Jason is sweet and kind and gentle and he says he loves me, but I wish he didn’t. Jason is in love with an idea, not with me.
“I love you, Allie.” he says and I can hear the ache in his heart, “I love you so much.”
“You don’t know me, Jason.” I tell him, feeling so uncomfortable in the front seat of his car, “If you did, you wouldn’t love me.”
“I do know you.” I can see his forced smile even though the car is dark, “You’re gentle and kind and artistic. I love watching you dance.”
I shake my head slowly, if he only knew. Love can only exist when the soul is laid bare, when all secrets are revealed, when you are accepted in all your lust and all your perversion.
“Please, Allie. Give us a chance.”
“I can’t.” I whisper. If he knew why I can’t he’d freak out. I can’t tell him, although part of me wishes I could - wishes we lived in a world without judgment, where who I truly am could be accepted and cherished. I’ve had trouble letting people get close to me for five years now. I used to have lots of friends, but now I isolate - sure I act friendly and pleasant, but I’m afraid to let people get close, because if they got close and I let my guard down they might find the darkness inside me - the thing inside me that keeps drawing me toward perversion and sexual horror. To me when I masturbate and fantasize, I love the sexual horror and the perversity of my imaginary world, and I let it engulf me - swallow me - consume me until I have to stuff something in my mouth as I orgasm so my parents won’t hear me.
I remember the night I was infected by this darkness, but I push the memory away because I feel myself growing moist and I don’t want Jason to smell my arousal.
But I do wish I had someone in my life I could tell - someone who I could be honest with so people would know what happened to me. Where I went. Why I can’t come back.
“Can I stay and watch you dance?” he asks. He’s so naïve. “Is it something I’d know?”
Jason had insisted on giving me a ride from Almont into the big town. That’s what we call it; the big town. I was going to take the bus, but Jason insisted. I told him I was meeting friends from a club I belong to and he assumed it was a dance club because I wore my workout suit and wasn’t wearing make-up. I had a small gym bag with me, so I guess it did look like I was going to a dance club practice meet-up, but the bag contained a short kimono; two fleet enemas, a two litre plastic thermos of peach yoghurt drink, a packet of sani-wipes, and a towel. He wanted to come with me, but I told him I was staying over at a club member’s house - which is true, and I guess it is a club, but we don’t dance.
Well, maybe what we do can be called a dance - we do it to entertain and our bodies move, but we do this dance alone and only once.
“It’s an experimental piece.” I tell him, flitting around the truth because I blush when I lie, “It’s been done before (many times), but our club thinks we can do it better (we will). We really don’t want an audience (only the members of the club). Some of the girls won’t be able to relax if an outsider is there (so true...).”
I know I couldn’t relax with Jason freaking out as he watches me. I only want people who appreciate what I’m doing, who are aroused by it to watch me - I want their hungry eyes on me, to feel their gaze on my naked flesh as I struggle. I want to surrender to it and leave my shyness behind like a discarded robe.
I am going to Breanne’s house. Her and her dad Charles have just finished the renovations and all the inspections are done, so the old house they bought has a new life. It’s exciting to go there, the house is famous. Charles waited until the last reporter showed up to do a last interview and a last tour of the renovated house, then he spread the word about the housewarming. I got the call from Breanne and we talked about details and after I had to masturbate I was shaking so bad. A sweet blend of fear and excitement.
Now Jason wants to wait for me until my ride gets here, but I tell him no, he needs to go home - I’ll be fine. He insists and I insist, and I have to pretend to be angry to get him to leave me at the bus shelter. Reluctantly he goes and I watch him drive slowly down the road back toward Almont.
Jason doesn’t know me, but to be fair he’s part of a long list - almost no one knows me. Almost everyone in my life thinks I’m an average girl, who is excited to go away to college, who dreams of meeting ‘the guy’ and getting married and having kids ... fuck that. Fuck all of that.
Breanne knows me. And Charles. And a few people on Dolcett Girls forum. And some strangers are going to get to know me tonight.
I sit down in the bus shelter and hold my gym bag on my lap. The yellow light over the shelter does little to push back the darkness. I can hear cars on the distant highway and the crickets chirping in the field behind me. The autumn air is crisp as I breathe deep.
I know Breanne from when her and her dad Charles lived in Almont. That was just after Breanne’s mom died - well - killed herself. The coroner listed it as “Death by Misadventure”. Breanne’s mom hanged herself in the rec room of their house.
Breanne found her body. She also found the vibrator that had slid out of her mom’s pussy and the string of large anal balls she’d pulled out of her rectum, the ring still hooked around her left thumb and the balls hanging from her hand like grim Christmas tree ornaments. She died of autoerotic asphyxiation - her feet were on the floor, but her knees were bent with her thighs wide open so Breanne figured her mom had an orgasm just as she lost consciousness and strangled to death. She pissed and shit herself as she died.
Charles and Breanne wanted to get away from the sympathetic yet judgmental looks and the lame utterances; ... so sorry for your loss ... she’s in a better place ... her suffering is over ... with Breanne wanting to scream; My mom died cumming! So they moved to Almont for a couple years and now they’re back in their hometown.
