I step off the platform and the rope violently tightens high up around my throat. I feel a lump form there that feels like it is being pushed up into the back of my gullet and I realize it's the root of my tongue. It's making me feel like I am deepthroating a cock and I'm going to throw up, but I know that's not possible because the rope is so tight. But my stomach doesn't know that and starts heaving.
I thought I could do this peacefully, and even though in my mind I'm ready, my body starts to react; I feel my abdominal muscles tightening and my pelvis curls and my legs are kicking spastically, trying to find something to put my feet on.
People are gathered around my station and I can see their fascinated expressions as they look up at me.
Kicking, kicking, kicking, and even though I'm getting chills tingling up my bum and belly and tits, I feel my skin break out in rapid sweat and quickly my skin is slick with it.
Pressure in my face.
Pressure around my throat.
It's so tight. So, so tight.
Ashton fluffed me for over an hour and fucked me sweet and deep for the last ten minutes before my turn. I'd hoped that my sexual arousal would last, but even though it's still there, it's not enough to sustain me. I am thankful for the three orgasms he gave me, though.
My stomach is gurgling so loudly that I can hear it and I wonder if the audience hears it too. I can feel it pushing liquid up and down my gullet, cycling as it tries to vomit up my last meal.
Legs aren't kicking anymore ... they're flopping open and closed. I must look like a slut.
My belly is clenched so tight that I feel the old hernia that I got during my year of enemas, fisting, and fucking machines pop out and bulge on my lower right side.
Tongue too big for my mouth now ... sliding out over my lower lip.
My bowels are growling and undulating inside me now.
No, no. please not that humiliation.
Legs feeling heavy. So dizzy. So weak.
I feel my anus loosen and gape. I feel the fluttering in my anus as I lose control of my bowels. I hear the reaction of the audience as they step back ... I never knew I had that much inside me - I can hear it spattering on the tarp below me.
Peeing now - the buzzing feeling as it jets past my labia.
My body feels so heavy as it loses all control.
The Poisoned Girl
My station is a comfy chair on a slightly raised stage, where I sit naked waiting for the end. I wanted poison and they prepared an extract from a poisonous toad. I wanted something that would make me feel sicker and sicker so I would want to die at the end.
I'm getting my wish.
I feel so sick.
I'm feeling feverish and weak and my tummy is bloating and my bowels are gurgling. My mouth is watering but my saliva is thick and foamy and I keep swallowing it like they told me - it keeps the poison in me that way.
So weak. So dizzy.
I hear myself whimper as I squirm in the chair, trying to sort of lodge myself in it so I don't fall out onto the stage.
Oh god ... why did I do this?
So sick. So fricking sick.
A small group of guests are gathered around me, watching as they sip champagne. A tall elegant blond lady in her fourties is watching me with a look of sympathy. She really looks sad, watching me die. I give her a little smile of appreciation.
My stomach heaves, once, twice, three times, but I control it. I don't want to puke on myself.
I lay my head back and stair at the ceiling.
I'm so sick. I just wish it would end.
Gurgling in my stomach. I feel the foam rising up my gullet. My feet and hands are numb and the numbness is creeping up my legs and arms. The foam gurgles up from the back of my throat and fills my mouth. I think this is it - this is the end.
Body going numb now - at least it doesn't hurt. Stomach settling, but the foaming and gurgling keep going.
I feel it flowing out of my mouth, over my jaw and down my neck. Getting dark and quiet.
Numb all over now, but the memory of the sickness remains.
I'm just going to let go and find peace ...
Marni, The Spike Girl
I'm up on my tip-toes and my legs are shaking pretty bad - the muscles in my calves are burning. It isn't hurting inside yet, but the pressure of the tip of the spike in the opening of my cervix is huge. I know I have to lower myself and accept it deeper so the game can go on, but I'm scared.
"ohh" I moan and even to me it sounds very sexual without a trace of the fear I'm feeling.
My fluffer Jan was wonderful, getting me flushed and horny and giving me two toe-curling orgasms then keeping me on the edge of a third right up until the time they called me up and positioned me on the game. Even now Jan's standing to my left, in case I need her. She's so sweet.
I slowly lower my heels and the tip presses deeper, stretching my vagina and dilating my cervix as it slides into me.
"oh god" I gasp in a breathy whisper, feeling my heels contact the carpet and the spike reach full extension in my lower belly. Well, full extension for now - right up until someone else hits the target that will release the spring that will slam the spit another 6 inches upward.
