The Aftergirls

by Erotickynk


We only came to look.

To be completely honest, we are all a bunch of pampered little shits - we’d been invited to the Legend House Anniversary Orgy, but when we found out who some of the other people were, we decided not to - I mean, seriously; who wants to watch trailer-trash Megan be fucked, let alone snuffed. She smells like stale crotch and pee at the best of times.

You see, we all live in Shaughnessy Hills overlooking the river on the West side of town. Most of the people at Legend House tonight are from what we call “the ghetto” - the area of town Legend house is in. Run down properties with run down parents of run down teenagers.

Instead we had a party at Randy’s house. His mom was spending a dirty weekend with her boss in Denver, and his Dad was on a business trip to London to oversee the start-up of a new branch of his company. Breanne was the one who first suggested we head to Legend House after it was over to see what really went on - all of us agreed because we never got to even see pictures of the first four girls.

We knew the things going on at Legend House should be done by dawn, so we partied all night and drove down here just before sunrise. Randy left two hundred dollar bills for their maid, thanking her for cleaning up our mess.

I parked my car on the block over from Legend House, where we could see the back door down the alley. It was tight and humid in my little car despite it being late winter; six girls crammed in there. Someone was horny, because I could smell cunt and ass, and at least one person was scared because I could smell that skunky armpit fear-sweat.

Me, I was just a bit nervous because I’d never seen a dead body before, but I was feeling a little brave because I was still high and sipping from a bottle of Jagermeister.


I thought we were going to be stuck in Miranda’s car forever. I wanted to get on with it, but people kept trickling out of the backdoor of Legend House even when the clouds in the eastern sky were turning pink near the horizon. I knew that if I went in too early I wouldn't have a choice - if I wait, I will.

But at last I hear a car door open and close and Randy appears at Miranda’s window. She rolls it down.

“Zee was in that last group.” Randy says, leaning on Miranda’s driver’s door, his breath making clouds in the cold morning air “I’m figuring he would be the last to leave, so the house should be empty.”

“Should we go?” Miranda asks.

“Yeah.” Randy laughs.

Thank god. I stop masturbating and slipped my hand out from inside my coat. I am more than ready.


I hear Randy and Miranda saying that the last people had left Legend House with Zee, but I know that’s wrong - there’s one more person inside. I’m going to keep that to myself though.

No one needs to know.

Not yet.


I came down in Randy’s car, along with Alan, Mercedes, Molly, and Jenna. Randy is over talking to Miranda. He stands up and both doors open and all six girls get out, so we do too.

I jog over to Randy, my runners making squeeky sounds in the frozen snow. He waits for me and wraps his arm around me as we walk toward the backdoor of Legend House.

“Excited?” Randy asks, tilting his head and studying my face.

I smile and nod.


As soon as I get out of Miranda’s car a jog a little so I’m right behind Mercedes. I want to see her reactions to what’s in the house, so I follow close.

The dark thoughts I’m having are turning me on as I stare down at her bum and thighs.


Holy fuck. There’s dead girls in every room upstairs, even though Zee said that the action would only take place downstairs.

There’s a girl in the kitchen who looks like she hanged herself, and two more in the pantry - I can just see them through the half open door, one lying on top of the other. There’s a lot of blood and puke in there. Did they each go in there with their killers willingly? Was the second aroused that she was lying on the body of the first while she was killed?


The entire house smells like cunt and ass, puke, shit, and blood. And piss - it reeks of piss. The combination that smells like death and dying and sex.

My body is tingling. I’m the first down the stairs into the basement. Zee told me about some of the ways girls were choosing - fuck I’m excited.


The arousal I feel as I walk behind Mercedes is making me lube myself like crazy. It’s a good thing this place reeks of sex and body fluids because if it didn’t everyone would be able to smell me.

I can’t take my eyes off Mercedes’ bum, tight in her dark grey yoga pants. She’s trembling as we walk through this house of sex and death, and her bum and thighs are jiggling.

God, I want her so bad.


I’m trembling. I’ve never seen a real dead body before, and there’s dozens of them. There’s a girl almost at the foot of the stairs with a pipe sticking out of her mouth - well, her mouth AND her crotch - it’s right through her. Mucus is still dripping out of her cunt. Did she cum while that was happening to her? Can pain feel that good?

I notice that Cameron is standing, staring at the dead girl. I check her face, expecting a look of horror, but it’s not; she looks dreamy, one corner of her mouth upturned in a crooked smile.

