Posted by morbid on July 25, 2009 at 15:33:31:
Carla Rodriguez had never been this excited before. For years, she always fantasized about having someone to play dead for, but never had the courage to tell anyone. But then, Carla's always been a bit on the shy side, both at work and with her friends. Her lovers were few, and she sure as hell wasn't going to open up to them on what she was into. Even on the Internet, it was difficult to go all the way. But she eventually did, and lucky for her, Carla found someone that shared similar kinks -- a man who got off on snuff roleplay, especially with ladies in pantyhose.
This was perfect for Carla, who until now would always play by herself, imagining herself as a dead girl whenever possible. She usually would wait until she got home, and pretend she had been strangled to death by some intruder. But there was more to this fantasy; it turned her on to imagine actually being murdered for real. She loved thinking about the fear and panic she would feel while being strangled, and the thought of being found dead by someone was such a turn-on. Carla loved to picture her body being found dumped in a ditch, or in an alley next to a dumpster, or left inside a motel room for a maid to discover. She thought of what would happen next; the police arriving and cordoning off the crime scene, and the detectives showing up and giving her corpse a look-over. She then would get hot and bothered to think of how the CSI's would make closer inspection, taking photos for the files and getting real close to her dead body while making their notes.
Then there was the idea of her corpse being placed into a body bag and taken to the morgue, where she would be stripped, toe tagged, a sheet placed over her body, and her bare feet left to stick out from under the sheet. What was once a bright and pretty 28-year-old Latina, now only exists as a cooling piece of dead meat.
Also there were thoughts of her killer, as in, what kind of man would have strangled her to death? It was always someone different; at work, she'd picture a co-worker or even her boss doing it, although sometimes she'd think of the old maintenance taking her out, maybe leaving her in his broom closet for some after-hours break time fun. Out of work, she'd think of one of friends, a date, or even random guys on the street. Her favorite murderer, though, was the anonymous serial killer. Carla grew up watching many of those true crime shows on basic cable, and even now would watch programs like Forensic Files or The New Detectives, always looking out for any episode that involved strangled female victims. Serial killers fascinated her, and in her wonderfully sick mind, she always thought it would be an honor to become a victim of one. A serial murderer usually had a type, and the idea of Carla being the kind of person a man would want to strangle to death to fulfill some deep, dark pleasure was a very titillating one.
What if it really happened? Carla wondered if a serial killer did choose her out of many other women to snuff, how would things play out after? She could see it so clearly; a photo of her in the newspaper, next to the grisly description of how her dead body was found strangled to death. Or some true crime website would do the same, posting her name and face, along with every other victim of the serial strangler. She imagined she would be in good company, her picture along with similar types -- hopefully all attractive women. She even wondered if she would be able to watch the whole thing as a ghost or spirit. "That would be pretty nice to be able to watch your own strangled corpse -- very nice, actually" Carla thought to herself. "God, how I want it so bad..." But not bad enough, of course. Carla laughed at how far her sick thoughts could go sometimes.
That's why she wanted to play it out with someone, to get as close to the real thing without actually dying. She discussed this with her new cyber-pal, who online went by the name HOSE_STRNGLR, but whose actual name was Todd. Carla and Todd decided to meet at a motel and play out a scenario. Carla told Todd that she wanted to play a business woman on a trip, and that Todd would be the stranger who breaks into her motel room to murder her. Then Todd would pretend to strangle Carla to death and do whatever he'd like with the body. Carla was amused by how take charge she was in the planning of this meet. Everyone else who knew her only knew the opposite when it came to how she acted.
Carla drove to the motel and checked in, wearing a black knee-length skirt and a white blouse with a black blazer. Under her clothes, she wore black french-cut panties and nude pantyhose. On her feet, a pair of black pumps.
Inside the motel room, Carla immediately turned on the air conditioning. The blast of cool air was a welcome relief after this long hot day. It also brought her sweaty feet to mind. It annoyed her that she only had them on for over an hour, but now she might as well have had them on all day. The anxiety of this meeting had done this to her. She cursed herself for not bringing an extra pair of hose, and instead sprayed a little perfume into her pumps. After, Carla went to check herself out in the mirror and make sure everything looked right. She had medium-length wavy hair, and was about 5'5 and 125 pounds -- not quite the shape she'd like to be in, but no one was complaining. Not yet, anyway. She was still young, and she feared her metabolism slowing down, like it did with her mother. It was one of many worries about her life that made playing dead so relaxing. Being a dead body, nothing mattered anymore. No more worries, no more problems.
