The Diary Pt 6


Posted by jamie on May 05, 2002 at 22:26:54:

Part 6

I look up the long passage to where I must walk, looking for the door to the place where I am going to be killed and I am so terribly frightened again.

I can hardly stand, my legs feel so weak. I look for the sign out from my door, but there is along line of doors from the one above me which only says 5(b) and I can only just see 9(a) in the far distance. I must walk to where it must be done to me, I must get to him or it will never end, this terror.

There are other girls like me, going to their own clients, all with their eyes looking ahead, vacant. We do not look at each other, do not think of the other girls going to their deaths, do not think how they are going to suffer.

We have only our own terror and no feeling of anything else.

I hear a gasp from a girl as she opens the door to her studio. I see the cause of her horror as she stands transfixed looking in. There is a man in there with a mask on. There is a block of wood. He stands next to it with a huge axe. There is lots of blood on the block of wood.

The girl is going to be killed on the block ,will have to put her neck on other girl's blood and wait for the axe. I try not to feel sick. I must look my best for my client. It is my duty to be beautiful for him. Or is it that I do not want to be rejected by him and be punished in front of the whole school and then hanged on that.....I must not think of failing my client.

I am at the first door with a "9" on its sign. I stumble. I reach out to steady myself on the door, but it is open and I fall through it. I hurt my knees.

I look up and want to scream, but I an too terrified.

An attendant is there fixing a new hanging noose, staring at me, saying something about me being early, that the next client isn't due in this studio for ten minutes, but I can wait if I like now I am here, but that he has to change the rope before I can be hung as the last girl's neck bled on it rather badly due to chaffing.

I stumbled out of the door into the passage.

I must get to my studio, must not be late for my client, but I go the wrong way and must turn and go back past the open door to 9(a).

I am here at my door. I make myself breath deeply. Then I remember how I am going to die. Oh, God, he is going to stop me from being able to breath.

I open the door.

The room is as Richard told me it would be, but it does not help my terror. The bed where I could be smothered was there and so was the raised padded stand on which he liked his girls to kneel if her chose to strangle them.

And next to it was the trolley, gourney they called it, on which they would lay me after I was dead. Did putting it next to the stand mean I was going to be strangled, that the client had made up his mind?

And I see Richard and go to him. I know he will help me.

'Liena!' I hear him say to me, his voice almost harsh. I stop shocked.

'You must go to your client, Liena.'

I have not even seen him yet he is there so close. He had came to the door to greet me.

'Come girl, let us see you over in the light,' he is saying and he takes me by my hand and pulls gently me over near the bed.

The bed. He is going to smother me after all.

He lets my hand go and stands there looking at me for a while.

'Well girl, undress.' He is smiling at me. He is very good looking. Madness to think of that now. 'I cannot see through clothes you know, even the lovely little thing you girls wear for us these days. Lets see if you are as lovely as the pretty girl I remember from two days ago.'

I undo the little bows at each shoulder, remembering to do it slowly yet fumbling in my terror and let the gown fall left side first exposing my breast slowly, one at a time as I have practiced, but I have forgotten to untie the broad silk girdle about me, the sash which I am supposed to hand him to use on me to bind my hands before killing me. I hold my gown up just below my breasts and fumble with the sash with one hand, my fingers shaking, and at last can hand it to my client. He is looking at me. I feel myself going red. Am I embarrassed at my forgetfulness and terribly frightened he will be angry with me and want to hurt me a lot as he kills me or even send me away to be punished.

He laughs at my fumbling, says I am lovely in my fear. He says my blush makes me look so young and innocent and is endearing and will make having me a truly wonderful experience. He says I am quite delightfully refreshing and he is really going to enjoy having me as his girl.

He looks older than I remember him from before, but still young. Why do I suddenly think of his age and think he is good looking. I hope he wants to be kind to me, doesn't want to hurt me too much as he does it to me.

'Come on girl, lets see you, turn around.' I am naked before him. I look for Richard, but he is standing near the kneeling platform.

'Beautiful, quite beautiful. I am glad she was still available Richard, old chap. Would have been a shame to have seen some other customer enjoy her.' I am being turned round by him, his hands on my shoulders, my back, my legs, on me, feeling me, my breasts, examining every bit of me.

'You know, Richard, it is quite a lift for the spirits to realise that this girl has been growing up just for this purpose for eighteen years, eighteen years to be this perfect, being cared for with love every day, admired for her growing beauty, her parents cultivating that beauty. Eighteen years to arrive here at her most lovely and this morning it will take just five minutes to kill her. A great privilege, we have in being permitted to take the life of these girls, you know.'

I realise Richard does not answer the clients much. Just lets them enjoy talking about their girls however they like.

