Janelle was my first.
In her email, Janelle tells me about her past suicide attempts; Pills = too slow and she didn't like the dullness of it; Slitting wrists = a failure because she clotted just after she passed out; Hanging = a total fail - she was found unconscious and revived. She has read about gutting online and thinks it will not only be fatal. no matter what, but it will be an intense experience. She arrived at my remote lakeside home three days later ...
She is such a sad little thing, I can see that she truly wants to end her life. As agreed upon, I tie her wrists tight and hoist her up so she is on her tip toes, her slightly plump belly stretched out. I peel her sweatpants down so they are just above her mound and press the knife firmly but gently in the sweet spot just above her pubic bone.
"Tell me when you're ready, Janelle." I say gently. She takes a few moments, looking around the room, tucking her chin to see the knife in my hand, glancing at my face. And for two solid minutes she stares out the window at the lake view from my walkout basement spare bedroom - it is as though she is saying goodbye to this life - her life. At last she nods.
"I'm ready." she whispers and pushes her belly outward, closing her eyes.
Every detail was agreed to ... I thrust the knife hard and fast, deep into her lower gut, feeling the sharp tip scrape across her pubic bone before bursting her bladder and penetrating her uterus. Janelle's eyes snap wide open and she gasps, her mouth forming an "O", and her eyebrows raise in wonder and awe.
Knowing she wants it quick, I pull back on the blade and press upward as I saw in and out of her belly, quickly - like I would if I was carving a turkey or a roast.
"... f-f-f-fuuuuuuck ..." Janelle gasps as her eyes roll back in her head. She lays her head back, moaning and grunting as I plunge the knife in and out of her gut, working ever upward, opening her belly quickly. As I work I hear the gurgling from her gut and her stomach. Her thighs start shaking badly and she moans in despair as she farts and I hear a squirt as she soils her panties.
Her entire body shudders as I break through her belly button, releasing the tension in her oblique belly muscles, and her abdomen opens wide, her intestines flopping and slithering out of her to plop wetly on the tarped floor.
Sawing now through the softer upper belly, nearing her stomach. Janelle reacts; twisting on her ropes, her bum clenching tight, her rigid thighs open and her legs shaking badly. The front of her sweatpants are a glistening bloody mess and her once white sneakers are covered in gore.
"NNGHA!!!" she lets rip a guttural cry and her head lifts then hangs forward - her mouth open, drool slithering from her slack lips. I hear the violent gurgling and it grows louder quickly, so I step slightly to the side. Janelle pukes - her upper belly convulsing, sending a flood of brown liquid up her throat to spray and spatter over her top, belly, my hand, and the floor.
"... s-s-s-sorry ..." she whimpers in a weak voice. Instead of answering, I angle the knife and thrust upward into her convulsing stomach, lifting her belly, holding her impaled on the blade. She lifts her face, her head leaning against her right arm as she gazes into my eyes. Her expression is one of hopelessness and resignation, yet her face is softening. Janelle's mouth is open and her tongue working as she gags and heaves uncontrollably while I twist the knife gently to prolong the sensations for her. She had told me in her email that she was bulimic and that the act of vomiting had taken on strong sexual feelings for her. I slide my free hand under her top and cup one of her young breasts - it is warm and full and heavy in my hand, and I stroke the puckered hard nipple with my thumb while she experiences her last moments of intense sensations.
And that is how she finally dies - gagging, heaving - her body-curling slowing and becoming gentle waves of sweet sickness. Her eyelids droop as though she is falling asleep and a slight smile flickers across her lips before her eyes roll up in her head and she slumps limp, hanging from her ropes.