Cocktail Party

by Erotickynk


I had been feeling a mix of emotions all morning before I arrived at Trevor and Rachel’s house just after lunch. Hell, I’d been on an emotional roller-coaster for weeks. Almost everyone who was not upper management at Die Happy had been invited to the party; all the Helpers; all the clean-up crews; the host team; and some of the admin staff. It was a big deal.

Trevor greeted me at the door, and led me into the living room and I saw that about twenty of us were already there. I made and received my greetings as Trevor gave me the quick tour. Nick from the prep room made a big deal out of my arrival;

“Kimberly! The legend of Die Happy!” and I lowered my eyes and faked a smile, my cheeks burning. I know what he meant - I was the Helper on the Trinity Girls contract and some other high profile assisted suicides - but praise made me feel very uncomfortable. It made me want to run. I was grateful when Trevor took my hand and led me away.

“Nothing is out of bounds, just try not to puke on the carpets.” Trevor laughed showing me the bedroom wing that had his and his roommate’s bedrooms and four guest bedrooms. I could hear gasping, grunting, and gagging coming from Billie’s bedroom.

“She wants to take it twice; once alone and once with the dinner crowd, so she started early.” Trevor said with a smile as he quietly opened her door. Billie was masturbating furiously while gagging herself with her free hand. She was obviously experiencing intense orgasms as she frantically masturbated and gagged herself making her belly heave. The room stunk of oily cunt, sweat, and the strong smell of puke emanating from a waste paper basket.

“Good for Billie.” I said and winked at Trevor, “Just make sure she rehydrates and eats before her next dose.”

That’s me, always the helper. But tonight I plan to get selfish.

On to the large dining room, Trevor showed me the “bar”, which had liquid yoghurt drinks and fruit juices in two large basins of ice, a large fruit platter, and the crowning addition; one hundred non-lethal Cocktail Administrators in a large punch bowl. Beside the table was a full sized garbage can for used Administrators and empty drink bottles. But it will also probably be used as a puke receptacle for those who react too quickly to be able to get to a toilet.

The dining table and chairs were nowhere to be seen, instead there were two loveseats and some armchairs around the “bar”, and I saw that he’d taped up signs with arrows pointing to the two nearest bathrooms and the triple sink in the kitchen. There was also a sign that said “Wet Room” on the door of the large pantry that had plastic sheeting and blow-up mattresses on the floor.

“You really prepared for this.” I complimented him.

It was the profound response of staff at Die Happy Inc to the Trinity Cocktail that led Trevor and Billie to host the party. The non-lethal version of the cocktail gained rapid popularity amongst the chemists who experimented with it, especially the female ones. The orgasm producing components triggered multiple rolling orgasms for up to two hours in both male and females, but in males, after the first few cycles of bliss, they experienced dry orgasms that grew more and more painful as time went on. Men who were into that intense level of aching prostates braved orgasms that made their root cramp tight and left them in a moaning, knotted ball of tortuous ecstasy.

The Trinity Cocktail was developed in tight secrecy, but after the Judicial executions of the Trinity Girls, the rumours of what they experienced in the last moments of their lives started to spread. Almost all of our Helpers and even administration staff members wanted to try the non-lethal version.

Trevor finished the tour and as other guests were arriving, he invited me to explore on my own to find a place to experience the cocktail.

I wasn’t ready to take the chemical plunge yet, so I wandered around the high-fenced back yard, deciding that when I did take the cocktail I would head outside until the vomiting was over. I’d made arrangements with Keith to take care of me after that. Keith is one of my fellow Helpers who had skills like no other. He and I experimented edging each with our tools of the trade to provide better end-of-life experiences for our clients, and I always felt safe with him. Plus, he gave me such intense pleasure that he always left me trembling and exhausted.

In one corner of the yard I found Karina, one of our young interns, inside an old gazebo. She was sitting on a random pile of bricks that was once a bench, struggling with her orgasms. I remember Karina saying that I was one of the “nice ones” at Die Happy. She has no idea how fucked up I am, but she was about to find out.

I put Karina at about 19 years old, and probably not very experienced with her own sexually. I found out later that she had taken the cocktail along with Billie, and started to feel overwhelmed by the rapid onset of sexual feelings and building fever, and had gone off on her own. She was scared and trembling when I found her, still dressed in her t-shirt and shorts with puddles of vomited brunch all around her. Her thighs were trembling badly and she was pissing herself as wave after wave of orgasm pulsed through her body.