Carla sat down on the bed and waited, as she had already called Todd and told him the number of the motel room. She looked down at her legs in their smooth silk hose, and ran her fingers down, from her thighs to his ankles. Carla slowly leaned back onto the bed and stretched his legs out, carefully curling them in and stretching them out over and over, his feet arching each time. Again, another self-conscious worry about her body came up; and once again, it involved her feet. They were a little big for her size, about 11. She'd always try to take comfort in knowing that a beautiful celebrity like Kate Winslet had the same size feet, but even then she wished she had more of a girly-sized foot.
Carla started to get butterflies in her stomach and considered calling the whole thing off, but after a minute or two, managed to convince herself to stay. She knew she'd regret it if she blew off a chance like this; why would she now choose to ruin this after putting in over four months of long chat sessions with Todd? This was the only man she could admit her fetish to and now she's going to back out? No way. Carla took a couple of deep breaths and composed herself. As soon as he walks through that door, she thought, all the nervousness would go away.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Carla got up and walked over to answer it. She slowly opened the door, only peeking her head out. Standing outside was a handsome White male; short blonde hair, blue eyes and 6 feet tall. He smiled.
"Carla?"
Carla knew it was Todd by the looks alone, based on his description. "Hi Todd", Carla replied, beaming -- perhaps too much, she thought, and tried calming down. But it was hard since she was now so genuinely excited. She let him in and immediately started getting into small talk. Something about him was making Carla start to feel more at ease now. She picked up the Do Not Disturb sign and quickly placed it on the outside. They both sat down on the bed, with their reflections on the closet mirror in front of them, and drank wine that Todd had brought along. It made everything go so much smoother. Eventually, the bottle was empty and Todd got to the nitty-gritty:
"All right, so I'm gonna go into the bathroom. You do whatever you want to do, but soon I'm going to come out, and you know what'll happen then?"
Carla took a last sip of wine, emptying the cup. She smiled mischievously, her attitude mostly coming from the alcohol:
"Yup, I know."
Todd smiled back at her and took the cup. He tossed it, along with his own cup into the plastic-lined wastebasket. He then came back and sat beside Carla, closely. He reached under Carla' skirt and stroked her thigh, reaching upwards. Carla closed her eyes and felt a surge of excitement rush through her body. Already, she was getting wet. With her eyes remaining closed, she responded breathily, "Uh-huh" and Todd walked away. Carla rubbed her hand against her crotch, through her skirt. Her eyes remained closed; she decided she would keep them that way until Todd came back. Carla decided she would play out her business woman role as a lonely girl masturbating in a motel room, not knowing a psycho was waiting to take her life.
She heard the bathroom door creak open. It was time. Carla's hands began to tremble, followed by the rest of her body. The excitement was getting to be too much and Carla was afraid she'd cum before things got any further. She could sense Todd coming in from behind, slowly climbing onto the bed. As soon as she could feel Todd's breath on her neck, Carla decided it was time to open her eyes. She looked at her reflection in the mirror before her. There she was, with Todd behind her on his knees, yet still towering above her. She could see Todd's hands lifting up, passing her back, her shoulders, then over her head. The hands were stretching what looked to be a white stocking, the ends wrapped around his fists. And that's when Carla could see it -- Todd's fists were now clad in black leather gloves.
For a brief moment, Carla justified the gloves as Todd really getting into the role. But that all went away when she felt the stocking wrap around her throat way too tight.
"Wha--"
And that's all Carla could manage. Her voice was immediately cut off, along with her breathing. Everything around her throat felt tight, no air could go in or come out. Her eyes opened wide and she quickly clawed at the stocking, which was already dug deep into her neck. Carla bucked and writhed, like a crazy animal caught in a trap and trying its best for freedom. Each attempt to breathe only resulted in more tightness, with only the occasional hiccup sound barely coming out her mouth. Her eyes darted about, looking toward her killer. The only thought on her mind was survival, but then another small, tiny, almost non-existent thought came in -- "Maybe he'll let up soon, maybe he just plays rough". It was a small, desperate and foolish glimmer of hope.