I hear the low thunder of a muscle car rolling down the street toward me. Its headlights have that harsh blue tint and it is idling as it creeps toward me. As it gets close it slides over onto my side of the street and the tinted driver’s window slides down. There’s a young man inside - he’s handsome in a bad-boy sort of way.
“You Allie?” he asks.
“I’m Zee. Charles asked me to pick you up.” he says and smiles, “Take you up to the housewarming.”
“Breanne said Charles would pick me up.”
“He’s pretty busy getting everything ready.”
I hesitate and we sit there in the cool night, his car rumbling, the crickets gone silent.
“Okay.” I say at last, standing up and looping my bag over my shoulder as I stride around to the passenger side. The door has no handle but it pops open as I get to it. I climb in and drop my bag at my feet - it’s a big car and I’m a small girl, so I feel a little lost in there.
“Allie? This is Kathryn.” Zee says, motioning toward the back seat. I turn and see a woman in her mid-twenties, she’s dressed in a white blouse, and matching cream skirt and business jacket.
“I didn’t think I had to get dressed up.” I say, catastrophizing about the night ahead being a series of embarrassments.
“You don’t.” Kathryn says, “Zee picked me up right from work. I couldn’t see the point in changing.” Kathryn is emotionless, mostly sitting and staring out the window. Maybe that’s the best way to be, but I’m having trouble remaining tranquil - my stomach is all butterflies and I’m trembling slightly, not so anyone would notice, but still.
Zee pulls a u-turn and heads back the way he came. I feel shy and awkward as we three drive for long moments in silence.
“Has it started?” I ask, trying to fill the unbearable quiet.
“No, it’s just casual right now.” Zee answers, then tilts his head to my bag on the floor, “You still have time to get prepped.” he glances at the clock on his dashboard; 8:05 pm, “ Some of us won’t arrive for awhile, so you’ll have about an hour.”
I nod as I blush - how does he know? But then I think; who cares if he knows? Breanne said the whole night was clothing optional, so none of us is going to have any secrets pretty soon.
It’s only a ten-minute drive, thankfully. Zee pulls another u-turn and slides up in front of Charles’ and Breanne’s new home. The renovations have made the house look new but with the original classic lines, nothing like the photos of the old house in the newspapers and on TV. Before, the house was dilapidated; windows boarded up; missing front stairs; overgrown yard littered with old appliances and junk. Now it looks like an upscale family home.
We get out of the car and walk up to the front door, Zee opens it and ushers us in. There are about a dozen people already there, drinking and chatting - everyone still has their clothes on. Some are watching video screens and I realize they are surveillance videos of different rooms in the house. The atmosphere is casual and buoyant. I look for Breanne or Charles, but can’t find them.
“Allie?” Zee says as he gently tugs on the sleeve of my workout top, “Bre said to show you to the master bathroom.”
I follow Zee down the hall and he ushers me in.
“Where is Breanne?” I ask.
Zee chuckles, “In her bedroom with her girlfriend. She’s getting ready too.”
I walk slowly into the master bathroom, peering around and spotting the two micro-cameras. So, I am to be watched. The thought sends a little shudder through my lower belly - my first thrill of sexual arousal of the night.
“Hey?” Zee says, a cocky smile on his face, “If you need any help?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Later too ... you know.” he looks hopeful.
“Charles promised he’d do it, sorry.”
“Your call.” Zee shrugs his shoulders and moves away down the hall. I close the door and get to work.
I don’t get the opportunity to take enemas often - still living at home - but I do love them. I like the bloaty-crampy feeling of holding them and the lightness in my belly once I expel. At home I have to rely on the occasional fleet enema I sneak in - my parents would question a bag type - but an old boyfriend gave me a “triple H” - (high, hot, and a hell of a lot) - enema once and it drove me mental it felt so good. My belly got so distended it made me look pregnant - and it was like watching a pregnancy progress in fast time; first it was a small bulging pot under my belly button then my whole belly swelled up. He made me hold it a long time until my guts were cramping and I was sweating.
He fingered me until I came while I expelled and I sucked his cock that night - it was my first time swallowing cum.
I unpack my bag and strip down, putting my workout pants, top, sports bra, underpants, socks and sneakers into the bag. Then I get on my knees and lay my cheek on the cool tiles of the floor while I squeeze the fleet enemas into me. I keep my bum raised to let the fleet flow deep into my large colon - and yeah, I make sure my bum is toward one of the cameras. I hope it makes getting past my shyness easier, not being naked in front of a group of strangers yet but knowing they’re watching me. I know I have to get used to that - they will all be watching me later.
Fleet enemas have sodium phosphates in them and draw retained water into the bowels - they basically give you diarrhea.
It only takes five minutes before my bowels are gurgling and cramping, so I get up carefully, clenching my anus tight so I don’t have an accident, and sit on the toilet. I hold it as long as I can - until I start to tremble and sweat - then I let it go, pushing to open my bum as everything comes gushing out of me and that feels so good. I wait for the last random squirts and farts, then take my packet of sani-wipes and clean myself front to back.