She looked up at me as I walked into the domed gazebo, the fear obvious in her wide-eyed expression.

“... it won’t ... stop ...” she gasped, “... can’t handle it ...”

“Yes you can, sweetheart.” I reassured her as I sat down - avoiding her vomit puddles - and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling her body shuddering and curling, “You’re going to surrender to it and let it happen. Let the orgasms flow through you.”

I knew what she needed so I reached between her jiggling thighs and snaked my fingers inside the leg of her shorts. Slipping past the sopping slick crotch of her panties, I curled two fingers inside her tightened cunt and lifted hard, going to work on her g-spot. Karina’s body tensed as her orgasms intensified quickly.

“... too much! ...” she cried out loudly.

“Too much?” I asked, fingering her oily cunt harder, holding her tighter.

“... no ... ugh ... it’s really too much ...” the poor little thing did sound overwhelmed, but I knew that she needed to be pushed past the sexual boundaries she thought she had in order to really enjoy the cocktail. She had to give up all control and truly give herself to someone else’s care. Almost every client I had at Die Happy was scared and held back, it was my job to push them past the limits they thought they had so they could enjoy the bliss of death.

“Is that too much?” I increased the pressure on her g-spot and she started bucking her hips, “Too much?”

“... yeah ...” she gasped mid-orgasm.

“That’s what you get for coming.” I told her. And that was the point she let go, opening her thighs and letting me work.

“Do you still think I’m nice?” I asked, teasing her as she rolled her hips, humping my hand, “I’m so nice.”

Karina nuzzled her face against my neck and let me work her cunt as she experienced orgasm after orgasm. Soon her t-shirt was soaked with sweat and the crotch of her shorts sopping with piss and mucus, and her cunt, so tight when I first started fingering her, was now loose, flaccid, and hungry.

“I need to get fucked so hard.” she moaned at last.

“Well, let’s get you inside and naked.” I said, gently helping the still trembling girl to her feet and holding her as I walked her back into the house having to stop her from falling as her legs gave out three times as she continued to cum.

I could hear that there were more people in the living room, so I walked her in there. Some people were already coupled and others were waiting for the cocktail to kick in. I could hear girls in the bathrooms vomiting and another puking in the kitchen sink. I saw that there were three unattached men observing the smart girls who were stripping down before they started their regurgitation orgasms.

“Sweet Karina needs a good solid fuck.” I announced to the room as Karina whimpered and I let her slide to the floor. Two of our clean-up crewmen rose and one gathered Karina in his arms and carried her toward one of the bedrooms as the other followed.

“... fuck me ... fuck me hard ...” she was gasping as she clung to the one carrying her.

My good deed done, I set off to slowly wander the large house. My emotions had been up and down all day thinking about what I had planned for the party. Part of me was excited and aroused to experience the cocktail again, but part of me was sad. More than sad; throughout the morning I had periods when an intense sorrow squeezed my heart like a heavy weight.

This was going to be my last Die Happy experience.

I had worked the overnight shift last night, taking three women and one transgendered girl through their assisted suicides, easing two through their impalements, cradling their heads as the impaler pushed the metal spit through their bellies and up their throat as they puked all over my hands and arms. The third woman was a strangulation who had an orgasm just as she was losing consciousness, and the transgendered girl was a reverse impalement; she took the spit orally, strapped down and struggling as she puked and choked. I throated her cock as she took it and she came twice in rapid succession - one very wet and one dry - and died as the end of the rounded spit bulged her lower belly with me pushing it down to massage her prostate as I choked and gagged on her pulsing cock.

She was my last client. My last client ever. I shuddered and my heart broke a little as I thought of that.

Only four people at Die happy knew that I had worked my last shift. There was Kelly who I gave my diary of stories to, and Keith who promised he’d come to Trevor’s after his shift to take care of me. And, of course, Mindy and Trey.

I loved my job as a Die Happy Helper, and leaving brought tears to my eyes. But all things must end.

As I walked back in the house I could hear violent vomiting coming through the half open doorway of the rear powder room. It was Gina, a tiny girl who worked in the intake section. Gina was half Italian, half Japanese and I’m sure weighed less than a hundred pounds.

The cocktail was hitting her hard. The crotch of her white jeans were shiny with mucus and she was vomiting like she was puking out her soul. Like I did with Karina, I knelt down beside Gina and rubbed her back.

