A Special Beach

Posted by Blue.beard on September 14, 20010 at 02:27:15:

Another fine BB that has gone away was the one run by Juli Nbabe (I forget the name). Anyway, JB wrote two tales inspired by Petra's A Special Beach. Here is the first one:

NecroFantasy

Posted by: JB

Subject: At the beach...

Message:

To say that I 'vacationed at the beach' cannot even begin to tell the whole story.

It all started last Winter, I suppose. I was moping around the house. Work was as it had always been. Chores were what they had always been. The kids were more interested in their lives outside the house, and I was felt as though I were marking time until some crisis came along to turn the mundane into the truly awful.

It was my wife who suggested that I needed a vacation. She said that what I needed was a real vacation instead of just another road trip with the kids to see some relative, museum, or vista. What she thought I needed was to get away, on my own, do whatever I wanted and not even tell her about it when I returned. In other words, she was giving me a carte blanche. When I dutifully protested, she insisted. Well, she is either the greatest wife in the world or I have become such a pain in the ass that she was willing to try just about anything to rehabilitate me. It was probably a combination of the two.

Whenever I think of fun, one name immediately comes to mind. Archie wasn't my best friend in college. He wasn't the kind of person you could share your problems with or listen to your sad tale of unrequited love, but if you really wanted to have a great time, Archie always came through. Archie was always surrounded by great looking girls and there were always plenty more than he could handle. The first time I got laid was at Archie's place and the first time I slept with two girls at one time was also at Archie's. Without going into additional detail, I can only assure you that there were many 'firsts' at Archie's place.

My wife was never crazy about Archie. Actually, she did not like him, at all. (You can probably guess why.) Still, I think that she might have been grateful to Archie for helping me sow all of my wild oats before entering into a serious lifelong relationship. But you know how wild oats are. If you neglect to sow just one of them, it divides and multiplies until sometime around middle age, you are once again just bursting with them. I guess that is what happened to me.

To my wife's relief, Archie moved away soon after college. He had relocated to some obscure county in the tropics, that shall remain nameless. We kept in touch, but I have seen him only rarely and briefly in the last twenty years. He often asked me to visit and I always declined. Now I was finally going to accept his invitation.

* * *

Archie met me at the tiny airport. Like me, he had obviously kept in good shape, but the sun had taken its toll. Even though we were the same age, I thought he looked about five years older than me. Frankly, I always thought I was better looking than Archie. The fact that he always had so many girls around him was mostly due to some congenital skills I cannot fathom bolstered, perhaps, by a bottomless bank account and generous spirit.

Archie's house is a large Polynesian estate with palm trees, torches, lots of tropical flowers, two pools, and a hot tub. It is a bachelor's dream come true complete with a bevy of beautiful women lounging about or performing various housekeeping tasks. While Archie had certainly aged, his entourage had not. I doubt that any had yet celebrated her 29th birthday.

After dumping my luggage and changing into more tropical attire, I joined Archie for drinks with a couple of the girls by the large pool. The sun, the water, the breeze, and the company all conspired to help me relax and leave my real world behind. One really cute brunette girl in a white bikini was especially friendly to me. I am ashamed to admit that I cannot now remember her name because the two of us ended up in bed together even before the afternoon was over and we had done some serious fucking before it was time to go down to dinner.

Archie seemed pleased that I was getting into the spirit of the place. He always thought that I had been too serious and that was, in fact, why he christened me 'JB'. Archie said that in old movies and television shows there was always some stodgy old boss behind a big desk whose subordinates addressed him by his initials. 'Yes, JB. I'll handle it right away, JB.' Archie said that some day, at the rate I was going, I would turn into one of those guys and I guess that is pretty much what happened (except that my subordinates are all welcome to call me by my first name). Well, as you all know, 'JB' has taken on another meaning for me in the last few years, so I was more than happy to hear myself referred to by this fantasy nickname throughout my trip.

The rest of the evening was spent in casual conversation with Archie and chumming up with a few more of the girls. There was plenty of playful touching here and there. It was the kind of stuff that would have certainly gotten me slapped or sued back home, but on this island paradise, my freshness was only returned with giggles, cuddles, kisses, and coos. These lecherous old hands were not only welcome around a waist or on a backside, they happily discovered a few firm young breasts and one warm, moist pussy. As the expression goes, I was definitely not in Kansas, anymore!

