Don't Fear the Reaper

by Erotickynk

Tara slept very late the day of the Dark Encounter's Annual Orgy. After she peed and had a fruit smoothie for breakfast, she wandered naked through the residential hallways to the backstage room to await the people who would prepare her for the show. She sat cross-legged for over an hour, her eyes closed, a small smile twisting her mouth, and at times her delicate fingers toyed with her sex and anus.

Around her, the other girls who came and went displayed a wide range of emotion - from excitement, to nervousness, to outright quivering fear of what the coming evening would bring. Through it all, Tara remained at peace and calm.

When they at last came to escort her to the prep room, those near her could smell the pungent scent of her arousal. Tara hummed the tune that would be played while she died all the while she tok her enemas, was bathed, had her hair done and make-up applied. She chose a thong made from the wool tartan of her Scots ancestors, white knee socks, and long black fingerless gloves to wear. Around her throat she placed a silver choke collar with a double ring at the back. She also had her fluffer work a fat buttplug into her rectum - just in case.

Fifteen minutes before her curtain-call she drank a cold strawberry milkshake as her fluffer suckled her nipples and fingered her increasingly oily vagina. She smiled and pulled her fluffer's hand out of her thong just as her orgasm began to quiver inside her. She wanted to save it. All that was left then was the waiting ...


For the 2013 Dark Encounter's Annual Orgy, the management had decided to transform the yearly celebration of sexual death into something more grand and exciting.

The enourmous elegant ballroom is bathed in a soft golden glow from the large chandeliers while over three hundred elegantly dressed men and women talk in small and large groups while sipping champagne and sampling delicacies off silver trays carried by the white-coated waiters. Dark Encounter hosts - bedecked in traditional black tie and tails - glide amongst those gathered, ensuring that their every desire was being sated.

Beside the stage, in the corner of the ballroom, a small modern orchestra plays a Brahm's composition softly. The male and female lead singers talk in hushed tones while the three girl back-up singers coo along to the orchestra's gentle sounds.

At precisely seven PM, the Executive Host walks to a microphone stand and nods to the lighting crew hidden from view high-up in a balcony loge. The golden light fades to a softer glow and a spotlight focuses attention on the Executive Host.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." his deep confident voice fills the room, "Welcome to this year's Dark Encounter's Orgy."

He is momentarily interrupted by tasteful cheers and applause.

"This year, we have some new features that many of you are aware of. For the first time, our guests have been able to purchase young ladies in order to have them experience unique sexual deaths and I am pleased that many of you have indulged. We promise, you won't be disappointed."

More applause and some laughter.

"To mark the opening of this year's Orgy, we have a performance by one of our young ladies that promises to be most entertaining. She is a talented young woman, only nineteen years old, and she has choreographed and designed all elements of what you are about to see. This will be the penultimate performance of her life ... a performance that will mark the final five and a half minutes of her life."

Gasps and murmuring from the crowd.

"Without further ado, I give you ... Tara!" the Executive Host turns dramatically and motions to the large stage and his spotlight fades.

On cue, the famous guitar opening of the Blue Oyster Cult song Don't Fear The Reaper" throbs from the speakers around the ballroom and a spotlight focuses on Tara, posing at the side of the stage, smiling at the audience. As the deep booming drums join the guitar riff, Tara hops in the air and launches herself forward, dancing wildly across the stage, her svelte legs making long skipping strides as she exaggerates her gait, rolling her hips saucily from side to side, and waving her arms above her head.

The lead singers step to their microphones ...

All our times have come
Here, but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain ... we can be like they are

Tara's dark hair flows behind her, and her small breasts are firm and stand proud as she dances. Her strapping muscles slide and move under her smooth skin as she gyrates back across the front of the low stage.

Suddenly behind her, a large blurred silent video taken at last year's Orgy glows on the screen serving as a backdrop to Tara's performance; A Latina girl gagging and vomiting as a stainless steel spit slides out of her mouth, her head held tight by a man's hands. She begins shaking and struggling on the screen. The three girl back-up singers join in on the chorus ...

Come on baby
... don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand
... don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly
... don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

As Tara continues her sensual dance, the image behind her dissolves and is replaced by another; a girl hanged, her legs kicking as she twists in her noose. Then; a girl being held down as her throat is cut, fighting it at first, but once the cut is made she squirms sensually as blood pulses from her throat and mouth.

The audience is titillated by these images and by Tara's erotic dance, so much so that it takes some time before people become aware that the woven silver choker around her throat is attached at the back of her neck to a thin titanium chain that flips and whips behind her, affixed somewhere in the darkness above the stage. The chain is controlled by one of the stage assistants who operates a silent winch mechanism to take up or let out slack according to Tara's choreographed moves around the stage.

Valentine is done
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity ... Romeo and Juliet

Now aware of the chain, the audience watches Tara toy with the chain's length, dancing backward in little hops so the slack is drawn upward, then prancing quickly forward, skipping toward the edge of the stage with a smile on her face, drawing the chain tighter but not yet taut.