I feel light now - my entire belly is empty; I only had a fruit salad for brunch and nothing but fluids all day. I’m hungry, but I ignore it as I pull on my kimono, wrap it and tie the belt. I throw everything else in the bag and set it on Charles’ bedroom floor and take my yoghurt drink in search of a fridge.
I think about Jason. He does love me, of that I have no doubt, but he truly doesn’t know me. He has no idea what I’m up to tonight, nor what I’ve been obsessed with since I was 13 on the night I snuck out and went with Dale and my older sister on a road trip to big town to follow a rumour. How all three of us went to squat in the snow beside a boarded up window in an abandoned house and listened to girls screaming and moaning as they died. Dale and my sister got so horny that Dale fingered her and she jerked him off with me squatting there pretending not to notice. I wanted Dale to finger me too. Instead I slid a hand down my jeans and masturbated. I came right after my sister did, just as I listened to a girl puking hard and another girl scream out she was cumming from inside that house.
And I’ve masturbated to orgasm every night since then with the sounds of those girls still echoing in my head. It was like I had been infected by violent sexual death as I squatted there in the snow that night, losing my balance and grinding my knees into the dirty snow as my belly convulsed and I squeezed my thighs tight around my hand gripping my crotch.
I make my way to the living room and see that more people have arrived and are having drinks and chatting. Some are still dressed - like Kathryn still in her work suit - but I see a blond girl is naked and a chubby brunette is only wearing her loose blue top, but it’s unbuttoned - her large breasts and belly wobbling as she walks. I feel less exposed in my kimono robe seeing them.
I walk to the bar and see that Zee is there mixing drinks.
“Hi Allie.” he says, “Saw you on the monitor. Very hot.”
“Just when I thought you weren’t creepy.”
“Ouch.” he says and laughs, “Can I get you a drink?”
“Wine cooler, please. And can you keep this cold?” I hand him my thermos and he puts it in a basin of ice. He opens a wine cooler and pours it in a glass, then taps a crystal bowl filled with coloured pills.
“Molly?” he says. It’s ecstasy - MDMA.
“No thanks.” I say, sipping my cooler.
“If you really want to get in the mood, I’ve got some molly-plus.” Zee says, showing me a small plastic bag needleless syringes from his pocket, “One of these and you won’t care what is happening to you.”
“I’ll pass for now.” I give him a fake smile.
“It’ll help ... you know ... later.” he says, “I highly recommend it.”
“Speaking from experience?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yeah. As a matter of fact.” he says and I see he’s serious.
“Ladies and gentlemen ...” I hear Charles’ voice and turn to see he’s standing in the middle of the living room, “... and others.”
“Welcome to our home. You all know the history of Legend House, but for some it’s your first time here, so I will be leading a tour momentarily. All of tonight’s activity will be taking place downstairs in the playroom, and in the playroom there is a dry area and a wet area. Please respect the areas! We don’t want fluids in the dry area.”
“Now, for those of you who were at the Legend House Anniversary five years ago, you will remember that night as chaotic and loud.”
“And sweaty!” a man calls out.
“Yes - and sweaty. Tonight will not be those things. Well, some of the girls might break out in a sweat.”
“You see, my friends; I am a connoisseur of decorum and class, as I hope you all are as well. Tonight will be ordered and calm. Tonight we will savour our experiences and show appreciation for the young ladies who have come here to entertain us.
“And to our young ladies I bid you welcome. When we retire downstairs you will see a list with your names and the times you each will be performing. And it is a performance for an appreciative audience.”
Charles leads the tasteful applause and I feel myself blushing as many in the group look at me and the other girls.
“And ladies; if you need anything, and I mean ANYTHING, leading up to your time, don’t hesitate to ask. We want your experience to be everything you imagined it to be.”
Murmurs of approval.
“And now, as an icebreaker, or as my daughter calls it - ‘the appetizer’, Breanne and her girlfriend invite you all to her bedroom. It will be the only performance permitted upstairs. If you will follow me ...” and Charles leads us down a hallway toward an open bedroom door.
On the way he points to an alcove containing a bookcase, “This was the original staircase to the basement, we’ve relocated it to the new wing where Breanne’s bedroom is for reasons that will become apparent once we descend.”
Charles stops at Breanne’s bedroom door and ushers us in.
“Go ahead, you’re all invited. Plenty of room.”
And though it is tight, there is room enough for the large crowd, it is a larger room that Charles’ master bedroom and I can see that a love seat and two comfy chairs had been pushed to the corner to make an open space. Breanne and a girl are lying on their backs on the bed, both wearing nothing but make-up, jewelry, and sheer stockings. The room is slightly humid and smells of fresh sex, and by the slight sheen of sweat on Breanne’s and her girlfriend’s skin, they’d been getting themselves in the mood.
I notice the ring bolts in the ceiling above the bed, evidence of Breanne’s obsession.
