Annie is dying before my eyes and I will soon be following her into oblivion.
The memory of our fear during of the upwelling of religious fervor and intolerance are forgotten as I watch Annie twitch and quiver. Gone as well are the memories of the night we gathered all our friends in our apartment to watch the election that saw the Christian Right party sweep to power across the land.
They closed the borders. They hunted us down. They imprisoned us, tried us in secret within our prison walls, and sentenced us to death in their religious madness.
They said we were abominations in the eyes of "god". We were an evil that had to be eradicated for the purity of our nation. But if we are such "abominations", why then are they sitting in this theatre to watch us die naked?
We were kept in windowless cells, each of us alone. At night we would whisper to each other through the gaps at the bottom of our cell doors and we found out that each of us were sentenced to death. Some of us were lesbian, others gay or bisexual. Annie and I were the only transgendered girls there - we were born in the wrong body, had the wrong parts. But Annie and I couldn't get our operations in time with the hopes of moving and blending in as women in this crazy society that now kills you for your sexual orientation.
One by one the voices disappeared. We could hear the ones who fought it through our cell doors. But once they were taken out, their voices were silent.
This morning it was Annie's and my turn. The guards came for us - male guards because the "church" said we were men. We were given enemas that bloated us then emptied us until the water ran clear and we were only given water to drink all day as we were bathed and allowed the dignity of doing our hair and make-up. They wanted us to look "presentable" for the politicians and church elders who were to witness our death sentences carried out.
The only kindness showed to us all day was from the hangman. He talked to us and was gentle as he bound our wrists behind our backs. He was apologetic when he examined our necks and throats to make sure he made our nooses right for us.
He even let Annie and I have a few minutes alone together backstage before he led us out through the curtain. Annie and I cried and kissed, then Annie stood up on her tiptoes and rubbed her nipples against mine.
"Annie, I'm scared." I whispered a truth I wanted to scream.
"So am I, Marcie." Annie whispered back, "I'm glad I'm going first. You're stronger than me, and I can't bear the thought of watching you die."
I gave her that final gift as hard as I knew it would be. And as the hangman came and took Annie gently by the arm to lead her through the curtain, she looked back over her shoulder.
"Never forget that I love you." and those were her last words to me. The hangman's assistant took me by the arm then also and we followed them out onto the stage.
The lighting in the theatre was dim, with soft spotlights on us. The theatre was crowded - every seat filled by men in suits - some with those little white collars that told of their rank and privilege in this insane world. I couldn't see their faces, but I know they were staring at our nakedness.
Annie's cock was as flaccid as mine was when they led us on stage and I wondered if her fear was cramping her bowels like mine. It felt like cold hands were inside me, hard fingers gripping my intestines and stomach. I was and am so scared.
So fucking scared.
I'm about to die, I thought to myself as I looked over at Annie. But she would not turn to look at me - I guess she thought we'd said our goodbyes already - why make dying harder than it already is? So she stood in silence staring down at the polished stage floor and I could see she was trembling all over.
But as the hangman fitted her noose, I saw Annie smile her crooked little smile and her cock begin to stir - to engorge and swell. Seeing her become aroused by her impending death sent shivers up my bum and back. Was death erotic for her? Or was she thinking about what the hangman told us backstage? That slow hanging almost always gave men erections and that men ejaculated and women's cunts flowed with mucus and their movements as they died made him believe that they all experienced a death orgasm in the end.
I was so scared couldn't understand the Warden as he read our death sentences aloud. My fear was rising within me, making his words a jumble, making me tremble and quiver, making me feel like I was going to sick-up or pee myself and collapse and have them lift me up and hold me before I hanged.
But all at once he stopped talking and nodded at the hangman who pushed a button and we heard the whine of an electric motor high above the stage and the slack was slowly taken up on Annie's noose.
Annie was hoisted slowly - as I will be - she breathed deeply as the rope began to pull upward and as it tightened around her throat she made a wet whimpering sound and squeezed her eyes closed. As she rose up on her tiptoes she began to choke, then struggle. She kicked her legs and twisted as the rope bit deep into her throat. I wanted to cry when she lost her right shoe - she loved those shoes. It was one of the few mercies they allowed us - to wear our shoes; to be allowed those and our make-up so we died as the women we were even though they denied our sexuality.
And when Annie stopped struggling her cock swelled more, slowly becoming rock hard, her nipples puckering and tightening, her body beginning to undulate as it always does as her orgasm builds. Pre-cum began to dribble from the tip of her cock to slide down its underside.
