DEAD BODIES
Posted by Barbanne on October 18, 2002 at 22:57:00:
DEAD BODIES
The dead body is me.
I am very newly dead, in fact life expired only ten seconds ago and I am slumped back in the arms of my killer.
I am nude.
Not a stitch of clothing on and my killer is now going to rob my corpse of anything else of value.
He strangled me from behind, using a pair of my own panty hose as a ligature and winding them so tightly around my throat that after thrashing and writhing around for something like ten minutes my body could no longer sustain itself in the face of this vicious assault on my organs and nervous system and I was finished and my spirit departed leaving only my flesh, quite naked and quite dead.
Holding my shoulders he rolls me to one side and lets go and I fall to the carpeted floor, my head hitting the wardrobe cupboard with a meaty thudding noise and I lie there, head bent forward onto my chest and jammed against the door and my body stretched out on the carpet, my arms lying by my sides, bent at the elbows and my forearms crossing my tummy with my hands turned palms up and resting in my lap. My legs are also bent slightly at the knees and pull my thighs apart revealing my glistening pussy nestled in its bed of curls. My breasts splay away from each other, the nipples looking askance like the eyes of some cartoon character, and my tummy ripples in little folds as my tilted head tightens my abdominal muscles.
He removes the rings from my fingers letting my hands stay flopped in my lap. Leaning over me he takes off my ear rings and unclips my gold neck chain and takes that too. I have three toe rings and he adds those to his haul. He rifles through my cupboards and drawers finding my small stash of jewellery and pocketing everything of any value. He steps over my sprawled corpse carefully avoiding any contact.
The panty hose are so tightly wound around my neck that they dig deeply into my flesh ridging it on either side. My face is blackening and my tongue protrudes and has turned blue and my half opened eyes are flecked with pettechiae.
He has everything of value now.
He squats down beside me and studies my body for any sign that he has left any clue. It is not likely as he wears thin plastic gloves and has only touched the ends of the panty hose and they are not likely to hold a fingerprint.
He stands and looks down at me and then looks around the small bedroom once more and finally, satisfied that he has left no clues whatsoever, he leaves the way he came, out through the sliding bedroom doors onto the small balcony and then onto the access walkway and down the escape stairs.
My girlfriend comes home and calls for me but I don't answer so she knocks quietly and then comes into my bedroom and finds me and screams and rushes to the shared bathroom and is sick and then shaking and weeping she calls emergency and the cops come and string crime scene tape around my bedroom and outside and she sits crying and babbling her story while the Scene and Medical Examiners arrive and declare me dead and then photograph me and everything else and the Medical Examiner's people process my corpse and eventually, when they are finished, my body is bagged and strapped onto a collapsible stretcher and carried down to a waiting ambulance and whisked off to the morgue.
I had been told time and time again that topless kick boxing was no sport for a young woman to compete in.
But I thought I knew better, thought I wanted to be a true warrior.
I didn't even see the kick coming.
After a flurry of ineffectual blows I had been forced to cover up, my gloved hands drawn up in front of my breasts, and I took my eyes off the main game and Holly swept a furious right leg up and around in a perfectly executed high kick and her bare foot smashed into the left side of my head and I was sort of out from that moment on and dropped awkwardly to my right and my head collected the padded steel corner post, my right temple making contact and the padding didn't stop the steel from inflicting a fatal concussive haematoma and I crashed onto the canvas in a crumpled heap, my ams twisted under me, one gloved hand beside my head and the other sticking out at right angles and my red satin trunks clad bum half raised and my legs drawn in under me.
I think the ref knew straight away I was in trouble and she stopped the fight and called for the doctor.
One look told him I was in a bad way and he signalled the dressing rooms to bring a stretcher.
I was carefull rolled onto it facedown and lifted out of the ring and carried away.
The crowd comes expressly to see a shiela get knocked rotten and they whistled and cheered at the sight of my senseless body being stretchered out.
In the dressing room they laid me out on the rub down table and the doctor worked over me. He could find no pulse and when he lifted my eyelids one after the other and found my pupils fixed and dilated and unresponsive to light he knew I was dead.
He wasn't about to admit defeat though and called an ambulance and they rushed me with siren blaring into the city hospital emergency department and there, at nine fifteen pm, lying on an operating table wearing only the tiny g-string I had had on under my trunks, they declared me officially dead.
