Daddy Told Me

Daddy told me not to come.

I wanted to go to the first Dark Encounters Teen Club Night so bad - all my DE friends would be there and it was all we talked about for two months.

DE realized that because the average age of their membership was creeping upward, they should do something for the teens of Dark Encounters' families. They looked at us as the next generation of members and to keep our interest they had to be more current. My generation isn't about cocktail parties with Mozart playing softly as we watch girls having their bellies cut open, or hanged, or beheaded. We want experience - the riskier the better. We want to feel every sensation life has to offer.

Me and all of my friends had been to the mansion with our parents before for other special nights. Daddy had taken me to three special events AND last year's Annual Orgy, so I was used to seeing sex, death, and blood. I have the best Daddy in the world because after the Orgy he let me go to the teen member's orgy and edge play - it was fucking amazing - I could barely walk the next day.

"You HAVE to come, Amanda." Megan said to me at least a hundred times, "Our first time at DE without our parents! No rules! No shame! No inhibitions! Think of how wild and sexy it will be."

"Daddy is afraid that one of us might not come home." I told her one time and her answer kind of scared me and excited me at the same time;

"Would that be so bad?" she asked in a soft purring voice.

Daddy was worried about me because there was a risk for girls attending; thirty girls were going to be selected for sexual death as entertainment. It was super-exciting to think I might go there and not come back home - like Megan said; Would that be so bad? But I couldn't tell Daddy that.

How I sold it to him was that there were over three hundred girls going and only thirty would die, so my odds were really good. I argued that he knew I could be trusted because I was old enough to have my driver's license and I'd never hurt one of his cars. I reminded him he'd been letting me drink socially and take some drugs since I was 14 - his favourite for me to take was MDMA because I convinced him that girls should learn to enjoy their sexuality and MDMA helps with that big-time.

I had to work on him for weeks before he agreed to let me go under three main conditions. First: I was to avoid getting near the stage - he wanted me in the background so I didn't attract the attention of the Hosts or Snuffers. Second: I wasn't to strip down or have sex in the open, because that would also attract attention. And third: I was to phone him right after it ended so he knew I was safe.

I agreed and hugged him tight after he logged onto the DE website and signed my consent waiver.

On Club Night we all piled into Megan's Dad's limo and headed up the hill. We were all staying the night at the Dark Encounters mansion, so the Limo just left us and would come back to pick us up in the morning.

All the way there we drank champagne and got high and talked about our favourite DE sexual deaths. We played a game where if we had to choose, which way would we want to die? I chose ass-to-mouth impalement. Megan - the sassy thing - chose a slow midline gutting.

When we walked through the big double doors, the grand ballroom was almost wall-to-wall dancing, drinking, high teens. The bass was so loud and so deep that I couldn't actually hear it, the thrumming beat just throbbed inside my body. I was high as fuck on MDMA and so horny I felt sick.

They snuffed the first five girls right away. Right after we got there and got some drinks, the Snuff Master's voice boomed over the sound system …

"WHO'S GOING FIRST? WHO ARE THE LUCKY GIRLS MAKING THEIR FIRST AND LAST PERFORMANCE AT DARK ENCOUNTERS?"

… and the Hosts walking through the crowd, picked five girls at random and the security staff dragged them to five positions on the dance floor where the partiers helped strip them all. Then five black cords with noose ends lowered from the light bars near the ceiling and the security staff looped them around the girl's throats. Three of the girls were screaming and fighting it, so the Security guys tied their wrists behind their backs.

The crowd went crazy when the music changed and the five girls were slowly hoisted high above our heads; two girls air-danced as they strangled, their legs bicycling as they choked; one girl just submitted, her lower belly pooched out (so sweet) as she masturbated, and; the other two girls humped the air like they were being fucked, grool (milky girl cum) dripping from their vags. We all rushed forward and jostled each other to get under the girls - hopping up and down in time with the beat and screaming like crazy people. I was under the girl on the right whose legs were kicking, and when her legs dropped into a rigid V shape and she started convulsing, she peed a gusher and some splashed down on me - a baptism into a wild evening of sex, death, and depravity.

