It all began with a tip about a missing person report that Captain McCain asked me to follow up on. Little did I know the depths of madness I would descend into as I followed the trail I discovered. I felt like Alice descending down the rabbit hole, but unlike Alice, I would never emerge.
Nor wanted to, really. But I’ve always been a bit of a twisted whore.
The missing girl was Brandy Maugham - just turned 18, 8 months pregnant, and a shitty home life with an alcoholic mother and mom’s boyfriend who I suspected was the father of the baby Brandy was carrying.
We investigated her disappearance, but right from the start the officers assigned to the case believed she was just another runaway - we get a lot of them around here. But on the other hand, we also got a lot of corpses of young girls in an old dilapidated house the teens called Legend House until recently. There were the four girls who started it all off by setting up four gruesome assisted suicides in the house, then for the next five years we found young female remains in the house at irregular intervals; strangulations; impalements; guttings. Pretty harsh stuff.
Then came the five year anniversary of the original four girls. THAT was a bloodbath - as one detective put it; an orgy of willing torture and death. I was a rookie that year and was assigned to assist the coroner to bag and remove the bodies. I lost count after 20. A lot of them were local girls, but some came from nearby towns, and even a couple from out of state. We also found a video on a thumb drive that had recordings of almost all the girls that night stating their names and declaring that they came to Legend House to die.
Forensics and the coroner established a timeline of that night; the deaths were spaced out from late evening until after dawn the next day, with some of the girls (the ones NOT on the thumb drive) coming to the house early that morning and dying amidst the blood, entrails, and corpses.
It was the largest mass-suicide in the country’s history and for 10 days afterward we were swarmed by CNN, NBC, ABC, and every other alphabet combination you can imagine. I think everyone in the town was interviewed at one point or another.
Our department had been petitioning town council to appropriate the property and tear the house out by the roots to end this madness, and they were about to when Charles Roux and his daughter Breanne - who had been trying to purchase the house for years - did an in-depth interview with CNN’s Anderson Cooper and pled their case. Charles promised to completely renovate the house, to make it a home once more, and to backfill and seal off the basement where most of the deaths occurred - “... to give those poor girls peace”. Breanne was tearful as she recounted as a little girl finding her own mother after she had died by autoerotic asphyxiation. CNN had ended the interview with a tight shot of Breanne’s tear-brimmed eyes as she said; “My Dad and I just want this to stop. We can erase this evil, and pay tribute to the innocent lives lost.”
Town council didn’t stand a chance - the majority of the public outcry sided with the Rouxs and the city sold the house to Charles for one dollar with his promise he would completely renovate and make good to backfill and seal off the basement. And damned if he didn’t.
I watched the CNN special when Anderson Cooper toured the renovated house with Charles and Breanne; the original basement was gone and a smaller basement under the addition in place. They turned it into a cozy little family room with a home library and a reading nook.
Months after Brandy’s disappearance we got the tip; one of the residents at the end of the street that Charles and Breanne lived on said that on the morning she went missing he saw a young pregnant girl walking down the alley toward what was once known as Legend House. When I interviewed him he said it took so long for him to report it because he left the next day and spent three months in Dallas on a construction contract and just returned. His sister had told him about Brandy’s disappearance and he remembered the pregnant teen.
He described her as short, skinny - except for the pregnant belly - with short dirty blond hair. He said she looked happy - smiling as she walked and even skipped a few steps. I showed him Brandy’s yearbook photo and he said that he was pretty sure that was the girl.
I still thought of Legend House as a place of evil after working the orgy, so I asked and he said he didn’t see her enter that house.
It wasn’t much of a lead, but I had to follow up.
Back at the station I reviewed the investigation and discovered that Brandy was a friend of Breanne’s and had gone to the Roux house a number of times. Brandy’s mom said that she liked to hangout there, and suspected that Brandy had a girl-crush on Breanne, the amount she talked about her, plus she thought Charles was a cool dad, who “...let us girls be girls ...”
I cross-checked the interview notes of Charles and Breanne and they said they knew Brandy and yes, she had visited them a number of times and even had a couple sleepovers, but no, they hadn’t seen her that day or since.
The new tip was enough to warrant another interview with daddy and daughter Roux. Typically, we would phone and ask people to come down to the station, but I took it as an excuse to visit the house again.
I was working plain-clothes that day, Charles and Breanne were friendly and inviting when they welcomed me to their home.
“I’m Officer Amanda Mansville.” I introduced myself and told them I was following up on a missing persons report, but didn’t say who. I admitted that I was part of the investigation after the anniversary slaughter and was impressed with the renovations they had done to the house. Charles offered me a tour.
The upstairs was elegantly decorated - modern but cozy. The kitchen looked like it had been designed by a gourmet chef and the open plan made it perfect for entertaining. Charles showed me his bedroom and the spare one, then Breanne’s room where we left her.
I felt a tingle when I noticed the heavy ring hooks in the ceiling over Breanne’s bed and wondered what she got up to in there.
The downstairs main room was a cozy library and audio room, with real vinyl LPs and a rich sound system. I saw that the old staircase was gone and the basement of the old section was gone - the wall that would have led to it lined with bookcases. Charles repeated what I already knew; he had fulfilled the city council’s wishes and had it backfilled and walled with concrete.
Charles invited me to sit in one of the easy chairs in the nook just past the bookcases while he sat in the other. I asked him about his and Breanne’s relationship with Brandy Maugham, and he replied that she had been part of a small group of girls who had been to the house on a number of occasions. He said that Breanne was a popular girl and Brandy was one who liked to be around them.
“I suppose that part of the attraction for Brandy was the healthy relationship I have with Breanne and the fact that I allow the girls to have fun without looming.” Charles said, “She didn’t have that at home. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I said, “Brandy was pregnant when she disappeared. Do you know anything about who the father was?”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t.” Charles shook his head.
“Have you met her stepfather?” I asked.
“I’ve seen him a couple times when I dropped Brandy off at home. But I’ve never really met him face to face.”
“Did Brandy ever talk about him?”
“Not a great deal.” Charles answered, and I could see he was being careful, “I just got the impression she didn’t like him.”
“Nothing specific.” Charles said, “Just ... when other girls talked about their dads, she sort of ... I don’t know ... checked out.”
As we talked, a feeling came over me that I couldn’t shake. It was like a nagging, unformed thought, though more of a feeling than a thought. A sense that there was a presence in the basement - actually, that isn’t precise - more the presence of many, a sense that all the girls who died in the old basement were still there. If I had let my imagination run wild, I would have said that I could feel the souls of the girls reaching out to me. But it wasn’t the forlorn presence of tortured, lonely spirits, more of a collection of hungry souls. A sisterhood of perversity.