Archie explained a little about the island, its history and physical geography. Geographically by happenstance and politically, by design, it was extremely well isolated from the rest of the world. The people there have a strong sense that the way they live and die is entirely their own business. So far, the rest of the world has left them alone. Very few people off the island qualities and customs the island has to offer. Archie did not elaborate, but he said that to the extent it was known, was owing to a very special beach, the likes of which exists in only two or three other places in the world. According to Archie, his island had the best, and Archie would be the one to know

Among its other features, the island has some great places to go hunting for deer, wild boar, and a variety of other large mammals. Archie asked if I might be interested. The only times I had ever gone hunting were with Archie when we were both younger, but I had enjoyed those expeditions and was pretty good at hitting most things I aimed at. So I agreed to go with him the next day.

After breakfast, Archie led me to a room that he referred to as his 'magazine.' On each wall of this room and in the ample cases within were just about every type of weapon smaller than a bazooka that I could imagine. There were certainly rifles and handguns of every size and shape including everything from a blunderbuss to a derringer. There were automatic weapons and a large number of silencer-equipped firearms.

Other classes of weapons were represented, as well. These included bows and crossbows, swords, spears and knives. There were even a few garrotes, a couple of evil-looking spring loaded devices, and some sort of air-powered dart launchers. (At least I think that is what they were.) In all honesty there were killing things there I could not identify at all.

Archie picked out a couple of light-weight 22 caliber rifles and a couple of scopes that were more powerful than we needed. He also picked up a couple of large silencers which he called sound and flash suppressers. They were perfectly legal on the island, he explained, and went on to add, 'If I wanted a fair fight, I would be out there killing deer with my bare hands. This just makes things a lot easier because the animals don't get scared away' OK, I thought, 'When in Rome... '

A path led from Archie's house into the woods where we could do our hunting. Archie actually owned a huge chunk of forest, so we did not have to worry about running into other hunters. The woods were fairly dense, but there was little underbrush so it was pretty easy to walk. The rifles were nice and light, but the silencer added a good six inches to the end and that made carrying one a bit more cumbersome.

The first game we spotted was a squirrel and Archie motioned me to go for it. I got a great view of the squirrel in my scope and I was amazed by how steady I could hold the rifle. I squeezed the trigger just as he jumped out of the way. The 'puff' sound was unbelievably quiet. The thud of the bullet striking the tree root was a lot louder than the report. It did not matter that I missed the squirrel, just shooting that rifle was a blast!

After some more walking, we spotted a boar rooting for food. Archie aimed is rifle and fired. The bullet struck the boar in the side of his chest and made a slapping sound like someone stepped hard onto wet pavement. The boar shuddered, froze, and then dropped dead. Archie called in its location for someone else to come pick it up. Take my word for it. This is the only way to hunt.

As we continued to walk, I could sense the ocean in the distance. Archie led us to a place where the forest stopped and we were on top of a cliff overlooking the water. It also looked down on a beautiful white sand beach about 60 feet below us. I asked Archie if that was the 'special beach' he had talked about the night before and he answered that it was.

We spotted a couple of girls frolicking in the water and when they bobbed up, it looked like they were topless. Watching them from our hideout was a pretty good voyeuristic thrill. I hoped that they would come out of the water and give me a little more to look at. As if responding to a telepathic request, that is exactly what they did.

The strawberry blond girl was wearing a dark green thong. As she turned away from me, it reinforced my personal hypothesis that redheads have the best-looking buns. Her sun blond companion was no slouch, either. Her light-skinned breasts indicated that those beauties had not often seen the light of day and the large nipples that adorned them were big and dark. Her suit looked like a navy blue pair of mini shorts with a white belt.

'God, I wish we had some binoculars.' I said.

'Use your scope,' Archie replied.

I hesitated, because the scope could not be detached from the rifle without a special tool. Archie put the rifle to his eye without even bothering to unload the rifle or engage the safety. I followed suit in the tradition of weak followers everywhere. My heart was pounding in my chest. I thought about my friend and I aiming loaded rifles at two unsuspecting beach babes just to get a look at them. I could barely breathe or keep my hands from shaking.

I don't know how long we were up there like that, looking down on the two sunbathers like a couple of snipers. I would zoom out to be able to see both of them at once and then I would zoom in to get a close-up of a breast, stomach, face, or butt depending on how they happened to be sitting or laying. Never for a second, however, did I forget that these were real girls down there, that I had real bullets in my rifle, and that my cross-hairs showed exactly where the latter would impact the former if I were to just move my finger onto the trigger and squeeze gently.

The girls were talking to each other now, with the strawberry-haired girl sitting up and doing most of the talking. I imagined how their carefree demeanor would change if they were to learn that rifles were being aimed at their nubile young bodies. While I could not hear what they were saying, it seemed by their gestures that the redhead was trying to cajole her companion, somehow. The blond girl rolled from her stomach onto her side and seemed to be reluctant at first, but slowly coming around to what the redhead was proposing. I crossed my fingers and hoped that whatever they were talking about did not involve leaving my field of vision.

