Trois Femmes Eviserer

by Erotickynk

I stare at the French woman as they strap my upper arms and thighs to the chains attached to the chair. The chains will allow me enough movement that she can watch me squirm, but not enough that I can do anything to interfere with what is about to happen to me - I can even half stand up, but I know that in a few moments I won't be capable of even doing that.

There are more tricks to this chair than meets the eye.

Dee and Raven are being strapped into their own chairs to my right. Raven is silent, all I can hear is her husky breathing and I'm not sure if it's arousal or fear - or maybe a mixture of both. On the other side of Raven, Dee is weeping and begging as she struggles in the hands of the security guys.

"... please ... please don't ... it's not fair ..." she whines as they hold her down and the hosts strap her thighs and arms. Dee is stupid; They aren't very kind to girls who fight it here.

We three were supposed to be ready to die tonight. I was, and I'm pretty sure Raven was. But none of us want to die this way - this horrible painful way.

Like the other eighty-some-odd girls who have or will die tonight, we each prepared ourselves for the Annual Orgy not only emotionally but physically as well. For me it started last night with a half bottle of senna laxative and three high colonics this morning. I didn't eat solids at all today, but I did drink a lot of juice to keep my strength up. I know a lot of guests like watching the girls shit themselves as they are dying, but I don't want to be one of them.

My fluffer, Kate did a good job with me - giving me some sweet orgasms during the day and keeping me sexually aroused all evening, making sure my sexual energy kept building by not letting me cum. My hope was to go out with an orgasm - I don't know if that's possible now.

I was watching a girl die on the gallows when they came for me - feeling shivers of arousal seeing her belly clenching tightly and her legs quivering and kicking as piss streamed down her inner thighs. There were only three girls ahead of me and, like them, I was ready for the noose - I really was. I was horny as hell and ready to die as Kate gently fingered by anus and stroked my nipples from behind,

I asked to be hoisted rather than endure the violence of the long drop or the choking and neck pain of a short drop. I experimented with a lot of things during my year of pampering and erotic asphyxiation felt pretty damned good. That weightless blissful state as conscious starts to slip away and a total body orgasm to send me to my death seemed like the best choice for me.

But as I waited my turn, one of the hosts, Mark, came and pulled me out of line; "Sarah. Come with me please." he'd said calmly as he took me by the arm and guided me over to the far corner of the ballroom, leaving Kate behind.

That's where the three chairs were already set up.

That's where the French woman was waiting.

She just stood and stared at nothing as Mark told me to wait. I grew nervous when I saw the security guys show up - six beefy men wearing dress slacks and tight t-shirts that showed off their bulging muscles. It bothered me that the French woman and the security guys wouldn't make eye contact with me. It wasn't until Dee and Raven joined me that the French woman pulled herself from her private thoughts and looked at each of us in turn. Her face was expressionless.

She is beautiful and elegant and I guess is just the other side of forty, and she wears it well. Standing there, I had no idea who she was, but I was beginning to suspect that she had paid for our deaths - the new feature of this year's Annual Orgy of Deadly Delights at the Dark Encounters mansion.

Yay for us. We got picked.

The woman began to speak to us in French and I only got the odd word - I'd spent a month in Paris during my year but didn't learn much of the language. She was saying something about her husband.

It was only when Mark translated that we got the whole story.

In a nutshell; She and her husband had attended last year's Annual Orgy and both had enjoyed the brave young women who died in various ways. But her husband enjoyed it too much - and he had his own private orgy with some of last year's fluffers. Three to be exact.

Us ... me, Dee, and Raven.

I had a vague memory of having a four-way with some French guy last year during the evening, but it was pretty hazy; Along with Dee and Raven, I was a fluffer and helped three girls orgasm as they died. But throughout the night I had become drunk on champagne and the lust I felt participating in and watching so many voluntary erotic deaths. I recalled going with him and the other girls to a room upstairs in the mansion, laughing and drinking more champagne and having frenzied sex. Some other people joined us and it became quite the party.

I also recalled his wife quietly entering the room and sitting in a chair and watching us. My memory of the rest of the night is a blur.

