Naked except for her armbands and necklace, the small girl with the curly dark hair kept dancing around the room. Her audience, all male, kept watching her closely; most of the time she stayed up on the low stage at the back of the club, but frequently enough she came down on the floor and approached a few of the men, allowing them to massage her firm small breasts, to pinch her nipples, or to push a finger up into her vagina or anus. Her hands grazed over their tight crotches, and she kissed any man who showed an interest, thrusting her tongue deeply into his mouth.
Finally, on one such circuit, she found her way to the table where I was sitting with my friend, Jack Kenton. The tables themselves, I'd noticed, were a little unusual; they were of such a height that the top was on a level with an average man's groin, and there were two deep indentations in the sides. Standing close to me, leaning into one of those indentations, she smiled warmly and ran her fingers through my hair.
"New here, aren't you?" she asked. "Never mind; if you'd been here before I'd've remembered!" She looked over at my friend. "You brought him, Jack?" He nodded. "Well, I'm glad you did! You know how the game is played?"
"Well," I stuttered, "Jack's explained it--I don't really believe it, I have to say, I--"
She laughed musically. "You will! Before the show's over, you will! Won't he, Jack?"
"I'm sure," Jack answered with a dark smile.
The dancer puckered her lips. "You think you're going to get me tonight, Jack?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Well, I surely hope so!" She laughed again.
"Now, Marie, even I don't believe that!" Jack exclaimed.
The girl--"Marie," evidently--shrugged and smiled, then turned her attention back to me. Reaching down, she moved her fingertips lightly over my groin; the erection I already had grew a little larger. She was absolutely delightful; an innocent large-eyed face, very firm high breasts, wonderful legs, a flat dancer's stomach. Her dark eyes teased me as I gazed at her fixedly; when I reached a hand up, running it up from her belly to her breast and finally tweaking her nipple, she cocked an eyebrow at me and began to look turned-on.
"You think you can play the game, uh--?"
"Andy," I supplied, my tongue thick.
"Andy? Some guys can't..."
"I, uh, I think so..."
"Good! I'll be watching for you!" She danced away, headed back toward the stage; as she went the curtains at stage-left opened.
A young man, quite naked, came out carrying a chair; following close behind him was another naked girl, this one possessed of long silky blonde hair. Her face was classically pretty, she was very long-legged; her breasts were very large, very soft-looking. The young man sat down in his chair; the blonde immediately knelt in front of him and began toying with his penis. As it began to rise, she dipped her head down and took it into her mouth, sweeping her hair back carefully so we all could see. At the other end of the stage, Marie, knowing that everyone was at the moment watching the two newcomers, struck a dramatically attractive pose--her chest thrust out and one leg cocked--and waited.
Soon enough, the blonde had drawn the young man to full erection. Lifting her head, she glanced at Marie, who, taking her cue, danced over to them. As the blonde moved back out of the way, Marie kissed the man, allowed him to toy with her breasts for a moment, then bent down over his lap, and, after teasing his penis for a while with her tongue, took it fully into her mouth. She sucked him enthusiastically for a few minutes before leaving him to resume her dance. While she danced the blonde kept tending the young man, keeping him erect with her fingers and with her lips. The song ended; just after the start of the next Marie returned to the young man, and this time she positioned herself over his lap. Guiding his erection up into her vagina, she lowered herself onto him. Leaning herself back so we could all see his penis penetrating her, she began rhythmic up-and-down movements.
This too only lasted for a few minutes before she again left the man to dance, leaving the blonde to minister to his erection, to keep it maintained. Four times Marie returned to suck him, four times she sat on his erection.
"Fucking great show already," I told Jack. "Already worth the price!" I'd paid five thousand for this; Marie and the blonde looked wonderful, but that was still a steep price--unless, or course, the rest of the show went the way Jack had said it would...
Jack grunted. "You're nuts! But you're right, it's worth the price. It's going to get better, in just a minute or two."
