Part 142

Posted by Barbanne on September 27, 2004 at 23:47:44:



Laid out flat on my back.
Totally, utterly nude, covered from head to toe in gold paint and dead as a maggot.
Does it get any better than this for a girl!
Natasha hovered over my glinting, glittering corpse cackling to herself.
She was the carnival killer and I was the hapless groupie who had fucked Bonzo the strongman (Natasha's main squeeze) and had thus earned her hatred and loathing. A string of girls had crossed Natasha and all of them had ended up painted gold and suffocated to death, their skin completely unable to breathe they had basically cooked inside their golden overall make up.
And now it was my turn.
Tits up.............toes curled..............slowly cooling.
My golden eyelashes drooped onto my cheeks, my eyes closed forever and my golden lips gaped open, frozen apart as my mouth had gasped its last breath.
Of course the gold paint was mixed with a combination of vaseline and sorbolene to make it pliable and keep it from drying out, as it had the first time I tried this, leaving me cracked and split like some ancient mummy and causing me awesome itching and mighty sore nipples for several days afterwards.
Today though I glimmered with shiny, greasy gilding and those nipples poked up like two little golden mini mountains.
I also had a big patch of skin down low on my back that was uncoated so that my body could breathe enough to avoid the fate I was portraying so realistically. I mean this was super fantasy time for me but actually dying, croaking for my art was not on the agenda as yet.
Natasha cackled again and spat out, "OK bitch, fuck Bonzo will you, then bye bye baby at least you make an expensive looking stiff."
"Hee hee hee hee..."
Like some golden statue I lay there looking for all the world like my own sarcophagus.
Natasha busied herself with my body, fondling breasts, caressing nipples and then gently spreading my legs and opening up my labia to the relentless scrutiny of the lens.
Everything tingled in all the usual places and I strongly suspected that I loved her.
Natasha, Tash, and I had gotten off to a mixed start. She was a foul mouthed, sort of rough girl with heaps of attitude and she wasn't flavour of the month around Playdead dot com, not by any means, not with the others at any rate. But I had recognised some of the same sort of pain in her that had caused me so much grief in life and of course she and I had recognised each other as submission fantasists, what you might call playing dead freaks.
So we had sought each other out and had volunteered ourselves as a duo for the sets that Jade was shooting and our stuff had come out good. We certainly had chemistry and our interaction was magic. Right now we were doing a series of sets taking turns at being victim or victor.
Let me tell you more.
This one was tentatively called The Slut V The Law.
I was the law, the sheriff. Tash was the bank robbing slut. It was the old western shoot out scenario. Jeans, gun belt, hat and boots. I had a short vest and Tash was topless. She had small, pert breasts and was attractively built. She still had that patchy tanned look and her face said feral, but underneath it all she was a nice kid. She had medication for that low bp thing but she was a bit scrappy about taking it (I'm not much for pills and stuff either) and so she still zonked out occasionally but when she did we all knew to get her laid out and she came around pretty quick most times. If she didn't we'd drag her down to the doctor (sometimes in wierd costume) and the doctor would shake her head as she looked at an often half naked Tash and say, "Taking your tablets Natasha?" and Tash would look kind of guilty and the doctor would sigh and she'd give Tash a lecture and make her promise to be more careful in future and away we'd go until he next time.
Anyway here we were today fingers twitching over our six shooters and shooting off our mouths.
"Bitch Lawman (shouldn't that be Lawwoman or gal or babe?) you ain't taking me alive."
"Bet on that slut."
"Put yore gun where yore mouth is babe."
"Sure thing."
Then a blur of flying hands and cold steel clearing leather (sounds good eh?) and BLAM! BLAM! and gunsmoke curling up and Tash wearing a little cratered stick on bullet hole in between her tits and she says. "Ooooooooower," and her eyes turn up and her gun clatters away and over she goes on her back kerplomp.
Dead as a doornail.
Time for me to drag her out by the heels sort of paraphrasing Shakespeare, as in, "I guess I'll just lug the guts outta here."
I drags the sexily limp Tash over to the boardwalk lays her out and works her pants down around her ankles. Now I'm ready to play. As my fingers roam busily over her intimacies I just know that I AM in love with her and while the camera doesn't pick them up I can feel her twitchings and movings and know she is responding to me and I realise that she too is at least in lust with me.
I am wearing a long strip of gilt loincloth suspended between my legs from a gilt string around my hips and with sandals, bracelets and a diadem I am Cleopatra queen of the Nile. A nude Tash is Arsinoe my treacherous sister and I have her slender neck gripped in my encircling fingers and I am strangling her. (Heaps of licence with history here) Tash is croaking and gurgling and going blue in the face but I am relentless. I push her backward over the low divan and crush her windpipe.
"Wicked sister did you think you would join with Octavian to bring down Antony and me, me your own sister."