The redhead stood up and the blond girl sat up looking at her. Then the redhead put her hands on the strings of her thong and pushed them down as she stepped out. Instinctively, I zoomed in to where her pubic hair formed a dark triangle inside of a very white triangle. I zoomed out to see the redhead daring her companion to do likewise. Finally, shaking her head, the blond stood up and wiggled sweetly out of her blue and white suit. I only got a quick view of her from the front before both girls lay back down on their stomachs and giggled nervously at each other.

'Wow! Now I know why this is a special beach.' I said keeping my eye glued to the scope.

'No you don't.' Archie replied. 'What makes this beach so special is that you could squeeze that trigger now if you wanted to.'

'What??' I could not believe my ears.

'It's true. Haven't you ever heard of a 'killing beach?''

We put our rifles down and looked at each other. Actually, I had heard about killing beaches, but only in an old story that Petra wrote. I had no idea that such things might actually exist. I asked Archie to explain and what he said mirrored, almost exactly, what I had read in the Petra story. All this time, I thought that Petra had just invented the idea of a special killing beach.

Archie explained that there were a lot of people who fantasized about killing women and that were also women whose ultimate fantasy was to be killed. The fantasy even could extend to sex after death. (It was bizarre to hear my own fantasies explained back to me from someone I had hidden them from during all the years I had known him). In just about every part of the world, morals, laws, and customs prevent these deadly desires from ever being fulfilled. Here things are different. Men and women come to this beach to make their death fantasies a reality.

He explained that the beach had very specific rules and these were strictly and effectively enforced. Women who were covered (breasts and genitalia) are not to be molested. There was one exception that he promised to explain later. If a woman is topless, that means that she may be killed, but only with her permission. A woman without a top may ask to be killed or someone may ask her and gain her approval. In either case, she may be killed with impunity.

If a woman is both topless and bottomless, she is offering herself to be killed by anyone who wishes in any manner he wishes. 'That is why those two girls below are fair game and we can shoot them if we want.' I put the scope back to my eye and looked down again at the two girls lying naked and wondered if any of this could be true.

'Are you going to shoot them?' Archie asked. 'You really can if you want to.' He sounded serious. (He could not imagine how turned on I was at just the thought of it.)

I put the rifle down and looked back at Archie.

He told me that he had killed a lot of girls on the beach and seen many more killed by others. He has even had sex with girls on the beach and then killed them. The rules are clear, so it is always consensual.

'What if some guy breaks the rules and kills a topless girl without her permission or makes a girl strip so that he can kill her?'

Archie explained that when a place allows so much freedom it tends to really enforce the things it does not allow. He did not explain how this was done, but according to Archie it has proven effective enough so that the rules are always obeyed. Archie told me to look again at the two girls.

'Do you see the ankle bracelets they are wearing? Girls on the beach wear ankle bracelets, a.k.a. 'toe tags' to indicate what they want done with their bodies and their wishes must be strictly followed.' I saw the bracelets but that did not prove anything. Archie could still be making all of this up.

He could see that I was still dubious so he offered to shoot one or both of the girls to prove his point. He punctuated his statement by assuming a firing position, cocking his rifle and placing his finger on the trigger.

'No don't! Please!' I stopped him. The thought of trying to explain this preposterous story to a foreign judge and jury was just too much for me. If this was a joke on me then I had fallen for it. Archie could have his big laugh, because I been convinced that he was serious about killing those two girls.

Archie did not laugh. Instead, he just told me to stick around. 'If we don't kill those two girls, someone else is bound to come along soon enough and do the job.' He doubted that they would live long enough to ever put their suits back on.

Archie was right. It was not very long before something happened.

We spotted this guy walking in the direction of the two girls well before they spotted each other. He was wearing shorts and a tee shirt and had a towel flung over his shoulder. I figured that if this were a normal beach the guy would either just walk past, content with the large dose of eye candy he had been given or he would try to hit on the girls. I suspected that he would be unsuccessful if he attempted a pickup line, because he looked pretty normal leaning toward the nerdy and he was not very tall. 'Keep watching.' Archie did not have to tell me twice. This had already become my favorite show.

I could tell when the guy spotted the two naked girls, because something livened in his step. The girls did not seem to notice him until he got close enough to talk with them. Quickly, they sat up and covered themselves with their hands.

He smiled as he talked with them, but from what I can see they did not smile back. The blond girl shook her head and told him something so he turned to the red haired girl and she also shook her head. If they were blowing him off, he was not getting the message because his smile was unabated and he wasn't leaving.