Twent minutes after that my dead body, now nude, was wheeled on a trolley, covered with a white sheet, into the lift and down to the basement morgue where I now lie, still covered with the sheet which has tented over my conical breasts, with another body, a robbery victim, similarly covered on the table beside me.
I knew he was violent and if I'd had half a brain I wouldn't have niggled at him.
He'd knocked me around before.
But I was in a shitty mood and could feel my menses coming on and when he came home half drunk and turned away the dinner I had cooked so carefully and had been keeping warm for him for over an hour and had really gone to trouble trying to keep it from drying out, I blew up and started screeching at him and carrying on like the bitter frustrated woman I was.
He had got a beer from the fridge and was drinking that and trying to ignore me and when, after listening to one of my longest diatribes, he belched noisily, I completely lost it and screamed at him and started pummelling at his tee shirted chest.
The alchohol erupted and he lashed out and hit me on the nose and it spurted blood and I squealed and started screaming and crying and becoming irrationally hysterical and he told me to shut up but of course I was way beyond reason and then he began hitting me and I was screaming obscenities at him and weeping and he blew up and started knocking me all around the kitchen.
One blow was the one too many and he knocked me down and out, mortally concussed and he cursed my fallen figure and went back for more beer.
That made him very tired.
He kipped for a while and when he got up about midnight and came back into the kitchen and the light was still on and I was still stretched out senseless, he started in cursing me again and then tried shaking me and when I showed no response at all he called triple 0 and an ambulance came and I was soon lying undressed, nude and covered over with a hospital gown on the emergency operating table and a surgical resident doctor was conferring with a senior colleague and they declared me, "life expired" at one thirty two am.
They were fairly sure that the beating I had taken had broken something loose and so I was sent off to be autopsied at leisure and after a slow lift ride to the basement I am now lying naked but covered with a sheet, on my back in the icily cold morgue in the company of two other girls, a dead kick boxer and a murdered robbery victim.
I don't like very late nights and so when the others said they were going back to Sam's apartment for a night cap and it was after one am I should have said no way.
But I'm weak willed and frightened to go against the crowd and so I came and they started smoking spliffs and doing other stuff and I really wanted to go home, but then someone put something in my drink and I thought I tasted something funny but by that time I had drunk most of it and then we were all on the balcony and I collapsed and went down unconscious and the boys all thought that was a great joke because I was renowned for not putting out and so they drunkenly decided it was party time and some of the other girls egged them on and helped them and they stripped me down to bra and panties and they all thought it was a great joke to pass my helpless body around and then Tom, and I really disliked Tom he was a slimy bastard, he said he'd do me. Do me right there on the balcony and they all thought that was really, really funny. Two of the girls didn't, Amy and Jill and they went inside and wouldn't have anything more to do with it, but Janet and Meg and Carly they thought it a terrific joke and the boys were all up for it and Tom pushed me up against the railing and Janet and Will held my arms and Tom pushed my bra up freeing my breasts and pulled my panties down around my thighs and started trying to get inside me and they all laughed drunkenly and then Janet said, "Go for it Tom, give it to her," and let go just as Tom pushed my limp body back trying to enter me and next thing over I went.
I fell three floors and hit the tiled pool surround.
That set the girls to screaming and sobered most of the boys.
They called an ambulance and tried to cover everything up with a story in which I was the drunken perpetrator of my own fate. That was going to be hard to prove because the only drug inside me was the pacifier I had been fed.
I looked alright but I was all smashed up inside. Nearly every bone broken and massive internal damage.
The medics didn't bother with the hospital.
I was delivered straight to the morgue.
Stripped naked and with only a few bruises showing plus a bloody nose I am now lying on my back in a freezing cold mortuary drawer, covered with a white sheet and in company with three other very dead girls.
He was my last punter of the night.
It was late, way after midnight and when he picked me up I hopped into his car determined to add ten percent to my fee in order to make up for the lateness of the hour and then get home as quickly as possible afterwards so that I could start catching up on my sleep.
When we walked in the door of his flat he jumped me. Its not that unusual lots of them do.
"At least let me get my gear off," I muffled as he pushed me down onto the bed.