My arousal was off the scale - the dance floor became a sea of sexual frenzy and I had never felt so horny and frantic in my life. I broke Daddy's rules twice when Megan and I pushed our way through the crowd to the stage to watch two shows; one was a girl being impaled ass to mouth, and the other girl was hog-tied and suspended face down and had her belly cut open from vag to sternum.

The impaled girl struggled until the spit was in her throat, then her eyelids drooped and she started humping the shaft. The gutted girl's insides gushed out like she was a human piρata before she accepted it, and I'm pretty sure she was cumming as she heaved and gagged.

During the impalement, Trevor and Josh were with me, with Josh playing with my tits under my pink top, and Trevor behind me with his hand up under my black skirt finger-fucking my asshole. I felt evil and slutty and out of control, pushing back against Trevor's hand as I watched a girl my own age grunting and straining as six feet of steel was pushed up her ass and out of her mouth. I almost came when she did, watching her belly undulate as her hips curled and quivered.

But as I was cumming, I noticed that the Snuff Master was watching me and smiling and I realized I was breaking Daddy's first rule.

It was right after the girl died that I went with Trevor and Josh to one of the alcoves near the back of the ballroom to fuck - because I was horny and to get away from the stage so I didn't attract any more attention.

Fucking in the alcove was brutal and animal - Trevor fucked me in my vag first, then Josh fucked my ass as I stood with my hands against the wall, bent over with my bum thrust out and skirt crumpled up around my waist. After they finished I don't know how many random guys took me, grabbing my hips and slamming into me. I'm pretty sure one of them was a Host which was totally against the rules, but I didn't care. I came so many times I felt feverish and lost in a blur of wild sex. I spent over an hour in there, being fucked, then when my legs got wobbly, falling to my knees and deep-throating any guy who showed me his cock.

It's been about two hours since I got here and my legs are weak as I wobble out of the alcove to find my friends. I can feel cum oozing from my vag and asshole making my inner thighs slimy and I can imagine the clots of cum I swallowed mixing with the champagne in my belly. All of that feels so fucking good - I'm a DE slut and I love it. If Daddy only knew.

As I find Megan and the rest in the back of the ballroom dancing, the Snuff Master's voice booms out of the speakers over the thumping techno music, but I'm too giddy to listen. "WHO'S THE NEXT LUCKY SLUT?" or some such shit.

"We saw what YOU did!" Megan shouts in my ear.

I give her a wicked grin and pretend I am still sucking cock. Suddenly the other girls let rip happy screams and start grabbing at me, laughing like maniacs.

"What the fuck?" I yell at them, laughing at their weird behaviour - so I got laid and sucked some dick, so what?

"He wants you!" Cindi shouts at me as my friends started pushing me forward.

"I WANT HER!" the Snuff Master shouts over the sound system pointing in my direction. Tingles go up my back until I see two Security guys grabbing a red haired girl about twenty feet in front of us.

"No!" I yell back at Cindi, "It's her! He wants her!"

"NOT HER! THE BLOND!"

Now the Security guys turn and grab a blond girl almost right in front of me. She shrieks and tries to twist away.

"NO! THE BLOND IN THE PINK TOP!"

And it suddenly feels like there's ice water in my bowels.

"See!?" Cindi shrills, "He wants YOU!"

"He does want you, Amanda!" Megan shouts, laughing and whooping along with all my friends as they grab at me and drag me through the crowd toward the stage like it's some fucking festival.

This can't be happening.

My legs feel so weak that Megan and the girls have to support me as we move through the jostling crowd way too fast. I am propelled through a blur of people, stumbling, tripping, my feet dragging so often along the way that I lose both my shoes. People in the crowd paw at me as my friends strip off my clothes, my breasts are grabbed, nipples pinched, bum slapped by strangers. One boy manages to thrust two fingers into my cummy vag as he runs along side until he is dislodged by the crowd. I have become entertainment - I am an object to them now.