“... oh jeezuz, Kim ...” Gina gasped between heaves, “... this is amazing ...”

“Feeling good?” I asked, smiling at her.

“... oh fuck ... those sweet Trinity girls ... they felt so good didn’t they ...” she gurgled, as her heaving slowed.

“Yes they did.” I whispered in her ear, remembering Journey, Kylie, and Paige dying in such sweet agony.

When she was down to dry heaves, I helped her up and stripped off her vomit splattered clothes and got her in the shower. As I did, a couple came into the bathroom with us. The woman was Sherri, one of our background checkers, and she was with a guy I didn’t know. It was obvious the Sherri had enjoyed the vomiting she’d experienced, because she dropped to her knees and let her guy throat fuck her deep. I could see clear mucus dripping from her crotch as she came every time she gagged and heaved.

Gina wasn’t much help as orgasm after orgasm curled her body, but I managed to get her cleaned up and out into the living room to pass her off to someone to play with. Sherri and her guy stayed behind, lost in their own little world.

As the afternoon progressed toward night, more people arrived for what started out as a cocktail party and had turned into an orgy. People who had never had enough courage to take part in an orgy, soon got drawn into the maelstrom of sexuality. Tawny, one of our younger members of our clean-up crews was one such girl ...

Tawny came to Die Happy and got on with the clean-up staff after graduating community college with her Care-Aid certificate. Homes for the elderly were in decline as more and more people embraced the new belief in reincarnation. It made sense; if you believed that death would pull you from your aging and infirm body and deposit you into a new fresh one, taking a painless lethal injection seemed like a wonderful release.

Disillusioned, Tawny ended up applying at Die Happy and was hired immediately. She found that she enjoyed the work more than she thought she would. She was a sweet, gentle person by nature but painfully shy and reserved. So far as I knew, this was her first time to come to a Die Happy social event.

I guess because Tawny had cleaned up the mess of so many sexual suicides, when the cocktail hit her, she lost all inhibitions and we learned how much pent up perverse sexuality she had.

As soon as she felt the first stirring of orgasm in her belly, Tawny had stripped down in the living room and begged three men to gangbang her hard. Because she was starting to gag as her stomach started to churn, the guys took her into the converted pantry past the sign that said; “Wet Room”. We could hear their feet crinkling the plastic sheeting on the floor as they started in on her. Tawny was puking and begging as the men took her, pounding her body hard in all three openings. Between heaves, Tawny was crying out things like; “Fuck my ass! Harder! Harder!” and “Throat fuck me ... gurlgh” and “Give it to me! Give it to me HARD!”

As her energy decreased with exhaustion after almost 45 minutes of being ganged, the three men left her face down on the mattress, where she continued to dry heave and gurgle her way through seemingly endless orgasms.

You never know about people, sometimes the shy ones were also the wild ones.

Like Shelly from Accounting ...

She’d arrived right after she left work and was still dressed in her modest office outfit of a sweater, a skirt, and sensible shoes. She took her cocktail right away, and when it started to upset her stomach, she went into the kitchen and managed to vomit her stomach dry without getting a drop on herself or the counter. After she was done she rinsed out the sink even though her legs were trembling as she rolled with her orgasms.

We all knew Shelly was married - “happily” she always said, like she wanted us all to be jealous, but I often wondered who she was trying to convince.

We also knew Annie from the maintenance crew was a lesbian who crushed on Shelly pretty hard. But a lot of eyebrows raised when Shelly let Annie lead her by the hands and sat her down in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Shelly was passive as Annie pulled off her panties and went down on her.

We could hear the wet sucking and licking sounds Annie was making until Shelly reacted with the loudest orgasm of the day. Unlike Karina, Shelly surrendered to her sexual ecstasy as Annie brought her to her first mind-blowing orgasm.

Afterward, Shelly embraced Annie and kissed her own vaginal mucus off her face.

“Teach me how to do that.” Shelly gasped, and together they went outside and found a quiet corner of the yard to strip down to eat and finger each other.

The last I looked as the sun was setting was Annie introducing Shelly to the joys of a slow deep fist fuck.

But not all people react well to the cocktail.

One of our lunch room cooks, Meredith, was overwhelmed by the pulsing orgasms that wracked her body. She had collapsed on the kitchen floor and ended up sobbing as violent orgasms pulled her body into a tight curl.

