It Won’t Hurt


“Baby, I like this new, kinky side of you,” I said, touching the cool cloth covering my eyes.

“I thought you would,” she purred. “Did you miss me?”

“You know it.” It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen her. Now here she was, lingering outside my usual haunt, tempting me to take a walk on the wild side with her again.

“Is the blindfold too tight?”

“Nah. What is it? Silk?”

“Yep. Only the best for you.” Susannah’s boozy breath tickled my nose right before she smeared her wet mouth over mine.

I licked my lips. “Gimme another shot of that high-end hooch.”

Metal pressed against my lips and I opened my mouth, eager for more of that hot, sweet fire.

But she pulled the flask away before I gulped my fill. My protest died when she grabbed my crotch. “Uh-uh. I ain’t dealin’ with whiskey dick tonight. I wanna savor”—she squeezed my shaft— “all of this.”

A blonde, a bottle and a blow job.

My night was looking up.

Susannah held my hand as she led me someplace more private.

Dank smells of rotting vegetation increased. “We crossing into City Park?” I asked.

“On the backside. Bring back memories?”

“Oh yeah.” I’d told Susannah of my first sexual conquest at the park at age fourteen, strong-arming an old whore into giving me a blow job. A memory Susannah wanted to recreate for me, apparently.

“Almost there,” she cooed. “Step up over this curb. I’ve spread out a nice soft blanket.”

“Easier on your knees, eh?”

“Yes. And I’ve learned a new trick that’ll blow your mind.” Susannah’s fingernails scraped my bare arms from my shoulders to wrists.

I shivered with anticipation.

Gravel crunched under my boots. Weird. I oughta be feeling spongy grass by now.

She slipped behind me, whispering, “You’re so strong. I can’t wait to give you exactly what you deserve.”

A strange feeling skittered down my spine. That hadn’t sounded sexy, that’d sounded… threatening.

Then her hot tongue dipped into my ear and my little head told my big head to shut-the-fuck-up.

“Your biceps are steel pipes.”

I flexed, feeling cocky. I knew she’d come sniffing around again. Chicks who liked it rough always did.

“Can’t even get my fingers around your wrists they’re so thick. You that thick everywhere?” Susannah murmured seductively, jerking my arms behind my back.

Now my dick was as hard as rebar.

Until I felt the cool metal circle my wrists and heard a double click.

I froze. Laughed nervously. “What’s this?”

“Payback, jackass.”

Gone was her throaty, sexpot tone.

Susannah kicked my feet out from under me.

I landed on my ass and immediately felt her stiletto heel jabbing my chest.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’?”

She cuffed me in the mouth.

My lip split. I tasted blood.

“Don’t tax yourself thinkin’, baby; we both know thinkin’ ain’t your strong suit.” She jerked my jeans down, hobbling me.

“This ain’t funny.”

“But it is ironic.” She straddled me, bent close, humming loudly against my throat. “Do you recognize that little ditty?”

I thrashed but couldn’t dislodge her. Some hard object dug into my back. The tune she hummed vibrated through my body like a hundred annoying bees.

“The song has special meaning for us. Johnny Cash sang it,” she prompted.

Nothing clicked.

“Here’s another hint: it’s a song about trains.”

My brain stayed blank.

“Remember that train you pulled on me? You and your friends Leroy, Stan and Vern?”

The ground beneath me started to rumble.

Jesus Christ. The psycho bitch had laid me out on the tracks.

Susannah yanked off the blindfold with such force that my skull smacked into the metal rail. “Remember what you said to me as you held me down with that steel pipe across my throat when Vern took his turn? Then Stan? Then Leroy?”

I shook my head, panic spreading like wildfire.

“You said, ‘Nothin’ you ain’t done before. It won’t hurt…much.’ Well, I can’t say the same, ’cause this is gonna hurt, baby. Real bad.”

She leapt back when the train’s headlight swept the corner.

A whistle blew in warning.

As the train bore down on me, I realized Susanna hadn’t lied. She had blown my mind.

All over the railroad tracks.

~ fin ~


Lori Armstrong is the two-time Shamus Award winning author of Snow Blind, in the Julie Collins mystery series, and No Mercy, in the Mercy Gunderson series, Blood Ties and Hallowed Ground were also Shamus Award nominees. She has won the WILLA Cather Literary Award for Hallowed Ground and was a finalist for the books Shallow Grave, No Mercy and Merciless. Shallow Grave was nominated for a High Plains Book Award. Lori is also the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances written under the pen name Lorelei James. She lives in western South Dakota.