From behind us a hostess came out, a very pretty girl with short brown hair, herself dressed only in high heels and a studded leather belt. She was carrying a tray on which rested a number of leather pouches; she circulated among us, passing out one of the bags to each of us, pausing if any man showed an interest in caressing her body--which most of them, me included, did.
Once the pouches had been distributed, the hostess mounted the low stage and stood alongside the the young man and the blonde girl while the dark-haired girl danced on, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat. We began to open the pouches; I opened mine and, with trembling hands, took out the contents.
What was inside was a razor-sharp little three-inch dagger--a dagger that looked almost like a toy--and two throwing darts. These latter had modified one and one-half inch points, needle-like at the tips, roughed further back. The shafts of the darts and the hilts of the knives had colored rings on them; looking around, I noticed that there were different colors for each man. Mine were green and gold.
The song ended; Marie stopped and stood still in the middle of the stage, her hands on her hips. "Each guest," the hostess announced, "may throw his darts at any time, but only while the dancer dances. They may not be retrieved once thrown." Behind her, a couple of workmen brought out a large cork-covered backstop. "Those that strike and drop out," the hostess went on, "are considered misses, even if they remain for a time, even if blood is drawn; any dart that the dancer can shake free without using her hands is considered a miss. If all the darts are thrown and there are no hits, the show has ended. The dancer's choices are hers alone. Are there any questions?" There were none; the hostess smiled down at us. "And tonight, gentlemen, please be careful with your darts, do try not to hit each other! Okay?" She laughed, then waved her hand theatrically to Marie as she stepped off the stage.
The music began anew and Marie began moving again. She pursed her lips and smiled at the onlookers, her eyes bright and teasing. She was not coming off the stage now, although she was staying close to the front, perhaps ten feet from the semicircle of increasingly excited men. She seemed very alert as she moved, avoiding those men who already had a dart raised, ready to throw.
Just a few seconds later, one of the men did throw one at her, but he didn't even come terribly close; the dart thudded into the corkboard. Marie laughed at him, and she was joined by the other watchers. Dancing on, she moved from one side of the semicircle of spectators to the other, sometimes coming a bit closer to the edge but always keeping a sharp eye on the men and their darts.
Eventually, another man threw one at her and, like the first, missed. She laughed again. Two others threw theirs, and both of these showed better aim. But still, twisting her body, she managed to dodge both. A fourth man threw one at her, and this one struck her thigh a glancing blow as she pivoted away. It remained, although only a quarter of an inch or so of the point was imbedded. She glanced at it and shook her hips like a hula dancer; it dropped to the floor. A bead of blood, very small, appeared on her leg. She ignored it.
Continuing her dance, she cautiously approached one of the other men, one who was sitting quite close to Jack and I, one who had a strong-looking arm uplifted, his dart ready to throw. She teased him, smiling and winking, spreading her arms to the sides invitingly, but all the while keeping an eye on his dart; I could see how her legs were tensed, ready to make an evasive move.
Finally, after two feints, he hurled it at her; suddenly, unexpectedly, and hard. As always she twisted away, but this time, she wasn't quite fast enough. The dart struck her side solidly, right at her waistline, and its point disappeared completely into her flesh. "I got her!" the man shouted. "God damn, I got her!"
Marie stopped dancing and held her side. She looked down at herself, her expression denoting shock and disbelief; a little blood trickled down from the wound. The dart was firmly imbedded, there was virtually no chance of it dropping out and she had no chance of shaking it out.
"That was a good throw," she told the man who'd thrown it. "A real good throw." Holding her side over the dart, she winced, then laughed. "Damn, you got it way in there, it really hurts!" She looked down at the dart, then around at the hostess. "Blue and red," she announced, and the hostess, nodding, wrote it down on a clipboard.