"How could you betray me Arsinoe?"
"Me your beloved sibling."
"Ah that my own sister should show such treachery."
I strangled harder and Tash (Arsinoe) flapped weakly and then went limp and I dropped her corpse onto the divan, blue faced and hair, arms and tongue dangling downward.
"Oh Arsinoe, Arsinoe, Arsinoe," I lamented, crocodile tears trickling down my cheeks.
I stroked her dead face, eyes bugged open and tongue drooling spittle.
"Now must I too die sister and join you in hell."
I stooped and withdrew the asp (rubber, made in China) from an urn and fondled it, pressing it to my breast and licking it lasciviously with my wetly, pinkly, extended tongue. Tash was draped dead beside me. I fondled the snake and thrust its little rubber fangs against my nipple.
"Bite swiftly serpent."
It did and I began jittering and spasming and jerking uncontrollably. The snake dropped to the floor. My eyes rolled up and over, crossing above the bridge of my nose. A drool of colgate froth slid out of the corner of my mouth and with one final, fatal spasm I dropped back across Tash's body, my own body now also dead meat.
I loved the feel of my naked flesh against hers. Her breasts crushed against my back. I let my head fall to the side so that my nose was only centimetres from her armpits. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweaty smell of her feral femininity. I wished that I had chosen to die face down my nose buried in her groin. I loved and madly desired the smell of her body, of her skin, of her intimate places, of her sweat and her perfume.
I was getting off on her and she knew it.
"Naughty girl Barb," she whispered without moving her lips.
"Naughty? me naughty?" I whispered back, "you're the one who's so damned sexy, it's you, exuding your sex, who brings me down.
We started to giggle and it grew and became a bit delerious and Jade said, "How can I properly photograph this death scene when the two stiffs are having a laugh in?"
We mumbled apologies and settled down again only an occasional snort giving us away.
Victims of the riots.
In this scenario Tash and I were a couple of babes who had been caught in our car in a dreadful riot and had become victims.
The set was photographed in the big old Ford which was parked with its doors open. Tash was in the front seat, slumped over the steering wheel, dead, a bullet hole in her forehead. I was stretched out on the back seat, strangled with my bra. Both of us had been stripped almost naked, our clothes (those that we still had) rucked haphazardly around our bodies and we had been raped. This was represented by liberal splashings of hand cream masquerading as jism that had been squirted in appropriate places. I was gazing backward inside my skull with my mouth wide open in a silent scream of death and had poked my tongue out as far as it would go. Tash's eyes were closed and she was drooling bloody spittle down onto her tummy and legs.
We looked wrecked.
That was the idea and it came across superbly.
Jade photographed us from all possible angles. The way I had posed myself, legs splayed out through the open car door, meant she could get down low and do a series of shots moving in closer and closer to my gaping pussy and its coating of hand cream. (jism)
How demeaning was this.How degraded and debased would I allow myself to appear.
Ah well, you know my fantasies by now.
This time we were a couple of boxers.
Costume or lack thereof comprised boxing gloves and those high lace up boots boxers wear and which are so fashionable among young women this winter. Nothing else. No shorts or any of that stuff. This was porn.
We boxed.
Mostly posing and close ups of grimaces and sneers and snarls and those bashed in face looks when your opponent's glove lands on your kisser.
Get the idea.
Tash was winning. Pounding, pummelling. Landing shot after thumping shot at will. She was a way ahead on points.
I was, to all intents and purposes, out on my feet.
Then Tash landed a lethal combination of punches culminating in a whistler of an uppercut and down I went kayoed into nighty night land.
Bye byes time.
Spread out like margarine on bread and of course legs splayed wide apart.
The camera caressed my cunt, invaded it, assaulted it, overran it and explored it in gynaecological detail.
As I lay helplessly on the "canvas" Tash pranced around in a triumphant victory dance, then planted her booted foot between my sagging, sideways splayed breasts and posed victoriously over the body of her trounced foe.
Tash the winner by a clean knockout of Barbanne.
She and Loreen then carried my limp form out of the ring. I sagged and drooped, my head rolling on my neck and my arms trailing.
While we were on the theme of physical contact we decided to do a bare knuckle stoush.
Good old fashioned ancient history type warrior girls (Amazons?) battling each other in a fight to the finish.
Only one girl would walk away from this.
It was a contest that only finished when one or other of us was dead!
Both Tash and I were naked for this and we went at each other like two mad dogs. (bitches of course) This time it was my turn to be victorious. Tash rocked me with blows to the tummy, chest and chin, but I started to get on top of her with hard punches to every part of her body, flattening her tits with big bashes. (pretend of course)
As I slowly got on top of her, Tash had to be made up to show the effects of the beating she was taking. I helped Jade and Loreen with this and we gave Tash a variety of spectacularly hued bruises to her cheeks, shoulders, forehead, breasts and ribs. One glorious black eye looked like a thunderstorm rising over the mountains.
