voice as he approached, "... and he's going to try and weasel out of it. We had a deal, and I'm going to have my fun, whore."

Emma was standing by the Masher, and Kasia was inside, naked. Clearly, Emma had decided to make an early start before Bob could change his mind again.

Bob strode up to her, "wha..." he started.

"She's got to go, Bob," she said coolly, "It's best if we do it right now, before you get more attached. Besides," she wheedled, "it'll be fun!"

Bob knew he was the one in the wrong, breaking the promise. He would let his wife have her thrill, and then at least it would be over with once and for all.

Through the glass, Kasia's pleading eyes met his. That stupid damn gaze again. "Bob! you can stop her."

Bob wanted to explain, but had no words or time. Emma had already grabbed the controller and set the Masher into motion.

Time stopped and Bob was frozen for an eternity, unable to move.

"Time for your work-out, whore!" screeched Emma, and hit the button.

Kasia turned to face the piston as it approached her feet. "I'm not ready!" she protested lamely, then took the only escape, and stepped up onto it.

The piston moved back and forth, biding its time. It would take its prize sooner or later. Kasia was obligated to play along, stepping up and down onto the edge of death. Hope of last minute mercy drove her on, until her lungs and muscles burned.

Bob couldn't take his eyes away from Kasia's sublime legs and ass as they worked. Or the way her skinny toned arms flailed for balance that was never found, as the retreating piston pulled her legs, and that forlorn hope, away from under her.

It was the first time Bob had heard her scream, a sad cry against the injustice of mortality. The loss of a voice so beautiful and tragic would surely leave a hole in the cosmos.

Kasia fell back, and dropped bodily into a sitting position against the glass. Bob found the horrible futility of her desperate struggle quite arousing.

Her feet were still raised as the piston struck her thighs, flicking her legs upwards past her head. Kasia involuntarily yielded to its brutal seduction as her legs were pushed open.

The machine sated its lust by juicing her sex, pelvis, and all the womanly goodness therein, and ejaculated an exultant fountain of gore against the glass.

Emma's joyous cackles stabbed through Bob's heart like ice-pick.

But she had shown him that the most exquisite dish of all has the bittersweet taste of snuffing the one you love.
Bob woke with a start, disoriented. For a moment, he didn't know where he was until the welcome form of his wife straddling him registered in his consciousness.

"You okay?" she asked him, looking concerned and a little scared.

Bob took a moment to collect his thoughts. The dread from the dream was still as real as his boner and he was drenched in sweat, "Nightmare."

"God, I thought you were having a fit or something."

Of course it had been a nightmare, Bob thought, all the signs were there, the uncanny sense of things being wrong, the darkness, the anxiety. Bob lay back, replaying it in his mind before it could fade. "It was a doozy."

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Bob nodded. They always shared their dreams. "Breakfast."

So Bob recounted the horror to his wife over the breakfast table. She put a comforting hand on his knee. "So what does it mean?"

Maybe it was worry about their relationship thought Bob. Maybe a warning about his feelings for Kasia. He said nothing. He had found that the truth of dreams tended to emerge over time.

Emma had a much more pragmatic take. "Well, whatever it means, It would be a glorious way for her to go. Maybe we should just follow your dream. I know you're fond of her, but we're in this game for the splatter, not for long term, lovey-dovey relationships."

Bob reminded her that she had already agreed to a quick kill, and Emma shrugged. "Well just make sure you do it, or maybe your dream will come true."

During the morning Bob and Emma visited Kasia to get her started with the cleaning. They trusted her enough to allow her full access to the Factory to perform her duties, but she was still captive there. No escape.

Then Emma went to check on the animals, and Bob did some video editing in the study.

After lunch, they had a serious love making session with Emma while re-watching the previous day's events in the bedroom, but still his mind kept flashing back to the dream, and Kasia.

He was reluctantly steeling himself for the job ahead. He decided that he would slit her throat when she was least expecting it. She would black out in his arms within seconds, and die peacefully.