So it was to be revenge for her husband's unfaithfulness I thought as she spoke quietly and the host translated. But there was more ...

After the Orgy he had become obsessed with Raven, and had tracked her down. Against the rules of the Dark Encounters codes, Raven had an affair with the woman's husband.

As the French woman continued to tell her story, I looked at Raven and when I caught her eye, she nodded - it was true.

But her husband wasn't just obsessed with Raven - he had become obsessed with erotic death as well. And even after Raven broke off the affair, the husband continued to be drawn to the heady mixture of sex and death. That obsession ended his life.

So this French widow wanted revenge on the girls who started her husband's descent into madness and sexual suicide.

"And that revenge will be ..." Mark translated as she paused for dramatic effect.

"Trois femmes eviserer." the French woman spoke softly, looking at each of us in turn and smiling.

"Shit." Raven cursed under her breath and lowered her head.

"Huh?" Dee said, looking to Mark to translate. But Mark was silent, gazing down respectfully as we worked it out.

It took me a few seconds to figure out what the woman had said, then it hit me hard and I felt breathless and my legs got rubbery. I felt like I was going to pass out - the room spun and I felt icy cold in my core and suddenly the strong hands of one of the security guys were on my upper arms as he held me upright from behind. I guess I started going down.

Eviserer - such an elegant sounding word.

"What? What did she say? What's going on?" Dee spoke frantically, looking from person to person for an answer. Raven kept her head down, not wanting to look at Dee ...

"We're going to be eviscerated. All three of us." Raven spoke softly.

"W-what?" Dee exclaimed, panic rising in her voice.

"We're going to be strapped to the chairs and gutted, Dee." Raven said. I was feeling a little sick to my stomach. There was a pause as this sunk into Dee's panicked brain.

"Nooooooooooooo!" she wailed and tried to run on legs that must have felt as weak as mine, because she stumbled and fell to her knees before the security guys got their hands on her.

And so they had forced a struggling sobbing Dee into her chair and her restraints, while Raven and I nervously just stepped around and sat. What was the point in fighting it? We knew the rules when we signed up last year - that we may not get to choose how we died. And fighting was pointless - you only ended up dying tired.

And now I sit in my chair and study the French woman as she calmly watches Dee being restrained.

Unlike Dee and Raven, I know that the chairs also have another restraint feature - I'd played with the chairs during my check-ins at the mansion - I actually spent more time in the mansion than I did traveling - getting into BDSM play with other girls and staff. So it doesn't surprise me when we are asked to lift our bottoms off the seats and hold ourselves upright. The security guys have to lift Dee who is too scared to cooperate.

The hosts fit our stainless steel pegs in place as we hold our bums up out of the way - they have to wait to see the occupant's anatomy to know where to place them in the mechanism inside the base of the chair.

Pegs might be a bad name for them, but that's what the girls all call it - being "pegged" to the chair. Each peg was like a sharply curved dildo with a fat knob on the end - the curve faces outward so the knob presses against the oblique muscles of your lower belly. I've been pegged a few times and as I hold my bum up off the chair seat, I look down at Mark as he is fitting mine.

"Lube it?" I asked quietly and he nods, taking a bottle of Astroglide from his pocket and squeezing a large dollop on the knob. I ease myself down, nesting the knob against my anus, the oozy feeling of the slippery lube arousing. I slowly let my weight come down onto the peg and I feel my anus widening, but it resists opening enough to let the fat knob in.

I hear Raven moan and glanced at her and saw she's taken the peg into her cunt. A guttural grunt from Dee told me she's been forced down on hers as well.

I let more weight come down on my peg and feel the knob expand my anus and plop inside me. Then I ease myself down, feeling the curve of the peg sliding through my rectum - the tender tissues in there curling around it like a flesh sock. I settle back into my chair, shifting my bottom to make sure the peg is lined up well. It's already putting pressure on my bladder and I have the strong urge to pee. But it's also working on my g-spot, pushing my cunt forward and bringing a sweet pressure to my lower belly.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

Dee has stopped begging and is whimpering softly now. Raven is breathing huskily and when I look at her I see her eyes are closed and she's sweating.