40,000 men and women everyday ...
Like Romeo and Juliet
40,000 men and women everyday ...
Redefine happiness
Another 40,000 coming everyday ...
We can be like they are

But is when the fifth line of the repeated chorus is sung that the audience gasps ...

Come on baby
... don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand
... don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly
... don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

With the giant image of a girl being repeatedly stabbed in the belly behind her - gasping and crying out in silence - Tara reaches up over her head and grasps the chain and runs toward the audience, jumping off the stage toward them. As the lead singer croons; "We'll be able to fly" the chain snaps tight and the choke collar synchs tight around her throat. Those closest hear the "glrk" and all see her stomach convulse as the collar hits her gag reflex. As Tara swings out over the audience's heads and her face deepens in colour, the chain is paid out and she lands nimbly on her toes amongst them.

While the song's long bridge is played by the orchestra, the chain slowly unwinds until most of its length lays on the stage and Tara dances amongst the audience, flirting, teasing, and titillating them.

Those who she dances near can smell the musky scent of her sweating body, the skunky odour of the fear-sweat from her armpits, and the unmistakable pungent musk of her arousal wafting from between her silky thighs.

Dark Encounters members who took the time to read Tara's biography knew that Tara had been a dancer since the age of six. Her fascination with erotic death began at the same time she entered puberty, and grew to an obsession when - at the age of sixteen - her date brought her to a performance at the Dark Encounter's mansion. She soon became a regular and attended her first Annual Orgy two years ago. She signed up that night to become one of the Orgy girls.

Tara paid her dues at last year's Orgy by being a fluffer, not only to the girl she was assigned to, but also to the wife of a guest who impulsively chose to be strangled after getting caught up in the sensual death all around her. Tara had sucked and tongued the woman's cunt as she was garroted until the woman fell limp and dead, not even stopping when the woman filled her mouth with piss as she lost control of her body during her prolonged death orgasm.

Like all the girls contracted to die at this year's Orgy, Tara was given an all-expenses-paid year of pampering. She traveled the world, finding adventure and living a life of luxury. As part of her pampering, Tara was awakened each morning by alternating men and women who would draw her out of sleep by making gentle love to her with their mouths and fingers until she orgasmed. Many nights, Tara explored her own sexual limits with multiple partners and discovered her love of gagging while being throat-fucked, and being choked out during orgasm.

Hanging was a natural choice for her and Tara knew that by offering this entertainment she could avoid the new feature where-in guests could not only pay for a girl's death, but dictate how she would die.

As the orchestra plays the prolonged bridge of psychedelic music, Tara continues to dance amongst the audience allowing many to stroke her body as she moves sensually past them. One elegant mature woman catches her eye, and Tara focuses her attention on her, thrusting her pelvis toward her, and gyrating her hips. The woman smiles and strokes long slender fingers down Tara's sweat-slick belly and into her tartan thong.

The woman will take great delight in telling her friends later that Tara's mound was hot to the touch and her vagina slick and oily with sexual excitement. The woman cups Tara's crotch and smiles when she finds the base of the butt plug nestled in Tara's rectum. The woman slides two long fingers inside Tara's vagina, curling them and firmly stroking her g-spot. When she does this, for the first and only time in her performance, Tara falters; her eye-lids drooping, her belly tightening, and her thighs shaking as though her legs may give out.

It is obvious to all that Tara is on the edge of orgasm as she regains her composure and pulls away to resume her dance. Prancing away and looking back at the woman over her shoulder, Tara flicks the chain to the side and does a mid-air forward flip and lands back on the stage on her feet.

The audience roars with applause.

As the slack in the chain is taken up, the familiar guitar riff begins anew and Tara's dance takes up the beat once more. But the mood of her dance has changed ...

Love of two is one
Here but now they're gone

Now Tara dances more frantically, portraying a young woman troubled and distressed. She darts from side to side on the stage, her facial expressions showing exaggerated fear and sorrow. Her body too contorts wildly as she dances, representing a growing frantic need to end her distress.

Behind her, the images on the huge screen show ever shorter clips of young beautiful women willingly submitting to grisly deaths at last year's Orgy; hangings; impalings; knifings; gruesome guttings; even a decapitation.

Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
The door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew then disappeared

At the crescendo of her dance, Tara turns once more to face the audience and with lips pulled back in a snarl, runs full out with long leaping strides toward them - the chain seemingly floating behind her, twisting in her hair as slack is swiftly paid out.

The curtains flew then he appeared ... saying don't be afraid

Tara runs and leaps off the stage landing gracefully on the ballroom floor, and seeing she isn't slowing, the crowd parts for her.

Come on baby ... and she had no fear

Tara's dance appears forgotten as she runs through the parting crowd ... her eyes fixed on the far wall.