Through the day they monitored Kasia through the camera system, and were pleased to see that, true to her word, she undertook to clean up the mess: shovelling the remains of her mother and sister into bins, dumping bins into the pit, hosing and scrubbing in and around the machinery, and finally mopping the floor. It was a full day's work.

The sun was getting low, and Bob and Emma, made their way back into the Factory to meet Kasia, who was clearly very pleased with herself. "I cleaned the whole place!" she said proudly.

They inspected everything, as sure enough, she had done a great job. Emma gave Bob a nudge in the ribs, and shot him a meaningful look. It was time.

"Great job kiddo," Bob said. He wanted everything to appear normal, so she wouldn't suspect. He looked her up and down, her PJs looked like she had been dragged through a slaughter house.

"I think you need a shower," he laughed. He turned to Emma, and with a wink said, "I'm going to get this girl cleaned up, I'll see you back at the house in a while."

"Just make sure everything's taken care of before you leave," Emma said cryptically, and gave him a kiss.

Kasia had seen the wink and knew exactly what that meant. No doubt Bob had a 'special treat' for her being such a good girl. As soon as they were in the bathroom, she stripped off her dirty clothes, and flashed a stellar smile at Bob, gyrating in a kind of sexy dance and biting her lower lip.

Cleaning gore all day had made her horny, and now she was glad it was playtime. Bob had intended to snuff her while she showered, but now his libido had got the better of him.

'Fuck it,' he thought, 'I'll give her what we both want, and then do it. At least she'll die happy.'

Bob undressed, and stepped into the shower with her. After soaping each other down, Kasia leapt onto Bob, flinging her arms around his thick neck, and her supple legs around his waist. Then she lowered herself onto his cock, and they fucked like animals.

Kasia bounced up and down on his boner enthusiastically, forcefully French kissing him with her luscious lips, her tongue striving to play with his. He occasionally slammed her into the wall, thrusting hard into her as he did so. She seemed to delight in this, mewling at his pounding domination of her.

Bob had just shot his load into her soapy twat, when they were interrupted by an insistent beeping.

"Bollocks," said Bob, "I've got to check this, sweetheart."

Dripping and naked, he trotted from the shower, and into the lounge. It was the intruder alert. Checking the screens, he spotted Dave's van. "I've got to go, sweetie. I'll be back soon".
Emma met Bob at Dave's van. She looked suspiciously at his wet hair and damp t-shirt. "Well?" she asked.

"I'll do it later. Let's see what Dave wants first."

Exasperated, Emma muttered, "for fuck's sake Bob." But it wasn't the right time to start a row about it, so then held her tongue.

Dave opened the back of the van. They peered into the gloomy interior. There was something covered by a tarp. Next to that, bound and gagged, was another delivery.

"Fucking hell Dave," Bob exclaimed, "You're going to have to slow down, we haven't finished the last lot yet!"

"I'll take her away again if you like," Dave replied gruffly, "But you still pay 'alf."

Bob laughed reassuringly, "No, no, that's fine mate, she looks like a fine specimen, we'll take her."

"You serious about that 'slowing down' thing?"

Bob gave Dave a wry look. "Nah, keep 'em coming if you can, just don't take any chances. Make hay while the sun shines, I say."

The new guest wasn't cooperating, kicking and squirming violently. In the end they decided she'd be a bit of a handful to get down the stairs, and elected to deliver her via the machine hatch directly onto the factory floor.

Bob pressed the remote. A forty foot section of the concrete floor opened up. The new barn had an X-Y crane just like the one in the factory. Bob brought the hoist over, and hooked it onto the fresh delivery, then as Dave started lower the girl, Bob climbed down the ladder.

He waited at the bottom as the woman slowly descended, muffled cries coming from her ball-gagged mouth. Suddenly Kasia was at his side. She watched the fresh meat coming towards them, "Yay!"

At the familiar voice, Dave's beady eyes looked down at the faces peering up at him, and shot Bob a quizzical look. He didn't say anything though. No questions asked.

"Okay Dave, we got this," Bob called.