I was beating up on Tash at will by now and as my punches landed undefended, her hands dropped and then I was beating on her mercilessly and her eyes glazed over and her body slackened and she wobbled at the knees and went sort of looseish like a sack of spuds and I moved in murderously and smashed her above the bridge of the nose with a doozee of a punch and broke the poor girl's head and blood leaked from her nose and trickled from between her teeth and I finished it with another head blow and she dropped like a rock and lay on the floor twitching and jerking in spasms of death and then she shuddered mightily and it was all over. Tash was down and dead, lying there like a slaughtered cow (of course a cow, never a bull) with starey glazed eyes and a lolling tongue.
I posed triumphantly over her battered and bloodied corpse before dragging her out by the heels.
That made it four all by my count.
Tash and me being victims that is.
My turn to be dead again.
Tash, dressed as a police officer and responding to an anonymous call to triple 0, pushes open the door to the bedroom and reels back in horror.
Sprawled across the bed, naked as the day she was born and dead as a dodo is Barbanne, me, dead and loving it once again.
This is bizarre.
The manner of death is grotesque. A beautifully crafted dildo has been inserted so far into my pussy that only the finger grips are evident. Another, equally well crafted from extremely life like plastic, has been forced so far down my throat that the little hooded end of this pseudo penis has jammed itself so deeply into my windpipe that it has closed it off completely, wiping me out in seconds.
Tash stares in fascinated awesome dread at this nude woman, tits pointing to the ceiling and plastic cock fucked and blow jobbed to death by some unknown assailant, maybe a murderous playmate.
"Oh honey," she said, "poor, poor thing. Did you do this to yourself? No, I don't think so, I think maybe something went awfully wrong eh babe?"
She leaned over my corpse and rotated her fingers on my poor little dead and rock hard nipples.
"Ooooooh babe is this how it was?"
With one hand she kept playing with my nipple while her other hand took hold of the dildo in my cunt and slipped it back and forth.
"Oooooow naughty girl, its all covered in vaseline eh? Nice and slippery eh? Easy in and out hmmmm?"
She stood and loosening her belt slipped her hand inside her panties and found herself and rubbed vigorously.
"Oh baby."
She kept rubbing and pulled on and played with my nipple and breast.
She came.
"Hey officer Tash what you doing?"
A voice from below.
Quickly Tash adjusted her clothing and checked that I was still dead.
"Nothing guys. Come on up, you'll never believe what I've got here."
Midget mini skirt and short tight top. Fuck me high heels and no underwear at all. That was me.
Tight short shorts and a loose shirt and wedge heels and no underwear either. That was Tash.
I shoved her hard in the tits.
"Think you can get away with fuckin' my man eh? Fuckin' slut."
"It wasn't like that Barb."
"Oh what was it like then? Good was it good?"
"Barb be reasonable."
"Reasonable, reasonable, I should be reasonable?" My voice rose to a scream.
"I'm just trying to say........................."
"What? What? That you fucked my man?"
Shrieking now.
"No I'm..............................."
"Lying, lying, telling filthy, filthy lies."
I was hysterical.
"No I'm saying that it was as much him as me."
"Liar, Liar, Liar."
I went for the eyes with my claws. Civilisation was out the window. (always is when girls fight)
She looked around for something to defend herself. Grabbed a woolen scarf. I was on her. The force of my rush knocked her to the ground. I was on her flailing like a mad woman. She whipped the scarf around my neck and pulled it tight.
"Arckkk," I said. She pulled tighter.
"You crazy bitch, what are you doing?" I croaked.
She jerked the scarf tight.
Even tighter.
The sort of noise you make when your tongue is dangling against you chin.
Death rattle.
My hands thumped onto the ground and my legs kicked spasmodically and then a wetness spread across my skirt front. (sploshed on by Jade)
It was all over for me. Once again I was the one who was dead! Dead as meat on a hook.
Tash staggered up panting and looked down into my staring eyeballs and my foam flecked, extruded tongued mouth.
"Fuck you Barbanne," she snarled.
Then her head tilted to one side.
"Hey not a bad idea," she said.
My corpse sighed.
By my count Tash was now clearly in front six to four.
This time Tash and I were to fight a duel.
A duel with pistols.
We were topless and wearing tight, brightly coloured bike shorts. Our stuff was meant to be a sex fantasy and so the costumes we wore were not always sensible so much as they were erotic.
We stood back to back with our pistols held high by our sides and at the word we slowly paced off ten paces, turned and fired. Tash's shot snipped past my ear ruffling my hair. I took my time aiming and then fired. My bullet hit her smack between her eyes and a little stick on bullet hole appeared.
Her gun spun away and bounced on the floor.