That's how the game works; There's a small target on a metal armature. A hard hit by a baseball releases the spring that drives the spike upward. It goes in increments; 3 inches, then 6, then 12, then 18. Yeah - 39 inches in total. It started inside my vagina, the sharp tip nestled comfortably in the opening of my cervix. And it will end with it slamming straight up my throat and out my mouth.
It felt good when I first settled on it, and to be honest, it still does feel good but I'm a little tense knowing the next hit will drive it right up into my uterus.
"You okay?" Jan asks, touching my elbow.
"Mm-hmm." I nod and take a deep breath then look up at the crowd gathered in front of my station. "Who's next?" I ask with a smile and a wink. I promised myself I would fulfill my contract 110% - going out without any dramatics, and by making my audience think I want this. And a big part of me does want it - that's why I chose it. It's a game and I've always loved games and fun.
The next thrower is a woman in an evening gown and she half-tosses the ball. Damned if she doesn't hit the edge of the target, put it bounces off without triggering the spring. It takes a hard throw to move the target enough to release the trigger.
"Aww." I say, "Good try though, hon."
The next two guys wind up and pitch hard, and each time I tense, but both miss.
"Come on," I pretend pout as I wiggle my bum as much as I can - feeling that spike moving inside me [oh my], "Isn't there any boys here who played baseball?"
A handsome guy in a tuxedo bends over and takes a baseball from the basket. He smiles at me and winds up and damned if he doesn't move like a major league pitcher.
I grunt loudly as the spike slams up into my body, lifting me violently and jarring everything inside my belly.
I grimace and grit my teeth, my thighs slapping together around the spike as I hang suspended. I am impaled on it, my feet pointed downward, my trembling toes barely touching the carpet. The tip of the spike is inside my cervix and my weight is slowly pulling me down, sliding the steel shaft up into my uterus, pulling up on my vagina and labia so my clit is dragged across the steel surface.
"Oh my ..." I groan, feeling this fresh penetration as I slide down the spike, taking it into my uterus as my feet slowly come down on the carpet. I try to take a deep breath, but it catches in my throat.
"Can I throw again?" I hear a man's voice. I look up and see the man in the tux holding a second ball and smiling. I can't smile back - not yet anyway.
"Give me ... a minute?" I ask breathlessly.
"Sure, Marni." he answers, taking his champagne from the woman who was holding it for him, "Take as long as you need."
I lower my head and just let my body feel what's going on inside me. The spike is nestled inside my uterus and my belly is none too happy about it. Looking down I can see the bulge that is partly the thickness of the spike and partly my uterus swelling around it. But there are strong sexual feelings too as my vagina and labia slide back down into their usual position - if this spike could slide in and out right now I'd be cumming pretty quick.
"... oh boy ..." I gasp as I catch my breath. I take a deep breath and blow it out, then lift my head.
I smile for my audience, "Wow, that was intense."
They laugh. I look at handsome guy.
"What's your name?"
"Damon." he says with a smile.
"I'm ready when you are, Damon." and I wink at the lady beside him, "Are you Damon's wife?"
"Fiance." she replies, showing me the diamond ring on her left hand, "my name is Kristi."
"Beautiful ring, Kristi." I say - stalling because my lower belly is settling down and the spike is feeling good inside me despite the amazingly tight feeling in my uterus, "Do you ever fantasize about being up here?"
Kristi blushes and looks down. Damon laughs and looks at her.
"We role play a bit." he says and Kristi swats at his arm and laughs. Damon looks up at me, "Are you ready, Marni?"
"I'm ready, Damon." I say and nod, taking another deep breath and blowing it out, making sure my torso is upright. Then I take small shallow breaths waiting for Damon to throw.
I watch him wind up and the ball blurs. I wince, but I hear it hit the curtain behind me. There's a sigh from the audience. Damon picks up another ball - he winds up and throws.
The spike jumps hard inside my belly and jars my body and there is an instant of searing pain in my uterus. That was the 12 inch thrust.
I am gagging, my stomach heaving and I want to lean forward and puke, but I can feel the rigid shaft inside my abdomen so I have to stay upright. I can't draw a breath, my gullet is convulsing. I feel Jan touching me - one hand on my shoulder, the other flat against my chest between my breasts. I keep heaving and I can feel a sharp pain in my stomach and I realize it's the tip of the spike pressing up on the underside of it. I stretch my body up - standing taller and it eases a bit but I still feel like I'm going to throw up. The spike is putting pressure on my stomach
"... bowl ..." I gasp, and Jan goes to fetch it. Each station has a little toolkit for eventualities. I've watched other girls lose control tonight - there's been a lot of pooping, peeing, and puking in the room and I'm trying my best not to add to it. I mean - it's not like they can help it, just like I can't help it right now - because when you're dying, you lose control over things.