I look at Randy and see that he’s watching Cameron too, and like Cameron, he’s smiling. But I don’t like the look on his face though - it scares me.


As we all wander around, stepping over bodies of dead girls, it is like it’s turning normal for us. A new normal.

Some girls look like they struggled, but some look peaceful, a few with their dead faces twisted in a permanent smile. I guess that’s what last night was all about.

I think about these girls, how really, they packed more sex and more living into their last night than I probably will in my whole life. Pretty sad thought.

I stare at a girl lying on a table, her belly cut open up the middle of her long belly and her insides exposed. Her eyes are still open, her lips parted, her body relaxed, vomited cum on her lips. Part of me envies these girls. But I wonder; Would I be able to do it? Could I take it or would I fight and scream? The idea of spreading my legs and accepting it is arousing.

I hear a thud and see that Randy has rolled a dead girl off an old couch and is dragging her to a corner. It seems to draw us, and one by one we regroup and find places to sit on and around the couch.


Cameron is a minxy little slut. We’ve been talking about the dead girls around us, guessing how they felt as they were killed. And all the while we’ve been talking, Cameron and Randy have been making out.

I’ve been watching them out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen Cameron so turned on - she’s trembling as Randy strips off their clothes.


Holy shit! Randy and Cameron look like they’re going to fuck down here - they are both stripped down. They get up off the couch and he leads her to a table, helps her hop up, then lifts her knees and opens her thighs. He leans in and starts fingering her, their faces cheek to cheek. I can hear them murmuring, but I can’t make out words, only their tones. He sounds confident, she sounds needy. I can tell she’s aroused.


Randy leaves Cameron on the table and goes to an impaled girl, gripping the spit that is sticking out of her cunt. I watch the girl’s face, the sharp end of the spit holding her mouth open, her cheeks and chin smeared with dried blood and puke, her dead brown eyes already turning cloudy. Randy pulls on the spit and her mouth closes a little as the spit disappears from between her chipped teeth, a thick mixture of blood and puke oozes from her mouth.

Randy takes the spit back to Cameron and teases her with the sharp end, running it up and down the crease of her cunt. They are whispering now, I move closer to eavesdrop. God, this is turning me on.


Jesus fuck, Randy’s got the spit inside Cameron now and she’s rolling her hips as he fucks her with it. Is he going to do it? Is she going to let him?

I feel cold shiver-bumps wash over my body, I feel my nipples pucker, my cunt feels like it’s swelling inside. I think we’re about to see Cameron impaled.


Watching Randy spit-fuck Cameron and she’s making whiny, sexy sounds. Oh my, how I love this house. I want to live here so bad.

I peer into the dark corners, searching. At last I see him.

I can’t help but smile.


I did my best to make moving to the end of the couch nearer to Cameron and Randy look casual, but I see Mercedes frowning at me. Fuck it. I can hear Cameron tell Randy that she “needs it” as Randy gently fucks her with the spit. I think he’s going to do it, and she’s going to let him.

I’m watching them openly now as the other girls are talking and Alan and Molly are off in a corner making out. Cameron has a great body, and I can see her tight nipples and the shininess of her crotch as she leaks around the spit.

“... I’m trying to fight it ...” Cameron whimpers, “... do you want me to fight it?”

“I want you just to relax.” Randy says calmly.

Cameron moans; “Oh god.”

From this angle I notice a slight movement in one of the dark corners behind Cameron. Is one of the girls still alive? I squint and see that it’s a fat man sitting in a chair. He’s wearing all black, and he too is watching Randy and Cameron. He has a white beard, so he’s older. Is he the dad of one of the dead girls? Or is he one of the men who snuffed girls last night?


Cameron is rolling her hips and Randy is pushing the spit deeper. He’s gripping the spit so tight I can see the cords standing out on the back of his hand. Cameron cries out “... no-no ... it’s too hard!” but I know Randy isn’t going to stop.

I feel a wash of shiver-bumps run up my spine. Why do I suddenly feel as though this is a set-up? Why do I suddenly suspect we’ve been lured here?

I search my memory; Who suggested coming here? Who said it first?


I’m straddling Alan’s lap and he’s fingering me and it feels so good. I’m watching Randy and Cameron over his shoulder. She’s gripping the edge of the table she’s perched on and struggling as Randy braces and pushes the spit up into her. I hear her cry out in pain, then grunt.