She then looked around at each of us, at each face in turn; I thought then that it might've been fantasy, but it seemed to me her gaze lingered on me for awhile. "You have me," she announced. "This time, tonight, you'll have me. But we aren't ready for the next part, not yet!" Winding her hands in her hair, she started dancing again. A few more darts were thrown--Jack hurled one of his--but all were misses; finally she moved close to a younger man seated at the left side, closer than she'd come to any of them before, eyeing the darts in his hand.
He pitched one of them at her, underhanded. She twisted as if to avoid it, but without the vigor of her previous moves; it struck the side of her thigh. Like the one she'd shaken free, it wasn't deep; it hung loosely, it looked as if it might drop out at any second.
She stopped dancing and examined it. A bead of blood appeared where the point was stuck in her flesh. Instead of trying to shake it free, she came down off the stage and walked slowly and carefully to the man who'd thrown it. Once she reached him, she put her foot on the chair between his legs.
"It'll fall out," she told him with a seductive smile. "Go ahead, put it in so it won't."
Returning her smile, he held her thigh with one hand and took hold of the dart gently with the other. Slowly, carefully, he pushed it on into her leg until the point had vanished. Her face tightened and her body trembled, but she stood still, waiting patiently until he'd finished.
"I'll be seeing you again later," she said after a moment, her smile reappearing.
He nodded; she gave the color code to the hostess and backed away. When she'd returned to the stage she started her dance again. At first, the darts seemed to slow her down a little, but, within minutes, she was dancing as gracefully as before. And, soon enough, another man, a man sitting quite close to us, flung one of his darts toward her.
She made no effort to dodge it. It hit her breast, right in the nipple, missing the center by only a few millimeters. She gasped, stopped dancing, and looked down at it. It, like the previous one, was not deep; it too looked as if it might well fall out.
Resolutely, she descended from the stage, walked to the man who had thrown it, and, seating herself on his lap, put her arms around his neck. "Such a good aim," she told him with an impish smile, "has to be rewarded! Push it on in; make sure it stays in!"
"You're something else," the man told her as he wrapped his arm around her back and put his fingers around the dart. He pushed; she gasped again, but she squeezed her breast up to meet it.
"Ah, oh, oh, that hurts! NO, don't stop, ohhh...!" He didn't; she kept squeezing her breast up and I could see it sliding softly into her nipple. More blood beaded up around it; it trickled down her breast.
She stood up and turned slowly around, letting us view the three darts that now stood rigidly in her body. Moving slowly, she returned to the stage and knelt by the naked young man who still waited in his chair. Still looking at her audience she bent her head over, took his penis into her mouth; as she did, she let the dart piercing her breast press against his leg, pushing it hard into her breast. She winced, but she kept sucking him for a while before she finally stopped and straddled his lap, impaling herself on his penis. She moved slowly on him; he toyed with the dart in her side, slapping it, then twisting it a little, pushing it in a little deeper, then drawing it back only to push it home again.
Then she left him, again leaving the pretty blonde to maintain his erection, and returned to the dance. Her face showed a little strain, and her movements were somewhat less energetic than before. A few more darts were thrown, all of these missed; she scanned the audience, and then, to my amazement, fixed her gaze on me. Smiling charmingly in spite of her injuries, she danced toward me.
I hadn't thrown either of my darts yet; I was still pretty unsure of myself, and maybe a little stunned by what was going on here. Even though she was very close, I still didn't throw. She came down off the stage and came over to me; everyone just watched her, no one did anything. Stopping a few feet from me, she stayed in one place, her hands up in her thick hair, her hips swaying. Still I did nothing, I felt paralyzed by her. Finally she stopped, put her hands on her hips, and gave me a mock glare.
"Why don't you throw your dart?" she asked.
I swallowed hard. "Uhm--you aren't dancing. It's against the house rules," I answered lamely.
With a puckered smile, she began moving her hips back and forth, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now I am," she purred. Her eyes urged me on.
"I'm not sure you're close enough yet," I told her jokingly--she wasn't more than three feet away from me. "I want to be sure."