Once everyone is inside and finds a good place to watch, Breanne smiles at her girlfriend and lifts one leg, pointing her toes at the girl. The girl peels one of Breanne’s white stockings off and knee walks behind while Breanne rises up on her knees in the centre of the bed. The girl sensually drapes the white stocking around Breanne’s throat while Breanne lets her eyes scan the crowd, a saucy smile on her lips. When she makes eye contact with me, she winks.
The girl slowly draws the stocking snuggly against Breanne’s throat. Breanne loves asphyxia and shivers slightly as she feels the stocking tighten. She begins to masturbate as the girl pulls the stocking tighter, making Breanne’s face flush, pulling sweet sighing moans from her.
“Do it tighter.” Breanne breathes and the girl does. Breanne gasps, but still breathes as she squeezes her crotch.
“Go tighter. Tighter this time.” Breanne’s breathy voice is betraying her growing sexual excitement. The girl pulls harder and Breanne begins to choke and gag, but it isn’t enough - I can tell it’s not enough for her. She leans forward, trying to use her weight to pull it tighter. But she is still able to gasp in a ragged breath.
“I’m so close.” Breanne gasps, “Pull it tighter ... pull it tighter, please.”
Breanne’s eyes flare as the girl does, and I can hear the squish as her fingers dig into her pussy. And even though she is gagging and choking, she gasps “... harder ...”. I know what she wants - Breanne wants her orgasm to bloom as she loses consciousness.
Just like her mom.
“I want to come, babe.” Breanne complains.
“I’m trying, baby.” the girl says, repositioning her hands, winding the stretching stocking around her knuckles.
“Harder!” Breanne says it like a command, “Go hard. Go really hard, come on!”
The girl is trying, but the angle looks wrong, she shifts her weight ...
“... harder! ...” Breanne is sounding desperate, edging her orgasm, fearful - I think - of cumming too soon, “... go! ... go hard! ... go har ...”
... and the girlfriend braces her elbows and yards on the stocking, embedding it into the soft flesh of Breanne’s throat and cutting off her air. Fear flashes on Breanne’s face as she touches her constricted throat with her free hand. They must have choreographed it because the girl follows Breanne down as she lowers herself onto her belly, her right hand still working hard between her thighs. The girl slides off the side of the bed as Breanne rolls onto her back. Now the girl is using her weight to pull down on Breanne’s throat.
Amidst Breanne’s quiet choking, I head the soft sound of liquid spattering on the floor beside me. I glance down and see a number of drops on the hardwood floor between the feet of the brown-haired girl and as I watch another falls. Glancing at her crotch I see the source; she is leaking clear mucus. Raising my gaze I see her nipples puckered and tight. I look up at her face and blush when I see she is watching me. She smiles and leans close.
“It’s a combo, ‘eh?” she whispers with a British accent, “This and Zee’s molly-plus.”
I nod and swallow, my throat dry.
“I’m so ready.” she whispers and turns her eyes back to Breanne. I notice she is trembling slightly.
Breanne’s face is puffy and red, her lips turning blue as she strangles. She is pumping three fingers into her pussy frantically, the room now reeking of her arousal. She is desperate to orgasm, her pussy sloppy and loose, the squishing sounds louder now. Breanne starts to buck her hips - her orgasm is hitting her.
“You got it.” the girl says as the movements of Breanne’s hand become erratic and her eyes roll up in her head. She begins to convulse, her orgasm transitioning to a hard seizure. Then all at once, Breanne goes limp. Her fingers slip out of her pussy and her arm flops off the side of the bed. The bedspread darkens between her now flaccid thighs as she pees herself while her hips continue to jerk and hump spastically as though she is being fucked.
The girl quickly pulls the stocking from Breanne’s throat and immediately covers her mouth with her own and blows a breath into Breanne’s lungs.
And yet another.
Breanne draws a long, hoarse shuddering breath and jerks, panicked, not sure of where she is. The girl wraps her in her arms, kissing her face.
“Shhh,” she coos, “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”
Breanne cries out and begins to sob, curling her body small, and nuzzling the girl’s neck. And that’s how we leave them, all of us instinctively knowing Breanne needs quiet aftercare as we silently leave her bedroom.
Charles is the last out, and we wait as he gently closes his daughter’s bedroom door. He turns and smiles.
“And now let us descend.” and leads us to the stairs that curve downward.
As we arrive at the basement level, Zee walks up to the girl who is dripping and lays his hand on her back.
“Time to get you ready.” Zee tells her softly. I look at her face and see both arousal and fear. Zee takes her off deeper into the basement as Charles stops and faces us.
“This is the new basement we included in the renovations. It was built to satisfy town council’s requirement that the original basement be destroyed.” he explains. The new basement area is open; carpeted, furnished, art on the walls, with a large screen TV with a home theatre sound system on one wall. I can see a game unit and a stack of video games near it. There are closed doors that I guess lead to small rooms.
“We assured council that the old basement would be backfilled with a new concrete wall sealing it off.” says Charles, then smiles, “And that is exactly what our contractor reported to them. But the reality is a little different.”