I found myself becoming sexually aroused.
I also found myself in the middle of a prolonged silence with Charles watching me with curious eyes.
“The girls ...” I faltered, “The girls who died here ... they came to it willingly ... submitted to ... the things done to them, willingly. Intrusive ... things.”
“So I understand.” Charles said, his gaze appearing bemused as he scrutinized me.
“Was it ... do you think their deaths were sexual?”
“Are you asking if I think their deaths were orgasmic?” Charles’ voice had become more measured, softer enough to be menacing.
I swallowed past a dry throat and nodded.
“Anything is possible.” he smiled.
And in that moment I knew in my heart that Charles and Breanne had murdered Brandy and that Brandy had come here wanting them to do it. Charles knew what I suspected - that he and his daughter had given Brandy the death experience she craved. The look Charles was giving me in that moment said he knew of my sudden awareness and I felt an immediate and unreasonable anxiety rising quickly to panic; I was in the presence of a killer - a sexual killer. I felt small and vulnerable, weak and fearful, and knew that I could disappear as easily as Brandy did. Yet at the same time I felt the growing pressure in the cradle of my lower belly; the tingling of my nipples; the swelling of my clit. Sexual death. Orgasmic death. Part of me was repulsed and part of me was aroused. I was confused, conflicted by what I felt and what my professionalism would allow.
I fumbled my way through thanking him and making my way back upstairs with the usual presentation of my business card and asking that if he or Breanne thought of anything else about Brandy he should call. He assured me he would.
My plan had been to interview Breanne separately after Charles, but I was shaking by the time I got to my unmarked squad car and drove straight back to the station. I parked and walked in the station and into the women’s washroom, where I frantically masturbated myself to orgasm in a bathroom stall - I came hard; my belly and cunt clenching tight - visions of all the ways young Brandy might have been murdered dancing through my mind. Visions from the catalogued causes of death from the Coroner in the anniversary orgy report; hanged; strangled; impaled; gutted ... in a flash I envisioned her pregnant writhing body enduring the exquisite pain of dozens of orgasmic deaths. I had to bite down on my wrist to keep from screaming as my orgasm ripped through my trembling body.
I wondered what the fuck was happening to me as I washed the cunt smell off my hand and made sure my sleeve hid the bite marks on my wrist. I was a trained policewoman, carrying a service gun under my jacket, yet with Charles I was afraid. And I realized in that moment why; all of the girls had died willingly; there were no neck scratches on those strangled or hanged, no defensive wounds on the hands of those eviscerated by knives, and each vaginal impalement went straight up through the cervix and through the uterus, so each girl had lined up on the spit.
What scared and confused me in those moments with Charles wasn’t that he could overpower and kill me, but that given the right circumstance I would let him.
As I made my way back to my desk with my lower belly still vibrating and twitching, I vowed to see this through; Brandy died in that house with Charles and Breanne and I was going to prove it.
Whenever I wasn’t on patrol, I pored over the case files from all of the dead and missing girls, reading interviews with friends and family, trying to find any connection between them and the Rouxs. Nothing stood out.
One night at home while I was thinking about the cases, I recalled the video of the anniversary girls declaring their intent to die in Legend House. I felt tingles up my body and scalp as I realized there was at least one video camera present that night. Could there be more?
I immediately went online and researched investigations into the Dark Web - if there were videos of any of the girls dying, they might have been uploaded somewhere. I learned fast.
I downloaded TOR so I could access the dark web and began my search. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. It made sense that .onion sites that hosted illegal videos of sexual death - what I came to learn was called ‘snuffsex’ - would be buried, even on the dark web. I ended up spending hours on Internet Relay Chat channels searching and asking questions. It interfered with my sleep as I lost myself in the darkside of the web, sometimes chasing leads until dawn, giving me just enough time to shower and change before going in for my shift.
It took weeks, but I was given a link to an .onion site that posted screen captures of extreme videos and I spent three nights looking at page after page of images until I found one that sent chills down my spine;
It was a blurry video screen capture of three girls and one boy in a room with a gallows. The boy was hanging from a noose, his body slack and I assume dead. But one of the girls was also hanging and looked like she had just started the process of strangling to death. She was young, petite, had short hair and was pregnant. Though the image was blurry and distorted, the hanging girl had a strong resemblance to Brandy.
One of the other girls in the image looked horrified as she watched the pregnant girl hang, and the other looked casual -like this sort of thing happened all the time. The casual girl could have been Breanne, but her face was obscured.
I downloaded the image and posted it on three .onion forums that focused on extreme videos with the question; “Source?”
I spent the next week checking the forums for replies, until one of them had a reply with a link to an .avi file. When I got there a payment window opened, listing the price in Bitcoins. I did the math and it was around $150.00. I didn’t have a Bitcoin account, so I followed the supplied link to a payment site and opened an account, using an etransfer of $500 from my bank to open it. Back to the .avi link I paid for it and it downloaded immediately.
The quality was shit and it had no sound, but it was a video of a girl dying, so it commanded a high price.
I was sure it was Brandy, even though the video was blurred, distorted, and had no sound. The casual girl’s face was purposely blurred, but the video was mostly complete; pregnant Brandy stood on a platform with the noose around her neck, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles bound together. At the start of the scene, Brandy was standing awkwardly, her knees apart as the casual girl was finger fucking her hard in her cunt, while the other girl was fingering her anally. Brandy was trembling, her body jerking and her face deepening in colour as the noose pulled tight. Her facial expression was one of intense concentration - she was focusing on what she was feeling, which I assumed was her build to orgasm. Her mouth suddenly opened and her body began convulsing violently - she was starting to cum. The casual girl wrapped her free arm around the back of Brandy’s knees and pulled her forward until her feet fell off the edge of the platform. Brandy dropped less than a foot before the noose synched tight around her throat. The casual girl calmly stepped away - I assume not to block the camera - while the other girl recoiled in horror.
With her body convulsing, her thighs flapping open and closed, her pelvis humping, and her grimaced, determined expression, I have no doubt Brandy was experiencing a powerful orgasm in the final seconds of her life. Piss sprayed from her crotch, and her tongue swelled to fill her open mouth. Her pregnant belly was clenched tight at the peak of her orgasm, but as her convulsions slowed and her legs sagged, it went slack and slumped. She squirmed languidly in the last seconds of her life, squeezing and rubbing her thighs together - no doubt feeling the final slow waves of her dying orgasm pulsing through her core. But soon her body went completely flaccid, her heavy belly hanging down, her toes pointing at the floor, her neck stretching under her weight.