Covering her mouth with her hand she giggled. She came closer yet, kept moving her hips. By now she was barely eighteen inches away, but I still didn't throw the dart. "Now what?" she demanded.
"I'm waiting for you to get close enough," I said.
She came on; I spread my knees and she stood between them, moving her small slender body languidly. "How's this?" she asked.
"Not bad." Reaching out, I stroked her thighs; slipping my hand up between them, I pushed a finger into her vagina. She sighed with apparent pleasure. "Where would you like it?"
"Wherever you want to put it!"
I brought a dart up, touched it to the side of her still-uninjured breast, and cupped it with my other hand. It dimpled her skin. "It's a beautiful little breast," I said, squeezing it gently. I bent my head down, first licking and then sucking her nipple. "You sure you want me to poke a hole in it?"
"Do you want to?"
"Oh, God, I'd love to!"
She caressed my groin, then brushed my lips with hers. "Then I'd love for you to," she answered firmly.
"Okay," I said. "Here goes!" Squeezing her breast more tightly, I pressed down with the dart, gently at first, then much harder; the indentation grew, then suddenly the point broke through. She hardly even winced as it sank right on in; her smile remained as a little blood forced its way out around the steel.
She looked down at it and nodded. "You going to give me that much trouble later on?" she asked as she stepped away from me.
"No," I assured her. "No, I'm not!"
After patting my cheek she turned away from me and, while calling out my colors, resumed her dance as she headed back toward the stage. Jack took the opportunity, throwing a dart at her while her back was turned; she didn't see it coming, and it thudded into her bare back, burying itself deeply. Her body jerked; she paused, looked over her shoulder at him, winked broadly at him, and called out his colors as well.
Now, as she reached the stage again and once again began her dance, she seemed much slowed by the darts; another man aimed his throw at her lower abdomen, and she made no attempt to evade it. It added itself to the others, and fresh blood began running down her belly.
Another was thrown; badly, it struck her leg, inflicted a scratch, fell back. The next, just as poorly executed, missed, but the one following it pierced the side of her chest and remained. She staggered slightly; her dance became a little disorganized, a little forced. Only two darts now remained in our hands, and one of them was mine. As she came close to me, I threw it at her; almost simultaneously, the other man who'd held onto one threw his. His missed; mine struck Marie almost squarely in the center of her navel and pierced her deeply. She groaned, grabbed at it; then, just as quickly, she regained her control. Letting it go, she smiled at me broadly.
"The first part has ended," the hostess announced after Marie had called out these last colors. Marie waved at us and went back to the naked man, where she lowered herself yet again on his continuing erection. The man held her shoulders, moved his hips gently; she seemed to be resting. As he moved, the blonde girl carefully extracted all the darts from Marie's flesh; when she finished, much more of the dark-haired girl's blood was running out. They let it flow for a few moments, then the blonde washed her down with a cloth, using some fluid from a bottle that seemed to stop the bleeding. When she was finished, the dancer didn't really look as if she'd been injured at all.
After several minutes, Marie got up and resolutely returned to the center of the stage, where she stood looking at her audience. "I'm ready," she told the hostess. Her voice quavered a little.
"There have been hits," the hostess announced unnecessarily. "Tonight there will be a part two." She studied her clipboard. "Tonight, there are two winners--the establishment, blue and red. And for the finish, we have only one winner; green and gold."
Jack nudged me. "Way to go, man," he said.
"With this understood," the hostess said, "we will now begin it." She looked back at her clipboard. "Blue and red is first."
The man who'd first hit the girl held up his knife. "Mine," he announced. He was smiling, and he was breathing very hard; his knife was clutched tightly in his right hand.
Marie came to him. "You're the first," she told him, flashing her impish smile. "You do know what to do now, don't you?"
The man pulled her down on his lap. "Uh-huh," he said softly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, touched her breast with his fingertips, kissed her lightly. Then he drew his head back, looked into her eyes. "How many times have you done this?" he asked.