"Which way did you choose?" I ask her quietly. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at me.

"Impaling." she whispers, "Not so different."

"Yeah, I guess." I say. I can hear the hosts messing around with the mechanics of our chairs, hooking the hinging rods to the base of our pegs.

"I like this chair." she says and a faltering smile flickers across her lips. It's the g-spot thing - I know, because I'm feeling it too.

"You'll love it in a minute then. It gets better." I promise. Raven smiles and closes her eyes again.

"How about you, Dee? What did you choose?" I ask, and I don't even know why.

"I wanted to be bagged." Dee answers in a weak voice, "You?"

"Slow hanging." I answer and shiver as I feel my peg shift inside me a little as Mark connects it to the lever mechanism.

"Ready." I hear one of the hosts say. I take a deep breath and let it out, pushing my belly out to relax it.

"Get ready, girls." I say, "And don't fight it - let it move you."

Behind each chair is a lever that controls the peg. When the lever is pushed down, it makes the peg pivot forward - the knob locks in just above your pubic bone, pulling it downward so your crotch is pinned tight to the seat.

One of the reasons I took it anally is so there's more of me between the peg and my pubic bone - sort of a cushion.

"Wha ...?" Dee starts to ask, but it's too late to answer - all three hosts pull the levers downward.

I grunt as I feel the peg curling forward inside me and I'm grateful that Mark is doing it slow. Glancing down, I can see the bulge in my lower belly the knob is making as it presses down against my pubic bone. I arch my back and let it curl my hips downward, pulling my crotch tight to the seat and stretching my belly out. I moan as I lose control of my bladder - just too much pressure for me to hold it - I feel the buzzing in my crotch and a wet puddle spreads between my open thighs. I can also hear the pattering of piss on the carpet as Raven loses control too.

All three of us slide down to slump in our chairs as our pegs pull us - anchoring our crotches tight.

I moan as I hear my lever click into place and lock. It feels like a clamp inside me, holding me like a vise. The pressure on my g-spot is immense and I'm thinking that maybe - just maybe - I'll be able to cum before I die.

Dee is groaning as well, and I hear Raven gasping. Opening my eyes I see that Raven is having an orgasm - her tight body shuddering and twitching as her lever clicks into place.

I can see why they chose these chairs - our pelvises are clamped tight and our bellies are stretched out and bulging because of the angle of our hips. I reach inward as far as my chains will allow and I'm able to stroke my flanks, but not get near the centre of my belly to massage my g-spot.

The French woman is telling Mark something. He nods and turns to us.

"You are each to be eviscerated by a different method, one after the other." Mark says and glances back at the French woman. Then he turns back to us,

"She can't speak nor understand English." he explains, "She wants you all to suffer. I'm sorry this is happening to you - I know none of you chose this and so you never got the orientation on it. Here's the main thing; don't fight it. When your turn comes, push your belly out and accept the blade. It will hurt like nothing ever has, but it will hurt more if you struggle."

I know a girl who is to be gutted tonight. She told me about the orientation - a combination of instruction and experience; they penetrated her with sterilized skewers so she could get a taste of it. She said that once you get past the pain, the feeling of something cold and foreign inside your abdomen is strange and intense.

I guess we're going to find out.

Mark asks the woman a question and she answers; "Dee."

I am surprised when Serge walks around in front of us carrying a rolled up soft case of knives. Serge is the most experienced snuffer here - nothing but the best for us, I guess. He lays the case on a small table beside the French woman and unrolls it. He selects a gut hook, specially made to fit human abdominals.

Looking around, I notice that we've drawn a large crowd - aristocrats in formal gowns and tuxedos standing and sipping cocktails and champagne, finding entertainment and sexual excitement as they watch us die. I can't blame them - I did the same last year as a fluffer. There's nothing more sexually stimulating than giving a girl her final orgasm as she struggles in her death throes. I loved how their bodies changed in their last few seconds - stomach undulating, nipples puckering tight, cunt and anus gaping.

As Serge steps toward Dee, she starts sobbing again, struggling, pulling at her chains.