Charles leads us toward the place Zee and the horny girl walked to. They have vanished. Charles waves his arms for us to look around; it appeared to be a narrow home library with book stacks and comfy chairs and lamps positioned at strategic places. We had passed a home bar with stools and I see that Zee moved the upstairs bar downstairs while we were watching Breanne along with the crystal bowl of Molly. I’m happy to see my thermos still buried in the ice pail.
“Do any of you see it?” he asks. I don’t and no one speaks up so it appears none of us do.
Charles moves to one of the book stacks and reaches past the books on one of the shelves. I hear a clack sound and both it and the stack beside it release and swing smoothly open to reveal the original basement. It too has been renovated and parts look homey, with furniture, tables, all the usual trimmings, and a hardwood floor. One wall is painted black and has a rack, a harness, and a gallows. People make appreciative sounds as Charles leads us inside.
“Is this where it all happened?” Kathryn asks.
“Yes it is, and this is where it will all happen tonight.” he explains, walking to a cabinet and opening it wide. Inside are an assortment of tools for BDSM, torture, and snuff. I see the rack of spits with assorted lengths and thicknesses. Beside it is an assortment of knives, from gut hooks to simple spikes.
“The schedule is posted just there.” Charles points to a framed parchment near the entrance just beside a grandfather clock, “Ladies can check to see which order and what time we’ve given each of you. Beside it is the buffet, please feel free to help yourself, and to the bar in the other room. We will eat, drink, and be merry.”
Along with the other girls I walk to read the list; my name is eighth out of thirteen and my time slot is 2:00 am. I look up at the clock; it is three minutes to ten. I have four hours.
“Who is Corrine?” asks a cute girl who looks to have a playful edge to her.
“Corrine is Breanne’s cousin on her mother’s side. She’s come all the way from Manchester, England to be here with us.”
“It says she’s on at ten.” the cute girl says.
“And so she is, Maizie” Charles says, “If you’ll all follow me to the wet area, you are in for a rare treat.”
As the crowd moves to follow Charles, I look at the list again; Maizie is in slot six at 1:00 am. Kathryn, who is still in her business suit is slot five at midnight.
I follow the group to a small alcove. I hear Corrine before I see her - she is breathing deeply and whimpering once in awhile.
The walls in the alcove are painted black as is the floor. Corrine is on her back, held down by wide buckled leather straps to a platform. It takes me a few seconds to figure out what the platform is part of; it’s a guillotine. A freaking guillotine! Corrine’s head is on the other side of a thick wooden restraining bar with a neck hole and the bar is just below her chin. Poised above her is a heavy steel blade, it’s edge glinting its sharpness in the light.
Beyond her head is a large black bin. I feel a shiver as I realize it is to catch her head and her blood.
Corrine is masturbating and staring up at the blade, she looks scared but at the same time seems to have a morbid fascination with the blade.
“This is a full-sized guillotine, with an 88 inch blade drop. The blade weighs 88 pounds. Rather elegant, no? It is the same type that beheaded
Marie Antoinette on October 16, 1793.” Charles explains, “This button ...” he lifts a safety cover on the wall beside him to reveal a large red button, “... triggers a servo motor which will release the blade. I will push it only when Corrine tells me to.”
We hear the grandfather chime, then tone a slow count of ten.
“It is now ten pm, are you ready Corrine?” Charles asks.
Corrine’s voice is tremulous and weak, “... y-yes ...”
“You may begin.” Charles tells her.
Corrine closes her eyes and her fingers speed up as she rubs the crown of her mound with purpose. I wonder if her plan is to have Charles release the blade as she starts to orgasm, halfway through it, or after. The thought makes my legs weak, and like Corrine, I feel my inner thighs start to become wet and slippery - I’m oozing.
As Corrine masturbates furiously, I see that Maizie and another girl are as well as they watch in silence. Maizie is slightly hunched forward with her knees apart and is digging her fingers into her pussy. It’s odd that when I was 13 and squatting outside this house during the anniversary of the deaths of the first four girls, I could not only hear girls moaning, shrieking, and cumming, but also the hard voices of men. But here we are, all of us so silent and still, that the only sounds in the room are Corrine’s gasps, whimpers, and moans as her arousal builds. Even Maizie and the other girl are silent.
It only takes a few seconds for Corrine to begin to tremble, her voice becoming more desperate, her breathing faster, her whimpers and moans louder. Occasionally she gasps “... yeah ...”. Soon she opens her thighs wider, and moves her fingertips to her clit, her voice louder still. She is reaching for her final orgasm, frantic to cum. I would have thought that she would have taken her time, but she seems to want it over as fast as possible.
We hear the rapid build; she starts to cry out, her belly undulating, her orgasm blooming hot inside her body. I see there is a puddle of her clear mucus under her bum and more is oozing then spurting from her loosened pussy. Corrine orgasms long and hard, her body shuddering through its peak, then calms as she tries to catch her breath.
She never does.
Her orgasm now leaving her in that sweet afterglow, she whimpers; “... just let it go ... oh, n-now! ... ” Charles hits the button and we hear the servo motor.