Meredith couldn’t be moved due to her wild convulsions, so someone had put a pillow under her head so she had some comfort as she rode it out.

“Why me? Why me?” her heartbreaking sobs echoed through the house for almost an hour before the intensity of her orgasms calmed enough that she could be carried to a bed and left to masturbate her way to exhaustion.

Meredith had brought her daughter, Jan with her. I suppose that there was something in Meredeth’s genetic make-up that caused her severe reaction, because Jan didn’t fare much better.

Jan had found a spot on the floor of one of the bedrooms and while two couples fucked on the bed, Jan went through her own violent reaction to the cocktail, bracing herself between the wall and a dresser. Though she wasn’t crying, Jan was obviously overwhelmed by the intensity of her body’s convulsions - pinching herself and biting the flesh of her inner arm as they peaked, one on the heels of the last.

The winner of the night’s best orgasmic convulsions was Rachael, our main receptionist. She’d changed into casual clothes after working the dayshift and took her cocktail administrator after a couple of yoghurt drinks to lubricate her gullet. We recommended that everyone do this, because on an empty stomach, dry heaving can be painful.

After spending her time at the kitchen sink, her long body curling erotically as she emptied herself, Rachael came back to the living room on wobbly long legs and flopped onto one of the couches. Remaining fully clothed, Rachael rode out her initial intense orgasms as her body convulsed almost continuously for a solid hour. She cried out with a lot of “oh my god”s and a couple “oh fuck”s the entire time.

Anyone coming near her could feel the heat radiating from her long body, and smell the sensual odours of her sexual arousal made up of sweat, vaginal discharge, sweaty bum, and the subtle scent of her pukey breath blending with her musky perfume.

As I sat watching her and breathing her in, I fantasized about helping Rachael with her sexual suicide, but the rules of the party were that there was to be no spontaneous suicides or offers of suicides. When someone is under the influence of the cocktail, the supercharged sexual arousal and fever heat impairs cognitive function. But seeing Rachel’s pale, undulating belly swelling to the point that she had to undo the button of her pants made me crave helping her with a midline gutting to release that pressure and her life for her.

An evil part of me wanted to suggest it to her and take her back to Die Happy to one of the wet rooms to dose her a second time.

So, yeah - there was that rule against spontaneous suicides, but I knew for a fact that three of the people here tonight had requested lethal doses of the cocktail to take home.

The suicide rates amongst people who work in this field are extraordinarily high; between 27% and 38% depending on the region. Las Vegas has the highest rate, with almost four out of ten of us choosing erotic death within three years on the job.

Someone sat down on the arm of the chair I was sitting on as I was watching Rachael, and I looked up and saw it was Mindy, my partner in crime and fellow Helper. She was already nude where I was still wearing my shorts - I’d tossed my shoes, socks, and top after Gina puked all over me.

“You’re a little modest.” Mindy joked, tugging at the cuff of my shorts.

“I’ll lose them when my fun starts.” I said.

“Anytime, hon.” Mindy whispered, “Keith and Trevor just pulled up. The basement should be ready in a few minutes.”

A little shiver started in my anus and radiated up my core.

“You still okay with it?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yeah. Of course.” I lied, “You?”

“Fuck yeah.” she grinned, then; “Hey, Billie’s on her second dose and she’s in bed with Shelly and Annie. They’re going to fist fuck her. Wanna go watch for a few.”

“Is the President a Baptist?” I answered and we walked hand-in-hand to find the trio. But I wondered why we were so eager. We’d seen hotter sex acts, some with our friends, hell - some we were involved in. Were we just finding ways to delay?

Billie was so far gone on her second dose that she appeared delirious, flopped limp on the bed, her chubby thighs wide open. More than a few people had gathered in the bedroom to watch the action, as Annie started in on her.

“Take a lesson.” Shelly told us all, “Annie is the best.” then blushed as she realized what she just admitted.

Annie was the best; She started by laying the palm of her left hand on Billie’s soft lower belly and pressing down hard, compressing her bladder and vagina. She then pushed her right hand into Billie’s wet, loose cunt - the combination putting a tight pressure on Billie’s g-spot. Even when Billie’s abdominal muscles tightened with orgasm, Annie was strong enough to keep the large dent in the chemist’s flabby belly. That’s where most men go wrong, they think women are delicate - we’re not. Want to make us cum hard? Work our bodies deep.