Then I felt something tight on my wrists. He had pulled them behind my back and, I realised, had used some sort of cuff to secure them together.
"What's this, something kinky," I said.
He rolled me onto my back and pushed my short skirt way up and pulled my panties down around my ankles.
"What's with you buster?" I said.
"Wanna watch your pussy while you die."
"Hey let's not be stupid," I said.
He disappeared from view and I swivelled around trying to see where he was. My panties were hobbling my feet much as the cuffs were holding my wrists. He reappeared above my face and I opened my mouth to complain and he jammed a clear plastic shopping bag over my head and tied something around my throat. My whole head was trapped inside the plastic and within two breaths I was in trouble. I screamed at him to get it off but he was down below me watching intently between my legs. I tried to draw a breath and the bag fluttered in and out like a bladder. I breathed again and tasted stale air and not much of it. I panicked and started to hyperventilate and the bag sucked in robbing me of any air at all. I was panting, dozens of breaths a minute and the increasingly stale air was gone. I bucked and twisted on the bed and my legs kicked up and down.
I heard him say "Aaaaaah," and then my clouded grey vision exploded in one bright white flash, my knees splayed apart opening up my slit and I died.
He dumped me in a back alley still in my dishevelled clothing and with the bag tied to my head and that was where the cops found me and I landed in the morgue around dawn and was put into a drawer just as I was, ready for the pathologist.
I had an early morning flight and rose in the dark, showered, dressed and collected my bag, ticket and papers and after calling a cab went out onto the landing and turned to lock my door.
That's when Carlos shot me.
He was insane with jealousy and had transferred his hurt into hate for me.
Three point three two slugs slammed into my upper back killing me instantly.
I slid down the door onto the floor bleeding profusely and my skirt rucked up revealing everything up to and including my panties. Were I not already dead I'd have died of shame anyway.
Carlos ran, my neighbour found me and the cops and medics came, but for me it was too late for anything but a one way ride to the morgue.
I pulled on my tee shirt and my tight tight shorts and set out for my run.
I kept up a good pace down the hill, across the park and beside the river. I doubled around the statue where the five ways came together and ran back up toward the park and cut through the pine plantation towards my home.
As I ducked in under the trees and into the dark shadows of the plantation they jumped me.
Three men.
They knocked me down and three of them held me.
I struggled like crazy and tried to scream but one held my mouth shut with his hand while the others ripped off my shorts and tee shirt. I felt thick, crude, stubby fingers tearing my panties off and then they, my own panties, were shoved into my mouth gagging me.
I struggled, writhed and wriggled and gagged repeatedly trying to cry out.
All useless.
They raped me in turn.
My mind went catatonic and I lay there in shocked horror. When they had finished I was whimpering quietly and snivelling and unable to concentrate even one thought.
The biggest guy found a rock and bashed my head in and I died violently and pointlessly, without even a shred of decency or dignity, in silence and humiliation.
They ran away.
A guy walking his dog found my body, clad only in a ruined sports bra and joggers and ankle socks, lying amongst the pine needles, bloody and open eyed, staring intently but sightlessly at nothing with my panties, soaked in saliva and blood jammed in my mouth.
Cops came and then medics came and then the usual crime scene people and the yellow tape was strung around the trees and photographs were taken and measurements and a quick study of my dead body was carried out before I was bagged and transported from the scene.
He walked into the morgue.
Checked his case list for the day.
Six autopsies.
He carried the list as he walked along the cabinets, opening the drawers and studying his customers.
A robbery victim, pretty, nude.
A kick boxer who had been kicked once too often. Dark haired, pretty in a beat up way and nude.
A domestic violence victim. Naked and with gorgeous tits.
A girl, still dressed in her bra and panties although they were scrunched away from where they should have been. Smashed up, an absolute mess but it didn't show.
A red headed prostitute still wearing most of her clothes and with the murder weapon, a plastic bag still covering her head.
A power dresser, shot in the back.
Ah, he loved his work.
And now they were bringing in a seventh victim, a girl jogger raped and bashed to death. She was gorgeous. What a stunner!
Better and better.
"OK Frank," he said to his stooped assistant, "let's get the ladies who aren't already, naked and washed and let's have fun!"