Her eyes rolled back crossing as she appeared to be trying to look at her fatal wound and then she flopped over onto her back, twitched, shuddered and then went scarily limp.
Poor Tash was dead.
I walked over and sneered down at her. Honour was satisfied.
"Serves you right Bitch!!"
I was catching up, six five down now.
We decided to do a tableaux.
You know a set up where there's no particular story just the result, make up your own scenario about how it came to be.
Tash Sheryl and Barbanne. Dressed as cave women. You know, like prehistoric babes. Just scraps of furry cloth barely covering our pussies and exposing one, or in my case, two breasts. We'd been clubbed senseless by the clan lothario and were awaiting his pleasure, lying there with dopey looks on our faces and our eyes crossed, (that can be quite painful you know when you have to hold it for a while) mouths gaped open and our tongues lolling, drooling onto each other.
The camera roamed around spying arms, legs, feet ,knees, soft, slippery cunts and errant pubic hairs, pot bulging tummies, finger pinch rolls of sub cutaneous female fat, squished tits with those nice little bulgey rolls of breast meat where our poses pushed them this way or that and lots of other womanly flesh stuff.
The photos were so sharp thanks to Jade's professionalism that, in the finished article, you would reckon you could smell the three girls involved.
Or I thought so anyway.
But then I'd been there and had smelt the bare skin of Tash and Sheryl, smelt the hot erotic musk of their sex and experienced the amazing tactile feel of my nakedness pressed against theirs.
And all while I was on the verge, the very tip edge of orgasming from being pretend senseless in a pile with two girls I loved and a stupid look of utter absement and humiliation on my face and play acting being the victim of a big strong bloke who would eventully screw me witless with no regard for my feelings or respect for my body.
Talk about dream world for a sbmission freak.
I was in the shower.
Nude, washing the soap away from my body, rinsing my hair under the steady stream of hot water.
Through the swirling steam partially obscuring the glass of the cubicle Tash appeared, soaking a face washer with chloroform.
She flung the shower curtain open, my eyes went even opener and then she jammed the wash cloth over my nose.
My eyeballs skittered wildly to and fro and then started to glaze over, drifting out of focus and then my eyelids slid down and my body slackened and slithered downwards on the slippery tiles until I flumped wetly onto the floor of the shower cubicle.
I toppled forward onto my face.
Tash leaned in and turned off the taps.
Then she took my water beaded shoulder and rolled me onto my back.
I lay there sodden and senseless.
Her hands came toward me holding a long, thin, surgical steel needle and she pressed it against my left breast. My breast flesh cupped under the pressure of the needle and then pop, it puctured my skin and sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiith, it slid deeply into my chest, through my breast tissue between my ribs and into my heart where it kept going, causing untold damage and closing my vitals down, stopping me forever. (all pretend of course)
When she was satisfied that the long sliver of steel had completed its fatal purpose, Tash withdrew it slowly and steadily.
A tiny trickle of blood issued from the site of the penetration.
It was over.
Tash turned the shower back on and slipped out of the bathroom.
The water needled down onto my soggily drenched and naked corpse and pooled around my flattened buttocks.
My hair streamed out in the rivulent sluicing down the drain and my pubic hair flattened against my groin under the impact of the water.
I was wet.
I was dead.
Quite, quite dead. Quite, quite, wet and quite, quite dead.
Tash wins seven deaths to five.

So Tash and I had become a photo set winning team.
We'd also become close in a way I hadn't really experienced in a long time and so one day when we were lunching together and she leaned over totally unexpectedly and kissed me on the lips I said, "Hey Tash."
"I love you Barb."
"I love you too Tash."
"No Barb, I mean it. Surely its no surprise to you if I tell you I'm gay and I LOVE you."
"Oooooh Tash."
"Yep, I'm a dyke and I'd love you to be my bike."
Then she giggled uproariously and I joined in too.
"Ah Tash................."
"I'm serious Barb. How about we split this place and make it on our own?"
"Doing what?"
"I dunno, girl stuff."
"Well what?"
"Well I've always thought Alex and me would settle down together and do the family thing, god knows we've lived together off and on for so long and know each other inside out."
"Try the girl thing Barb."
"I have and I'm not sure Tash."
"Not with me you haven't. Give it a go Barb. I know you like me and god knows we turn each other on, come on don't be a wimp give it a go."
"Weeeeell..........yeah, things between me and Alex are not so good anymore, I dunno......oh hell, why not!"
I sort of knew that one day I'd come back to Alex and we'd get our shit together, but struth he's a stiff (ooops, giving something away there, freudian slip) stuffed shirt guy at times and maybe a big break would do us both good.
I wrote him a note, loving, but sort of goodbye for now. I could have lived with getting it.
And so Tash and I packed our things and one morning really early snuck away from Playdead to "give it a go."