I thought Corrine was prepared for it, but just as the blade is released her eyes flash open wide and I suppose she sees the blade coming down. She gets halfway through a shrieked “Ohh!”, that is cut short by the violence of the blade slamming into her throat. Her severed head falls off the back of the platform into the bin and blood squirts loudly, splattering against the blade.
As her body twitches and shivers, I look into the bin. What they say is true; although blood is splashing onto Corrine’s cheeks, her eyes remain open and her mouth and jaw are working like she is gagging. I suppose she is - the blade must have hit her gag reflex hard and even though it is no longer connected to her stomach, her gullet is convulsing. When her eyes start darting around I look away - if Corrine makes eye-contact with me I know I’ll have an emotional meltdown.
As everyone drifts away from Corrine’s death, people begin to speak with each other, and that makes me feel alone. The only one I really know here is Breanne, and she is still upstairs with her girlfriend.
My whole life I’ve been shy and awkward, seeing the making of friends as this confusing dance that I did not know the steps to. I want to connect, but I don’t know how. Looking around, I see that Kathryn is with Zee and she’s telling him something and he is nodding, smiling at times. Charles is busy with two male friends. Maize has rushed off to be alone and no doubt finish masturbating.
I wish Breanne would come downstairs, but it’s not her job to babysit me. So, I sit at the bar and reach over to take another wine cooler out of the ice. I drink it right out of the bottle, feeling sorry for myself.
I look at the bowl of molly, and wonder what Zee’s molly-plus is. I’ve taken molly twice and at first it made me feel so energetic, then it made me horny. I throated my first cock when I was on molly and it felt great. Just sucking it down my throat felt good, even when it made me gag - especially when it made me gag. I loved how my dancer’s body undulated as I gagged on that cock, and remember wanting more, more, more. I could have sucked every cock at that party but my sister found me and took me home.
I remember her slapping my arm as she drove when I fingered my throat, gagged, and got a giggle-fit. The next day I felt like such an ass, and was so embarrassed at the breakfast table as my sister glared at me over her cereal, I could feel my cheeks burning.
I love my sister. She always takes care of me.
I wonder how she would take care of me if she was here. Would she keep me company and lift my spirits until it is my turn? Or would she drag me out of here and take me home again?
She squatted outside this house five years ago just like me, but she’s never said a word about it. Maybe Legend House didn’t get inside her head. It got inside my head that cold winter night and it’s never left.
Every night. Every single night, I’m back there. But in my fantasies I’m inside the basement, not outside masturbating.
“Hiya, Allie!” I hear Zee’s voice as he walks behind me, lightly stroking my back as he rounds the corner of the bar, “Kelly and Ashley are up next.”
He looks at his watch.
“About four minutes.” he says.
“Yeah.” I say.
“You okay?” he asks and looks concerned.
“Surprisingly no.” I answer, “I had the jitters on the way here, but after I prepped and put on my kimono they went away.”
“So, you’re not thinking about backing out?” Zee asks.
“No.” I say, “I know none of us gets to back out. But that’s not what’s keeping me here.”
“What is keeping you here?”
I look up into his eyes - the boldest thing I’ve done all night.
“I want to feel it.” I say and there’s that wet tug deep in my lower belly, “I’ve wanted to feel it for five years.”
We hear Charles’ voice from the other room; “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Ashley and Kelly ...”
“We can talk more if you want ... after.” Zee says, nodding toward the other room.
“Okay.” I say, finishing my cooler and walking into the other room.
Two girls I don’t know, Ashley and Kelly, are still fully clothed and are kneeling on the floor, Ashley with her hands on the floor, and Kelly with her hands on her thighs. They each have a looped noose around their throats that run up to pulleys on the gallows.
All of the guests and us girls have now gathered and are either sitting or standing to watch. The clock plays its deep melody, then tones the half hour. A man standing to the side of the gallows slowly turns a crank and the nooses tighten as the girls are pulled upward. Ashley - the bigger girl - struggles from the start, choking and gagging as her fingertips are lifted from the floor.
“... we ... been dreaming ... ‘bout this ... glurk ...” Kelly strains to speak her final message, “... since ... Laura .... gurggglllll ...”
Then both girls are slowly hoisted off the floor - their knees lifting free. Ashley looks like she is simply feeling and surrendering to the bliss, while Kelly is grinding her thighs together, her bum wagging from side to side. Either girl could end this just by getting their feet under them and standing, but neither do; as they lift higher, they keep their knees bent and their toes on the floor. Ashley’s toes are pointed inward, while Kelly’s curl.
We all watch in silence, listening to the soft choking sounds and the rustle of their clothes as they move. Kelly starts to shiver and shake and her eyes roll upward showing only white, her hips curl rhythmically and the smell of fresh pussy is strong in the air. I guess that she must be cumming.
Suddenly Ashley pushes her belly out and starts humping her pelvis toward the crowd, making gagging and heaving sounds. Her eyes are barely open, but she is staring at us like she wants to share her last orgasm. She wants us to know how good she feels.