She laughed. "This part, of course, never! The dance--this was my fifth time. I've never been hit before." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, I shouldn't say that--I have been hit, of course, but never so well that I couldn't shake the dart free."
"How many were you going to do--before you quit, I mean?"
She shook her head again; there was a faraway look in her eyes. "I'm not sure," she admitted, "that I would've quit. Not until this night came." She put her arms around his neck; her face was flushed with excitement. "And now," she went on, "it has. I'm ready, whenever you are!"
Still looking into her eyes, he brought his little knife up until the point was touching her side, a little above her waist, not far from where his dart had struck her. "Are you sure?" he asked, pricking her skin with it.
She touched his face. "I'm sure," she whispered. "Believe it or not, I really do want to go through with this. But even if I didn't, I made an agreement, you'd be within your rights--as far as I'm concerned--to insist." She glanced down at the knife, which he'd pressed into her side, hard enough to deeply indent her skin. "Just do it," she whispered.
He pushed harder; the knife-point broke through. Softly, it began sliding on in. She closed her eyes and stiffened her body, but she remained on his lap and she accepted the full length of the blade without making a sound. She shuddered violently as it went in, as if she was having a spontaneous orgasm.
When it was buried he stopped pushing and looked down at the bright redness of her blood, watching it spill out over his hand, much more than the darts had drawn. She was trembling, breathing hard, and holding onto his shoulders tightly.
And she held him tighter when he began drawing it back, pulling it out of her. Her skin clung to the blade, and when it finally came free blood ran from the wound with even greater speed.
"You're something," he said admiringly.
She opened her eyes and looked up into his. "You were great too," she replied, and her tone said she meant it. "you did it real well!" Still sitting on his lap, she glanced at the hostess. "Give me the next," she said. "I want another one!"
"Yellow and green," the hostess announced. As soon as she did, she went to the man who'd just stabbed Marie; he already had his erection out. Kneeling between his legs, she started sucking it expertly.
An older man held up his knife; recovering her smile, Marie went to him, her steps a little unsteady. "It's your turn now," she told him, resting her hands on his knees and looking up at him. In spite of the bleeding wound in her side, she was still able to smile appealingly.
The man nodded, then shook his head slowly as he caressed her body. "You are so lovely," he whispered. "So young, so very lovely--such a beautiful body, and you're willing to stand here and allow us to throw darts at it and stick knives in it. I heard what you were saying to that other man--is it true? Are you enjoying it, can that be possible? It isn't hurting you?"
She actually laughed. "Oh, it hurts all right!" she assured him. "But yes, I can get into it--I am into it, I do want you to do it--"
"But you're going to die--here, tonight--"
Her eyes were shining. "Yes. I'm ready for that, too."
He stood up, pulled her to her feet, and turned her around. With one arm around her slim waist, he pulled her back against himself tightly. "Very well," he said after a hesitation. "If you're sure--if you're ready--" He showed her his knife, holding it close in front of her face.
She pushed her head forward and licked the blade. "I am ready," she told him. "I've been ready! Any time! Do it!"
He put his face down close to her hair and turned the knife inward, pointing it at her; she watched while he brought it up until it was touching her right breast, the point resting just under her nipple. "Oh, yes," she sighed. "In my breast, oh, yes. That'll be good, that'll be really good!" She reached her hands around, put them against his waist.
Slowly and steadily, he tightened the knife up against her; it indented her breast even more deeply than the previous one had indented her side. After a few seconds, a little blood appeared. The dancer's mouth opened, and her eyelids fluttered.
The man seemed to be hesitating; she opened her eyes widely. "Come on!" she urged. "Put it on in, oh, God, mmmm, get it in deep!" He pushed, and a little more of the blade slipped inside. "Ah, yes, oh God, God, it feels red-hot, oh go on go on go on...!"