"Please ... no ... please don't ... please-please-please-please ..." Dee sobs, trying to rise up, but she's pegged and can't move too much.

Serge is speaking to Dee so softly that I can't make out his words as he palpates her upper stomach with his free hand to find the soft spot just under her sternum. He then brings the knife tip to that soft spot and presses in, gradually pressing hard and harder.

Dee squeals.

In the next few moments each of us will endure what Serbe is now doing to Dee, and each of us will react differently. Dee cries out and sobs, I will strain and gasp, and Raven will revel in the pain.

As we all watch, the hooked tip of the knife pops through Dee's skin, fat, and thin muscles. Dee tries to bring her arms together and lifts both legs off the floor, crying out wordlessly as Serge works the hooked tip inside her.

I start making small movements with my hips, grinding the knob against my g-spot, trying to get my arousal back to the level it was before I was pulled out of the hanging line. I'm hoping that at the very least being horny will make enduring the pain a little easier when it's my turn.

Dee curls her body forward as Serge starts tugging the gut hook downward along the midline of her belly.

Dee sobs, spit spraying from her lips as she fights it.

Serge lays the flat of his free hand against Dee's chest and pushes her back down as he pulls the gut hook through her belly toward her mound. Dee starts gagging and heaving, her feet kicking and pulling against the chains as her belly is opened. She grunts hard when the gut hook splits her belly button and as the knife slides down her lower belly, her mouth opens and she lifts her chin, her thighs quivering. Her hair is covering her face so I can't see if her eyes are open or closed.

As Serge finishes the cut and backs away, Mark steps up beside Dee and presses something under her nose.

"Breathe deep." he tells her, "Through your nose."

Dee does and after three deep sniffs, she moans and her body relaxes. I realize Mark let her snort a popper - amyl nitrite. Her belly slumps at the sides like a loose leather coat and she opens, coils of intestine lifting and twisting their way up out of her once tight belly - it's like a little pink volcanic eruption. Her head slips to the side to rest against her shoulder and her entire body shudders. I can hear her ragged breathing now. I hope she finds that bliss they promised before she dies.

I glance at Serge who is cleaning his hands on a white cloth and get a cold rush through my bowels when I see he's looking at me.


I'm next.

And that makes sense that the French bitch would want to save Raven until last.

For me, Serge selects an odd looking knife; It has a wide blade - like almost two inches - and it's about a foot long. The weird part is that it isn't pointed - it looks like a fat bread knife - the tip is rounded and dull. He walks to me and kneels beside my left thigh.

"Hello, Sarah." he says gently. Serge knows me from all the time I spent at the mansion. He even played some BDSM games with me and a few other girls.

"Hi Serge."

"Are you scared?"

"Hell yeah."

"I know, sweetheart." he strokes my cheek, "Mark told you to push out and accept the blade?"

"... yes ..." my voice is weak and quavering.

"This is a special blade." he shows me, "No point. So once it's inside, it only cuts muscle and skin."

"... and fat." I try to make a joke.

"Yes." Serge smiles, "It won't cut your insides so much, but you'll feel the steel inside your belly. And that is the best part ... or so I've been told."

Serge lays his fingers of his free hand on the bulge just above my mound and massages. It makes my g-spot throb sweetly and I begin to pant, closing my eyes as he builds me up to the edge of orgasm.

As I begin shivering like I do just before I cum, Serge stops and lifts his hand. I open my eyes.

"It's time, Sarah." Serge says softly.

I nod, reaching down and gripping the edge of the chair seat and opening my thighs wider. As he lifts the blade toward my belly, I push outward, arching my back even more.

"For you, she has selected a lap cut." he explains as he lays the heel of the knife in the softness just inside my left hip bone. A lap cut will follow my bikini line from hip to hip - and I have wide hips so the cut will be long.

I control my breathing, deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth.

Serge starts to work the squared heel of the blade and I feel the sharp bite in my skin.

"Oh fuck!" I jump and cry out despite myself, squeezing my eyes shut and tensing.

This is it.

The sharp bite sinks deeper - into the muscles there. I can feel blood trickling down my lower belly and over the crease where my thigh meets my crotch. I am twisting in the chair, my crotch still pegged and clamped tight, but my upper body moving in reaction to being cut.