I watched the video five more times. I couldn’t help it; I masturbated furiously as I watched Brandy die over and over and came hard at the same time Brandy did during the fifth viewing. I felt a kinship with Brandy as I came - imagining what she was feeling, sharing my orgasm with her.
My response to Brandy’s death was perverse, but I finally had my answer; I knew how Brandy died and had a strong suspicion that Breanne was the blurred out girl and Charles had recorded that evening. I took a blurry screen capture of the other girl and sent it to my iphone.
Turns out, she was another missing teen; Jennifer Laschuk. Reported as a runaway two days before Brandy’s disappearance. My guess is that she was a guest of Charles and Breanne for the two days before they killed her.
No, not killed; they helped her die.
I debated taking what I had found to Captain McCain, but I doubted I had enough in a blurry pic and video, and circumstantial testimony that a pregnant girl was seen walking down an alley on the day of Brandy’s disappearance. I needed more.
I began to surveil the Roux house during my off hours. I used a friend’s old van that he had parked uninsured on his property. It only had windows on the back doors and those were tinted, so it was perfect. I paid for three months insurance and set up some equipment I checked out of the station; high powered binoculars, a video camera with a zoom and recorder, and a digital camera with a zoom. I parked on the opposite side of the street, pointing away from the house so I had a good sight line on the house.
The first five days was boring. Charles and Breanne kept a typical routine and went to bed by 10:00pm each night. On the sixth night they had company; a young couple who stayed for dinner and drinks in the living room. I could see them chatting and watching videos on the large TV. The screen was facing away from the window so I couldn’t see what they were watching.
Charles sat in an armchair with the couple and Breanne on a sofa. As they watched the video, Breanne snuggled up with the girl who snuggled back. Soon, Breanne had her hand inside the girl’s dress and by her body language, the girl was enjoying it. The other half of the couple - the young male - seemed bemused by the girls becoming intimate right beside him.
After a few moments, Breanne rose and took the girl by the hand and led her out of the living room and down the hallway toward her bedroom. Her bedroom light went on, but the blinds were drawn so all I could see were moving shadows. Charles and the young man talked and watched more videos in the living room as I watched the shadows on Breanne’s blinds - shadows that started by moving slow and sensual, then became frantic and violent.
The girls were in Breanne’s bedroom for just over half an hour before the light went off and they returned to the living room. Breanne’s and the girl’s skin shone with sweat. Breanne sat down in a chair, and the girl - unsteady on her feet - flopped down on the sofa. She tucked her feet under her and snuggled up against the young man who held her. Her hair was disheveled and she shuddered every few moments.
I could guess that whatever her and Breanne had done in her bedroom involved the heavy ring hooks in the ceiling and was an intense experience for the girl.
When I wasn’t at work or surveilling the Roux house, I continued searching the darkweb. I paid for dozens of videos to the point I maxed out my credit cards.
I found one named ‘Rene’s Thorough Fuck’ that was taken in a room with similar décor to the room Brandy hanged in; a young women on her knees, thighs spread wide, taking a sharp steel spit deep inside her. She seemed overly calm as she took the steel anally and I suspected she had been drugged. Even when the spit punctured her stomach and she began to vomit she didn’t struggle. I have to admit that as I watched her orgasm as the spit slid up her throat and out of her mouth, I was masturbating frantically.
Sexual death was a fetish I never knew I had. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no wall-flower - I have a few. I like being spanked; I like my nipples pinched hard and twisted; I like to be throat-fucked deep and hard and I’ve even cum as I was gagging and heaving on a cock, balls deep in my mouth. But watching young women die willingly in a sexual way was a new thrill for me - it was like I had just discovered a dark corner of Disneyland.
One video that I found myself returning to over and over was a performance piece of a girl in a harem costume. Her killer - or as I learned the proper term; snuffer - was dressing in a robe and pushed a large knife into her belly halfway between her belly button and sternum. The eager girl leaned into it as her snuffer moved the blade inside her. It was obvious that it was in was coming in contact with her stomach because her moans were broken up by guttural gagging and heaving. Her facial expression was a mixture of orgasmic pleasure and fear, but she stayed standing as long as she could, her belly convulsing and her pelvis humping as she had a series of orgasms - or maybe one long orgasm that came in waves. After three minutes of this sexual torture, her legs began to shake badly as they lost strength and she collapsed to the floor, quivering and twitching until she lay still.
Once the girl was dead, the cameraman kicked her legs apart to film her inner thighs - they were shiny and slick with clear girl cum from her crotch to her knees.
I also spent more and more time on .onion chat forums that specialized in fetish and extreme s&m, going by the /nick ‘pdsub’. When I posted a link to the harem girl’s video and said how much it turned me on, I got a lot of ‘me too’s and suggestions on how the snuffer could have made it better. But one poster who went by the /nick ‘Z’ posted another video link.
Of course I again had to pay for it, and that’s when I discovered I’d maxed out my Visa and Mastercard. I had to transfer money out of my retirement savings and into my bitcoin account to afford it. In that moment though, it was worth it.
The video was titled ‘caseyz’ and was of another young woman laying naked on her back while her snuffer slowly opened her belly from her mound to her belly button. Before he started she was breathlessly pleading with him.
“... yes ... yes ... please .... I belong to you ...” she was gasping, watching him lower the knife to her lower belly. Her nipples were puckered and tight, her body shiny with sweat.
Her voice became more frantic as he pushed the knife against her, the tip dimpling her flesh; “... oh fuck ... oh my god ... oh my god ... please ...” then; “... oh fuck!” as the blade sunk into her.
He pushed it deep, grinding it against her pubic bone then sawing upward to her belly button while she gasped and cried out. I felt shivers up my back as her lower belly suddenly gaped wide open as he sliced under her belly button. I looked up human musculature afterward and discovered why he cut so low and up her middle to her navel - he was splitting the oblique muscles that cradle our heavy intestines in our bellies. As soon as they were severed, her belly opened wide.
As she gasped and carried on - “... yes ... yes ... I need it...” - he set the knife down and slid his right hand into the tangle of exposed intestines - he dug deep and found something that gave her immense pleasure.
“Oh god! Thank you! ... thank you ...” and she started cumming, “... yes! ... yes! ... thank you! ... thank you! ...”