He did go on, pressing it harder, forcing the slender little blade on into her breast. When a little more than half of it had disappeared, he paused, relaxed his hand, allowed her breast to resume its normal shape. The blade was piercing it cleanly; blood was trickling steadily down below it.
She looked down at it, then reached around, ran her hand up into the man's hair. "Come on!" she urged, squirming against him. "Go on, get it on in me, I want all of it!"
"Ah, let's not rush this," the man said. "Let's take our time. You'll only get to do this once, you know!" He let go of the knife completely; it sagged a little. "So pretty," he repeated, touching her nipple, teasing the tip. His fingers wandered down to the trail of blood tracing down the lower half of her breast; when they were wet, he brought them to his lips, licked them. Wetting them again, he touched her lips with them this time--she licked it too, cleaning his fingertips.
"Let's do a little more now," he said, winding his fingers around the knife's hilt.
"Oh, yes," she answered, her voice breathy. "Yes, let's..."
Slowly and carefully, he began pushing the knife deeper, rocking it back and forth as it went. She gasped, then moaned softly; blood spurted out, splashing on the floor a good two feet away. He didn't stop this time, he went on, he buried the blade in her breast.
"Ah, yeah, yeah," she sighed. "Yeah, that's it, that's good, oh Jesus Christ, oh, that's it! Oh, I can't breathe--pull it out now--please, pull it out, take it out of me--!"
He did that too, jerking it back and free in one swift motion. He moved his arm; the dancer took a few shaky steps away from him. For a moment she looked as if she might be about to pass out, her eyes half-lidded, her body trembling, blood running freely from her breast and from her side.
But, as she continued to pose for the men, she seemed to regain some of her strength. She glanced at the hostess, who, leaving the man she was sucking for a moment, called another set of colors. With a smile--she'd recovered all of her poise, evidently--Marie walked slowly to the man who was holding up a knife matching these colors, dripping blood on the floor as she went. When she reached him, she leaned over him, kissed him, and deftly extracted his rock-hard erection from his pants.
He grinned too; pulling her down on his lap, he impaled her on his erection and caressed her injured breast. "Tell me--where do you want it this time?"
She kissed his cheek. "Wherever you want to put it."
"No. You choose."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "In my belly, then," she decided. "Down low. Real deep, okay?"
He touched her with the point, an inch below her navel and a little to the right. "Here?" he asked.
"There's just fine."
"Good," he said. He kissed her deeply; while his lips were still on hers, he ran the blade into her, quickly and smoothly, as deep as it would go.
She stiffened again and threw her head far back. "Ah, God, yes," she whispered softly. "Yes, perfect, perfect...!"
"I don't want to take it out," he said, releasing it and watching the blood flow from around the deeply-buried blade. "I want to leave it in you."
"Then leave it," she said. She allowed him to thrust his penis up into her several more times, then started struggling to her feet. "I have more to do," she mumbled. "More..." She started walking away, but only managed ten feet before her knees gave way and she went down. Rolling onto her side, she laid gasping for breath and bleeding, her eyes closed and her legs trembling violently. Each time she breathed out, the wound in her breast spouted blood and the knife standing in her belly bounced.
Some time passed before she opened her eyes again and looked back at the spectators, who were watching her intently. For several seconds more she didn't try to move; then, at last, she raised herself up to her hands and knees. With a set look on her face she fought her way back to her feet and stood swaying momentarily, her feet planted far apart and her eyes closed. While they watched, most of the men who hadn't already done so began removing their clothes.
"I'm ready," she told the hostess as she slowly opened her eyes.
With a nod, the hostess called another set of colors. In the audience a man held up his knife; the dancer smiled and went to him, though she was none too steady on her feet by now. With each step she winced; clearly the knife that remained in her belly was bothering her.
As before, she sat down on the man's lap, slipping his penis inside herself and turning herself so that his body did not touch the handle of the knife. "You sure you're ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked with a smile.
She laid her head on his shoulder, smearing blood on his shirt. "I'm ready for anything," she whispered. "Just be careful with me; don't kill me, not yet!"
