Ella Birgeaux was the most antagonistic model I had ever assisted. Nothing pleased her. She thought she was better than all the other models. It showed in the way she treated them.
She always wore that damnable scarf around her neck. It was cold, unattractive and black… black as her soul. No matter what anyone told her, she refused to take it off unless it was absolutely necessary.
I was responsible for running errands for the models, making sure their needs were met. And Ella was the worst. Nothing I did was good enough.
The other models noticed her treatment of me. As a result, I think many of them went out of their way to be nice to me. They often showed appreciation in the efforts I put in to seeing to their comfort.
I bore Ella like a trooper as I kept going back to her dressing room to cater to her needs. She wanted a private room, and somehow she got one. It stuck in the craw of the other models. But that stuck up bitch always seemed to get what she wanted.
For me, it always went back to that scarf. It was a hideous scarf. It was as though the damnable thing was the reason for her ugly temperament.
You have no idea how many times I fantasied about grabbing both ends and pulling. She would sit at her cosmetics table and look into the mirror at my reflection whenever she talked to me. Then she would go into great lengths to explain my latest failure at tending to her wishes.
Her words often fell on deaf ears. Usually all I could see was that ugly scarf around her neck. And I would find myself imagining just how wonderful it would be to pull on both ends until she couldn’t berate me anymore.
Perhaps I should have seen it coming. If she would have been more of an observant bitch, she might have wised up and curbed her tongue. But she just didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself.
One day I was summoned Ella’s dressing room between fashion appearances on the runway. Once more she lit into my efforts. She was exceedingly unhappy with me.
The room was too cold, the fruit basket too stale, and the flowers were wilting. The fabric was all wrinkled, the candles were wrong, and the perfume she demanded was the incorrect brand. All I saw was that ugly scarf around her neck as she went on – blah, blah, blah.
Without thinking, I lashed out and grabbed on to both ends of that damnable scarf. Then I pulled hard. Her eyes flew open in astonishment.
An act of violence against her was utterly unthinkable! I could see it in her eyes. How DARE I!
Her hands came up to claw at the scarf. Now she wanted it off?? Figures…
I could not seem to stop myself. I saw her reflection in the mirror and the damnable scarf that seemed to be mocking me. Instinctively, I pulled harder.
I watched her reflection in the mirror go from shock to surprise to horror… and then to desperation. Her face turned red as her long, red-painted fingernails clawed at the scarf around her throat. But it kept mocking me, and I refused to let go.
I watched her reflection in the mirror as her eyes bugged out. Her tongue started to protrude as her gasps and gurgles were cut off. I kept expecting her to continue demeaning me, but her voice had been cut off.
I did not let go of the ends to her scarf. Nor did I want to. I simply wasn’t capable of stopping myself.
Her mouth gaped open as though trying one last time to breathe. She shuddered as she went limp in my grasp. The way she sagged caused me to let go of both ends of her scarf.
She fell forward onto the cosmetics table as though taking a nap. Her mouth had finally been silenced. Her scarf no longer mocked me.
At that moment, I realized what I had done. I slipped out of her dressing room in panic, my heart pounding in my chest. I rushed off to deal with the other models, certain my deed would soon be discovered.
Ella never made her curtain call for her runway display. I heard someone went to check on her. They thought she was napping and apparently left her alone. She was not missed.
It wasn’t until long after the show when the night janitor opened the door and found her that anyone even knew she’d been strangled to death. The cops tried to investigate. But the models were unhelpful as no one knew anything. If they suspected I was involved, they never said a word.
It’s amazing how much nicer life became after that stuck-up diva was gone…
I thought I had it under control. But I was wrong. Maybe there was no point trying to reign it in. Maybe it’s just who I am.
I saw her one night in a tavern having drinks with her friends. I could not stop staring at her red scarf. She had it tied in such a way as to invite strangulation.
I could not stop staring at her. She caught me looking and smiled at me. I smiled weakly before making a hasty departure.
The next night I was drawn back to that same bar. Again she was there, along with that same red scarf. She looked at me again. Was she being drawn to me the way I was being drawn to her and the wrap around her throat?