Oh fuck. It’s happening. It’s really happening. Where are these insane thoughts and desires coming from? It’s like Legend House got inside my head and now I’m letting Randy add me to the body count. I want this, but it hurts and it’s scaring me bad.

I feel torn between crazy arousal and pure fucking terror. Randy is working me with a spit I watched him pull from the body of the dead girl and now I love that it’s inside me. I want what she got. I want to feel the spit transit my body from cunt to throat - to feel that rigid steel inside me, forcing my body to be straight on this table. Like her, I want my body to be found face down in a puddle of my own puke and blood.

I hear myself crying out; feel my muscles clenching and jerking as I fight this penetration. It’s in me! Oh fuck, it’s in me! I feel the sharp tip forcing my cervix open, pressing into my uterus, stretching it, pushing it higher in my belly. Pain flares bright and I hear myself scream.


Cameron is struggling as Randy pushes the spit up into her, she's screaming, shaking like she’s having a seizure, and humping the spit. Her screaming says stop, but her body is saying ‘keep going’. Oh god, it has to be close to her belly button by now.

I look into the dark corner and see that our hidden friend is enjoying the show. He is watching like a connoisseur, appearing to be savouring Cameron’s impalement.

I see his head turn toward me, and though I can’t see his eyes I know he’s looking at me. I smile.

He lifts his right hand and I see a flash of light reflect off a the blade of a knife in his hand. I lift my chin and undo the front of my dress to my belly button, pulling it open and arching my back, pushing my belly out. I can sense that’s what he wants.

“ ...” Cameron’s voice echoes through the basement between he and I. Who will cross that space? Him or me?


Cameron is taking the spit - I can see the bulge moving under her belly button. It’s arousing me big time. It’s like I’m being infected - I’m so horny I’m trembling and my body is craving what Cameron is getting. Why? Why do I want this? It’s going to kill her and it will kill me if I give into this mad desire.

I undo my pants and peel them down and start to masturbate. I don’t care who’s watching me. Holy fuck I’m wet.


Now Miranda is masturbating as she watches Cameron get impaled. It's infectious, this blood lust - this desire to die sexually. Legend House has always done it for me - my arousal goes off the scale when he brings me here to play. And we play dangerous games - I know I had a small stroke during one of our games because the left side of my body is weaker than the right since then.

I smile toward the dark corner where he is. I trust him - I trust him with my life. And even if we do go too far and he can't bring me back, there are no other arms I want to die in.

I see him nod toward me - he knows I’m here.


The worst part is when my uterus burst inside me. The pain of that made me piss myself. I think I may have shit myself too - I farted and it felt very wet. I don’t care anymore.

Now the spit is moving all the way through my belly. I hear my bowels gurgling and my stomach is churning, but I am cumming over and over, as one orgasm starts to fade, the next explodes inside me. He’s fucking me with it - fucking my entire body.


Us girls were talking about sex and first times when Randy started on Cameron. Now we are silent and staring, knowing that we are watching our friend dying. But she is cumming, that’s obvious. It occurs to me that this might be the best way to die.

I wonder where that crazy thought came from? I’m starting to feel like I do when I’m drunk - the world around me turning into a dream.


It’s deep. My rolling orgasms have settled to a steady throb as Randy slowed down. Now he’s stroking it slowly inside me and I can feel it sliding through my entire core. My lower belly feels swollen and tight - I know that’s me bleeding internally.

I feel the sharp tip bumping against my stomach at the top of every stroke. I know that penetrating it is the last step in this, but I’m afraid it will hurt like my uterus hurt. Randy presses upward, no longer stroking, increasing pressure.

“... uh-oh ...” I gasp “... wait ... wait ...”

But he doesn’t wait, he pushes it up and I feel the sharp bite in the pit of my stomach - it’s not so bad - now it’s in my stomach and sliding - sliding - sliding - I feel it in my gullet - sliding up my throat - I’m puking now - gently - my vomit flowing out of my mouth in little gushes - cumming now - gentle orgasms - oh god - oh Randy - puking - puking - ejaculating vomit up my gullet like his cock jets cum - oh ...


Alexis rises and walks into a dark corner across the basement, so I stretch out on the couch and masturbate. The other girls are watching me - I don’t care.

Randy pulls the spit out of Cameron, leaving her there. I see she is still breathing and quivering. He looks down at me and smiles. I kick my pants off from around my ankles and spread my knees wide, then gaze up at him.

