Part 45
Posted by Barbanne on November 21, 2002 at 22:01:32:
PART FORTY FIVE
THE COLLECTOR
Cold dead flesh!
That was me.
Well, if not cold then cooling rapidly.
Posed seductively, nude and slid down on my back on the leather lounge, head propped against the back rest, hair wildly dishevelled, arms out from my sides, hands palm upward and fingers curled. Bare feet crossed at the ankles and tucked in against the lounge, knees bent and as far apart as they would go, my woman's slit pulled apart by my spread thighs and glistening with thick, sticky, whitish discharge. My eyelids drooped to half mast and my eyeballs were rolled up behind them and my mouth gaped open and my tongue stuck out over my lower lip. Vicious tell tale bluish black bruises encircled my throat where I had been violently strangled by a man's strong hands.
Moments before I had arrived at the door selling Telco company offers and had been asked to wait inside the porch by the man of the house, Rom. As I stood there twiddling my identity disc and fiddling with my papers he jumped me from behind and in a brief, explosively brutal struggle I had been throttled to death.
He ripped my sneakers and ankle socks from my feet and tore off my shorts and company logo branded tee shirt and then my bra and g-string panties. He half dragged and half carried my bonelessly limp body into the living room and dumped me onto the leather lounge where my nude flesh had slid slowly down to rest where I now was, my bum being puckered and pulled backward against the cool leather.
The camera dwelt lovingly on my ruined face. Mascaraed eyelashes, shadowed skin from lash to eyebrow, bright red glistening lips, protruding pink tongue, white pupilless eyeballs and wasted throat. It roamed down over my breasts, my aroused nipples and flat, rippled tummy and through my wispy pubic bush and down to my gaping labia. The whitish stuff (actually a mix of vaseline and soap inserted with a syringe) dribbled out and down toward my buttocks.
I was cold.
I was dead.
I was flesh.
We were filming in the house of a friend of Dave's. He was away and his sumptuous mini palace was ours for the duration. It was far and away grander than our usual settings. The thin plot line involved a guy who killed girls and collected their corpses and I was the first to die. Sherilee, Sibyl, Nadine and Roxie were waiting.
Roxie arrived and rang the door bell.
She was collecting for a charity.
Rom was having the time of his life. He invited her in and asked her to wait. Roxie stood there nervously looking around and showing her buck teeth as she sucked worriedly at her lower lip. Rom jumped her from behind as he had done to me. Roxie fought bravely but succumbed quickly and as she collapsed onto the carpet, Rom ripped off her vinyl mini skirt and halter top and flicked off her wedge heeled slides and stripped her bra and bikini pants away. Soft, feminine and floppily limp Roxie was dragged by her wrists into the living room and her slender white corpse joined mine on that leather lounge. It was a big lounge but even so Rom had to squeeze Roxie's body against mine to make sure he had enough room for all of us. Sherilee acted as props and makeup girl and spread Roxie's legs and syringed some of our make do "cum" into her pussy. Roxie's eyes were open and staring at nothing and her tongue dangled from the side of her mouth. I lay unmoving thoughout Roxie's arrival as befits one who is dead.
Sibyl was an evangelist handing out tracts and the next to arrive and the next to die.
Sibyl was dressed in a long dress as would be suitable to a good girl who is doing good works. She was also far and away the biggest girl so far and even though Rom surprised her from behind again as she waited politely for him, she managed to put up a fierce struggle in defense of her honour and her life. They rolled around on the carpet and twice Sibyl got away only to be dragged back and thrown once more to the floor.
Sibyl fought the good fight.
But Rom was a man and Rom was bigger and stronger and finally he straddled her and his powerful fingers choked the life out of her. Sibyl did amazingly good work of letting the light fade from her eyes as her body's struggles grew feebler and feebler until she eventually shuddered, spasmed down her whole length and died.
Rom took his time stripping Sibyl from her Sunday school clothes, no g-strings for this goody goody girl.
It was worth it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Sibyl's glorious body emerged from it's coccoon until at last she lay sprawled out magnificently nude.
Inside Roxie and I lay as still as death as only dead girls can.
Sibyl's hair trailed and her head bobbled as she was dragged by her heels, naked across the floor and manhandled into place on the lounge. Rom had to move us all along to make sure he had room and I stayed bonelessly loose as he lifted my limp body with his hands around my rib cage and shifted me over. My head flopped back and my limbs trailed and my puss dribbled.
All three of us now wore the necklace of bruised flesh that denoted strangled babes.
Nadine was the next one to come into Rom's evil web.
Nadine was the meter reader girl and she knocked tentatively at the door and asked to be allowed in to carry out her task. Rom was charming and showed her where it was.