And in this instant so many thoughts and feelings rush through me ... How did I get here? I recall mental snapshots of my childhood; Christmas morning opening presents and teasing my older brothers and sister; Family time together watching movies, me snuggling under Dad's arm; Vacations - Disneyland standing out, and in particular the Haunted Mansion being my favourite; My first boyfriend and losing my virginity to him in a sweet sweaty tangle in our basement storage room; Going away to college and discovering I liked girls more than I liked boys; Then discovering the Dark Encounters group through a girlfriend's brother.

That's where my descent into this madness began. Or was it always there? I remember as a child I was often constipated and my mother would give me enemas to clean me out. I pretended that I hated them, but what I hated was that my mother was doing it. The enemas themselves made me feel wonderful, especially the cramping. I would fantasize about other people giving them to me as a sexual act - celebrities, boys and girls from school.

So, perhaps I was destined to die in this chair since I was a little girl.

I feel the knife's heel slip out of me and Serge's hand is over my wound.

"Shhhhh, Sarah. Sh-sh-sh." Serge soothes me, "Calm. Calm. You don't want to be so distressed in your final moments."

I look into his eyes and just breathe - in and out - as deep and as slow as I can. I feel my body calming.

Serge lifts himself up on his knees and positions the rounded end of the blade at my wound - the sharp edge facing toward my other hip bone.

"Accept the blade inside you now, Sarah." Serge's deep voice is resonant and sensual, "Take it deep."

I push my belly out and open my thighs. I feel something touch my arm - it is Raven, reaching out to hold my hand. I smile at her and lift my hand and we interlock fingers.

Then I look back at Serge.

"Give it to me." I whisper.

And Serge slides the blade into my abdomen through the wound he's made with its sharp heel.

The feeling takes my breath away. Cold flat steel sliding into my abdomen, the rounded tip pushing my intestines aside as Serge angles it inward and upward, angled so it misses my bladder and uterus. And it slides into me so fucking deep.

I moan and whimper and I can hear the weak quaver in my voice as my vision blurs and I roll my head to the side. My fingers have lost their grip on Raven's hand but she keeps holding mine tight. Inside my mind I am screaming; 'Oh God! It's in me! It's in me!' but the only sounds I can produce are strained and wet.

I have never felt anything this intensely invasive - I love that the knife is rigid and cold inside my belly. It's like losing my virginity again.

I feel a contrasting mix of strong emotions and sensations; My arousal is high, but my fear is raw; I'm feeling weak and fragile, but the sensation of the cold steel inside me feels perversely energizing; I want it to stop, but I want him to fuck me with the knife.

And he does.

I think that the pain will stop the rise of intensity of the sensations, but it doesn't - it adds to them, increases them, sends them skyrocketing past anything I've ever felt before. I grunt hard as I feel the knife sliding back out of my belly, slithering over the coils of my intestines. And before Serge slides it back in, he sweeps it to the side, the dull edge pushing my intestines aside before he slides it smoothly back into me, the sharp edge making a hot slice through skin, fat, and muscle. Again the cold steel slides deep, caressing things that have never been caressed, delving into my body deeper than anything before.

I cry out and twist in my chair, my movements increasing the pressure of the peg. My thighs squeeze tight and rub together the way I used to arouse myself in high school when I sat at my desk. I grip Raven's hand once more, clutching it tightly and slap my other hand repeatedly against my upper belly.

The knife pivots inside me once more, stroking my entrails with its flat surface as Serge slides it outward, like a butter knife spreading honey over bread. Then it is sliding into me once again - the sharp burn of the cut mixing with the sensations of the repeated penetration into my core. Each inward stroke finding fresh untouched nerve-endings in my bowels to excite. It is truly a new and intense way to be fucked.

"... oh gawd ..." is all I can manage to cry out as I try to squirm in my chair, my body now quivering, my thighs shaking and my right foot twitching and kicking. I feel my cunt and anus gape and become aware that I am leaking girl cum, making my inner thighs and bum slippery.