Her orgasm rolled inside her as she cried out; “... I cum for you ...” and gasped through it, thanking him after every rolling peak. But as she was coming down from her powerful orgasm, he pushed his left hand inside her and pulled a length of her descending colon out of her belly and began to stroke it in his hand, squeezing and manipulating it like he was masturbating a cock. It was still attached so she felt it and was overwhelmed.
“... oh ... no ... please ... oh god no ...” she gasped as she squirmed on the floor, his hands working her aggressively, “... please stop ... please ... it’s too much ...”
But despite her protests I could see she was building to a bigger orgasm. I think she wanted him to stop because these sensations were so foreign and so invasive she couldn’t handle them, but he knew that he had to keep going to give her a final orgasmic send off.
She kept alternatively crying out that it was too much and enthusiastic gasps of ‘... yes ...” wanting the orgasm growing in her ruined belly.
At last the girl came hard, squirming and shuddering as his hands kept busy until she flopped limp, her head rolling from side to side - she knew she was dying and so did I.
In her dying gasps she thanked him over and over, then slowly wound down, her eyes crossing and rolling up in her head, her body slumping, her nipples softening, her ruined belly jiggling like jelly when he pulled his hands free.
I was shaking after I watched the video and still shaking when I watched it a second time as I masturbated to a strong orgasm. In total, I watched it eighteen times straight that night and had countless orgasms, working myself with fingers and toys in my cunt and rectum. Even after crawling into bed after calling in sick from work, exhausted and stinking as the sun rose, I only slept an hour before awakening, consumed by arousal and needing to watch it again and again. By noon I was delirious and weak. I ate two granola bars washed down with milk and immediately threw them back up - I even masturbated while I puked in my kitchen sink.
I was obsessed. These videos had drawn me into a dark world that I craved. With shaking hands I logged back onto the .onion chat forum and sent a PM to ‘Z’; ‘My god, I want that so bad.’
I awoke late that evening still sitting naked in my desk chair - I had passed out after sending the PM. My body ached, my neck so sore I had trouble straightening it. My crotch and inner thighs were crusted with dried mucus and the smell of freshly fucked asshole competed with the funk of my cunt and armpits. The seat of my chair was wet - I had pissed myself as I slept.
I made my way to the bathroom, still weak and now sore. A hot shower felt good. I ate two more granola bars and drank some milk and it all stayed down.
Sitting back down at my computer, I saw I had a reply from ‘Z’;
‘That can be arranged if you’re serious.’ it said.
‘Was it you in the video?’ I asked. The reply popped up less than a minute later;
Shivers travelled up my back.
‘How can we meet?’ I asked.
‘We’ll contact you.’
‘We know who you are, Amanda.’
The bottom dropped out of my belly. I felt sick to my stomach and my legs went cold and weak. But at the same time I felt that familiar twinge deep in my sex and felt my cunt get oily - it was a belly hunger - a need for something pushed deep inside me.
I was talking with someone who wanted to kill me; someone who had killed others. Feeling light-headed, I got up and paced around my apartment fretting, feeling suddenly trapped. I was in too deep, I had chased this crime down the rabbit hole and found a dark sensuous perversion that corrupted me. I felt like I was drowning in foul water - in the beginning I had waded into the still waters as I discovered the surface of the world Brandy died in, then deeper as I found more and more sexual death, and now I was in over my head, my feet unable to touch the bottom.
For the first time in weeks I noticed the condition of my home; dirty clothes strewn on the floor; empty cans and food containers on every surface; sex toys and cummy underpants - some with foul skid marks - intermixed with it all. It occurred to me that it looked just like the homes of addicts that I had the misfortune to enter when investigating crimes. I used to be judgmental about those lost souls, but now I understood how it could get so bad.
My phone rang and it scared the shit out of me. So soon? Did he want to meet tonight? Was he going to kill me right away? I was trembling when I picked it up and looked at the caller ID - it was the station. Feeling a warm flood of relief I answered. It was my Watch Commander asking how I was and if I would be in for my shift the next morning. I told him I was feeling better (a lie) and that I’d be there in the morning (a truth). He told me I’d be on uniform patrol the rest of the week. I thanked him and ended the call.
My uniforms were all dirty. One smelled of stale cunt and ass. I gathered them and some underwear, bras, sweats, and t-shirts and headed down to the laundry room. It took me until one in the morning to wash, dry, and iron my uniforms, then I set my alarm for five thirty and flopped into bed.
Being back on patrol allowed me to clear my head. The rest of the week was standard police matters; shoplifters; traffic violations; domestic disputes; and one foiled armed robbery.
At home I did my best to clean up my apartment in my off hours, but the vids I had purchased were like heroin to a junkie - they kept drawing me back to masturbate to orgasms as I watched girls cum and die until I was raw.
It was while re-reading the exchange I had with ‘Z’ that a faint memory was tweaked. The next day during my lunch I double-checked; one of the teens interviewed during the investigation of the original four girls’ murders was a friend they all shared; Alexander Baker. In the margin of one of the investigator’s notes were the words; “AKA Zee”.
That night I went back on the .onion forum and PMed ‘Z’.
‘Is Z short for Alexander?”
His answer was awaiting me the next morning;
‘My-my, Officer Mansville, aren’t you a clever girl?’
‘Tell me, Amanda, are you in or out?’ and with it a link to yet one more gutting video of a plump girl having her belly cut open and her insides played with until she orgasmed and died.
It was decision time and I thought about it all day. On one hand I knew that the evidence I had was slim, so to pursue it I would have to go to Captain McCain with what I had and start an official investigation working with the prosecutor’s office. The problem was that if I did that, I know how it works; they’d investigate me as well - take my computer, analyze my files, log in to the .onion forum and be able to see all my posts. Then there was the psych evaluations that would no doubt end my career and put me on a watch list.
I could just walk away from it all, but now that Zee and his cohorts knew who I was, would they come for me? Instead of dying willingly like the girls in the vids, would I die terrified and in agony?
The third option was both frightening - like cold knot in the gut fear - but at the same time was perversely arousing. To do it. To go through with it willingly. It appealed on so many levels; the complete surrender; getting past the initial pain; to feel such an invasive experience; and to die the best way I could think of - in the midst of an orgasm.
Cops have one of the highest suicide rates of any profession. We see the worst of humanity. We only feel gratitude from each other and even then it’s rare. We have no friends other than other cops because civilians just don’t get it. After retirement, too many of us isolate and abuse alcohol or drugs until we eat our own gun.