No … I'm a girl. A living, breathing girl who has a family and plans and hopes, and right now I am scared and confused.

I arrive at the side of the stage naked. By the time we get there my shock has become ice cold terror and my body is reacting to it; my belly is gurgling and cramping and I am peeing myself in little spurts. I feel sick to my stomach and I'm so fucking scared it feels like the MDMA has worn off already.

"I want to go home." I say in a whimper, "Please take me home."

But we have arrived and my friends give me to two muscular Security guys who each grab an arm and half carry me behind a black curtain beside the stage, my feet barely touch the floor. Inside are two women in sweats who take hold of me and push me backward onto a large white bucket with a toilet seat on top. I flop down on it, grateful to be off my trembling legs.

"Go." one tells me as she holds me in a sitting position by one shoulder, "He doesn't like shit on his stage."

I start to pee then and my bowels cramp. I feel my asshole open and a gush of diarrhea sprays into the bucket - it smells foul.

"Oh god." I sob as I lower my head. My stomach lurches and I puke up a mixture of champagne, cum, and bile between my feet.

As my stomach unclenches and quivers, the other woman takes my face in her hands and lifts it so she is looking in my eyes.

"It's okay, hon. It happens to a lot of our girls." she says kindly, but there is urgency in her voice, "Listen to me; When he starts on you up there, just let it happen. Don't fight it, sweetie, it only makes it worse."

"Up you get." says the first woman, lifting me by my armpit and bending me forward so the second woman can clean my crease with a couple of baby-wipes, "Up on stage now. Hurry up, the audience is waiting."

The second woman takes me by one arm and rushes me up the stage stairs, me tripping and stumbling.

"Remember; don't fight it. Endure it for two minutes and it will all be over. Just surrender, baby."

Two minutes? What the fuck is he going to do to me?

And suddenly the Snuff Master has me by one arm and drags me to the centre of the stage. The crowd is cheering; the lights are blinding; the music pounding.

"Amanda! Amanda!" I hear Megan shrieking my name, but the lights are in my eyes and I'm squinting to see her. The noise and the light show are disorienting - I feel weak and breathless, dizzy and terrified.

Then I hear the crowd roar, and when I look at the Snuff Master I see his has a huge kitchen knife in his hand.

"Oh no …" I whimper and I hear my voice echo over the sound system - they have a directional microphone aimed at me from above the stage so everyone will hear everything I say, "… no-no-no-please-no …"

The Snuff Master slowly walks around me, looking at my naked body as the crowd starts chanting; "NO-NO-NO-NO-OH-NO" mocking me.

"… please don't …" I beg in a weak voice, "… I just want to go home …"

"PLEASE DON'T!" screams the crowd, "I WANT TO GO HOME!"

This should be Megan - she wanted a gutting, not me. But truth be told I would be just as terrified if it was an impalement.

I look out into the crowd - they want me to die - they want to see me butchered for their entertainment. I look for a friendly face, someone strong enough to protect me. But there is no one. Even the Security guys whose job it is to keep people safe are walking along the right hand wall away from the stage, getting ready to capture the next girl chosen.

And that helps; I'm one of thirty. I'm not alone.

I try to be brave and stand up straight, my trembling hands at my sides, pushing my belly out for him, but I'm shaking badly.

"YOU'RE NOT GOING HOME." the Snuff Master's voice booms out of the speakers as he walks around behind me.

I feel him punch me hard in the lower back on my right side, the impact thudding deep in my body, making me grunt. The blow is so hard that my back feels sprained and the muscles between my belly button and the top of my hip bone are cramping. But when I lift my hand and touch my belly I feel a sticky wetness and above it the tip of the knife sticking out of me. He has stabbed me right through my body, down low where there are no ribs.

Cold tingles rush up and down my bum and belly and across my scalp. My stomach rolls and I almost throw up - if I hadn't peed and pooped I would have right then.