I don’t want to say it, I want him to sense what I want. He does, he kneels at the end of the couch and swings the wet spit so it is pointed at my crotch. He penetrates my anus with it and my toes curl inside my runners. It’s still warm and slick from Cameron’s body.


He rises from his chair as I near. I finally recognize him - he’s known me since I was little, and he’s always been good to me. Has he always done things like this? Did he think about hurting me when I was little? The thought sends a shudder through my body.

I reach down and take his hands - I can feel the knife handle in his right one. I pull him to a spot in the basement that has morning light leaking through the boarded up window.

I pull my dress open more, pushing my belly out. He rubs it softly, sensually.

“You’ve always wanted this haven’t you?” I whisper, "Even when I was little?"

“Of course.” his deep voice growls, “Haven’t you?” And I wonder about that - how would it have felt when I was 10 or 12? Hell, I don't even know how it will feel now.

I glance down to a dead girl still in her black panties and bra, still tied to a chair. Her belly is a horror of stab wounds, loops of intestine protruding from the longer wounds.

“Your work?” I ask him.

He nods.

“Did she want it?”

“She begged for it.” he answers in a low growling voice, “All night.”

“Do I have to beg?”

He smiles.

I lean into him, pressing my belly against his. The first stab takes my breath away - so sharp and so deep and so sexual - it's below and to the left of my belly button. I feel it as a burning penetration and feel it like a shocking thud deep in my gut. The blade is cold and he twists it a bit, turning my legs to jelly. I lean into him, needing him to hold me up.

My mouth is close to his ear and I gasp softly; “... don’t let me fall ... please don't let me fall ...”

And he doesn’t.


Oh my gosh, he’s doing Alexis with his knife and she looks like she wants it - he was right; Alexis is a belly slut. Do I go over there? Does he want me to wait?


He’s got the spit inside me. I can feel it scraping the walls of my rectum as I masturbate. I am so aroused - I want this - I want to die right here right now. Life has always bored me. My life has bored me. But this is exciting and I know from watching Cameron that the next few minutes are going to be the most intense in my life.

Oh god, don’t stop, Randy. Please don’t stop.


He’s plunging the knife into my belly over and over, slamming it hilt deep every time. I feel my belly sag, becoming a loose sac, heavy with my bowels that he slams the knife into over and over. My legs are shaking so badly that if he let me go I would crumple to the floor. I love that he’s holding me like a lover while he plunges that knife into me - the sensations in my belly are a riot of pain and intense pleasure. It’s like a rolling orgasm, but sharp and pure as I feel my guts impacted and shredded. I feel hot piss flowing down my inner thighs. I hear myself fart.

The more it goes on the more overwhelmed I am - it's like my first time being fucked brutally hard; it hurt; it scared me; but I was drowning in the sensations, cumming despite the pain, and never wanting it to end.

I can smell shit and blood and I know it’s me. Oh baby, don't stop.


Miranda is taking the spit from Randy and Alexis is being stabbed in her belly by an older guy that I didn’t even know was here. Neither of them are fighting it; Alexis keep leaning into the big guy and Miranda is masturbating like her life depended on it. Maybe it does. Maybe if she stopped she’d realize that taking the spit is it; the end of everything for her. Maybe reaching for an orgasm is keeping her from fighting it and screaming.

She’s not fighting it, she’s keeping her legs wide open as Randy fucks her with the thing that’s going to kill her, and I have to admit that watching my girlfriends die this way is arousing me. I can feel my pussy getting oily and oozy - the crotch of my yoga pants are going to dry and crust up before I get home.

Would I want to die the way Cameron did, or Miranda is? Or stabbed to death like Alexis? No, these ways are too violent and painful for me. But still the wanton desire for it is building in the centre of my lower belly. It's getting harder and harder to resist. I want to be overwhelmed. I want to cum while horrible things are done to my body.

I can’t help myself, I slide my right hand into the tight crease between my thighs and masturbate slowly so no one notices. How would I want to die as I felt my last orgasm?

Someone slides in beside me - it’s Breanne. She glances down at my hand jammed in the Y of my crotch, then into my eyes. She smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulder.


Thank god; Mercedes is turned on by all this. I let her know with a smile that I’m okay with it and slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her gently toward me.

“It’s okay.” I whisper. She leans into me and goes back to rubbing her crotch as she watches Miranda be impaled.

I wonder if he’ll help me do her?


I can feel liquid oozing from my ass to run down my inner thighs. I don’t know if it’s runny shit or blood, but my asshole is open and loose. My legs are gone and the only thing that’s keeping me upright is his strong arm clutching my body to his.