Mindy and I watched Billie grunt her way through three long, multiple orgasmic convulsions before Mindy squeezed my hand and mouthed the words; ‘It’s time.’ I swallowed past a lump in my throat and nodded.

We made some room for those standing behind us in the hallway and walked to the dining room together to start the process we’d planned on so many drunken nights together.

I couldn’t see Keith or Trey, but Mindy assured me they were here. We wouldn’t need them for about half an hour anyway. We both helped ourselves to two yoghurt drinks, one fruit juice and a plate of fruit, which we powered down as we stood near the table. We were lubricating our stomachs for the cocktail’s effects. We then took two administrators each and went to sit on the couch beside Geri, one of our newest Helpers.

Geri raised her own administrator to her lips and triggered it, gulping as the dose popped into the back of her mouth.

“You just get here?” I asked Geri.

Geri nodded, “Last client wanted to linger while I played with her.”

“How’d she go?”

“Midline. I hit her up with so much endorphin she was in total bliss.” then Geri laughed, “No wonder she lasted so long - three fucking hours.”

“Holy shit.” I said.

“Yeah.”

Beside me, Mindy slid her bum to the edge of the sofa and spread her legs, pushing her first administrator into her cunt, triggering it and jerking as it delivered her dose. She slid back up and tossed the empty into the garbage.

I slid my shorts down and did the same, then pulled them back up.

“You mean you don’t have to swallow it?” Geri asked.

“No, it’s absorbed through mucus membranes.” I told her.

“Yeah.” Mindy laughed, “You could snort it.”

“What’s the second one for?” Geri asked, her words starting to slur, beads of sweat forming on her forehead and upper lip.

“For after the puking stops.” I answered, “We think it will double the effects without making us puke more.”

“Groovy.” Geri smiled, then made a soft sound as her lower belly tightened and curled her pelvis, “Oh boy. Here I go.”

Mindy and I sat and watched Geri as our own doses slowly took effect.

It starts with feeling a building fever and a slight ache behind your eyes. Your skin grows damp with sweat and you feel like you’re a little drunk. Pretty soon it feels like your cunt is swelling inside and your nipples and clit start to tingle. Your nose starts running, your cunt starts to ooze, and mucus leaks from your anus.

By the time the sexual arousal started building strong for Mindy and I, Geri was making wet guttural sounds in her throat. I could smell her sweat and arousal coming off her hot body.

Geri picked up a waxed paper bucket and placed it on the floor between her feet. She looked relaxed and calm as vomit gurgled up her gullet to flow out of her mouth and she cycled like that - making soft sensual sounds and gently regurgitating.

“Cumming?” I asked her, my own words slurring as my arousal grew and my stomach started to churn.

Geri waited for another gurgled regurgitation then; “Oh fuck yeah.”

It was amazing to watch Geri’s gentle reaction to the cocktail as from all over the house we heard women crying out as it overwhelmed them. But my mouth was starting to water and I could feel my stomach start to tighten and I could feel my bowels begin to work. Mindy must have been feeling the same because she slowly stood up and touched my shoulder.

“I think it’s time.” she said thickly.

I rose and almost threw up as my stomach churned, but Mindy took hold of my hand and led me out onto the patio. Halfway there I had my first orgasm - a quivery tight little thing that made my legs wobble.

The cooler night air felt good on my sweaty skin and I stuffed my second administrator into the pocket of my shorts before I dropped to my hands and knees. I was trembling badly, feeling weak and dizzy. And I was feeling a rapidly rising anxiety - that was one of the cocktail’s side effects - coming on fast and was unstoppable. I remember being scared all the way through the first time I tried it. Frightened by the strength of what was happening inside my body.

I was frightened now - a near panic feeling that I was losing control as another orgasm made my belly clench tight. No one but Mindy really knows me. I’m not the confident Helper I portray when I’m on the job. I’m not confident, and believe it or not I have low self-esteem, I’m shy, unsure of myself, and I believe I’m an unworthy person. I don’t believe I deserve pleasure, in fact one of the things I’ve imagined for myself is to be raped and tortured to death.

That belief about myself kept me by myself my entire life - never married, never even a steady boyfriend for more than a few awkward dates. I had always buried myself in my work, picking up extra shifts, taking as many Judicial contracts as I could.

I suppose that was the reason I never took off my shorts - it killed me to think someone would see my body and think I was beautiful. I could take praise about my skills as a Helper, but personal compliments made me feel awkward and ashamed and unworthy.