Jan is back and holds the bowl up under my chin, laying a steadying hand on my shoulder. I lean my face forward and drool into the bowl, letting my body relax a bit.
"Marni just needs a few seconds." Jan says to the audience. Relaxing lets the spike press up on my stomach again and sure enough, I feel my gorge rise up my gullet and I puke quietly into the bowl. Three heaves half fills it and I feel better. I nod and Jan takes the bowl away. I swallow and face the audience, I try to smile, but I can't - I am so aware of this deadly spike inside my abdomen.
"Next one's the money shot ... huh?"
"Yes it is." Damon says and he looks sad.
"I want you to finish it, Damon." I say and he nods, bending and picking up another ball, "Then I want you to take your girl home and make sweet love with her in my memory,"
"I'll even let him call me Marni when he cums." Kristi smiles.
I take series of deep panting breaths and lift my chin. Jan is there, laying her hand gently under my jaw.
"A little higher, Marni."
"... okay ..." I say breathlessly, lifting my chin higher. My greatest fear is to have the spike drive up into my skull or knock out my teeth.
"Higher." Jan presses up against my jaw with one hand and presses against my chest with the other, "And hunch your shoulders forward a bit."
"... okay ... okay ..." I follow her instruction, feeling awkward and shaky and aware of a growing frantic desperation.
"That's it. That's perfect." Jan says, squeezing my shoulder.
"... I'm scared ..." I whisper, my voice tremulous.
"I know, sweetheart. It will be over quick." Jan says softly, stepping back.
"...okay ...", I take a deep breath and let it out, "Do it." I call out to Damon in a shaky voice, then open my mouth, pushing my tongue forward so it lays across my lower lip.
I hear movement and the wind sound of the ball and I wonder if I will hear the thump of the curtain or ....
"GLURK!" the shaft slams up through gullet and out my mouth in one violent action. I am lifted up off my feet and I see the spray of blood mist above me before a white flare of light screws with my vision. I am overwhelmed by the shock of it for a few seconds, my throat packed tight with the thick spike, the root of my tongue compressed and my upper teeth scraping down its length as I slowly slide back down.
As my vision returns and I stare at the spike protruding from my mouth, I become aware of my body again; My thighs are clamped tight together and my toes pointed inward, but my heels are angled outward so I'm pigeon-toed as I slide slowly down; My legs have no strength - I feel so weak; The spike moving upward is again pulling up on my vagina, drawing my labia up inside me and making my clit scrape along the steel shaft. It feels like a slow thick penetration that goes on and on.
My stomach is heaving wildly now, completely penetrated by the spike, but because my throat is blocked I make no sound and only I can feel its convulsions. And despite those convulsions being associated with throwing up they feel so very sexual right now. In fact my crotch is throbbing because of the ongoing penetration and within a few seconds I feel an orgasm stirring. I wish I could tell Jan - tell her that this ends with sexual feelings.
My heart is fluttering. It's not beating right. I'm sliding lower, my knees bending and my thighs opening. I feel my belly muscles clenching and trembling - the spike sliding inside me - pulling on my vagina, rubbing on my clit, sliding up my throat like a big hard penis.
I think I'm cumming ...
I kneel as I have all night, fluffing. At this moment I am fluffing Dee, one of the other contract girls who has chosen strangling on a "garrote vil" - a Spanish ligature chair where she will be seated with her back to a post and have a leather strap cinched around her throat that is connected to a crank that will tighten it until she dies. I have two fingers hooked inside her pussy massaging her g-spot and flicking her clit with my tongue, keeping her on the edge so she is sexually aroused before she is strangled.
Her eyes are on mine as she watches me between her open thighs and the expression on her face is one of longing and regret. Dee has confessed much to me as I worked her body, how she never found love and spent her life in pursuit of sexual fulfillment instead of real relationships. Suddenly her face grimaces as though she is in pain and begins to pant heavily. Why is it a woman's expression of ecstasy and agony are the same?
"Stop." she gasps and I instantly lift my tongue and ease my fingers out of her. I understand that she doesn't want to orgasm so close to her time. One of the hosts who has been standing nearby, sees that I have stopped fluffing her and steps forward.
"Dee?" he speaks her name gently, his voice full with compassion and gentleness, "It's time."