He keeps plunging the knife into my soft belly and I can feel my cunt dripping, but I’m almost done.

It’s getting dark. My face is numb. My bleeding, shredded belly feels like it’s sparkling. It’s been like an orgasm, but sharp and intense.

I’m almost done.

Oh mommy ... I’m not coming home ...

He lets me go ... I’m falling ... crumpling ... my belly, swollen and loose, is the heavist part of me ... it makes a splat sound as it hits the rough concrete floor.


I watch as the old guy stops stabbing Alexis and lets her drop. Her arms, legs, and neck are all at odd angles - her belly is wet and red, swollen and oozing blood - her eyes stare at nothing.

I turn to watch Randy impaling Miranda - she’s making desperate sexual noises as he fucks her with the spit on the couch. I feel Breanne’s hand slide over my upper thigh then under my own. As she cups my crotch and starts to massage, I lay my head on her shoulder and spread my thighs.

Legend House is deep in me now. I give myself to Breanne’s care.

I feel like I’m in a horror movie, but I’m enjoying it. I begin to think about how it would feel to die in her arms. I want her to fuck me. I want her to play with me as I die.

The thought that this was a set-up is still here. We were lured here to be killed.

A strong sense of doom rises up my core, but I embrace it. It’s like when you were a little kid and had the flu - fevered, chilled, puking so much that you are weak and helpless as mom buries you under blankets - thinking you’re going to die from it, but not caring if you do. That’s that feeling; sick, fevered and not caring - relinquishing control, no longer willing to fight it.

It’s inevitable.

I now remember now who first suggested visiting Legend House this morning. I lift my head and look at Breanne. She meets my gaze and smiles again.

I lay my head back on her shoulder. She brought me here.

Oh god, it’s inevitable.


I’m getting scared. Two of us have willingly been murdered and Miranda is on her way. I watch the old fat guy walk out of the shadows to watch Miranda closer. He looks familiar. Someone my Dad knows, maybe? Whoever he is, he scares me.

“We need to go.” I murmur in Alan’s ear, “We need to go while we can.”

“In a bit.” Alan says, his eyes fixed on Miranda’s squirming body - her bloody bum cheeks qiuvering.

“I want to go too.” says Jenna from behind us.

“Jeezuz.” Alan says, impatient with us.

“Alan, we’re scared.” I implore him.

“Fine.” he spits the word out as he stands, helping me up to my feet by roughly pulling on my wrist.

I take two steps toward Breanne and Mercedes and bend down.

“Hey guys?” I stage whisper at them, “We’re going.”

Breanne looks up and smiles.

“We’re good.” she says.”

Mercedes is staring at Miranda as Randy works the spit deeper and deeper. Her face is expressionless, as though she is hypnotized or really stoned, and I realize that Breanne’s right hand is inside her pants. Breanne is fingering her.

“Mercedes?” I ask, worried about her.

Mercedes slowly shakes her head, her eyes not leaving Miranda’s writhing form. She is lost, hopeless, intoxicated by this sexual horror.

I look back at Breanne; that smile still pasted on her face.

“We’re good.” she says brightly, "I'll take care of her."

I suddenly know that I’ll never see Mercedes alive again, and that Breanne is going to help her die here.

“If we’re going, let’s go.” Alan says impatiently.

We go, and never look back.


I feel frantic, desperate to last a little longer, but I know I don't have much time. The room is spinning like it does when I’m too drunk. I feel weak and jittery, my heart fluttering in my chest. My body won’t stop reacting to the steel moving in my belly - squirming, jerking, spasming - held tight like a captured butterfly on a mounting pin. Randy has been fucking me with the spit he used to snuff Cameron and the sensations so deep in my core are frightening and amazing. I’ve been fucked lots of times, but this is the ultimate - it’s almost too much; overwhelming and orgasmic and it feels like a sexual panic attack.

The only word I can gasp is “yeah”, but I’m making all sorts of crazy noises.

I watched Cameron cumming and puking when Randy thrust the spit up into her stomach - she died cumming, or close to it I’m sure judging from how wet and oily her cunt was, so I know that’s what’s in store for me. She was still alive when Randy pulled the spit from her body, but she didn’t react, just kept staring off into space, lost in the bliss of her dying body.

My turn’s coming - Randy is making the spit fuck me harder ... deeper.