Oh my sweet girl.
Annie's belly is clenching and releasing now - at times tight and flat, revealing the strapping abdominal muscles she worked so hard to tone, and at times pushing outward as though her empty intestines are bloating within her.
As I look on, Annie gurgles and humps the air and her cock is as hard as I've ever seen it. It has the familiar upward curl that fit so sweetly down my throat whenever we 69ed. But now, instead of cumming in my throat or my ass, I watch Annie thrust her hips forward and cum hard - clots of pearly white cum pulse from her cock, spraying upward to stick to her belly and drip to splatter on the stage floor.
My girl is dying in ecstasy.
These men who watch us, who were so sanctimonious in their judgement, hide their erect cocks as they sit and watch Annie cumming as she dies. Maybe that's why they allowed us make-up and shoes - our deaths are really part of a sick fantasy shared by all the shadow men in the audience. I suspect they want to feel what we feel. I suspect they want us - to play with our bodies and to fuck us and suck our cocks - to feel our convulsions as we die.
Annie is still cumming. Her movements becoming spastic and uncoordinated as her face deepens in colour. Yet still her cock throbs, her sac shriveling as the skin tightens and puckers. Cum is now once again dribbling from the end of her cock and I wonder how much more she has. I have never seen her cum this much - ejaculate this much - and my heart breaks a little as I crave to have her cock in my mouth one last time. To swallow her last orgasm and carry it within me to my grave.
At long last Annie's body calms and I watch her cock soften and droop. Her face is purple and I can see her swollen tongue pressed out between her teeth, just touching her lower lip. Her body shudders every few seconds and her legs give little feeble kicks. As I watch, her belly goes flaccid and droops and pee streams from her now limp cock. Her mouth works like she's trying to speak or gasp for air and her eyelids try to flutter open. It seems to take forever, but at long last she hangs limp.
A cold tingling rush washes up my back and belly from my thighs and bum as I feel the rope that has lain on my left shoulder stir and the heavy hangman's noose starts to lift.
Oh god, it's my turn.
I turn away from Annie so the long knot nestles behind my left ear like the hangman told us - "It's best that way." he said, "It keeps blood flowing to the brain so you can feel everything". And because he also told us that each of us would get the hardest erections we'd ever had and die during the longest orgasm we'd ever experienced, I choose to believe him. Once Annie stopped struggling, I could see what he predicted did happen for her. My sweet girl died in bliss.
And maybe that's why the audience is here - to watch the sexual miracle of hanging to bring some excitement to their dull dogmatic lives. And I both love and hate them for that. While the lust they hide as they witness our deaths makes them monsters, at the same time I feel a yearning for them to witness what is about to happen to me - I feel so alone and vulnerable, even their grim presence is a perverse kinship and comfort. We will experience my death together, these grim men and I.
I feel the noose begin to tighten on my throat and the knot nestle behind my left ear. I pant hard and deep, drawing in enough air to flood my bloodstream with as much oxygen as I can. My fear is rising fast as the rope lifts - it's happening too fast. I'm not ready!
The rope tightens slowly around my throat and I groan as it burns, settling under my jaw line and cinching. I feel my neck being stretched and the rope lifts me up on my tiptoes. I am straining, sucking air in through clenched teeth. Now my shoes scuff on the stage floor as I become weightless and too soon they lift free. I point my toes downward to find the floor, but all I encounter is air.
I can't help it. I thought I was resigned to my fate, but my frantic desire to live comes alive in a frighteningly desperate wave that flares bright within me. I am kicking and twisting my body, trying to free myself from the noose's tightening grip.
You're being foolish, I scold myself silently. You're wasting these last precious moments.
But fear has me in its grip - I don't want to die! Please don't let me die! Please-please-please! I don't want to hang and choke and humiliate myself in front of these terrible men.
Inside my head I am screaming - pleading and begging for my life as I squirm and twist and try to free my hands so I can claw at the rope around my throat. Irrationally in my panic I lift my knees high and drop my legs down hard in a futile attempt to snap the rope. All that does is cinch the noose tighter and compress the root of my tongue, forcing it up to fill my mouth. I feel something crunch in my gullet and my gag reflex comes alive. I feel my stomach churn and convulse and liquid gurgles up my throat then back down as my body tries to sick-up the water I drank.
My gagging and heaving starts to cycle and it reminds me of times I've been throat fucked and how sicking-up during it was so sexual - regurgitating foamy cum and saliva then opening my mouth wide to swallow Annie's cock deep once more.