'What I love about the girls available to us under the Program is the perfection in the small things, Richard. Take this girl's hands.' The man is holding mine in his, touching them with the tips of his fingers. 'Absolutely perfect. Long slim fingers, the backs utterly unblemished. And her arms. So slim and soft and smooth, tapering to tiny delicate wrists. One of my great pleasures with girls like this one is the tying of such lovely hands behind her back, the thought that such perfection is used to make her quite helpless to stop me doing what has to be done to kill her.'

I listen to these words trying not to listen, but I have to. I was told in our lessons that clients like to talk of their girl before they kill her, like to examine her and get pleasure from her beauty. He lets go of my hands and runs his fingers lightly all over me as he studies me all over again.

He talks to Richard as if I am not there. We were told many men do that too, talk to the supervisor about the girl they are going to kill.

'Look at the potential in this girl, Richard, think of the joy she would have brought and received in love with these perfect breasts, the inviting swell of the hips and the space between, the pleasure she would have enjoyed had she not been mine today, if she was allowed to live. But she will not be allowed to live, Richard, will she? She is to be denied all those pleasures and other men must be denied the pleasures this exquisite young body could have given them for now she is mine and I have decided, from amongst all the thousands of girls in this selection school, to take her life, to kill her.

'And another thing to cherish in these deeds, Richard, is the thought that what we do is forever. Most everything we do in life is so temporary, yet the killing of a girl is forever, when we see the life leave the eyes of our girl we know we have taken something beautiful away forever. A stirring thought that Richard.'

He turns me to face him, his hands caressing my face, the tips of his fingers travelling over my lips. The backs of his fingers on his other hand sliding down to my neck then up to tilt my face up to him as they go.

'Now, girl, what shall I do with you, how shall I take such a beautiful life away forever?' I am relaxed and happy with the world so would normally want to smother you, but I am not so sure. What I want is to get the best from you, make sure I get value from that life of yours. So, do you have a preference as to how you would like to give yourself to me?'

I think of telling him I could not bear to be strangled, but I can not. I could not make words come. His right hand is still at my neck and he is running the backs of his fingers up and down the front of my throat again, gently, the way he did when he first said he wanted me at my last parade. Before this awful terror began.

Before I knew I was going to die under the touch of these hands now so gently taking their pleasure from me.

His other hand continues to caress my face, glide over my cheeks then pause at my lips as if he is sampling what it would feel like to smother me.

'It would be such a waste, would it not, Richard'- I am not there anymore other than just as a selected girl to enjoy, to hurt, to kill for pleasure - 'her lips, I mean. Such a shame to cover them, not to be able to see them as she dies if I smother her. So' - he is looking at me again, at my neck - 'I think I shall strangle you, Liena Gibbons.'

The use of my name makes the terror turn to despair. My name reminds me I am real, a young girl, a human being. I am Liena Jane Gibbons and because I am young and they say I am beautiful I am going to be killed!

'No!' I have found a word, spoken, and wish I had not for he will not heed I know that, but it might make him angry and want to hurt me more before I die.

'Oh, there, there, girl', he is smiling at me, happy , 'it will not be that much worse for you than being smothered. In fact the way girls struggle during smothering, I often wonder if it is not worse for them than being strangled. I think, Richard, the extra pain of strangulation takes a girl's mind off the thing which is happening to her, the knowledge that she is being killed is hidden by the pain somewhat, don't you agree?'

'Research supports that theory, it is true,' says Richard.

I wonder if the pain I must suffer will truly take some of my terror away as I die. I hope so. I am much more frightened of dying than the pain though. Oh God, I do not want to suffer either.

He takes the sash from the bed where he had dropped it after I handed it to him when I undressed for him and he tells me to turn around to have my hands bound. Mt legs are so weak, I almost trip as I turn. I hear him laugh at me. He sounds happy. I hope so. I don't want him to hurt me more than he really has to.

He plays with my wrists, my hands for a moment, tells Richard again how he loves this part, using a girls hands to make her feel helpless, and then tells me to cross my wrists one over the other.

I feel the material being wound around them, tightly, pinching my skin and then it is passed between and tied over the loops. Tightly. It hurts, the first pain I have felt since my selection for training school. From now on, I will know nothing but pain. And death.

He takes me by my elbows and turns me to face him. I stumble a little, unbalanced by having my arms behind my back, my legs feeling weak.

He looks at me. I am bound. I am helpless. I am finally and totally his.

And I feel an entirely new sensation. It sweeps down my body starting in my cheeks then to my breasts and falling, falling deep in my body, to between my legs, there where I used to feel such pleasure when aroused. This is not pleasure, this new feeling.