As Nadine bent close to the dial and copied down the information, concentrating, her tongue caught between her teeth, Rom grasped her neck and throttled her. Taken completely by surprise Nadine didn't last long and when she lay stretched out on the floor, her pencil and book fallen where they had landed as they dropped from her fingers, Rom pulled off her work boots, her overalls and her undies and towed her flaccid body in to where Sibyl, Roxie and I waited to greet her.
Rom lifted Nadine's limp corpse and placed her alongside the other three of us.
Four little maidens all in a row.
All nude.
All dead.
Sherilee was a police woman come to enquire about a number of disappearances which had been reported hereabouts.
Rom ushered her in.
He asked her into his study and as she preceded him he knocked her out by rapping her on the head with a statue of a bronze owl. Sherilee came to to find herself lying naked on the study floor with her panty hose loosely looped around her neck.
Then Rom strangled her.
Sherilee struggled a lot and kicked out her long legs and flapped her hands around but all to no avail.
Rom tugged relentlessly at the panty hose and Sherilee's tongue flopped out and her eyes bugged from their sockets and she flapped around ever more feebly and then she sighed and drooled and was dead.
Rom dragged her in to the lounge.
"Hey girls," he addressed our staring cadavers, "look what I've brought you. A police lady."
He dragged Sherilee some more.
"Not that you'd know it. She's sort of out of uniform."
He stood surveying us.
"Damn, there's no room for her. You dames have such big bums only the four of you will fit."
He came over and looked at his dilemma.
"Ah well, police lady here will just have to pleasure one of you..........you telephone girl, how would you like the police lady to be your really intimate friend?"
He tapped my knee.
I lay sprawled and sightlessly silent.
"You would? I thought you might."
He rocked Sherilee onto her knees and then pushed her forward so that her face nestled between my spread thighs. I felt Sherilee's breath on my pussy. Rom laid Sherilee's arms over my legs so that she looked as though she was going down on me.
"Now isn't that nice," said Rom.
He stood back and studied his little tableau of five dead girls.
"Ah," he sighed.
"Trouble is you see ladies, us collectors are never satisfied with the way in which we display our collections and so it becomes necessary to keep rearranging things. You don't mind being thought of as things eh ladies?"
He started moving us around.
Limp, floppy, bonelessly fluid I allowed him to do whatever he wanted with my soft, weak, loosely relaxed body.
Rom whistled while he worked.
"Hmmn not bad."
"Yeah that's better."
"Maybe this way now that I think of it."
"I like this one."
We were placed and unplaced and laid out and piled up and stretched out and put against each other and on top of each other and in suggestive poses and in disgusting poses and downright sexy poses.
By now I was familiar with heaps of interesting places and crevices and bits of my fellow models and every one of them had had her face in my secret spots at some stage of the proceedings. I knew everyone by smell and touch and taste. I had played dead to my heart's content.
And then, damn it, it was over and I found myself showering with four other nude women.
That was nice too.
I was draped over Alex's shoulder. My legs trailing down past his chest and my bum pointing up. I was of course naked. Dave was busy photographing my backside. Me and all of the other girls had had our rear ends photographed for a 'match the bum to the face' competition we were running at Playdead dot com. Bum that's butt, arse, ass whatever you like to call it and I think a woman draped over a man's shoulder with her bum crack and pussy displayed is both wickedly sexy and seductively submissive. I love it.
"Hmmmm," said Alex into my ear, "think I'll take a bite out of your butt Barb."
"You dare!"
"Later then," and laughing he dumped me onto the sofa.
I sat with Alex watching the photos scroll across the screen. Wow I hadn't realised ten girls could have ten such distinctive asses. And have you ever noticed how down there where the sun don't shine your skin is often a funny darker colour, right around your poop chute outlet and your pussy lips. As my own came on screen I said to Alex, "See, such a big backside. Look, sort of bony hips but a big bum, yuck." I looked over my shoulder and said, "I gotta go on a diet."
"Lord girl, you hardly eat anything now."
"I don't want to become a big bum shiela."
"You aren't," his hand circled around my buttocks and squeezed hard.
"Ouch! watch it buster."
"You could excercise."
"Like?"
"Like lying on your back and energetically thumping your bottom up and down during sex. That would be good excercise."
"Alex!"
"What Barb?"
"Alex how could you say such a thing. You, quiet old you, of all people."
"Well," he raised his hands in a palms up gesture.
"What a great idea." I dragged at his tee shirt.
I was watching this old movie on the telly.
"Scream and scream again," it was called. It had Vincent Price so it had to be good.
That film was what gave me the idea.
I wanted to rush off and tell Alex about my super idea and had half risen when I thought a little harder. Nope, he'll say no I thought. This I will do first and tell afterwards.