Then the guy reached behind his shorts and suddenly, it seemed that he was pointing a small hand gun at the two girls seated in front of him. I could see his gun hand motioning for the girls to stand and they reluctantly obeyed. He motioned again and they slowly raised their hands.

It looked like a classic stickup from an old western except there was obviously nothing of material value to take from the two girls. The blond girl, apparently on command, slowly turned 360 degrees and then the redhead did the same. I envied the gunman his view.

The girls were talking to him again. They appeared to be trying to convince the guy with the gun to leave them alone but he was having none of it.

'Tightrope walkers.' Archie said. 'Some girls strip just for the thrill of death, but they are not ready to die. But it is hard to tell. This might just be the way they want it.'

'Doesn't he have to let them go, then? If they are no longer willing, I mean?'

'Nope. They are committed now and he can do whatever he wants. There is no going back.'

As the three stood, the guy would point the gun at one girl's stomach and then the other. They were clearly in discomfort as they stood, helpless with their hands raised anticipating an impending bullet; trying to buy time with their words.'

The gun was pointed at the blonde’s soft belly and deep navel when I saw it suddenly jerk out a small puff of smoke. The sound of the 'pop' came after. Her hands quickly dropped and covered the spot where the gun had been pointed. It was the natural reaction of someone who thought she had been shot whether or not she actually had been shot. The gun sounded to me like a starter pistol and even given all I had seen and been told, I could not believe that he had fired anything but a blank or cap.

But the blond girl was not recovering from her shock. Her hands remained over where the bullet hole either was or would have been. I zoomed in and saw that indeed there was a small amount of red liquid running out through her fingers.

I zoomed out and saw the girl with the strawberry hair staring at her friend. Her mouth was open and her hands remained obediently raised. The blond staggered a bit looking helplessly at the shooter and then losing balance sat down hard on the sand. Her eyes rolled into her head and she slumped over sideways but ended up on her back.

The gunman turned his attention to the redhead. He waited for her to look up from her friend. She looked in disbelief at the gun in his hand and then slowly she looked at him in the face. The gun blew out another puff of smoke and I heard another pop. The girl did not seem to react. She just lowered her hands as if there was no longer a need to keep them elevated. Then she turned and started to walk slowly away. Now I really was confused.

But there was something funny about the way she walked. I could see the gunman staring at her ass and his head seemed cocked in admiration. Then the gun puffed again and I could actually see the small spot on her back where the bullet entered. The girl's arms shot up and her back arched. She dropped to her knees and then to her face. It looked for a moment as though she were trying to crawl and then she stopped moving.

I was completely numb, but I could not stop watching.

The gunman knelt down where the blond girl was awkwardly laying. He seemed to examine her and put his hand on her breasts. He examined the bracelet on her ankle. Then he walked over to the red haired girl. He rolled her over and performed a similar examination. Then he dragged her by the feet back to where her friend lay. He closed their eyes, looked at then a while longer, and continued along the beach as if nothing had happened.

'Still don't believe me?' Archie asked.

'I don't know what to believe. I need some time to think about this.'

I guess I wanted to say that I was appalled, disgusted, or horrified. In fact, I was amazed, excited, and rock hard to the point of discomfort. I wanted to feel sorry for the girls and angry at their killer for cutting short their young lives. Instead, I felt jealous of the killer and sorry for myself because I had not shot when I had the chance.

I had already violated codes of conduct and morality. If there were girls here for the killing, I wanted in. But I still needed to make sure. Damn sure.'

* * *

While I like to write what I hope are realistic-sounding stories, I certainly hope that none of
you actually think any of this stuff is true. Big thanks to Petra for the inspiration.

– JB

Subject: Beach, part 2

Dear ...

Today is the third day of my vacation. The weather has been beautiful. So far, I have committed overt adultery with several women I have only recently met. Archie and I went hunting and I fired my first silenced weapon. I spent an afternoon sightseeing two naked girls and then watched them gunned down. My tan is coming along nicely.

Having a great time. Wish you were here...

* * *

I remember waking up on my the morning of my third day on the island and mentally composing a post card that I obviously would never send. My mind was having a hard time digesting the events of the last few days.

You go along thinking that you have pretty well figured the world out. Your life is going along as planned. Seeking a little diversion, you arrange to visit an old friend and see a little different part of the globe. Then, all of a sudden, you are swept up into a universe that seems impossible, yet exists.

I need to tell you something about Archie and it occurred to me almost the instant that I thought myself the subject of his elaborate joke. Archie is not the type to play practical jokes and he never was. I cannot even remember a time when Archie lied to me or anyone else, for that matter. This is probably going to sound worse than it is, but Archie is basically too shallow to do either of those things. When simplicity worked so well, there was no need for duplicity.