Breanne and Mercedes are sitting cross-legged on the floor watching me. Breanne is fingering Mercedes and hugging her tight, Mercedes looks high, just staring with dull eyes and her mouth hanging open. But I see her eyes slowly close and her belly tightens, then relaxes. She opens her dull eyes again to stare at me - Breanne just made her cum.

I can tell that she’s next - she’s already dead, but just has to go through the motions - her eyes are lifeless, like she’s already lost her soul.

The spit is higher now - I can feel the tip bumping into my stomach. Shit - it’s gunna happen! I’m desperately horny, terrified, and I’m losing control of my body - my belly muscles are clenching, my thighs quivering, my bowels growling like I have diarrhea.

I want it. I want to cry out to Randy to do it, but I can’t find my words. But he knows.

He thrusts hard and I feel the tip punturing my stomach and pushing inside it. I arch my back as much as the steel running through my core will let me, just as my stomach convulses and my vomit rockets up my throat to spatter back down onto my face.

Oh god ... totally penetrated ... panic receding ... my body giving in to it at last ... oh-so-sexual ...

It’s sliding inside my throat but not blocking the force of my convulsing stomach ... this violent puking is my final ecstasy.

Oh Randy, don’t stop ... for the love of god, don’t stop ...


Miranda died in violent sexual bliss. I feel so lost, so hopeless. I feel sad and empty - a hollow shell. But Breanne is fingering me and that feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing I can feel right now.

I wonder about my sadness, my emptiness, and I realize what it is; now that I’ve seen this, no, FELT the perverse sexual death of Legend House, going back to my mundane life is more than I can bear.

I don't want to go home - I want to stay here.


Sweet Mercedes is ready. I’ve never seen anyone so ready to die. Her body is slumped against me, her cunt hot, sopping, and loose. A shadow falls over us. I look up.

“Hi Daddy” I say to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” his deep voice rumbles, “You found someone to play with.”

I laugh; “Can I keep her?”

“Of course.” he says, pulling up a chair and sitting down to watch, “But Daddy’s tired. I’ve been at this all night.”

I look at Randy who has pulled up Miranda’s top and is playing with her breasts, and feeling her throat where the spit is lodged.

“Randy?” I call to him.


Breanne helps me move and lay down, stretched out on the floor. My head comes to rest in Randy’s lap, his hard cock brushing my cheek. I look up into his eager face.

“Do you want this?” Breanne asks me, “I mean REALLY want it?”

I nod.

“Tell Randy you want it.”

“I want this.” I whisper, looking up into his upside-down face.

“Lift your head.” Randy says and I do, “Lift your chin too.”

I lift my chin and he tucks a leather thong around my throat, crossing it behind my neck - shiver-bumps wash across my body, the reality sinking into me deep. I lower my head back onto his lap and wait.

Breanne pulls my yoga pants off and pushes my top up so my breasts are bare. I feel her move beside me and her fingers dance up my inner thigh to my pussy. She starts fingering me - such a sweet penetration.

“Just tell us when you’re ready.” she says.

It feels good; Breanne fingering me - two fingers squishing inside me, the web of her thumb grinding softly against my clit. Randy is pinching and twirling my nipples - making them tingle and pucker hard. It’s so quiet in here I can hear everyone breathing over my own shuddering gasps for air. Breanne’s Dad is watching me - he has a gentle smile on his face; I can’t believe he is the same person who stabbed Alexis to death. His face is so kind now, his smile reassuring. Breanne and Randy are being so gentle with me, making love to me here amongst so much death, the pain and ecstasy of all these girls’ final moments like silent psychic echoes filling the air. Is that what ghosts are? Echoes of hard death that linger?

I love that I am going to die gently - I am craving that gentleness after seeing the results of so much violence done to so many girls’ bodies, after witnessing the guttural struggles of Cameron, Alexis, and Miranda.

Breanne adds a third finger, opening me wider and bringing my orgasm closer. I’ve been told that as I approach orgasm, my facial expression makes me look worried. I look up at Breanne’s Dad again, gasping as I feel my tummy muscles quivering.

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart.” he reassures me in his deep voice, “Just tell Randy when you’re ready.”

I look up into Randy’s eyes. I’m scared and I’m horny, but I feel drawn to what is about to happen to me - this final experience. I’m scared that I’m about to die, but I’m so aroused by what I have read about erotic asphyxiation giving people powerful ecstatic and overwhelming orgasms as they lose consciousness and drift into death. When hanged, men get erections and ejaculate, women will spread their legs or rub their thighs together as they strangle, some arch their backs and clench their thighs tight while they shudder their way toward death, the pressure on their sex propelling them through their death orgasm.

