Posted by Rip on November 29, 2003 at 21:02:28:
Let's kick this bitch into high gear with a story from Marquis, which I'm sure that I've posted his work before; Only usually I erase his name and just type mine and sell them and make fistfuls and fistfuls of cold hard $$$$$!!!! And . . . And . . . And I'm dreaming again. I'm not sure if the Marquis is still actively writing or not, but he has left behind a healthy and large collection of tales that make people happy. So let's get happy shall we? BTW that wasn't a question, it was a demand. I'm glad that we could finally get that cleared up.
Ever since puberty, I've enjoyed naked scuba diving, but I love it even more now that I'm all grown up. A flat-chested fourteen-year-old can enjoy the sensation of cool water on her nipples and loins, but now I have a body that I'm really proud of. I don't think that I'm being immodest when I say I have a great body. I model swimsuits and lingerie; I've been in Playboy; My breasts are very large, absolutely round, perfectly firm and 100% natural. My nipples are big, round, dark and perfectly placed. I have an extremely narrow waist, and my belly is so toned and flat that it actually looks concave. I have long, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and a deep, all-over California Girl tan. I don't mean to brag, but guys fall all over themselves for me. I can have any straight man I want, just by batting my eyelashes.
I'm not really an exhibitionist, but part of the thrill of naked scuba-diving is the possibility that someone might see me. I fantasize about coming up for air on some desert island. I lie on the beach, naked under the sun. Suddenly a wild savage appears and takes me. He doesn't ask my permission, of course, and I don't want him to. . . .
I dive deep. I like how the cold water hardens my nipples. The cool wetness is refreshing, exhilarating. Soon I will be back on the boat, and my boyfriend will be making love to me slowly, passionately.
The water is so clear here, so pure. A school of minnows swims by. Carbon dioxide bubbles rise out of my body and float up through the water, splendid and iridescent. I dive deeper still, down towards the ocean floor. I glimpse some beautiful pink and green coral. It's another world down here; Cool, and dark, and wonderful.
Ahead is an undersea boulder. I swim past it quickly. Suddenly I realize that something is lurking behind it! I glimpse a dark and terrifying shape, and then something shoots out at me. It's green and slimy and horrible— a tentacle! It circles my waist and begins to pull my struggling body down. I see more tentacles rising up for me; They're alien, nightmarish, covered with huge suction cups. I squirm desperately, and I'm a strong young woman, but it's hopeless. The tentacle is astonishingly strong. I pry at it with my fingers, trying to pull it away from my flesh. Finally I succeed, and it takes all my willpower to keep from screaming as the suction cups tear the flesh from my belly. I mustn't scream, or the oxygen regulator will slip from my lips, and I'll drown.
More tentacles encircle me. I'm astonished at how quickly the creature has captured me. One tentacle holds my wrists together behind my back; Another grabs my neck. Two more slip around my torso, just above and just below my breasts. I can see the thing now: It's the biggest squid I've ever seen, a monstrous, prehistoric ball of evil. I know that it will show me no mercy of any kind.
I try to remember how much air I have left. About an hour's worth, I think. But I have another breathing problem now, for the tentacles are beginning to squeeze my torso. The squid is like an underwater boa constrictor; Its tentacles tighten ruthlessly around my rib cage, and I wince in pain.
I've never been so scared before in my life! I realize that I'm going to die. My muscles (carefully sculpted with hours of gym work), are useless. I am nothing to this squid, an amusement, a diversion, an hour's entertainment. I'm a terrified mammal, trapped somewhere she definitely doesn't belong.
The squid is taking its time with me. I never imagined that an animal could be sadistic, but this malicious creature clearly wants me to suffer. It could crush me like a bug at any time, but no, it squeezes slowly, almost gently, gradually pressing my ribs inwards.
It hurts so much. I'm crying. There's water inside my mask as well as outside now. I twist impotently within the tentacles. Soon, I know, I won't be able to move at all. I'll be too busy trying to breathe. Respiration already commands most of my attention. It's getting harder and harder to force air past the crushing tentacles.
The tentacle around my throat grows subtly tighter. The squid is squeezing my windpipe now. Perhaps it wants me to experience a second variety of asphyxiation. And perhaps that's for the best. At least it might mean a faster end to my pain. At this point, that's all I can hope for.
But as the minutes drag on, I realize that even this pathetic hope is in vain. The squid has no intention of letting me die in anything less than total agony. It will hurt me as much as it can, for as long as it can, before giving me blissful release. It is tightening its throat tentacle not to hasten my end, but to broaden the range of my suffering. And it's working. As impossible as it seems, the throat tentacle has greatly increased my pain. The squid is an artist. It understands that a double-strangulation (two closely related, but subtly different ways of making breathing painful) will hurt me far more than any single asphyxiation ever could.
It is only in the last ten minutes of my life that I realize the true level of the squid's artistry. The double asphyxiation is elegant, yes — the pressure on my ribs is incredible, and I can actually feel my windpipe constricting — but now I begin to experience a third simultaneous strangulation. My air is running out. I can taste it. I'm starting to get lightheaded. Soon I'll be hyperventilating, and then . . . well, thank God it's almost over.
In the end, the squid decides that I must drown. It would be ridiculous, I suppose, to die underwater, thrice strangled but with no water in my lungs. A tentacle tears the regulator from my mouth. I try to force the water in, I try to make myself breathe it, I try to end my pain. But my body rebels. I can't snuff myself. And that means I have to wait. Suddenly every tentacle grows ruthlessly tight. I feel my ribs crack. My throat closes. At last I open my mouth and exhale. I start to breathe the cold, clear water, then realize I can't; The tightness of the tentacles won't allow it. As if reading my mind, the squid relaxes, lets me inhale. The water slips down my windpipe, fills my lungs. An ocean of darkness surrounds me.