I knew I could get past the pain - I had indulged in some group BDSM experiences in college that were painful and humiliating, and I remember those times fondly; the sweet feeling of surrendering my body to physical torment, being reduced to a pitiful shaking bundle of ecstatic pain for the entertainment of others and finally given an orgasm as a reward. Those were the best months of my life.
By the end of my shift I had settled on my answer and as soon as I did, I felt a peace come over me. When I got home I logged on and looked at Zee’s last message;
‘Tell me, Amanda, are you in or out?’
‘In’ I typed and sent my answer.
An hour later my phone rang. The display said ‘unknown number’, but I answered it anyway.
“Hello Officer Mansville.” it was Charles Roux.
“We’re having an end-of-summer garden party, a dinner and an evening of imbibing this coming Saturday. Weather permitting, we’ll have it in our garden. I wonder if you’d like to attend as our guest?”
“You’re inviting me to dinner?”
“Yes. One of Breanne’s close friends is looking forward to meeting you.”
“Would that be Alexander?”
There was a long silence and I heard faint clicks on the line; someone was running a check to see if the line was secure.
“Let’s just say he’s fascinated with meeting you in person.”
“I’d love to.” I said with a shiver.
“Dress is casual, we want you to be as comfortable and relaxed as possible.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“So Saturday at seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Take a cab, Amanda. Too many cars attract attention.”
I swallowed past a dry throat - this was it. This was real.
“I will.” I whispered, then; “Charles ... you’ll be my host?”
“Of course, Amanda.”
“Thank you.” I said and disconnected.
I was a horny, nervous wreck for the next 48 hours. Thursday night I couldn’t sleep more than a few moments at a time and my head wasn’t into my final patrol shift on Friday. My partner even had to step in when I couldn’t remember the sequence of rights during an arrest.
Friday after work I stopped at a bar and got myself so stupid drunk they took my keys and called me a cab. When I got home I spent half an hour puking my guts out and masturbating. I managed to crawl into bed and passed out for eight hours.
Saturday found me nursing a slight hangover and spending the day watching my snuff vids, this time paying close attention to the facial expressions and involuntary body movements of the girls being killed. Would I be that committed? Would I be that brave?
At five o’clock I logged onto the .onion forum and making my final entry;
‘This is it. I’ve made my decision. Tonight I’m going to die at the hands of another. I think it’s a midline gutting that they have planned for me. I am hungry for this - hungry to feel my belly opened, my intestines released from the embrace of my muscles, hungry to feel a man’s hand snake inside me and play with the secrets of my flesh locked away my whole life. I’m hungry to be watched by others who will be there. I’ve seen other girls endure it - even orgasm while it happens. I hope mine goes as well as theirs.
You’ll never know if I die in ecstasy or in twisted agony, unless my snuffer answers this post. I hope he does. I hope they film it and you all can see it. Whether I die screaming and begging or moaning in pleasure, just know that I was willing. - pdsub’
I opened up my computer and removed the SSD storage modules and putting them in the microwave until they crackled and smoked. I then drew a hot bath to calm my jittery nerves. I carefully shaved my entire body; pits, crotch, and legs, because I didn’t know if I was going to be naked when it happened.
I got dressed in my most comfy cotton underpants, softest jeans, and a loose top. I wore my new sneakers without socks and left my apartment. I walked through town by the river enjoying the lingering warmth of summer until 6:30 then called a cab on my cell phone. When it arrived, I tossed my phone in the river, got in, and gave the address of a house down the block from Legend House.
I’d never seen Charles’ back yard before. It was large and beautifully landscaped; surrounded by a tall fence and greenery, overhanging trees, and a large gazebo.
Charles had long trestle tables set up with white linen and folding white chairs with brown cushions, and a crew of caterers were preparing and serving the evening meal. There was a wide variety of spirits available at a self-serve bar, from imported beers to wines to hard liquor.
As I walked into his yard through a thick gate it was Breanne who noticed me first. She ran to me and hugged me, holding tight and kissing my cheek, our breasts pressing tight together.
“I’m so glad you came, Amanda.” she gushed, “We all are.” The greeting was a far cry more friendly than our first meeting - at first I thought people didn’t matter to Breanne until they joined the club, but then I realized she was running her hands up and down my torso - she was checking for a wire.
“I’m not wearing a wire.” I said to her softly.
Breanne looked up into my eyes and smiled.
Breanne was wearing a plaid schoolgirl uniform with a white top, bobby socks and saddle shoes that I was sure was more costume than apparel. She hooked her arm in mine and led me toward the crowd already gathered around the bar.
“Daddy.” she called out to Charles, “Look who I found.”
Charles smiled warmly and squeezed my hand, “I’m so glad you chose to come. Let me get you a drink.”
He turned to the bar, “Your pleasure?”
I saw the Heineken on ice, “A beer.” I said, pointing at the Heineken.
“May I suggest a Fürstenberg lager?” Charles said, pulling a brown bottle from the ice, opening it and pouring it into a glass, “It’s an import from the Black Forest, brewed the same way since 1283. Heineken is excellent, but Fürstenberg is the champagne of lagers.”
He was right - it was by far the best beer I ever tasted.
“It’s good.” I said, “Really good.”
“You’re drinking history, my dear.” Charles smiled, then turned away as a young man walked up and touched his shoulder. He was listening to some sort of radio with ear buds. He and Charles huddled for a moment and I heard the young man say; “Nothing.” Charles nodded and patted the young man on the shoulder as he pulled the ear buds out and wrapped the cord around the radio.
I took a good look - it was a police scanner. They were taking no chances.
Charles brought the man forward.
“Amanda, meet Alexander. Zee for short.” he said. Zee reached out and took my hand.
“At last.” he smiled.
“Yes.” I said, feeling fluttery in the pit of my stomach. I must have looked nervous because Zee wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s okay.” Zee said softly, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen.”
“For sure?” I asked, turning to look him in the eye.
“For sure.” he answered.
“So, I could just walk away?”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn over everything I’ve gathered?”
“No. Because it would end your career and ruin your life.” he smiled as we walked slowly toward the gazebo on the gravel path, “You’re in too deep, Amanda. Not only did you pay for illegal material, we have videos of you masturbating as you watched it all.”
I felt a coldness bloom in my belly, “... how ...”
“You don’t cover the lens on your laptop.” Zee explained, “It’s always a good idea. Not that it matters now.”
“It aroused you a lot, didn’t it?” Zee asked as we sat down in the gazebo.
I felt my face flush, “Yes.”
“Hey, no shame.” Zee said, giving me another side hug, “People are either traumatized when they see the vids, or it awakens something inside them.”