I reached over to the other side of the bed and found it empty, but still warm. Colette was the girl who shared it the night before. (For such a large place, Archie's house had remarkably crowded sleeping arrangements :)) ) Since I am sure you are interested, Colette was about twenty years old and had long, wavy brown hair lightened by the sun. She was about five feet, four with a really cute figure and her lips were full, warm and delicious. Although we had not talked very much, I did notice that she had some kind of mild accent which I assumed was French because of her name.

After a little freshening up and some stretching, I made my way to the kitchen. Colette was at the counter scrambling some eggs. She appeared to be wearing only a cotton man's shirt and perhaps some panties underneath. I walked up behind her and put my arm around her waist. She leaned her head back and gave me a kiss. A little exploration confirmed that she was not wearing a bra under the shirt.

Colette confessed that she had borrowed one of my shirts out the closet. Naturally, I demanded that she return it immediately and I even began unbuttoning it for her while she squirmed and tried to continue scrambling eggs. She giggled and scolded me for being 'naughty' and then she advised that if I continued to undress her in the kitchen, I would never get any breakfast. Well, my hunger for food outweighed my hunger for ... other things ... so I let her keep the shirt ... at least until after breakfast.

We had the house to ourselves. Archie and the others had gone into town to make the final preparations for the big party. The party had something to do with a local tournament and I had been advised in advance of my trip to pack my tuxedo for it. I usually hate parties, but as a guest, I was compelled to go along in good humor with whatever my host had planned.

I asked Colette how she would like to spend the day and she suggested a day at the beach. She must have seen that I was taken aback. Colette assured me that she had been to the special beach before and that she really wanted me to take her. Then with a sly smile she added, '...and if you are a good boy, I might even give you permission to...' she made a shooting gesture with her hand.

If she had intended to be carried back to the bedroom and ravished, she could not have chosen a better thing to say. My shirt kinda got ripped apart in the process.

* * *

It was probably around noon when we arrived at the beach after a short walk from Archie's. I was wearing a bathing suit under some baggy shorts with and a tee shirt. Colette had her hair in a pony tail. She had a red and white bikini bra tied with a bow in the front. Over the bottom of her suit, she wore white shorts that were loose around her waist, but complemented her features, nicely.

We stopped by the small beach house at the entrance to the beach. It was wooden, a little run down, and basically what one would expect. At first glance, it appeared pretty typical on the inside, too. There was a place to rent or buy surf boards, volley ball equipment, etc., but alongside these were guns, knives, and a variety of other weaponry. With only a little encouragement from Colette, I rented a gun and a flick knife, each small enough to fit into one of my pockets. I bought a small box of bullets on the off chance that what was already loaded into the gun would not be sufficient.

I did not think that I would actually use either of the weapons that day. Mostly, I just wanted to observe what other people did on the beach and get acclimated. Still, it gave me a thrill just to know that I was carrying the power of death in my pockets. It was something new and exciting.

While I was checking out, Colette picked up an ankle bracelet, but I did not hear how she had asked for it to be inscribed. We met by the back door, kissed, took a deep breath. I took her hand and together we walked out onto the special beach.

At first appearance, the beach seemed like any other and then the differences became more apparent. There were no families or children. Just about everyone on the beach seemed young, healthy and attractive. The women far outnumbered the men and almost all of the men seemed to be carrying some sort of weapon. It was truly bizarre to see someone carrying a beach ball in one hand and a gun in the other walking next to a girl carrying towels but sporting a bull's-eye target drawn on her back with body paint.

We walked along the beach, passing couples and small groups talking, eating or playing. Then Colette pointed over to a couple of girls sunning themselves topless. One was on her stomach and one was on her back. I thought it was their state of undress that Colette was pointing out, but on second glance, I realized that they were both quite dead. Bluish discoloration of their necks seemed to indicate strangling as the cause of recent death.

We just stared at them for a few minutes and Colette held close to me. I felt her warmth and breathed in her scent of cocoa butter, lilac, and whatever else made her smell so good. I could imagine her life's blood coursing through her veins. My hands could feel her life through her skin and I could only imagine how she could be transformed into what lay before us.

After a little more walking, we found a nice spot to settle down. We watched the other bathers, enjoyed the sun and fresh air, and talked about what attracted us to the beach. Colette said that she sought the ultimate act of submission to a man's will. Her ultimate fantasy was to give herself to a man so completely that he had the power of life and death over her. It did not matter to her whether he actually used the power, only that she had given it too him. This beach was the only place that she knew where such power could be granted.