I could not stop staring at the scarf she wore. She smiled as she raised her glass in a toast to me. I raised mine back to her and smiled.
My heart beat fast. She had no idea how hard I was trying to fight it. I finished my drink and then hastily left to avoid making contact.
I should not have gone back that third night. But I could not stop myself. Would she show up three nights in a row?
I was staring at the door when she walked in. My breath caught in my throat. Again she was wearing that same red scarf.
This time she came right up to my table. “Buy me a drink?” she purred as she sat down. I nodded numbly as I summoned the bartender over.
She told me she noticed I had been staring at her every night of the week. I apologized as I tried to explain how I simply could not help myself. Then she asked why I had run away the last two nights.
I told her I was afraid I would not be able to control my lusts. She thought that was charming. She obviously believed I was talking about her body. But I was talking about something else.
She asked if I wanted to go someplace more intimate. I nodded numbly as I paid for our drinks. She slipped her arm through mine as it grew stronger within me. The beast was demanding to be unleashed.
I took her to a nice motel and paid cash while making her wait out in my vehicle. Then I took her in through a back door. She breathlessly fell into my arms, totally unaware of the danger she was in.
My lips were all over her mouth as I tried to blot it out of my mind. But I could hear it in the back of my head. Her red scarf was calling to me.
It seemed as though she finally made the connection when she asked, “Do you like my scarf?” I nodded breathlessly. She smiled coyly as she sat in one of the nice cushioned chairs and seductively began to undress.
Her breasts were gorgeous. Her pussy was cleanly shaved, dripping and inviting. But I only had eyes for her scarf.
She modestly covered her breasts before shyly asking, “Do you like?”
“Very much,” I breathed, my heart hammering in my throat.
I slowly removed my shirt and pants. She saw the bulge in my briefs and licked her lips. She watched with great interest as I slowly pulled them down, revealed my erection.
I was not aroused over her body. It was all due to that damned scarf. I found myself trembling as I struggled to regain control.
She gave me a seductive look as I slowly approached. I knelt to be able to thrust into her wetness as she sat there. But I only had eyes for her scarf.
Her breathing was heavy and labored. She must have assumed I was passionately overcome with her beauty. It must have made her feel quite desirable. Indeed, her scarf was making her so lethally attractive to me.
She gasped as I slowly entered her. We developed a rhythm as I continued to stare at her scarf. Inside the voice was telling me it was necessary if I was to be fulfilled. I’m ashamed to admit I was too weak to resist.
We were right in the middle of a sensuous fuck when I reached out for both ends to her scarf. Then I began to pull. She let out a gasp and a sigh as though enjoying what I was doing to her.
I pulled harder. To my surprise, she acted as though she loved it. And at that moment desire finally conquered reason.
I pulled harder as I thrust into her more aggressively. Her expression changed from rapture to alarm. The fear in her eyes only fueled my evil lusts.
Her hands came up to stop me. But I pulled harder on her scarf as I began to fuck her hard. My voracious appetite had been unleashed.
The more she struggled, the more the beast wanted to come out. I was unable to explain to her how her reactions were making things worse. Nor did I want to.
At the height of her fear and breathlessness, I pulled with all my might. I succeeded in cutting off all sound emanating from her throat. That moment is still vivid in my memory.
She shuddered hard as her pussy hungrily clenched around my thrusting cock. Then she seemed to relax as though giving herself to me. That’s when my cock exploded inside her, a mighty eruption of cum that seemed never-ending.
When I pulled out of her, she stared at me with a frozen look of horror. Her face was red, her scarf cutting noticeably into her neck. She would never seduce another man ever again.
Once more I had given in to my urges. The release had felt wonderful. Perhaps I was denying myself and that I ultimately needed to let go and simply become the person I was truly destined to be.
So I did not feel any remorse. Instead, I thanked her for her incredible gift. And I thanked her for setting me free. Then I got dressed and left.
Next time I would not be so hesitant. I would seize the opportunity. And thus, I began my hunt to find wearer after wearer of scarves of all kinds…
2016 (written for Denny Oct 12 ’16 by riwa. Inspired by the Internet photos I found.)