“Yeah.” I admit, “It did.” Then I look into Zee’s eyes, “But I’m still scared shitless.”
“I know.” Zee said, “But we have something for that. It’ll take the fear away and let the horny rise up.”
“It’s going to be good, Amanda. Intense and good.”
Just as I finished my beer a waiter arrived with another, taking away my empty.
“Am I the only one tonight?” I asked.
“No. Breanne is going to do her thing and see that blonde girl?”
I looked to where he was pointing - a girl in her late teens or early twenties was standing with three men. She was smiling too much and laughing too loud, trying to cover her own fear.
“She isn’t sure yet.” Zee explained, “She wants to watch you first.”
“So, I’m supposed to inspire her?”
Zee laughed, “No. We wouldn’t put that burden on you.” he reached up and squeezed the back of my neck, “If you decide to go through with it, we just want you to surrender and let it happen.”
“A lot of girls have, right?”
“Yeah. So many.” Zee said thoughtfully, “Who knew?”
“This place ...” I said, looking around at the beautiful garden, the renovated house, the normalcy of a catered garden party.
“... it gets inside your head, doesn’t it?” Zee finished my thought. I turned to look into his eyes.
“Yes. It does. It did.” I felt that familiar sexual tug deep in my lower belly. Zee was studying my face.
“You just made your decision.” he said - it wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” I whispered.
People continued to mingle and chat for almost an hour. I had two more Fürstenbergs and was starting to feel a strong buzz as I explored the perimeter of Charles’ yard; I followed the soft sound of trickling of water and realized there were water features hidden in thick foliage - bamboo mostly - along all the fences to mask any sound in the back yard. The vacant lots on either side of the house and the one behind were undeveloped and thick with trees. I guessed that even the occasional scream back here would be muffled from the distant neighbours.
At last Charles announced that dinner was about to be served and asked us to take our seats. The tables had name cards, and I found mine - I was sandwiched between Zee and Breanne. On the other side of Breanne was her girlfriend whose name I forgot as soon as we were introduced. The blond girl sat across from Breanne and I learned her name was Nikki.
The dinner was amazing - truly a feast. It began with truffled beet & cherry tomato salad, then truffle mushroom & ricotta ravioli, followed by duck confit & mushroom risotto, with a main course of smoked maple Atlantic salmon. For dessert we had ginger and mint sorbet. All of it washed down with a never-ending flow of Perrier-Jouet Grand Brut champagne.
During the main course I turned to Breanne;
“How does your dad afford all this?” I asked.
“Non-participants pay to be here. They pay a lot.” she said nonchalantly.
I watched Nikki throughout dinner; she was wide-eyed and displaying a nervous energy that spoke of her excitement and nervousness. She picked at her food, appearing to not have much of an appetite - this was a girl who was facing a choice between life and death. Nikki was like me - a moth drawn to a flame, wanting to delve into the bright intensity of light, but fearful of burning, riding that edge between obsession and intense death.
We ate until we were stuffed - my top was tight across my full belly as I ignored the urge to stand and walk off my meal. Just as dessert was being served, Zee arose and went around the table, leaning in and talking quietly to Nikki, his lips close to her ear. She nodded and opened her mouth, lifting her tongue. Zee produced a needleless syringe and squirted fluid under her tongue. She made a bitter face as she swallowed, then tucked eagerly into her dessert.
Zee came back and leaned in between Breanne and I. I could feel his breath on my cheek.
“I have something that will make everything feel good.” he said, “A blend of MDMA and a few other synthetics. I highly recommend it.”
I looked down the table to Charles who was watching me. He nodded, gesturing toward Zee with his champagne glass.
“Okay.” I whispered to Zee and opened my mouth, touching the roof of my mouth with the tip of my tongue. Zee squirted the fluid into my mouth.
It was bitter, but not intolerable. I knew why he offered it before the dessert of sorbet - to allow us to cleanse the taste from our mouths.
Zee turned to Breanne who shook her head before he sat back down.
As we all finished our desserts and our plates were taken away, I could see the serving staff loading up their catering van in preparation of leaving. The last thing our servers did was to uncork and leave bottles of champagne on the tables and restock the bar.
I leaned back and enjoyed the fullness in my belly and sipped champagne to keep my buzz going. I had become aroused during the meal - that slow, squirmy kind of arousal that came with the sensuality of eating such delicacies with slow gluttony until I was full to bursting. But since Zee had squirted the liquid into my mouth, I had felt another kind of arousal - this one hot and needy, making my whole body tingle. I felt my cunt loosening the way it does after a hard fuck; gaping; oozing oily mucus into my underpants. I felt my clit swell until it throbbed.
I noticed many of the guests kept stealing glances at Breanne. Their expressions curious and lustful.
Breanne looked at her father who nodded. She then slumped in her chair and spread her knees. Her girlfriend smiled and hoisted her skirt to slide her hand between her open thighs and begin working her. To my surprise, Breanne reached out with her right hand and slid it over my crotch, cupping me, massaging me. I slumped as well and opened my thighs wide - I was to be part of what came next.
Zee arose and walked behind Breanne, looping a soft cord twice around her throat and began to tighten it. Breanne stared into the wide eyes of Nikki as she started to make gentle choking sounds. I could feel my own arousal building fast, Breanne’s hand gripping and rubbing me, the material of my underpants grinding against my clit.
Zee tightened the cord and Breanne choked and gagged. When she heaved I could hear her dinner gurgling up her throat but only a few liquid burps made it past her constricted throat. Breanne began to hump her crotch against her girlfriends hand, her body moving sensually like a writhing snake, but her grip on my own crotch tightened. I could smell her sex and my own.
Fuck, I was about to cum.
Zee strained as he synched the rope as tight as he could, turning Breanne’s face a darker colour, puffing her face, triggering her orgasm. As she started to cum, the hand gripping my crotch began to shake badly, then lose strength and fall away. Breanne’s gaze lost focus as she shuddered in orgasm, her thighs closing on her girlfriend’s hand, gripping and trapping it there, her belly undulating, her throat working silently.
I couldn’t help it, I reached between my own thighs and masturbated through my jeans, cumming almost instantly.
As Breanne arched her back hard and her eyes rolled up under her eyelids, Zee released the cord and pulled it away. Still arched, Breanne gagged hard and a small jet of vomit spewed past her lips, then she was gasping and sobbing, rolling toward her girlfriend who wrapped her up in her arms and soothed her with kisses and whispers. Breanne began to sob, her shoulders hitching as she tried to curl into a ball in her lover’s arms.