My kicking slows as I start to feel the faint return of sexual feelings. Oh, Annie ... it this how it started for you? I feel a tightening in the root of my cock and feel it stir, but even that scares me; I don't want it. I don't want to be aroused and erect and orgasmic, because with that orgasm will come death. If I can keep struggling, maybe I'll last longer. If I give in to the arousal it will be the beginning of my dying.
A wave of electric tingles wash over my flesh from my inner thighs and bum, up my back and belly, terminating in my nipples as they awaken and pucker as they grow tight and tingle. I wish someone would suck them - hard, the way I like it.
My scrotum too tingles as it tightens - the way it does when Annie's delicate fingers tease me there when she rakes her fingernails lightly across the wrinkled skin. My cock is swelling more, lifting to point upward as it becomes rigid. Oh god, here it comes. I feel the promised sexual arousal build quickly as my cock grows hard and the head bloats and begins to throb. My kicking grows feeble and stops, my legs dangling loose below me. I feel a swelling in the root of my cock - the beginning of an orgasmic build up. No-no-no-no ... not yet ... not yet ... please not yet! But I can't stop it - the swelling is growing stronger and it becomes a constant sexual throb just in front of my anus. I open my thighs slightly and thrust my pelvis forward. Oh god I want a cock inside me so bad.
I feel my anus loosen and gape open and I crave the feeling of Annie's cock sliding deep into my bowels to set me quivering and moaning - to make me that sexual animal that only she could, as I begged her to fill me with her cum. Fill me up, Annie, fill me up!
And my belly too is swelling, becoming bloated and heavy, so I let it sag, no longer caring that these men are watching. No longer worried that I am being humiliated in death - let them watch, let them see me lose control of my body in my final moments. I feel a sexual connection with them now - my arousal stronger because I know they are watching me.
The swelling at the root of my cock is so strong that I can't close my thighs. It feels like I have a fist inside me, grinding against my prostate - something I always wanted, something I wanted Annie to do to me one day before we each got cut. But that will never be and I feel a momentary wave of regret. But I have this - I have these wonderful sensations.
My sexual feelings grow stronger and stronger and my fear fades to a faint trembling in my chest - or is that my heart fluttering? Either way, I don't care - my orgasm is building ... building ... building! Building higher than ever before. I wonder why I haven't cum yet. Maybe it's because this is the big one - the last orgasm I'll ever feel and my body knows it. Or maybe death orgasms are like this - brought on stronger because the brain is starving for oxygen. Either way ...
I feel thick fluid oozing from my blown anus to smear between my bum cheeks and trickle down my inner thigh. I know what this is - it's happened before after enema play; a yellowish mucus from my bowels - a natural lubricant that I loved as Annie fucked me.
I feel my lower belly and my bum muscles start to tighten, curling my pelvis forward, opening my thighs wider, my legs dangling loosely and my thighs trembling. This is it! I'm starting to cum! Oh mommy! I feel the swollen throbbing in the root of my cock start to clench. My belly tightens and I begin to quiver and shake. I grit my teeth and manage to let loose a straining wet grunt as my lower belly spasms and my orgasm cramps hard in my pelvic cradle. I ejaculate so violently that it burns and my orgasm spins out of control.
I can't help myself; I hump the air like a mad thing as I cum and cum and cum. Shiver-bumps cover my belly and breasts and even my nipples are throbbing. The men watching me fade from my awareness, as does Annie's naked body still hanging to my left. All that matters is my orgasm - my glorious, soul-wrenching orgasm. I feel my cock spurting gob after gob of cum and imagine it spattering the stage floor beneath me. I feel my anus forced open wider and a rosebud forms between my cheeks as my rectum prolapses. My stomach convulses and foamy fluid rises up my gullet and some finds its way past my swollen tongue to dribble out of the corner of my mouth like drool.
I don't care.
I don't care about anything.
And now I want to die when this orgasm fades - I couldn't live knowing I would never feel this again.
For a time it feels like my orgasm won't stop, but like everything, it eventually does. It slowly fades and my body calms. My cock softens and I feel it drooping by degrees. It feels like falling asleep; I am calm and warm and relaxed - my body so heavy. I know what this is and I give in to it - I am dying now.
The world is growing dark and distant and silent.
I feel my cock fluttering and I realize I am peeing myself. I don't care, even that feels good - like releasing my hold on my dignity and my life and letting go.
I resolve to just let go ... and that too feels good.