"I won't," he assured her. He pushed the point of his knife against her side, near her waistline. "Here we go, honey."
"Do it," she urged, and he pressed in hard, breaking the skin, drawing a tiny trickle of blood.
"Ah, god," he murmured as he forced in on, a little deeper. "God, I can feel it going into you, it feels so soft... I can feel you tremble against me...!" He looked at her strained face. "What do you feel?" he demanded.
She opened her eyes and touched his face; her expression was soft, tender. "Oh, I can feel it going in too, it feels white-hot!" She squirmed a little, and quickly turned the squirm into side-to-side movements of her hips. "It hurts, oh god it hurts; but it's such a soft pain, a sensual pain... go on, get it on in me, real deep, oh, go slow, oh, be gentle with me, be gentle...!"
Smiling and shaking his head he pushed on, gradually burying the knife. While she sighed and trembled he drew it out again, allowing a rush of blood to flow from her side. Her eyes half-lidded, she kissed him and tried to get to her feet, but she could not seem to rise.
"You'll have to help me," she said. She smiled and she even giggled, though her laughter was interrupted by a frown and a wince. She looked over at me. "Help me to his table," she asked the man who'd just stabbed her. "I don't think I can stand up, not anymore..."
"Of course," the man agreed. Supporting her, he stood up, and another man seated nearby rose to help her as well; holding her by her upper arms, they guided her our table and helped her lie down on it. At her direction, they arranged her so that her hips were right at the table's edge in one of the table's indentation and her head in another. Her knees were bent, and her small feet hung just above the floor. She asked for a cushion of her head; Jack immediately jumped up and gave her the one that had been in his chair. By this time, most of the other onlookers had risen from their chairs and had gathered around our table. The hostess and the blonde moved among them, each of them sucking one penis while another pressed into their vaginas from behind.
Marie turned her head toward me; a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth and pooled on the table. "You gave me a lot of trouble before," she reminded me. "You going to do it again?"
"No," I answered softly.
"Good. You were the winner, you hit me twice, and you were the only one who did. It's your right to kill me."
I ran my hands over her beautiful body; I gently touched the knife that remained in her belly. "You could survive this," I told her. "We could stop, you don't have to die. These knives are really small, you haven't been fatally injured, not yet. Not if we get you to a doctor."
She smiled at me and shook her head. "No. I signed the contract, I accepted the risks. I've already said it; I would've gone on until this moment finally came. It's what I want. Isn't it want you want? Don't you want to kill me?"
"Yes," I murmured. "Yes, I do."
Marie closed her eyes for a moment. "Good," she said. "Good." I felt a tap on my shoulder; the young man who'd been sitting on the stage was standing there, offering me a different knife. In shape it was identical to the little daggers we'd used before, but it was more than twice their size. I took it, I laid my little green-and-gold dagger on the table.
"Oh, don't do that!" Marie complained. "Put it in me, don't just lay it down!" She looked up at Jack. "You too, Jack," she said. "I don't want to leave you out, put yours in me too, before he kills me."
We both picked up the small knives. "Your call," Jack told me. "What do you want to do?"
"Well," I mused, "she already has one sticking in her belly, and I don't plan to take it out. I just don't think we have a choice except to put these two in her tits, do you?"
"Sounds fucking great to me!" Jack agreed.
"To me too," Marie concurred.
We stood on opposite sides of her; reaching out, she grabbed my erection with one of her small and delicate hands and Jack's with the other. We propped the knives upright on her nipples, mine on her right, Jack's on her left.
"Angle it to the outside of her body a little," I warned Jack. "You don't want to hit her heart, she'll die immediately."
He nodded; we both moved the rears of the handles inward. Perfect symmetry; we tightened them up, flattening her breasts. Her eyes snapped closed, then open again; her fingers tightened a little on my penis. I glanced at Jack and we both pushed a little harder. Almost simultaneously, the points of our knives broke through and, in short steps, began sinking into the softness of her breasts.