She strains hard and long and her pelvis curls forward and clenches tight, her thighs quivering wildly, her toes scuffing on the hardwood floor. I can hear little farting sounds - I think they call them queefs; air pushed out of a pussy. I wonder how air got up in there then I hear something, unsure what it is until it grows louder; it’s the buzzing of a vibrator. It starts soft, then grows louder, the humming becoming wet and sharp. In her orgasm, Ashley is pushing it out of her. The vibrator falls from her pussy to clatter on the floor - it is an oversized egg buzzing and dancing as it vibrates on the floor. Almost immediately, Ashley’s belly clenches tighter and she pisses hard, obviously experiencing a gut-clenching orgasm. I’ve had those - orgasms that make everything inside the cradle of my pelvis clench and convulse. I pee too when they happen - you just can’t help it, and they feel amazing; the piss jetting out vibrating your clit.
Kelly’s orgasm has faded while Ashley’s peaked. Now Kelly is in extremus, her hands lifting spastically toward her chest, her wrists bent hard, trying to curl inward. Her toes curl tight and she begins to convulse.
Ashley makes a horrible gurgling moan and she too enters extremus, her toes scratching at the floor, pushing her torso forward, her arms flailing like she’s in a slow motion movie. Ashley farts wetly as both bodies relax, then slump almost at the same time.
I am grateful to see both girls experience the ultimate goal of this horrific perversion - to die during an orgasm, experiencing the thrill of being watched by strangers as you suffer your chosen fate and lose control of your body. It is humbling and exciting to watch them lay their souls bare through the involuntary actions of their bodies. Ashley and Kelly’s deaths are fairly gentle, while others will be more violent, but the goal remains; to die cumming and to feel the warmth of human bonding with strangers witnessing your orgasmic death.
After all; that’s why thirteen of us girls have come here; to be watched and hopefully remembered forever. If death was all we wanted, we could have done it alone.
I go and sit down on one of the barstools and feel the pressure on my pussy after standing for Ashley and Kelly’s performance. I know that means - and the pleasure I feel - that my pussy is swelling from arousal. I grind my hips a bit and feel the slipperiness there that tells me I am really wet and oily inside. It takes some self-restraint not to keep grinding - I want to cum, but not here in front of everyone. I know it is okay to masturbate now because cumming once or twice doesn’t usually make my arousal go away. That only happens once I am exhausted, but even then when I masturbate myself to exhaustion in my bed I always have dark erotic dreams afterward and wake up the next morning with a gooey crotch and a good sex stink on. I feel like such a dirty girl those mornings, and I love that feeling. Sometimes I fantasize about not showering, letting my hair get greasy and tangled, masturbating a lot so I stink of sex and pissing myself so I stink of that. I don’t know why that arouses me, but it does.
I set off in search of a private place to rub off a quick cum, but that is a challenge; Charles had asked that we avoid going back upstairs because that’s how things got out of hand at the anniversary five years ago when upstairs was supposed to be a safe place for girls but turned into a slaughterhouse just like the basement. Neither parts of the basement offer much privacy, and the single bathroom down here has a line-up.
I walk back into the playroom, and there are clusters of people talking and some couples making out on the couches. I walk further into the wet area and sneak around the corner where the guillotine has been pushed back against the wall, thinking that no one would be in there. I am wrong.
Maizie is sitting slumped crossways on the platform, her shoulders and head against the wall. She is naked with her knees drawn up, her heels on the edge and her thighs open. She’s leisurely fucking herself with two fingers in her wet pussy while reaching around and fingering her anus with her other. We make eye-contact and I feel my cheeks redden.
“Sorry.” I say in my embarrassment and make to leave her.
Maizie tilts her head toward the unoccupied rest of the platform, “Don’t be.” she says, “There’s room.”
I hesitate, but I know I need to let go of my inhibitions at some point tonight and it might as well be now. So I sit down beside her, lean back against the wall, untie my kimono, and flip it open. I open my thighs and start exploring myself.
I notice that Maizie is watching me, her eyes scanning up and down my body.
“I wondered why you were still in the kimono.” she says, “I thought it was to hide a birthmark or something.”
“No. Just shy.”
“You have a good body ... Allie, right?”
“Yeah. You’re Maizie.”
“Uh-huh.” Maizie says, her breathing speeding up, “Oh fuck ...”
I watch Maizie’s lower belly tighten and her hips curl.
“... sorry ...” Maizie gasps, “... gotta get busy for a minute ...”
Maizie pistons her fingers in and out of her pussy faster and pushes her other fingers harder into her anus, digging deep and starting to shake.
“... oh fuck ... oh fuck ... oh ... fuuuuuuuuuck ...” she gasps and strains as her orgasm takes her. Watching her cum increases my own arousal so I start finger-fucking myself. I use my middle finger and feel my pussy tightening on it. I copy Maizie and twist on the platform, sliding my other hand under my bum and gathering mucus from the crack of my bum before pushing one finger inside my anus. I definitely need an orgasm.
Maizie recovers and slides back on the platform, sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees watching me.
“We’re going out the same way.” Maizie says.
“Huh?” I say as I increase my speed and depth.