“It’s okay, baby.” her girlfriend whispered, “You’re okay.”
“... I’m sorry ... I’m sorry ...” Breanne sobbed weakly.
I looked across the table at Nikki - the blond girl’s mouth was hanging open as she stared wide-eyed at Breanne, the bib of her dress tented by her puckered and tight nipples. I looked down at my own chest and saw the same and realized my nipples had been tingling throughout Breanne’s performance.
“She’s sorry she’s still alive.” Zee whispered to me as he leaned down, “She’s never told Charles that - but she is heartbroken every time she comes to.”
Recovering somewhat, Breanne allowed her girlfriend to help her to her feet and help her navigate her way to the house, her steps erratic as she leaned into the girl. She was still crying and was in desperate need of after care.
Zee leaned closer and whispered;
“It’s final decision time, Amanda.” and I felt an icy grip tangling my bowels.
I suddenly didn’t feel like an Amanda - I felt like an Amy, the name my family had for me when I was a little girl. I felt young and vulnerable; scared the way I was to go to the dentist; scared the way I was on my first day of school; scared the way I was the first time I was sent to summer camp, and; scared when I realized I’d let things go too far with an 18 year old boy and lost my virginity as I squirmed under his weight in a tent at the age of 12 with my best friend cheering me on. In that moment I could hear her giggling chant of “... go-Amy ... go-Amy ... go-Amy ... you go, girl!”. It ended with a painful cramping orgasm as his cock stretched me so deep I thought I was going to die.
I looked down the table and met Charles’ gaze. I was aware everyone else was watching me as well. Excuse after excuse burbled up in my mind; I’m too full and might throw up; I have to pee so bad; I have to poop; and the reality ...
But none of my excuses held any weight; I probably would throw up; my bladder was tight and full so I probably would pee my pants; and if I pooped? So what? None of it mattered. The girls in the Legend House Orgy lay dead in their own filth, their own puke and piss - people lose control of their bodies when they were dying violently and this crowd knew this. They were prepared for it and allowed it to happen unashamed.
And my last excuse had only one answer; When is anyone ever ready to die?
I braced one hand against the tabletop and the other on the back of my chair as I turned, but my legs shook and gave out halfway up. I whimpered.
“Help Amanda to the gazebo, Zee.” Charles said as he rose and picked up a wide-bladed knife and headed up the gravel pathway to the gazebo. The other guests rose and followed him.
I felt Zee’s strong hands grip my upper arms from behind as he helped me struggle to my feet. I was dizzy; weak; felt sick to my stomach and my bladder was throbbing. I had tunnel vision as Zee walked me to the gazebo, my legs uncoordinated and trembling, my feet erratic and stumbling. My hips felt disconnected, my legs numb from fear, my bare feet cold in my sneakers.
The other guests parted as I neared the gazebo, and Zee led me to Charles who was waiting near one of the gazebo walls, the knife in his right hand. Zee turned me to face Charles and eased me back until I was thankfully leaning against the wall. Charles smiled and pressed his hand against my chest to steady me, then tapped the inside of each of my feet.
“Open your stance.” he said gently, “Feet apart. That’s it. Good girl.”
Charles then stroked his hand down my body, over my tight belly and curving between my thighs. He cupped me and massaged by crotch firmly, worked me until I remembered my arousal. It felt good. So good. I began to gasp and moan, forgetting for a moment why I was there. I was going to cum. Charles was going to make me cum. I was reaching for my orgasm when he pushed the knife hilt deep into my lower belly.
The pain was exquisite - a sharp bite to my skin, a bruising of my abdominal muscles, and an intense electric tingling in my bowels. I cried out and was about to work up a scream when Charles’ hand covered my mouth. I could smell myself on his fingers.
Words can’t begin to tell you the power of what I was feeling. The cold blade of the knife was very present inside my lower abdomen - I could feel it buried in the coils of my intestines. As he moved the knife around inside me, my bowels beginning to squirm and spasm, cramping and writhing inside me like a can of worms exposed to sunlight - sharp quivering movement inside my belly. It was a tight electric feeling that was insanely sexual, like the extreme edge of an orgasm that wouldn’t quite explode and give me release.
Once satisfied that I wouldn’t scream, Charles took his hand away and worked my belly with the knife. It was if he had discovered that my abdomen was a sex organ and he was fucking me with a deadly sharp dildo. As intense as it was, I wanted more of it and said so - I wanted it rougher and deeper - I wanted him to fulfill the promise of the ultimate orgasm that these feelings promised.
I couldn’t believe it possible, but Charles made it even more intense; he pulled the knife from me and pushed it in again and again, slowly making a series of stab wounds from my belly button to the spot just above my pubic bone. When I felt the blade grind against my pubic bone I knew what the girl in video was feeling - the vibrations of the grinding blade made my legs go even weaker than before and I almost collapsed. Then as the blade sunk deeper I felt the pressure of my full bladder increase to painful levels then quickly felt it burst, flooding my pelvic cradle with piss. The feeling was one of release.
Feeling it plunge into the hollow of my belly button was equally intense; he angled the blade so the tip was just under my food and alcohol bloated stomach. He moved the blade around and I felt it gently stroking my heavy stomach, gravity having pulled it lower inside me. I felt it tighten and I gagged, burped, quivered at the invasive intensity. I wanted to cum so badly. I wanted to die during this one last promised orgasm. I wanted it to go on yet at the same time I wanted it to end. I remembered the girl in the video gasping that it was ‘too much’ but experienced a bigger, more powerful orgasm because it really was too much. This was sensory overload and I thought I was at its peak.
I was so wrong.
As I was gagging, burping, trying to keep my dinner down as my protesting stomach tightened and slumped in erratic contractions, lifting and dropping its heavy load of food and alcohol. Charles pulled the knife from me, but the sensations continued. He stepped up beside me and took me by the upper arms and led me to a lounge chair in the centre of the gazebo. He helped me sit then slowly recline. There was no way I could have accomplished that on my own - I was weak and vulnerable and fragile - I was completely at his mercy and I discovered I loved that state of being. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted someone before in my life. I surrendered myself to him, wanting him to take me through the last moments of my life - I was just one of many he had done this to - he was the expert.
I became aware that all the other guests had gathered around and were watching my performance. Couples were becoming sexual with each other as they watched, both men and women were openly masturbating. One man had bent Nikki over a bench and had lifted her dress, pushing his cock into her from behind and beginning to fuck her. Nikki was eager for it, her eyes on me, aroused by what Charles had done to my belly and my struggle to keep it together.