I hear Dee gasp and I rise to my feet, extending my hand to her. She takes my hand and I help her to her feet. I can tell by her expression that she is terrified.
"I know, Dee." I say to unspoken thought, "But once you are in the chair and it begins, it will be easier."
"It will be." the host agrees with me and I look up into his kind face. He turns his eyes to me, "And Marianna, please keep yourself available."
I nod, getting his meaning. I know that my end is drawing near also, and oddly I don't feel anything about that knowledge. I suppose that means I am prepared for my end. Regardless, I wrap my arm around Dee's waist and walk with her to the garrote vil - steadying her as she weaves. Her legs must be weak, and I can feel her trembling.
"We had a good year, didn't we?" I ask her and she nods, trying to force a smile as her executioner, Millard steps forward to take her from me. Dee turns to look at me as the executioner takes hold of her upper right arm.
"Stay? Please stay?" Dee says, her voice weak and desperate, "Stay to watch me?"
"I will." I say and reach up to stroke her cheek, "You are loved, Dee. I love you."
Dee's eyes well with tears as Millard leads her to the garrote vil and sits her down. He is quick and methodical as he straps her wrists then her ankles to the chair, then moves behind her and wraps the leather strap around her delicate throat and hooks the ends to the device that will tighten it.
I stand in the centre of the crowd as it gathers so Dee can see me. Her eyes focus on me as Millard begins to turn the handle that tightens the strap. I watch as her neck is pulled tight against the post, then as her face deepens in colour. I mouth the words "I love you" as her tongue is forced up and her mouth is forced open because when the root of the tongue is squeezed upward, the mouth can't contain it all.
Dee squirms in the chair, her legs trying to kick and her arms pulling at her restraints as she fights it. Her face is contorted in pain for the first few seconds, but softens as she accepts that she must die and gives in to it. As I watch, her nipples pucker and harden and she spreads her thighs, her pussy oozing clear mucus and her back arching. I do hope this is the sign of a final orgasm, and I believe it is, for now she lifts her bottom off the chair and her pelvis humps the air.
Millard has tightened the garrote as much as he can and Dee continues to thrust her hips upward. Then all at once she flops back down one the seat and her body goes into convulsions and her bladder releases, making a puddle on the seat of the chair.
Then it is over. Dee slumps in the chair and the audience talks amongst themselves.
Dee looks peaceful laying in the chair as Millard unstraps her and the disposal team arrive to take her body away. But suddenly there is a commotion and I turn at the sound of a girl screaming as four security men carry her toward the raised round bed in the centre of the room.
Poor thing. At the last minute she has changed her mind and has no choice.
I walk away, not wishing to watch a girl forced.
As I approach one of the impalement beds I see a frantic girl in her end-of-life struggles. She is writhing in the arms of one man while another is working a stainless spit into her belly through her anus.
Impalement is big this year, with a majority of guests requesting to see it. It isn't what they think though - many are excited by the thought of girls being penetrated by spits and imagine it is an extension of fucking. It isn't, and I believe that many are being educated on what really happens.
The man holding her has one hand grasping her right breast and her hand is over his - she is clinging to him. The girl is vomiting profusely into a large basin; Mostly a light brown liquid. We were all instructed on what we can expect in the various life-ending methods favoured by the Dark Encounters group. What she is experiencing is a violent reverse peristalsis - wherein her body reacts intensely to her impalement and her small intestine pumps liquid back up into her stomach which convulses rhythmically to expel it.
I watch her body jerking and squirming on the bed as the man holding her tries to keep her as still as he can, while the other pumps the spit inside her. She is unable to speak and I watch as she reaches down and slaps her hand three times on her bloated upper belly.
"She's telling us how deep it is." a man in a tuxedo beside me says to his female companion.
"Oh my." she answers, laying her fingertips on her throat.
But he's wrong. For the girl, slapping her belly like that is a signal to the man with the spit to push deeper. And he does.
He leans into it and pushes hard on the spit and her body jerks and she grimaces as the tip penetrates her stomach sac. The next rush of vomit is streaked with blood.
"Marianna?" I turn to see the kind host who came for Dee, "They are ready for you."
I nod calmly, but my body tells another story; Wild rushes of tingling flood through my thighs, bum, belly, and breasts as the realization that I am about to die overwhelm me. My breathing is immediately tremulous and I feel my diaphragm quivering.
I turn to look at the girl on the bed one last time and see that her face is locked in a tight grimace and her throat, mouth, and tongue are working but she is no longer vomiting. This means the spit is in her gullet and on the way to her mouth.