And now Serge is sliding the knife in and out of me in a steady rhythm - the blade cutting and plunging deep, sliding through my intestines, making them tingle and squirm inside me like living eels. By the time he reaches the halfway point - low on my bikini line - I have lost the ability to form words ... I am groaning nasally in time to his thrusts;

"... hughh ... hughh ... hughh ..."

Serge is a master at this as he is at so many things. I truly feel like he is making perverse love to me with his wide flat knife that cuts and sweeps through my abdomen. And I realize something as I totally surrender myself to his sweet assault on my belly - I am cumming. It's not like a typical orgasm that builds and explodes - this is what I've heard others talk about; a perfect blending of pain and ecstasy. A paingasm.

I squeeze my thighs together, convulsing in my orgasmic frenzy. I feel Serge step over my thighs without missing a stroke to continue my evisceration.

"NGHA!" I cry out as I feel the knife begin to curve upward toward my other hip bone, and the flat blade finds new intestines to slither over.

I hear a female guest gasp; "Oh, the poor girl."

I want to tell her that she's wrong - this is a blend of pain and bliss at its finest. Masochists spend their lifetimes searching for this level of intensity, and some - like me - are willing to die for it. My yearning for a clean slow hanging is gone - I wouldn't trade this for the world. And it is in this moment as Serge's knife starts sliding in and out of me up the right side of my lower belly that I lose it completely.

I thought that it would be a continuation of the first half of my evisceration, but it isn't - the sensations multiply and become even more intense. Serge's sweet blade is still relentlessly sliding in and out of my abdomen, slicing my skin, fat, and muscle, the smooth steel slithering across my undulating intestines with each practiced thrust. But added to that, my belly is now starting to open. It is a sensation I have nothing to compare with - feelings that I could never have imagined. My body is opening, my arched back pulling my gaping wound apart, the skin, fat and muscles that once encased my viscera are pulling apart. I can now not only feel my evisceration in my body, I can feel it in my soul.

My thighs are clenched tight together, my ankles now crossed and locked but still quivering and shaking badly. I must have pulled free of Raven's grip for I find both arms pressed tight against my sides, my fingers opening and closing, clawing at the very air around me. I have twisted sideways and my back and neck are arched, with my head thrown back past the side of the chair. My teeth are clenched tight and I can feel drool and foam running down my cheeks from the corners of my mouth.

I am crying out gutturally - a raw animal sound deep in my throat.

I forget where I am, I forget there are people watching me be gutted, I even forget who is cutting me open. It is just me and the blade that is invading my abdomen over and over and over - sliding in and out of me like a deadly cock. I am immersed in a nightmare of pain and blood and intense sexual bliss.

And Serge makes it last. He must know the blend of pain and ecstasy that is overwhelming me in these moments for somehow he makes the second half last longer than the first. Or so it seems to me. But time is relative, right? For me it has seemed like hours, but I know that only a couple minutes have passed.

And suddenly I feel the blade scrape against my right hip bone and I know it's over. Serge sweeps the flat of the blade all the way across my intestines and teases me, wiggling the flat blade inside me, making me convulse and gag with the intensity of the sensations. And suddenly he pulls he blade from my belly, leaving me quivering, leaving me gasping for air ...

Leaving me alone.

I am shaking uncontrollably, the intestines bulging from my open belly wet and jiggling like blood-streaked pink jelly. I feel a rush of anxiety and soul-crushing loneliness.

I start to sob. I feel like a lost little girl, craving a kind word, a gentle caress. Someone to ease my growing fear - I don't want to die alone.

"... touch me ...." I sob, "... I need ... to be touched ..."

And as though an angel were answering my prayer, I first hear the click of the lever at the back of my chair and the pressure on my crotch is relieved. Then I feel a hand as soft as a whisper slide across my left shoulder and behind my neck while another slips under my chin to cradle my cheek and turn my head to face forward once more.

"Shhhhh, I'm here, sweetheart." comes a gentle familiar voice. It's Kate - she followed me after all and stood waiting to finish her task of helping me die.