I glanced over at Mindy, and saw she was squatting on the edge of the patio, fighting the nausea she was also experiencing. That’s when it rose rapidly inside me, my sickness and ecstasy boiling up from the pit of my stomach.

I lowered my head and what I had eaten and drank erupted up my throat and I was puking hard onto the grass, each convulsive cramping in my belly accompanied by a strong orgasm. I sounded like a cheap whore, puking, cumming, and whimpering on my hands and knees.

I could smell my own sweat, puke, and sweaty crotch. During one strong convulsion I felt myself fart and it was wet and bubbly. I felt a wave of shame at that, hoping it was just mucus and not diarrhea. But the convulsions went on and on, even after there was nothing but foamy spit and bile to vomit out of myself, and I found myself in a fog of raw sexual euphoria. I was a worthless animal, locked in a carnal experience, everything else forgotten. I no longer could gauge time - it seemed to go on forever. I was growing exhausted, but my violent heaving and gut-cramping orgasms wouldn’t stop. I needed relief from this sexual torment. I needed it to end.

Between heaves I called out Keith’s name, my voice wet and hoarse and desperate. It was happening so fast. I needed him now ...

... “I’m here, Kimmi.” I hear Keith’s calming voice as his cool, strong hand lays flat against the small of my back. I continue to moan and whimper and dry heave as he reaches under me and undoes my shorts, pulling them off my bum as he digs into the pocket and removes the second administrator.

He parts the cheeks of my bum and pushes the end of the administrator into my anus.

“... did I shit? ...” I ask, and I sound like a sad, crying drunk.

“No, baby.” his calming deep voice reassures me, “You’re okay.”

I feel the pop as my second dose is jetted into my rectum and I grunt. Keith gently stands me up, holding me upright as he untangles my ankles from my shorts. I look down and see the crotch is a shiny wet mess, a smeared blob of beige mucus where my anus had been.

Keith grips me by my elbows and supports me as he walks me back into the house. I see Mindy’s empty second administrator discarded on the patio and Trey is helping her return to the house as well. This is it ... our last walk.

In through the open patio doors, but instead of turning left into the dining and living room, we go right to a short hallway then down the stairs to the basement. In front of us, Mindy cries out as she cums hard and Trey loses his grip, Mindy falling down a few stairs before he scrambles and catches her again, her long arms and legs at odd angles, poor thing all knees and elbows.

My own legs keep giving out, but Keith is strong and keeps me moving, unsteady but safe from collapsing. The second dose is coming on strong. I feel hotter and delirious, mucus is dribbling from my cunt to stream thickly down my inner thighs, sweat is dampening my hair and face. I feel my anus growing loose.

In the midst of it all I again feel that heavy sadness crushing my heart and I start to sob.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Kimmi.”

“I’m scared.” I whimper as I feel my face contorting, tears and snot wetting my cheeks and upper lip, drool sliding from the corner of my mouth, “I’m so scared.”

“I know, sweetie.”

And I know he knows, because I told him I would be scared, terrified even. I made him promise that no matter what I said, no matter if I begged, he was to keep going with this.

As orgasms wrack my body, and fear rises to terror, there is that thrill inside me; the excitement of knowing I can’t stop it, knowing Keith is about to do a horrible thing to my body and ...

I.

Can’t.

Stop.

It.

I am still sobbing and moaning with orgasm as Keith lays me down on the cold concrete floor. It is rough under my skin but the coolness feels so good. He ties my wrists together, then hangs them above me by looping the rope over the hook in the joist above me - not tight, just so I can’t touch myself or fight him. Then he starts to truss my legs, wrapping my ankles and upper thighs together so it’s easier to keep my thighs open. And through it all slow waves of ecstatic bliss flow up from the pit of my cunt through my core.

I crane my neck and see that Trey is done tying Mindy’s ankles and wrists to a chair. She looks as delirious as I feel, her eyelids drooping, her hair matted to her sweaty face, swollen from vomiting. I can see her lower belly clenching tight then releasing in a slow rhythm. Her once flat belly is swollen. Her crotch is a glistening mess, her cunt bright red, her clit a hard round ball pushing out from its hood.

“Mindy?” I call her name, my voice tremulous and weak.

Her eyes open and she smiles at me.

“I’m scared.” I whimper, my lower lip quivering like a child’s.

“I’m not.” Mindy slurs her words, “I’m ready ... so ready.”