Colette also admitted that it was the pure danger and uncertainty that drew her to the beach. I was not sure what she meant because I was under the impression that there was no danger if a woman decided to keep properly clothed. That is when I first learned about the Joker.

On rare occasions, it seems, there would be a 'Joker' on the beach. The Joker could be any man. How he was selected was a mystery and it was impossible to tell who he was until it was too late. The Joker could walk right by you and you would never know.

The Joker had the power to surpass the rules that applied to all others. If he identified himself, he could order a woman to remove some or all of her clothing. This would make her fair game for any would be killer, even the Joker himself. But the Joker need not order a woman to strip before killing her. He was the only one with the power to kill clothed women. Nor did the Joker even need to identify himself before killing, but of course he had to identify himself afterwards so that impostors could not usurp his power.

I could see that talk of the Joker was making Colette uneasy, so I did not pursue the many questions I had. Instead, I allowed her to feel safe in my arms. I felt the need to protect her from the unknown. My motives were not altruistic, I must admit. No, I wanted Colette solely for myself.

We found a nice spot to spread our towels, stripped to our bathing suits, and lay on the sand. My neck was a little stiff and soar. No doubt this was from holding it so long next to a rifle scope the day before. Colette was kind enough to sit on my back and massage my neck and shoulders. This gave us both an opportunity to observe another couple not to far in front of us.

The boy was tall, blonde and had a swimmer's physique – wide flat chest, flat stomach, long arms and legs. The girl reminded me of a young Dorothy Hamill, the figure skater with the short, cute hairdo. Her boyfriend obviously enjoyed his unencumbered access to her lovely neck that he used for some tongue tickling and kissing. Her pink bikini was on the conservative side and I noticed that it was loose enough to accommodate the blond boy's large hands.

They were the epitome of young lust, a time when touching and being touched is new and exciting, when fondling is a delicious end in itself, instead of just a prelude to intercourse. They reminded me of a time in my own life when necks never became stiff or muscles sore. It was that time – about two weeks ago it seems – when I thought I would be twenty years old forever and eighteen year old girls would always think I was wonderful. I might have drifted into melancholia were it not for Colette's soothing hands and the feel of her warm little bottom on my back.

It was fun to watch the couple becoming more and more excited and getting vicarious thrills. I could feel Colette also getting turned on as we watched. I expected that at any moment, they would sneak off to a more secluded place and bang each other's brains out or do it right in front of us since they did not seem the least put off by our presence.

But people here do not always behave as one would expect. The knife holster that the boy wore and the sheathed rapiers laying next to their water bottles should have reminded me of that.

We watched as the boy pulled his hand out from his girlfriend's bikini bottom and took his knife from its holster. All the while, their mouths were engaged in passionate kissing. He raised the knife as if the thrust it into her unsuspecting body. Colette stopped massaging me and her hands squeezed into my shoulders with anticipation.

The boy did thrust the knife, but stopped just as its tip encountered her upper abdomen. The girl stiffened, shuddered, and took a deep breath. She stared up at the blonde boy as the latter scraped the tip of the blade gently over her soft, feminine skin. He threatened, he teased, and at times he pretended to stab her. Colette dismounted and lay beside me. We could not help ourselves from staring transfixed. Observers and observed were all breathing heavily with mounting excitement.

The boy moved the knife down to her thighs and then positioned its tip against her pink bikini bottom. As he wiggled its tip, we could hear the girl's heavy breathing turn to moaning rising in pitch until she squealed with orgiastic delight. He did not relent until she pushed his hand away and stood up.
The boy stood in front of her and returned his knife to his holster. They spoke, but I could not hear what they said. The girl reached behind her. She unfastened her bra, handed it to her boyfriend, and nodded. 'She's giving him permission to kill her,' said Colette. I agreed.

The girl then turned around and put her hands behind her back. The blond boy used her bra to tie her hands together. Then he took a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around her closing big brown eyes. Putting his hands on her shoulders, the boy turned the bound and blindfolded girl so that she was facing him.

She did have a beautiful body. It was toned and evenly tanned. Her breasts were firm and high and her small nipples stood straight out. The boy kissed each nipple while fondling the opposing naked breast. I got the impression that despite their intimacy, he was looked at them for the first time. Finally, he gave her a long kiss on the lips.

The boy reached down and picked up the rapier as his girlfriend stood like a condemned prisoner before him. He unsheathed it and we could all hear the unmistakable sound of the shiny metal blade sliding free.

First he touched the tip of the blade to her long, soft throat and she stood even higher at attention. The he let it slide down over her skin between her breasts, over her stomach, until it rested at the top of her bikini. He touched each nipple and then poised the blade at her solar plexus about an inch below her sternum. I heard Colette take a deep breath and hold it.