Then I know it for the monster that it is for it is true terror. I know what I felt before was just a little fear, not this, not this terror. And I know what brings it on, this dread, this all consuming terror, this fear to the degree of pain. It is brought on by my undressing for him, the baring of my body to this man, my nakedness and then, above all, by my bonds for together they mean I am beyond hope. I am naked and helpless and I know, really know for the first time, that I am going to die here in this place. This morning.

'This will hurt your lovely little wrists, girl, you know that don't you?

I realise it is my client talking the way he does, first to me then to Richard then to me. It is terrifying and confusing.

'When you begin to struggle I mean', he is saying. 'Beautiful how it is those parts of a girl I like so much are the ones which get to suffer for me Richard. This girl's wrists, then her sweet, delicate neck. Be best for you, girl, if you try not to pull at your wrists too much when the pain gets bad. It will only hurt you more and I assure you I have tied your wrists together so you will have no chance of getting free - had a girl once, Richard, who got free. Quite spoiled it the way she fought my hands about her neck, had to let her go and start all over after I had retied her. Hell, it must have hurt her to be strangled all over again with her throat already bruised - I want to talk to you, girl, about your pain and struggling, later - when we are ready for you.'

Why does he want to talk to me about the pain? Does it really hurt a girl that much to be strangled? I am so frightened.

'One other request, Richard, if I may.' He is caressing me again, his hands running about my body and down my arms to finger the bonds at my wrists, letting his eyes travel all over me.

'Yes?, comes a voice, Richard's from behind me.

'Last girl I had tried to stand up while just when it got really enjoyable, you know, that point when a girl is still strong, but in maximum pain, at her most desperate. Wonder if you might tie this ones ankles together after she kneels on the frame for me?'

I wait for Richard to speak, to say no, say that I have not been told this might happen and that girls should know what is expected of them by their clients before they are given to them for processing.

But it is my client who is still speaking -'It was most unfortunate, that occasion, rather difficult to hold a girl down by her neck and still maintain the desired controlled pressure on her throat, you know. Quite spoiled the girl for me, it did.'

I hear Richard say that the new kneeling frames are having a bar fitted low across the front. The girl will be asked to move forward on her knees until her thighs press against it to hopefully discourage that upsetting panicky reaction by some girls during their strangulation and until then it is a good idea to bind their ankles together. He says he has some zip ties with him which should do although they will cut into my flesh if I pull at them.

I am to be tied both by my hands and feet, made utterly helpless. Richard is not my friend at all. I am going to die all alone.

My client steps back from me and picks up some smothering lotion he must have brought himself. Why? Is he going to smother me after all?

He puts some of it on his hands and lots on his thumbs and brings them up to my face - no he is putting it on my neck, smoothing it into my throat. "Beautiful feeling Richard,' he is saying, 'the feel of a girl's skin when covered liberally with moisturiser. I love it on their faces when I smother them, and was wondering what it would feel like on a girl's neck as I strangle her. Lets find out hey?'

Richard comes for me to take me to the kneeling stand. I am steadied by him as we walk around the awful thing on which I am to be killed. I need the steadying hands for this walk is far worse than the terror of my journey to this horrid room. He places an arm about my bare shoulders, his hand caressing me. Maybe he likes to touch girls, to enjoy the feel of them before they are killed.

My eyes cannot leave the kneeling stand as I go to it, this thing they have made to position girls on to be strangled, to add to their helplessness by making them kneel, making the feeling of being offered up to the client for his pleasure so total.

I am so frightened. I don't want to be killed.

Richard tells me that he will remain close during my processing as I will collapse into unconsciousness before I die and he will hold me for my client when that happens so he can complete my strangulation.

He shifts the gourney closer to the kneeling platform. Ready for my dead body.

I take the two steps up almost falling in my terror, the terrible knowledge that I am actually doing this, climbing this thing to place myself before a man to be strangled and I cannot stop it - I must submit myself to him, for him to kill me in agony, it is almost too much to bear. I must not cry out. I must bear it, offer myself to him for it is the what I have been ordained to do. I am a girl, unlucky enough to be beautiful.

I finally manage to kneel on the deep blue cushion placed on the top of the stand. The thought, so strange, comes to me that they have put the cushion there so my knees do not hurt while I am being strangled to death. Why they would do such a thing I do not know and why I should I think of such a thing I do not know either.

I feel Richard's hands on my legs, feel them sliding softly along my calves to my ankles. Why is he doing that - surely he is not touching me so he too may get a last bit of pleasure from me before I die. Then I feel his hands pull my feet together and something hard and thin go around my ankles and then my ankles are pulled together until they hurt a little where they are tied. My feet are bound now, like my hands. I am ready for my client at last and I am so afraid.