Trey stands behind her and wraps a thick black nylon strap around her throat.

“... mmm ... bye Kimmi - glurk!” Mindy gags as Trey pulls hard. I watch as she chokes and strangles, her expression transforming from bliss, to pain, to fear and back again, over and over. Her belly is undulating as orgasms pulse inside her, the flow from her cunt increasing as clots of cloudy mucus oozes from her to puddle on the chair.

I hear people walking quietly down the stairs but I ignore them because I want to watch Mindy die - I owe her that. She wanted to be first so she wouldn’t be afraid, and I was okay with that - I wanted the fear. Just like Mindy chose a fairly painless way for her assisted suicide, while I wanted the pain.

I watch as Mindy loses and regains consciousness many times, her head slumping forward, then suddenly lifting upright. She is struggling to wring a few more seconds out of life - to feel the next orgasm, and the next, and the next. She farts wetly, she pisses herself, her nipples growing tighter and more puckered than I’ve ever seen them.

In the end she slumps to the side in the middle of an orgasm and she is gone, her belly going slack but twitching for a long time as her dying nerves still ride the cocktail.

It is only then that I look to see who had come down to watch us. It is the clean-up crew. I see that the two men who had given Karina the hard fucking she craved are there, and Tawny has recovered enough to join her team - even though the crotch of the sweat suit she changed into is dark with moisture. She is still aroused. Good for her.

Keith has finished trussing my legs. I look up at him. He has the oak spit in his hand and was waiting for me to focus.

I opted for a wooden spit because I wanted to feel every inch of it.

I’ve ended the lives of so many girls and women, wanting a sexual suicide. Dozens by impalement. The ones who experienced ecstasy until the end were gratifying - a testimony to my skills. But the ones who were scared sent shivers up my spine and left me feeling so aroused that I’d have to masturbate afterward. Girl terrified of death while experiencing rolling orgasms as a spit slid through their undulating, cramping bellies and ultimately up their throat became my favourites.

And all those experiences with all those girls have led me to this moment; it’s time for me to experience it - to pay the piper. Dying this way is my sick way of paying it all back.

Keith positions the sharp tip of the wooden spit between the slimy cheeks of my bum and slides it into my rectum making me gasp.

I recall as a little girl, visiting an uncle. He was an amateur entomologist, who had framed displays of all manner of insect in his den. I found out later that most collectors had a killing jar that they used to euthanized their bugs before mounting them. My uncle preferred to push the mounting pin through live bugs, pinning them to the board and letting them die slowly.

I didn’t know any better then, but I learned later that he had a fetish for watching creatures’ death throes from impalement.

I got to watch once; he was mounting three butterflies he had caught. One by one he carefully and gently took them from his capture jar and positioned them on his mounting board by holding down their wings with one hand as he pushed the pin through their middles with the other. He slid a Post-It note under the bottom half of each before he did it.

“They sometimes shit.” he explained - he didn’t want them staining the pristine white of the mounting board.

I watched with fascination as he released their wings after impaling them. Their legs kicked, their antennae crossed and curled, and their wings would go through the motions of flying, but slowly. One butterfly even arched her back as her legs jerked and her wings trembled. And he was right, all three shit themselves. While watching those butterflies die from impalement, I felt a slow tightening inside my sex and afterward discovered a slippery wetness in the crotch of my white panties.

That night I masturbated to a hot, tight orgasm for the very first time, fantasizing about what those butterflies felt.

And now I am the butterfly, being impaled through my belly as Keith and the clean-up crew silently watched.

I immediately know I made the right choice with a sharpened wooden spit. It is made of oak and is smoothly tapered to a sharp tip. Keith had waxed it to make it even smoother. He doesn’t lubricate it like we do the metal spits at Die Happy - there was enough lubricant inside the human belly; fluids, blood, and - once my bowels were punctured - digestive juices.

Keith is a master at impalement, he changes the angles of my spit as he works it through my rectal valves, straightening that twisted bowel segment, then hooking the opening to my sigmoid colon, pulling it from its nest on my lower left belly and dragging it to the centre of my abdomen.

The orgasmic waves from the cocktail still pulse through me from cunt to mid belly, but my body is so exhausted from lack of sleep and the early violence of the chemicals streaming through me, it is easy for me to consciously relax my muscles. But inside I can feel the trembling, the quivering, and even the squirming of my bowels as he works the spit deeper, scratching at the tender flesh of my large intestine.