"Oh, yeah," she sighed as fresh blood made its appearance. Her legs quivered. "Ooo, yes, get them way on in, oh god I love the way that feels..." We did as she asked, we kept slipping them into her until they wouldn't go in any further. Leaving them there, Jack stepped around near her head while I positioned myself between her legs. There wasn't a question how much all this was exciting her; she was soaking wet, I slipped my erection into her without the slightest effort. At the same time, she drew Jack's penis into her mouth. I moved my hips for a few seconds--then picked up the big knife.
Marie had been watching; as soon as I did, she let Jack's penis slip from between her lips. Working it with her fingers, she stared at the big seven-inch blade.
"Is there any special way you want me to do this?" I asked her.
"It's your choice," she answered, her voice a little unsteady. "But I'd like it if you don't go for my heart, if you made it last a few minutes..."
Excited beyond anything I'd ever experienced, I ran my left hand over her flat abdomen, avoiding the knife that still remained, piercing her, there. "Right here, then," I said softly, touching the knife's point to a spot a couple of inches below her navel. "Right here."
She smiled up at me and stretched herself; in spite of the damage she'd already taken she seemed quite in control. "Right there," she told me, "is perfect." She looked up at Jack. "Let him get it in and I'll try to suck you some more. You never know, I might bite it off if I'm sucking it while he's doing me!" Jack, smiling down at her tenderly, caressed her face and nodded.
Then we all looked down at her abdomen, where I had the knife poised, ready to inflict a fatal wound. Jack held her face; several of the men standing around put their hands on her body. Her eyes flicked up to mine; I could see her desire very clearly.
And, slowly but firmly, I pressed down on her belly with the knife. She stiffened and winced; her abdomen sank far in, but I kept right on, increasing the pressure steadily.
And, at last, with a sudden splash of bright red blood, it broke through. Her eyes, as always, flew wide open; so did her mouth. Simultaneously, her vagina tightened strongly on my erection.
"Oh..." she moaned. "Oh, god, oh yes, oh that's it, do it, do it to me, oh, god, oh, I've dreamed about this..."
Feeling like I too was dying--of pure excitement--I pushed the big blade on in, deeper and deeper. Now that the skin and muscle of her abdomen had been breached, her intestines offered very little resistance; softly and sensually the blade slipped into her.
She squirmed under me; I pulled the blade halfway back and pushed it home again. Marie pulled Jack's penis to her mouth, sucked him almost frantically for a few seconds; when she let him go I moved the knife inside her, pushing the blade upward, watching her belly bulge as the steel moved her entrails around. I paused; she grabbed Jack's erection again, and this time he erupted in her mouth, thick white semen spilling over her cheek, mixing with the blood already there.
I wasn't going to last much longer myself, and I knew it; my desire now, my goal, was to climax just at the moment she was drawing her last breath, just as her life was leaving her. Knowing that I had little time, I began forcing the knife upward, working it in and out, using a little sawing motion, slitting her belly wide open and slicing her entrails into shreds. She looked, alternately, agonized, terrified, excited, and delighted; focusing on the last of these I pushed on, faster and faster. Blood was exploding everwhere; just above her navel I hit some major vessel and it spurted, spraying hot redness on my chest.
That pushed me over the edge; I started shaking uncontrollably as my semen started squirting into her. I plunged the knife deep again, knowing I could not stop, hoping I could push her up and over the edge too.
I was in absolute ecstasy when she suddenly gasped and began quivering. She was, I'm almost certain, having some sort of super-orgasm herself. "Oh," she groaned, her eyes wide open in wonder. "Oh, god, oh... this is... it...!"
She shook all over, violently. Then, with a loud rattling sound, her breath went out of her--just as the last of my semen was flowing into her. She did not draw another. I collapsed onto the floor, overwhelmed. I had just had the peak experience of my life, and already I knew that quite well.