I allow the host to escort me to my station - a slightly raised platform with a bondage framework secured to it. Billy, my executioner, awaits me and smiles when I meet his gaze.
I see to my right that the screaming girl is now being calmed by her fluffer, but is being held face down on one of the impaling beds by four security men while Serge waits behind her with her spit. I see her lift her head and her and her fluffer watch me.
I lay face down on the hard platform of my station as Billy and I rehearsed. I stretch my arms out from my shoulders and two security men cuff my wrists to two ringbolts so I am in a reverse crucifixion position. Billy secures my ankles together in a soft restraint and hooks the cable to the ring while one of the security men fit a ball gag in my mouth and straps it tight around the back of my head. I hear the ratcheting as Billy works the crank, lifting my ankles up. My chest and face remain on the platform surface while my legs and torso are lifted high and tight - stretching and baring my belly.
Billy cranks it tighter, much tighter than when we rehearsed. My belly is stretched tight, the pressure on my back and torso pulling on my arms that hold me face down on the platform. I can't help but grimace - I am bound so tight I can barely make the slightest movement.
I hear Billy moving and the scrape of steel on the platform as he picks up his heavy knife.
"Ready?" he asks.
Oh, my dear sweet lord, this is it.
"mm-hmm" I murmur with the ball gag tight in my mouth and press my belly outward - I want his cut to be sure and deep and final. Do it well, Billy, my sweet Billy, who ...
"mmph!" The impact of the knife slamming into my upper belly knocks the wind out of me. I feel the burning sensation deep in my gut - it makes my stomach heave and I am thankful for the ball gag. I clench my fists and feel my body tense and start shaking.
I grunt hard each time Billy tugs upward on the blade, dragging it through my abdomen in a series of violent jerks that jar my body and set me to shaking badly, my muscles clenching on their own. I feel my belly muscles splitting from sternum to mound one strong pull at a time. Thankfully, it is over quickly and I feel the edge of the knife scrape across the top of my pubic bone as Billy pulls it from me.
The muscles under my jaw are tingling and my eyes are watering as I feel as though I am throwing up, but nothing but drool fills my mouth and I realize that it is because my stomach has been opened and can't project anything up my throat. I feel my intestines squirming inside me, lengths disconnected but still alive with sudden violent peristalsis.
My body is rigid in my restraints, muscles tight and quivering and I don't want to die that way. I concentrate to relax my body, to calm my mind and calm my muscles. I think of what I am thankful for ...
... I am thankful for my year of pleasure and pampering ... I am thankful for the opportunity to make other girl's deaths tonight easier ... I am thankful I chose to be restrained in this position so I do not have to witness the ruin of my belly ... I am thankful for my ball gag for I do not want to die screaming ... I am thankful that Billy gutted me exactly the way I asked him to - violently and swiftly.
And I feel my body calming - it is still held tight in my bindings, but my muscles are unclenching. I feel my belly start to open and it is a sweet erotic sensation so I push my belly outward like I did to welcome Billy's blade and ...
... my intestines slip and slither from my opening gut, flopping and splattering onto the platform. This feeling is indescribable ... nothing in my experience has prepared me for this. The pain is gone, and in it's place is a sweet vulnerability - a knowledge of impending death and a sensual frailty. My body is gutted, opened, half emptied of my viscera and people are gathered around me, watching, marveling at my spectacle.
I feel a growing sexual arousal in my sex and my nipples - it is building warm and slow, embracing me as I ...
... my eyes flutter open and refocus and I realize I lost consciousness for a few seconds. This sensual feeling is growing stronger. Is this my mind and body trying to make my passing easier? The flood of endorphins that the Dark Encounter's physicians told us would occur? Or is it ...
... I gasp and open my eyes wide as though awakening from a dream. I am panting now, blowing my breath wetly around the ball gag. Oh dear lord, I am so aroused ...
... eyes opening again, seeing only the legs of those gathered. I wonder if they can tell I am on the verge of orgasm. I so wish I had asked Billy to finger me at this point - to help me find my final orgasm. But I couldn't have known this would happen ...
... vision blurring then clearing. I want to orgasm so badly - my sex is throbbing. I can feel my clitoris hard and tingling, my g-spot swollen and ready for that thick wet penetration ... my eyes roll up in my head. Is this it?
... eyes trying to focus ...
... the room is tilting at odd angles ...
... please ... please, someone help me orgasm ...
... please give me release from this arousal ...
... eyes keep rolling up in my head ...
... my sex is tightening, throbbing ...
... oh my ...