The boy slowly pushed the blade into his girlfriend and kept pushing it in until the hilt was almost touching her skin. The wet red tip of the blade was visible, having emerged out of her back. Almost as soon as the blade entered, I could hear her, 'Uulllllggghh...' and I saw her white teeth as her face grimaced under the blindfold. Her body bent sideways and forward as it absorbed the steel.

She gasped as the boy quickly withdrew the blade and tossed it to the ground, it's bloody mission accomplished. Still bent, the girl staggered forward and the boy caught her upper arms in his large hands. I wondered if he would grant her one final use of her eyes or hands, but he did not. He just held her and gave her some comfort as her wound took control of her. As her legs gave way and he lowered her gently to the ground. She came to rest on her back, with her tied hands lifting her midsection in a position that would be uncomfortable for her, but she only breathed about three more times before dying.

The blond boy reached down, kissed her on the lips. He gathered his belongings and then effortlessly lifted the girl's lifeless body. We watched as they disappeared down the beach, drawing virtually no attention from those they passed
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I turned my attention to Colette and she was obviously ready to be attended to.

Subject: Beach 3 - here it is...

There are things that you will do on vacation that you would never think of doing when you are at home. Such things could exceed your normal limits on either self-indulgence or daring. You might walk around a strange city at night, oblivious to its dangers, when you would never take such a stroll in a more familiar city. You might try scuba diving, water skiing, or rock climbing while on vacation, but never pursue these activities at home, even though they are available. You might even partake of an exotic night club or even a brothel when you are conveniently far away from everyone you know. That might be why we take vacations, it gives a kind of freedom and license that we do not feel at home.

I guess the reason that I am rambling so is that it is difficult to put the events that I am about to reveal into some sort of perspective. Without some explanation, you would never believe them possible. I doubt that I would believe them myself had not been there and done the things I have done.

When we last spoke, I told you that I was on the beach with Colette, the lovely young woman who had been my lover for about 23 of the 24 hours I had known her. At her request, we had come to the beach, the killing beach, to spend the afternoon. You may remember that she and I had just witnessed seduction leading to death before our very eyes and we were now as hot as torches.

We started kissing and rolling around in the sand. Were doing all of the things you would expect and these tend to follow a certain progression. At one point, my hands were between her breasts and I was just about to untie her bikini top when the implications of that action suddenly dawned on me and I let go. Colette just looked up at me and nodded. Then she took my hands in hers and brought them back to where her red and white bikini top was tied in a bow in the front. With one gentle tug, the knot came undone. Then I lifted the material up and off of her and picked up where I had left off.

When I had gotten her real hot, I told Colette that I wanted her to give herself completely to me. I told her that it had to be a complete possession, body and soul, life and death, that she had to give me permission to anything I wanted to her and there was no turning back.

It was almost incredible for me to listen to myself. I have never been so demanding of anyone before. What was even more incredible is that the more I demanded, the more she agreed to and the more she agreed to, the more I demanded. In moments, she signed her body and her life away to me and was mine, completely.

The feeling of such power over another human being was a rush that I cannot describe. I felt like a god and to Colette, that is exactly what she had let me become. Now, the question was how to use this awesome power. First, I just lay on my stomach and had Colette massage my back using only her breasts. That was a wonderful feeling, so I rolled onto my back, and told Colette to bring me her nipples to kiss. Obediently she knelt over me and lowered her nipples to my lips and tongue. I prompted her with my hands when I wanted her to switch from one to the other.

While she was doing this, I reached over to where the gun was laying and picked it up. She did not even realize that I had it pointed at her half the time I was suckling her. Then I touched her ribs with the muzzle. It was hot from lying in the sun and she let out an, 'oooh!' When she realized it was a gun, she gasped a deep breath. I just smiled.

Pressing the muzzle against her, I rolled Colette off of me and onto her back. I told her to lay with her hands over her head and her eyes closed. Sometimes, I would glide the gun over her; sometimes I would just aim it at her, and sometimes I would touch it to her skin or even poke her with it. By the way she was moaning, I could tell that she was getting incredibly turned on by it. I was rubbing it against her pussy when I just stopped moving it and undid the safety with a noticeable 'click.' From the way she shuddered and stiffened, I am sure that she came. I moved the gun away and we hugged and kissed for a long time as Colette regained her breath.

It had started as just a game. I wanted to scare her, gradually increasing the sense of danger until she thought I might really kill her. That had been my plan, since I had no intention of killing her for real. It was simple. First, I would get her commit to me and give me permission to kill her. Then I would get her to the point where she believed I would really do it. Finally, after I completely drove her wild, I would let her off the hook, whereupon she would give me the best sex of my life. It was a good plan and I think you can see that it was working well. I could easily have found a secluded spot or taken Colette back to Archie's to complete the plan.