I want this to happen to me.



I nod, and knowing it’s about to start I feel a deep sexual tug in my lower belly - a tug Breanne is almost reaching with the tips of her fingers. Oh god, I want her deeper.

Randy lets go of my nipples and picks up the wooden dowels on either end of the leather thong. I close my eyes and take a breath, preparing for it to start. He takes up the slack and I feel the leather nuzzle in around my bare throat, but he doesn’t tighten it. I’m puzzled - why doesn’t he start?

I open my eyes and look up into his. He is gazing down at me - he’s waiting for something more from me.

“... please?” the word is a needy whine.

I gag as I feel the leather snap tight and it begins ...

I never realized how intimate the relationship was between a murder victim and her killer. Having someone slowly take your life is the most intimate thing you can do with another person; they are sharing your last experience with you; they are with you when you succumb ... surrender ... when you are your most vulnerable and defenseless. They are there with you as your body shuts down, as your bladder releases, as your bowels empty, as your stomach erupts up your throat, and there is no judgment - your killer accepts your loss of control because they are the cause of it. They own your body and soul.

Relaxing and letting myself be strangled, I discover, is like being made love to. Like your first time that is part willing, part forced.

I am able to fight down the panic as my airway is cut off and my body tries to inhale on it’s own. Breanne redoubles her efforts finger-fucking me and grinding against my clit; Randy begins to grunt and strain as he pulls the leather thong tight; so I am left with just experiencing it and letting my pleasure build as the sensations rise.

“Make her cum.” Randy tells Breanne, and I think to myself; She will, I can feel it.

The orgasm that was building in my lower belly seems to be postponed - the sexual arousal is still strong, but the momentum has slowed. Maybe I’m more frightened that I think I am - knowing that this will bring an end to all my awareness, all my thoughts and memories. I keep reminding myself that when the end comes I won’t be scared and I won’t be in pain - it will be a peaceful death with no awareness that I am dying. It still feels so good and I am so grateful that there is no pain, no violence, nor blood, only a pressure in my head as blood pounds past my constricted throat.


Oh my god, Mercedes’ cunt is so wet and sloppy, and she keeps undulating her body as I work her. She hasn’t tried to close her thighs once, so that tells me she wants me to keep going. I add my last finger and start trying to press my entire hand into her, my thumb grinding her clit, her cunt tight around my hand.

Randy is struggling to maintain the choke - I know that leather stretches so he keeps having to work against that - he keeps adjusting his grip letting Mercedes gasp in partial breaths. I know these things because it is a game my Daddy and I play, and oh my goodness I know how good it feels.

I see Randy move the leather and it repositions onto Mercedes gag reflex and as he tightens it once more she starts heaving and gagging and her stomach starts gurgling.


I’m heaving now - I can feel my stomach convulsing hot vomit up my throat then letting it gurgle back down. I can’t taste it because my throat is constructed, but the heaving feels so good - it’s like my stomach is having an orgasm. I can feel my belly bloating as my saliva foams from the churning.

My nipples ache they are so puckered and I feel my pussy oozing fluid around Breanne’s fingers.

“Look at that.” Breanne says, “All excited.”

I can also feel my bowels growling and gurgling, like living snakes in my belly squirming like mad things - fluid and gas being pushed downward toward my rectum. I know this is peristalsis and it’s why people shit themselves when they are hanged, but it feels wonderful as my body comes to desperate life as I near death.

If you’d asked me yesterday how I’d feel if I piss or shit myself in front of someone, I would have said I would die of embarrassment, but now I don’t care because I now know that these sensations are part of dying ... and dying feels so good.

Arousal ramping up fast ...

Belly muscles clenching ...

Oh god, I’m gunna cum ...


“Oh, that little look of ecstasy.” Breanne says, and I can hear the genuine smile in her voice.


I hope Daddy is proud of me; Randy and I are killing Mercedes perfectly, and her first orgasm is a big one; she arches her back and her cunt squeezes down on my hand so hard it aches. I push harder and she responds by arching her back even more, her belly heaving harder.


I’m seeing pinpoints of bright lights dancing before my eyes - so this is what they mean by ‘seeing stars’. I’m cumming so hard, so long. Oh god, is this my death orgasm already? It is so intense that I’m okay with that, but I did want more - I DO want more. Oh fuck, I don’t want this to stop!