To listen to the sounds I am making, no one would know I was floating in a euphoric sea of rolling orgasms. I am reacting to the quivery sharp pain that the spit’s tip is causing as Keith does his best to navigate my twisting bowels.

Keith reaches a point we both know he would reach - where the spit point gets hung up on a fold of my descending colon. I can feel it under my belly button.

I tense slightly and Keith lays a warning hand on my right thigh. I nod, staring up at the ceiling, the clean-up crew standing silently in my peripheral vision. I decided long ago that if I ever returned to Die Happy as a client, I would opt to have the window clear and the speakers on. I want to be watched, not only for the eroticism, but also to have someone other than the person ending my life bear witness,

Keith pushes the spit and I feel the sharp bite deep in my gut. I cry out as it punctures my bowel and emerges into my abdominal cavity. Until this moment I was only injured, now I am dying. I feel the cold rush of terror flow through my body, but its constant companion of orgasmic bliss grows stronger.

The double dose of cocktail is doing its job.

Keith begins to fuck me with the spit, slow steady strokes, poking and pricking coils of my intestines, making my belly tight as my bowels react by squirming inside me as a wild peristalsis kicks in.

It hurts, but it hurts so good. If I wasn’t already feeling waves of orgasm, I would probably be screaming and begging for him to stop.

This is good.

This is perfect.

This is what I want - to pay for all the deaths I’ve caused, for all the torment I delivered, for destroying the bodies of all those women and girls. Them being willing, some eager, doesn’t change my culpability.

I am willing.

I am eager.

I deserve this.

I whimper and cry out as Keith fucks the spit deeper and deeper. I can feel the rigidity of the spit inside me. I can feel the tip penetrate and puncture new loops of my intestine push through them - the sharp bite followed by the deep ache that feels like bruising in my belly.

It’s so deep.

I feel the tip prick my stomach and it reacts by tightening into a hard ball. I cry out, knowing I am close to the end. Keith feels it too and increases the pressure, feeling my convulsing stomach through the wooden spit, knowing it is exactly where we want it to be. He lays his hand on my thigh and I nod so he pushes harder, puncturing that clenched organ. I cry out louder as the bruised feeling spreads, the wood penetrating as Keith begins searching for the bottom of my gullet.

He’s good at what he does - I feel the tickle deep down and my throat quivers.

Fuck, this is it.

I slowly arch my head back, straightening my throat, forming my body to be one straight line from my asshole to my mouth. My entire core is shivering around the shaft as orgasmic waves compete with the fear that is flooding me, making my entire body go all shiver-bumps. I do my best to not vomit as the spit slides upward, trying to be neutral and savour these last moments of my life.

I feel the tip scratch the root of my tongue and I choke, gag, try to gulp air and fail.

Panic now, equally blended with physical ecstasy. I’m choking, gagging hard, gulping air around the spit. My body arches against my will, but I am pinned by the shaft. Pinned like a butterfly, trying kick, trying to pull my tied hands free. My vision doubles so I know my eyes are crossed. My anus gapes wide, the shaft loose within it. I piss myself, spraying Keith’s wrist.

The shaft is compressing the root of my tongue and I make desperate sounds. I can taste the oak. I can taste the wax - he used natural bee’s wax and the taste is wholesome and natural.

Gagging hard. My vision blurring. Fluid gurgles up my throat around the shaft.

So much violence erupting inside me, but I know I am lying still except for the trembling, my body straight and rigid, gurgling as my body tries to vomit up the spit.

The tip emerges from my mouth like an infernal wooden cock. My teeth chatter on it as it moves, then I bite down and even though it is a hardwood, I feel my teeth sink into it.

I’m dying now. Not killed by my impalement or even the punctures in my gut and stomach, but suffocating.

My final orgasm blooms hot in the pit of my stomach and I convulse. I can hear my sweaty back and bum pattering on the concrete floor.

I realize I can no longer see, but I sense Keith moving around me. I feel his strong hand on my chin and the other gripping the part of the spit that sticks out past my lips. He pulls it hard, pulling the spit out of me through my mouth, a tidal wave of sensations rush through my body from my rectum to my throat following the spit up through my body.

It’s too much.

"... fuck ..." I hear Tawny gasp.

My orgasm explodes and the room becomes painfully bright. I can see, but not see.

It’s white.

Death is white and euphoric.

Oh! Take me ...