Instead, I found that as I was pointing the gun at Colette, I was getting really turned on by the thought of pulling the trigger on her. If my performance was convincing to Colette, it was because there was no performance. The sadistic delight that she sensed and which made her so convinced that her life was in danger was utterly sincere. It was only when I pretended to release her that I was acting.

As she lay in my arms and one of my hands held her calming breast the other still held the gun. We were still on the killing beach and she was still subject to the commitment she made me. If there was something that I wanted to do, now was the time.

Colette had been nothing but wonderful to me the entire time I had known her. Sweet, beautiful, generous, she was the perfect lover. But a week ago she did not even exist to me and I knew that when I left for home, I would never see her again. Colette would only be a memory, one way or the other. I sensed that she did not want to die, that giving herself completely to the point of facing death had been her ultimate desire and she had done that. For her, the fantasy was complete, but for me it was not.

I have always dreamt of having the power of life and death over beautiful women and now that power was in my hands. And yet, power is not real unless it is used. Still, I sensed that Colette wanted to go on living, loving, and laughing. How could I take that all away from her just for thrill it would give me? It was a moral dilemma and I knew full well that morality was against me. I was not sure what I was going to do.

What I did know was that I was not ready for this feeling to end, so when Colette reached over to retrieve her bikini top, I grabbed it away from her. 'Don't you think we should be getting back to Archie's?' she asked.

I pointed the gun casually in her direction and told her that could wait until I had not yet decided whether or not to let her live. She began breathing heavily again, but she did not say anything. There was nothing for her to say.

I told her to stand up and she obeyed while I just sat and watched. Then I told her to turn slowly about and she did. Then I told her to remove her bikini bottom and give it to me. She hesitated
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This was a big increase in the ante because if she removed this last item of clothing, she was fair game for anyone. Beach etiquette would have kept anyone from harming her as long as she was under my control, but if I did not give her the bottom back, that was tantamount to signing her death warrant.

'Do it.' I ordered her again.

Colette put her hands on her bikini and wiggled out of it. She kicked it over to me. Then, rather than just standing still, she began moving her hips seductively. I smiled at her and she smiled back at me and soon she was performing a very erotic dance. Colette was a clever girl and I think that she knew that only a very good performance would save her life. I do not know whether Colette had ever been a professional exotic dancer, but she danced like an expert that afternoon.

I could tell from her smile that she knew she was getting to me. I gave her a big smile back. I asked her if she wanted to go back to Archie's and make love. She said that she wanted that more than anything. Then I shot her. It was no accident. I did it on purpose.

I got her somewhere in her upper abdomen and she had not expected it. Colette grunted and quickly wrapped her arms around herself holding tightly. Her face was squeezed into a tight grimace and only a few whimpers came from her clenched teeth. She looked so sad that I stood up and took her in my arms.

Her back was clear so I knew that the bullet had stayed in her and was killing her. I could hear her soft moaning in my left ear and I could feel her shuddering body in my arms as her legs began to lose their strength.

I laid Colette down on the sand where she lay with her arms still clinging tightly around herself. Small droplets of blood seeped from under them. Her eyes lost focus and when they rolled back into her head, I knew she was gone.

I looked down at her sexy body laying beneath where it had danced seductively for me. Then the enormity of what had just happened began to strike me. It was a freight train rush that dropped me to my knees. I felt the awesome power that only another god can feel and the woman on the ground before me had given me that power. It sounds silly, but I wanted to share it with her.

I began kissing and holding her body. Somehow, I think I believed that since I had the power to take her life away from her that I could also give it back. These were the confused thoughts that ran through my mind as I made love to her body right there on the beach. If I had an audience, it would not have stopped me. (Of course now, I am happy that there was nobody there.)

It was a long while that I laid with her before getting up and cleaning her blood off of both of us. I still cannot get over how such a tiny whole could have meant death for her whole body; how a bullet weighing only a few ounces could kill a hundred pound woman; how an event lasting less than a second could end a life that had lasted twenty years and could have gone on for another eighty. I guess I was also amazed by how all the hopes and dreams of one person can be ended by the selfish whim of another.

But it was my whim and I was enjoying it immensely.

Incidentally, I did read Colette's toe tag (ankle bracelet) and it indicated, 'anybody, anything.' That was the common designation that would allow anyone to take the dead girl's body and do whatever they wanted with it. I arranged Colette's body as nicely as I could before leaving her on the beach and returning to Archie's.