Randy adjusts his grip, I gasp a breath just before liquid sloshes in the back of my throat and I taste puke.

My orgasm starts to slow, but barely. It feels continuous now - a throbbing, clenching cramp in my lower belly; nipples tight and tingling; oh fuck this is almost too much to take.

A flood of shiver-bumps dance over my body, from my inner thighs, over my mound and up my belly and chest. I feel Breanne change something, still pressing her hand into me. She presses harder, grunting from her effort, and just as I realize that the change was adding her thumb, I feel the wet ‘plop’ as her entire hand slams deep into my pussy.

My orgasm roars back to full strength again as she starts slamming her fist into me. I twist and squirm, my throat in Randy’s tight grip, my pelvis pinned by Breanne’s fist - I am held captive by my sweet killers as my body goes wild.

“She’s bangin’!” Breanne laughs.

Cumming ...

Cumming ...

Cumming ...

Oh god ... it’s too much ... too much ... make it stop! But no-no-no ... it's the only thing left living for ...

My vision darkens. Numbness creeps in from the edges of my body. I feel myself flop limp. So this is it. This is death. I let myself drift away, content and happy, satiated and spent.

I am falling into a soft warm place - a dreamy place. I can still feel Breanne’s fist pistoning inside my lower belly and the tightness around my throat. Now my vision is returning. At least light is.

Breanne and Randy’s faces are blurry. I look up at the third blur that is Breanne’s Dad and I realize that I love them. I love them with an ache that feels like it’s breaking my heart. I am sharing an unholy communion of sweet sex and sweet death with them. This is bliss and I feel so loved that tears well in my eyes.

“It will all be over soon.” Breanne says softly to me, reassuring me, soothing me.

“We’re almost there.” Randy confirms as he keeps the leather tight, “Almost there.”

I know that death is going to take me soon, but I can hear and feel my stomach and bowels gurgling and sloshing, and Breanne’s fist is still churning away in my pussy, keeping the sweet orgasmic bliss strong in my belly. I feel one of Breanne’s knuckles grinding against the opening of my cervix which sends a cramping wave of pleasure/pain through my core. I lift my bum off the floor and arch my back. I want them to know I’m still with them - still appreciative of what they are doing - relishing the sensations they are giving me.

But I’m losing control of my body - my thighs shake badly and give out - I collapse, my bum slapping hard on the floor, my thighs flopping open.

“We’re almost there.” Randy repeats and it’s true, I’m fading fast.

I feel so weak. Spent. Done. A shudder runs through my body.

“A little movement from her.” Breanne and Randy are speaking in low tones, they’re waiting for me to die.

... so am I ...

... I'm ready ...

Losing vision again, darkness is wrapping around me. I feel a buzz in my crotch - I’m pissing myself. The piss must be running up Breanne’s forearm, but she doesn’t shrink from it, nor does she move away when a few seconds later I feel my anus open and thick fluid begins to drain from my bowels.


Randy holds the leather tight around Mercedes throat and I keep rolling my wrist inside her pussy until we are sure she’s dead. Her body is limp, her face mottled a ruddy pink, her lips blue, the once tan skin of her body turning grey.

Mercedes is dead. I slide my hand out of her flaccid cunt and wipe the piss, mucus, and shit off my forearm with her yoga pants.

I look up - always seeking his approval.

“Did I do good, Daddy?” I ask him.

“Yes, sweetheart.” he growls softly, “You did very good. Your friend died in ecstasy.”

“That’s what we want, right?”

“Of course." he smiles, "It's magic.”

I take the garrote from around Mercedes’ neck and wrap it around my own throat as I rise up on my knees. I knee-walk the few feet to the foot of Daddy’s chair.

“I want to live here.” I tell him as I look up into his dark eyes.

“I’m working on it.”

I look back over my shoulder and see that Randy is watching us, his cock so hard it’s twitching. I motion for him to come closer.

I lay my hands on Daddy’s knees and gaze up at him.

“Can we play?”

Daddy smiles and takes hold of the dowels at the end of the leather cord.

“Promise to bring me back.” I whisper to him. Daddy and I play this game often, and three times he’s had to do CPR on me.

“I always will, Breanne.”

I close my eyes as I feel the cord tighten around my throat and at the same time Randy’s cock slides deep into my cunt. My fingertips dig hard into Daddy’s knees as I start to choke and Randy starts fucking me.

It already feels so fucking good as I wonder if I will die this time.