“In our performances. Charles is doing you and Zee is doing me.”
“... uh-huh ...” I say, growing breathless, looking up at her face, tracking her eyes as she looks at my body - my breasts, my crotch.
“You get a preview by watching me go do it.” Maizie looks into my eyes, “I want you to watch me. I want to see that you’re watching me, knowing you’re next.”
“... I will ...” I promise, getting close.
“Do you like throating cocks?”
“... yeah ...” I gasp with more enthusiasm than I normally have.
“You okay throwing-up?”
“... I love it ... love it ... oh Maizie!” I cry out as my orgasm cramps my belly and I shudder my way through a solid orgasm, my anus clamping down tight on my finger, a little pee spurting from me.
As I come down from my orgasm, Mazie strokes my breasts and nipples. I look up at her through droopy eyelids.
“You don’t mind?” Maizie asks.
I shake my head, “... feels good ...” It’s comfort and aftercare between girls - we all know that the slow descent after an orgasmic peak is pleasure as well.
I let my thighs flop open as the tension leaves my body and laugh because it makes me look like such a slut. Maizie laughs too and we share that moment of nonjudgmental bonding.
“Thank you.” I say softly, “I needed that.” then; “The orgasm and the girl moment.”
“Me too.” Maizie says, “It’s good we can do this, because it’s going to get crazy in here the later it gets, and then for us it’s going to be frantic and desperate and violent at the end.”
“Yeah.” I say, feeling that wet sexual tug deep in my lower belly, “Is it sick to crave that frantic, desperate violence done to me?”
“If it is, I’m just as sick.” Maizie says.
I rise up and take Maizie into my arms and hug her. She hugs me back.
“I’m going to do Zee’s molly-plus just before. You?” Maize says.
“I don’t know. What’s the plus?”
“It really gets your horny going. Like massively.” Maizie tells me, “I was with Zee a few years ago when he tested it out on a girl he did when we were camping. I was only 12 so he wouldn’t do me, but she was 17. She got so horny that she was begging Zee to keep going right up until she had a seizure and died.”
“How did he do her?”
“That’s the thing - for her to be begging him not to stop ... he gutted her and played with her insides.”
“Holy shit.” I feel shivers dance up my back.
“Yeah. It was intense even to watch.” Maizie says, turning to sit on the platform with her feet on the floor, “Another girl took it by herself and died - the dose that makes you crazy horny is also an overdose. But it will get you through anything. And the overdose takes hours to kill you, so it’s safe for us.”
“How do you know Zee?”
Maisie laughs, “He’s my big brother.”
I stare at her, not knowing what to say.
“It’s okay, most people get awkward.” Maizie says, “We’ve been fucking for years, and I’ve been begging him to do me for years.” Maizie turns to look at me, her face contorting like she’s in pain, her bum moving on the platform as she squirms, “I want it so bad, Allie.”
I know why she is squirming - she is imagining it happen to her as she’s imagined it so many times. I lean in and hug her, planting slow kisses on her forehead, “I hope it’s everything you want and more.”
Maizie nods and cries silently, her tears dripping into her lap. After a moment she shudders.
“It’s happening tonight, Allie.” she whispers and shudders again, “It’s really happening. He’s going to do me and it will be intense and violent and in a couple hours I’ll be dead.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Does it make you sad?”
“No. Not at all. I want it over. I mean, I want to feel it happening, but I’m not sad about it.”
Maizie sits upright and swipes the tears from her cheeks and puts on a smile.
“Hey, we’re snuff sluts. We’re allowed to be scared because that’s part of the thrill, but sadness is for putting up with shit in life, not feeling yourself die doing what you crave. Once you’re dead, you won’t know you’re dead.”
“Yeah.” I say, “There’s comfort in that.”
“So it’s good we like throating cocks.” Maizie says, “And puking up.”
I look at her, wondering what she means.
“It’s going to feel like a cock in your throat at the end.” she explains, “That’s how you’ll know it’s the end. And once it’s there, it’ll stay there the rest of your life.”
She nudges me with her elbow, “Get it?”
I stroke her hair and smile, “I like you, Mazie. It’s so good to meet someone who gets it.”
“I like you too, Allie.” Maizie says, then; “Hey, I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Let’s go eat.” and stands up taking my hand. I rise and shed my kimono and together we pad barefoot out of the wet area and into the main playroom toward the buffet.
We choose to eat light - both of us choose a fruit salad, knowing that we will both be sicking it up in a few hours.
“These have the best texture coming up.” Maizie says as she eats an orange segment. I smile, knowing what she means - the feeling of slippery chunks coming up.
“I’m going to eat some more just before.” Mazie says, enthusiastically wolfing down her large bowl of fruit salad, “You know. I want a full tummy when it’s my turn.”
I look at her puzzled. She meets my gaze and smiles.
“Bigger target. Easier to puncture when it’s full.” she says like it’s nothing, “Besides, I’m not big on dry heaves.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” I say.
“Of course.” Maizie shrugs, “We only get to do it once, and don’t we want it perfect?”
continue to part 2