"There's one more thing, come 'ave a gander," said Dave, flashing a sudden gold-toothed smile and tapping the side of his beak-like nose. He was a curious little fellow, in his fifties, with a weaselly face, slight stoop, and a thick gold chain draped around his scrawny neck. A character from a Dickens novel thrown 150 years into the future. If there was one word that summed him up, it was 'dodgy'.

Appearances can be deceptive. This was all part of an act. Many criminals use a legitimate business as a front for their more nefarious activities. Dave went a stage further, and used petty crime as cover for his more lucrative pursuits. A deception within a deception.

The guy was as sharp as a tack: skillful in silently penetrating buildings, hacking computer systems, laying decoys, and subverting any attempts to track him. But most just knew him as 'Dodgy Dave.'

Bob climbed back up the ladder. Dave pulled back the tarp, and revealed an outboard motor, the sort used on speedboats.

"What's that?" asked Bob.

"Well some of my boys were doing a little job down at the docks, and things got a bit sticky. This was part of the haul. It's too hot for my liking. I just wanna see the back of it, these things are all have numbers these days, an' fencing ain't my game. I just wanna get rid, pronto. It's yours if you want it."

Bob smiled at Dave's 'stay lucky' lingo and cockney accent. He scratched his beard. "I s'pose I could find some use for it. Sure."

So the outboard was lowered too. Below, Kasia looked at it with great interest, wondering what Bob would do with it.

Dave saluted a goodbye, Columbo style, climbed back into his van and drove off into the night.

A few minutes later Bob, Emma and Kasia were in the cell, looking down at the new catch. She was wriggling and squirming on the floor, hogtied with ropes, still trying to shout through her gag. The most prominent feature, was her size. This was one big heifer, and a pretty one too.

"I can't be arsed to deal with that right now." Bob said, "She can wait till morning. By then she might have calmed down a bit."

He looked at Kasia. "Looks like you've landed yourself another cleaning job, girl". Emma stared at him defiantly, with her hands on her hips.

Kasia realized that she had been lucky to be treated so well. A night tied up on a cold hard floor didn't sound like much fun. Then Bob spoke to her. "You can stay in the lounge tonight, as long as you behave yourself. Get a good night's sleep, big day tomorrow." Then thought, 'and your last, too,' as a pang of remorse tore at his heart.

An hour later, Kasia was curled up warm in that big soft bed. She did wonder why there was a damp patch in the middle, but it was way better than the cell all the same. 'I'm sure I won't be able to sleep,' she told herself, but within minutes exhaustion overtook her and she was out like a light.

At the farmhouse, Emma turned to Bob. She wasn't happy. "So what the fuck is going on?"

"I was about to do it," Bob explained reasonably, "but the alarm went off. Now I'm thinking we could use her for cleanup again."

"OK, last chance," his wife declared. "Do it after she's cleaned up the new one, or I will. She's got two days, Bob. To be honest, it's not fair. I should be torturing that little whore, and you're undermining me. I'm giving you an easy option here, and you're taking advantage."

She carried on with her tirade, "And if I snuff her, believe me, I won't be worrying about how much mess it makes, or who gets to clean it up."

Bob rarely saw her this angry, but it was understandable. He could see that Kasia could drive a wedge between them, and knew that he had to do what was promised, or things would come to a head. Every relationship has its breaking point.
They were back at the factory by 8am. The viewing lounge smelled of frying bacon, as Kasia had fixed herself a substantial breakfast in the galley. She finished that off, and declared, "I'm still hungry," as she returned to the kitchen, re-emerging a few minutes later with a big bowl of porridge with sultanas and honey.

Bob revelled in her teenage appetite, "eat all you want," he told her, "it's going to be a long day."

"Yes, you must," added Emma, licking her lips, "You're going to need your strength."

Kasia thought she was acting a bit creepily, and the story of Hansel and Gretel came to mind. The wicked witch fattening up the kids before consuming them. Still, she knew she had nothing to worry about, Bob had told her she could stay. The thought of being a willing sex slave in this paradise enchanted her.