And she ran to him ... then they started to fly

A good forty feet from the stage, Tara abruptly comes to the end of her chain and the choke collar synchs tight once more and once more she makes that desperate choking "GLRK!" ... but much louder and wetter this time. Those still standing in front of her see her stomach convulse and a small spray of pink vomit escapes her open mouth.

The chain suddenly winches backward with blurring speed, lifting Tara off her feet and pulling the girl violently backward and upward. Some of those who are close, see and even feel the misted drops of urine and the crotch of Tara's thong darken and glisten as she begins to piss herself.

They looked backward and said goodbye ... she had become like they are
She had taken his hand ... she had become like they are
Come on baby ... don't fear the reaper

As she is raised above the stage floor, her inner thighs run wet as her bladder releases completely. Tara is dying and knows it, but to her credit she continues her performance ...

She doesn't flail or reach for her throat. Instead, she clenches her fists and thrusts her arms straight down behind her back. Keeping her head down, Tara hangs by her throat, her feet dangling above the stage. Her belly is clenching and her body shaking as she begins dying. Tara's orgasm hits her with a noticeable jolt and her pelvis thrusts forward, her legs apart and quivering wildly as her feet turn inward and her toes curl.

As Tara's orgasm grows stronger, her nipples pucker tight and shiver-bumps spread across her undulating belly and her inner thighs run wet with piss. The orchestra quiets the repetitive roll of the song's closing rhythm until only Tara's faint choking sounds and the soft jingling of the chain she hung from can be heard. Those closest to the stage can hear the gurgling of her stomach as the girl's body continues to try to vomit its contents in response to the pressure on her gag reflex.

Those who know of Tara's love of gagging while being throat-fucked know that this is only adding to her orgasmic bliss.

As the audience watches in silence, Tara moves through her prolonged orgasm - the muscles in her belly moving like snakes under her skin and her pelvis jerking forward in spasms over and over. As her orgasm peaks, her face lifts slightly and her mouth and tongue work in a desperate attempt to draw in air. Many believe that her orgasm is so strong that she is desperate for it to continue longer than possible.

Yet the audience knows from experience - experience that young Tara lacks - that she is in her final seconds, and always appreciative of the girls who sacrifice themselves for the Orgy's entertainment, their joyous noise begins while she can still hear it. It swiftly rises to a roar of applause and cheers of "Bravo! Bravo!"

And Tara does hear it, for as they applaud her, she opens her thighs further apart and lifts her head so the light shines upon her face and a faltering smile curls her lips.

A few seconds later, her svelte body quiets and slumps limp, her belly sags, and her arms and hands fall forward and dangle. Her eyes staring sightlessly, Tara's face is peaceful, drool dripping from her full lips and her swollen tongue visible between her white teeth.

As her body is lowered and respectfully wrapped in white linen, the guests began talking about Tara's performance in excited tones. It is then that one of the hosts finds Tara's butt plug on the carpet near where the chain had pulled her from her feet.

He takes it to the elegant woman who had been the last one to touch Tara sexually and presents it as a memento of her remarkable encounter. The woman takes it reverently and licks its tip with a smile and holds it proudly as she mingles with her envious peers.


Shortly thereafter, the elegant woman took the butt plug with her when she met with the Executive host. Quietly whispering her request, she smiled as the Host nodded and led her through a door down a corridor into a dim cool room filled with gurneys and undertaker's equipment.

Once there, the woman removed a thick bundle of hundred dollar bills and handed it to the Host. Pocketing the money, the Host led the woman to the only gurney with a body - its occupant covered with a white linen sheet. The Host pulled back the sheet and revealed Tara's limp body as the woman pulled her evening gown up over her head and laid it on the empty gurney beside it. The woman was naked beneath. The Host assured the woman total privacy and left the room.

The woman gently peeled Tara's thong down her long dancer's legs and parted her thighs. She smiled when she saw the sheen of mucus that still oozed from Tara's now flaccid vagina. Taking the butt plug, the woman slid it easily into Tara's sex, twisting it and lubricating it thoroughly, then pulled it out and reached around to her own bottom. The woman grimaced and grunted as she pulled it up into her rectum.

Climbing up on the gurney, the woman lay atop Tara's still warm body and loosened the choke collar around the dead girl's throat. She then kissed Tara's soft, full lips, tasting the bile and strawberry vomit in her mouth. Opening her own thighs, she began rubbing herself against Tara's right thigh in long sensual strokes as she stared into the dead girl's sightless eyes. Her fingers - one by one - disappeared into Tara's loose slippery sex.

The woman's orgasm, when it came, was violent and gut-wrenching and in her passion she once again pressed her lips hard against Tara's open mouth, her tongue exploring deep as she ground her entire hand into Tara's body.

The woman rejoined the Orgy afterward, spending the rest of the evening with Tara's butt plug embedded within her. It was truly a night to remember.