She lifts me so I am laying against the chair back once more and holds me there, massaging my neck and kissing my cheek, my nose, my lips. Her left hand slides down my flank and over my hip, avoiding my open wound, then on to my thigh to squeeze gently and stroke the sensitive pale skin between my legs.

"Relax, Sarah. Shhhhh. Just relax. Let me help you, baby" she whispers in my ear.

I feel delirious and disoriented as the tension leaves my body. My world is small - I am aware of the crowd gathered around me, but I see no faces. Those are a blur. But I can sense their presence and feel the heat of their bodies, smell their colognes and perfumes, the alcohol they sip, and the musky arousal of the women. Dark Encounters lets their guests get close to us girls as we die, and many have gathered close to see Serge's handiwork and watch my last moments. Part of me resents that my evisceration is sexually exciting for them, but another part feels a thrill for the same reason.

As Kate lifts me back up, I feel my belly slump and my insides shift downward and I groan. I feel my belly opening wider and look down to see my fat colon and coils of my smaller intestine swelling up out of me.

"...oh gawd ..." I moan and look up into her eyes ... Kate has green eyes, as green as emeralds, and they sparkle in the lights of the ballroom.

"Just let go now, Sarah." she whispers, "All your work is done, my sweet hurt girl."

I feel so weak ... so fragile.

I hear a straining grunt from my right and turn to see that Serge is now working on Raven ...

Raven is leaning forward, her back curved, her thighs open wide. Serge is kneeling between her open thighs in front of her, his left hand grasping the hair on the back of her head, holding her forehead against his muscled shoulder. In his right hand he grips a hunting knife and he is sawing a line from the soft hollow inside her left hip down to her pubic bone, plunging the knife in and out of her in relentless thrusts.

Raven's head is hanging down with her mouth open, drool slipping from her pouty lower lip as she strains and dry-heaves continuously. Her body is shiny with sweat and her muscles quivering - her fists are clenched tight at the sides of her bum.

I want to reach out and hold her hand, but I am so weak I can't move.

Beyond her I see that Dee is still alive - barely. Her belly is convulsing erratically, and her chin and chest is red with the blood she has vomited up from her broken belly.

Movement inside me causes me to moan and my vision darkens for a moment. I feel my large colon slide out of my belly and slither between my thighs to flop onto the floor - it makes a heavy wet sound as it splats onto the carpet. Still connected, it tugs on my gaped anus and starts to pull my small intestine out with it.

Kate leans down and suckles my left nipple as her left hand strokes my upper belly which is growing hollow as my insides shift downward. I can feel my body emptying itself.

"uh-huh ... more ... do me ... get it ... this is good ... this is good ..." I hear Raven gasping, then she grunts loudly and when I look again, Serge has plunged the knife into the softness just inside of her right hip and is sawing down to form a V-cut. We all hear the crunch a few moments later and she jerks when his blade hits her pubic bone. He turns the knife and cuts away the connecting tissue under her skin and her belly opens, tangles of her viscera slithering out of her in a rush.

"I'm cumming!" Raven lifts her head and cries out as her eyes, dulled with pain, stare at Serge's chest.

Serge still holds her hair and he studies her face.

More of my intestines slide out of me and I begin to feel waves of tingles up and down my body - my flesh prickles with shiver-bumps over my thighs, bum, belly, and breasts. Along with this comes feelings of anxiety and dread and I'm having trouble catching my breath.

"... can't ... breath ..." I gasp weakly, feebly lifting my hand and touching Kate's hair.

Kate lifts her mouth from my breast and takes my hand in hers, her right arm now wrapped around my shoulder, holding me.

"It's okay, Sarah." She says softly, kissing my lips, "Just let go, honey."

"... I ... don't ... wanna die ..." I whine, tears blurring my vision and sliding down my cheeks.

Kate guides my hand to my upper belly and presses it there gently. My abdomen feels hollow, indented and flaccid. I whimper, overcome with the sorrow of my ruined body, my impending death.

I feels so weak ... so dizzy ... so distant.

"Shhh. It's time, sweetheart." wrapping her arms around me and holding me gently, my hand flopping limp in my own viscera.

Kate nuzzles my ear as she whispers, "Just close your eyes, Sarah."

And I do.