As I lay there watching those who watched me, I trembled and stroked my wounded abdomen. My belly had come alive inside, tingles and twitches within - my bloated stomach, bowels, and sex organs, even my punctured bladder were quivering. It all felt amazing, overwhelming, and oh-so-sexual. I wanted to masturbate, but I felt so frail that I feared if I moved I would lose the sexual feelings and be left with only pain. Waves of nausea rolled through me from the pit of my stomach to my gullet - I knew I was going to throw up and felt my face burn in shame that everyone was going to see me lose control.
Charles appeared at my side, studying my face.
“I’m going to be sick.” I gurgled. Charles reached up and stroked my cheek - a comforting gesture.
“It’s okay.” he whispered.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, relinquishing all my will to his. I gagged, retched, feeling the build toward vomiting as strongly as I had felt the build toward orgasm my entire life since losing my virginity in that tent.
“Go ahead.” he said calmly.
I had his permission.
I relaxed my body to let the inevitable happen. My bowels were squirming now, the sensation causing my stomach to tighten. I heaved, gagged, felt the semi-fluid in my over-stuffed stomach tease its way up my gullet. My arousal was high - my clit hard, my cunt loose and oily. I wondered how long I would last. Suddenly my stomach tightened hard and the first gush of dinner rushed up my throat and out past my loose lips. I could taste the champagne and ginger. It felt like an orgasm - that uncontrollable build and violent ejaculation from my belly. I gagged and heaved again and through tear-blurred eyes saw Charles reach to my waistline and unbutton my jeans. I wanted to slow down and savour what he was about to do, but my stomach had taken on a life of his own. Between heaves I heard and felt him tug my zipper down and open my jeans, then felt him slide his hand inside my underpants, slipping two fingers inside my loose cunt and curling them to press on my g-spot. I felt my jeans slip off my bum, pulled low by the angle of his wrist. I opened my thighs as much as I could as Charles began finger-fucking me violently, lifting my crotch and mashing my hard clit with each rapid tug.
Suddenly my heaves weren’t like orgasms - they WERE orgasms. I came with each heave - beautiful, clenching orgasms that flared white-hot each time my stomach convulsed. I could taste everything that came up - a stew of every dish and every liquid I had consumed, and near the end I tasted the bitterness of bile which triggered dry-heaves. My orgasms kept coming, but were sweetly painful as my stomach clenched on itself - it no longer had anything to work on.
Blinking away my tears, I saw that Nikki was now being fucked hard by another man with a third waiting his turn. Her face was flushed and her expression wild and desperate as she did her best to keep her head up to watch me but kept curling her body in orgasm. In the distance I saw Zee walking back from the house with a sharpened metal spike. Was it for me or Nikki?
As the man came in Nikki and the third took his place and fucked her violently, Charles eased off fingering me and I was able to catch my breath.
“I think I puked everything up.” I gasped as Charles produced his knife once more. I watched as he carefully inserted it into the lowest stab wound on my belly and began to slice between the cuts, opening me from mound to my belly button. My belly was somewhat numb from my existing wounds but I cried out and strained hard as he cut under my belly button and sliced through the last of my oblique muscles - it wasn’t so much from pain as it was from astonishment as I felt my lower belly suddenly released - gaping open as my intestines plumped up out of me. It was shocking and exciting how he had changed my body so drastically, so permanently - my belly was open now, wide open, my insides exposed. I watched in amazement as my intestines curled and slithered as they found their way up out of me, like living snakes escaping confinement.
I was trembling badly as Charles set down his knife and gently slid his hand into the wet tangle of my intestines, reaching deep.
“Oh god.” I gasped - it was such a foreign and invasive sensation that I gagged and retched, the sensation of his hand stroking through my guts making them quiver and squirm, making my stomach convulse weakly.
“... yeah ...” I breathed as his fingers slid around my cunt from the inside, and pressed his thumb against my g-spot. The sensation was so intense that I retched hard, my stomach absolutely vibrating in my open belly. Now I knew what the girl Casey was feeling in the gutting video - a growing, tight orgasm. The more Charles squeezed the more intense my orgasm became. It took my breath away as it increased in power.
The last I saw of Nikki was that the third man had cum inside her and was now kneeling and working her cunt hard with his right hand as Zee lined the spike up with her asshole and started fucking her with it. Nikki’s face was sweaty and contorted with desperate lust, yet she still did her best to keep watching me.
Charles working me became too much and I squirmed on the lounge as my orgasm exploded in my ruined belly. This orgasm was stronger than any I felt before in my life. I felt my toes curl tight in my sneakers as I twisted and turned toward him, burying my face against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his and gripping his upper arm in both my hands as I felt his muscles rippling as he was worked my cunt, milking my orgasm out of me as he ground his thumb against my g-spot.
I knew this was it. This was my final orgasm - once it peaked and faded, so would I. My body had taken too much abuse to survive this, and this orgasm was its last desperate attempt to draw pleasure from life. I clung to Charles like I clung to this orgasm, cumming desperately as he worked me. He reached across with his other hand and pinched my left nipple through my top, twisting it, pulling it, adding its voice to the screaming chorus of the ecstasy raging inside me.
I felt my orgasm peak then begin to fade, and with it the numbness crept in. It began with my toes that relaxed inside my sneakers, then tingled its way up my ankles and calves - my thighs, my bum and lower back. My arms were rapidly losing strength, my fingers numbing like my feet.
“Just what you wanted.” Charles whispered to me in that final intimate moment and in his sweet kindness, he held tight to my cunt, still milking it even though my orgasm was fading away to nothing. But I needed him to do that and he knew it - his grip on the core of my sexuality was the only connection I had left to this world.
“... yeah ...” I gasped as a wave of bliss washed through me. I was floating - weightless and without pain. This is what death felt like; a release from my body. The world was closing in around me as I drew and released my last breath. The last sense to leave me was my hearing ... they were going to impale Nikki. I could sense in the desperate noises she was making that she had made her decision;
“Yes! Just do it!” she cried out in a voice hoarse from crying out, then grunted as she felt the spike pushed up deep into her body as I lay dying.
Yet death was not the empty abyss I thought it was. At least not here. As the world faded to black silence around me I felt a presence touch and embrace me - it was soft and young, fresh and vibrant.
“... you remembered me ...” it communicated in a voice that wasn’t a voice and I knew I had found Brandy at last and she had found me.
“... come ...” her thought compelled me as she drew me tight in her embrace and took me to a place of eternal bliss and sweet, orgasmic suffering.
And we were not alone.