Carla kicked her legs to the sky, trying to get free somehow. But every time it felt like she was managing to squirm her way to the edge of the bed and slip down, Todd pulled her back up. Her head felt like it was going to pop, and her nose started to run profusely. Carla looked at her strangler in the mirror and could see that Todd was no longer there. Instead, this was a completely different man, a different entity controlling Todd. Carla could feel his hard cock pressing against her back. This wasn't like her fantasies, where the idea of a man murdering her to get off was a turn-on to her, instead she was filled with such horror. She knew there was no way out. It became all too clear at that moment when she watched her reflection and noticed the red blotches that had formed all over her face, along with her eyes beginning to bulge out and his tongue starting to protrude past her teeth and lips -- Carla Rodriguez was going to die.
But she now knew more than anything else that she didn't really want to die. She wanted to continue living, and she'd give anything to get out of this, anything. If it meant changing her life in any way possible, she'd do it. Carla was never a religious person, but right then and there she begged God to spare her life. Just then, a horrible thought passed her mind; not only would she soon find out whether or not there was an afterlife, but whether she'd be punished as well. Then another disturbing thought followed; her family, her friends, her co-workers -- they would all know. They'd know how she died, and how she ended up in that situation.
"Please God...help me God...please...I don't want to die...I don't want to....die...please...."
Eventually, Carla was unable to talk. Her ears were pounding, along with the rest of her head, and all she could hear was the sounds of what sounded like ocean waves rushing by. Soon, that started to all go away. Everything started going black. The last thing she saw, after her head lazily tilted over to the side, was her right foot. It remained extended outwards at a 45 degree angle, as if it was working on its own. The leg jerked quickly and her pump came loose, then the shoe dropped to the floor, exposing her stockinged foot. "No, my shoe" was the last thing Carla thought. Funny what goes through a person's mind before dying. Then everything went dark.
Todd knew it was over for Carla when he saw her bladder empty onto the bed and floor. He found this funny for some reason. "At least she didn't shit herself...like the last one", he thought. Todd continued to keep the stocking tight around Carla's neck for a few more minutes, until all the twitches and spasms stopped. He tied the stocking up in a knot, leaving it buried into the flesh of Carla's neck. Todd then pulled Carla's body up and laid her out spread-eagle on the bed. Todd managed to keep from cumming in his pants; after all, he had plenty of practice, and just like with the others, he'd control it here as well.
He wanted to flip Carla over, whip his dick out and fuck her in her dead ass. He wanted to jerk off all over the body. He wanted to do a lot of things. But Todd knew he couldn't. He was doing God's work, ridding the world of all the perverts and sending them to where they belong. Because of that, he could never indulge in carnal pleasures. Instead, he did with Carla what he did with the other sick and damned sluts; he tore off the hose from the left leg, leaving only the top of the thigh attached to the rest of it. He now had his new murder weapon for the next pervert, like the white stocking that belonged to the last one.
Todd tossed the wine bottle into the wastebasket, along with the cups and anything else that might have his fingerprints, then pulled the plastic trash bag out. He would get rid of it somewhere else. Todd opened the door and took the Do Not Disturb sign off of the doorknob, tossing it inside. He closed the door behind him and left the motel.
It wasn't until the next morning when the maid found Carla's dead body. She freaked out and ran to the manager's office, telling him that there was a dead girl in room 17. The authorities were called, and it went just as Carla Rodriguez imagined in her fantasies; everything from the crime scene, her dead body in cold storage, and her picture in the paper announcing the latest victim of a serial killer. Things also went just as she feared they would as she was dying; the way the papers told it, she was the latest in a trail of women with dangerously kinky sex habits who ran into the wrong man. This shattered whatever image Carla's friends and family had about her.
But she didn't imagine the last thing that would happen -- some cold-blooded bastard posted a couple of her crime scene photos to some real death website. The intensely private Carla Rodriguez would now live forever on the Internet as a dead strangled woman on a motel bed.
It's just as well that she couldn't see any of it.