He stabbed me.

He stabbed ME!

"… oh no … no-no-no-no …" I gasp weakly, feeling frail and vulnerable, I stumble a little as my words echo through the ballroom with the crowd's mocking response.

Having the knife inside me hurts, but not as much as the impact. The sensation that is the strongest is the slow clenching I feel in my belly - right in my core - rising up from my vag to the pit of my stomach. My vag and my bowels are tightening up inside me in response to being impaled by the cold steel. I strain and make a jerky grunting sound, trying not to curl forward and wrap my body around my hurt belly.

Why has he stopped? Why is he just holding it inside me? Is he letting me get used to the feeling? I'll never get used to it, so what now?

I gasp loud as I feel him pull it violently out of me, then grunt again as he slams it back into my back on the other side. This one hurts - hurts really bad. Then it's out and slamming in higher on my back, spreading ribs but not going so deep. Then over and over and over the blade slams into my body through my back, my upper chest, my sides. He's methodically stabbing me all over as he walks around me, but mostly from the back. Pin pricks of penetration and the feeling of deep bruising blossom all over my body as he works me. So this is how it feels to be murdered.

Oh Daddy, he's killing me! I made a mistake coming here!

I don't know how many times he stabs me or when this is going to stop - I'm afraid to die too quickly and I hope I will because this is lasting too long. The knife keeps slamming into my body, sometimes shallow sometimes deep.

I cough at a tickle in my throat as I feel the tip penetrate my right lung.

In my pain and fear, I notice he is avoiding the core of my body where my heart and large arteries live. He wants me alive for this as long as possible.

Part of me wants it over now - wants to end it, but as the knife plunges in and out of my body, my core is clenching tighter and what I am feeling is changing. Impossible though it sounds, the impacts of the blade thrusting into my body are less of a nightmare, less traumatic. I suppose part of it is being so overwhelmed with pain and fear that it is dulling. Another part is the tons of endorphins being dumped into my bloodstream to deal with the pain and shock.

But there is third piece; being stabbed deeply over and over is starting to feel sexual in a brutal and perverse way - kind of like feeling aroused during the pain and terror of a rape. The core of my belly growing tighter is adding to the sexual feelings as the blade invades my body over and over.

I remember being fucked for the first time and how my core tightened up like this. At first I resisted, then once I accepted it I experienced my first intense orgasm.

Even the sounds I am making that are amplified and coming back at me are changing; at first they are straining grunts and gasps - I could hear my own pain and horror in them. Occasional distorted cries of ‘stop', ‘please', ‘it hurts!' are gone and replaced by softer grunts and moans.

They sound erotic. They are the sounds I make when I'm being fucked hard the way I like it.

And that is what is happening; he is fucking me … no … raping me with the knife. Visions of cocks plunging into my body flash in my mind along with a silent mantra;

Fuck me.

Fuck me.

Fuck me.

I look down at the edge of the stage and see Megan and Cindi and Trevor, Josh, and the rest of my friends cheering, shouting, reaching their hands out toward me like I am some kind of rock star.

I am quivering hard now, and I can feel the blood flowing down the crease of my bum and my weakening, trembling thighs, but I keep fighting to stay standing.

Why?

Why not give in and collapse and let him finish me off on the floor?

Because I am part of this now - I am now a participant in this nightmare, this violence going on inside my body, gathering these wounds on my way to death. It is now a perverse sexual act and I can either be a helpless victim or a willing participant. And I choose to participate, because once I stop participating it is over.

My life is over.

So I struggle to stay upright, to accept the long sharp steel penetrating me over and over.

Would I have ever chosen this? No.

Did I expect it to become a perverse sex act? No.

Do I like it now that it is? I'm not sure.

I am losing strength and that scares me. My head is spinning as I lose blood - more blood than I knew I had inside me. The stage floor under my feet is a mass of gore, my body and legs are laced with rivers of blood that flow from my many, many wounds. When this started I tried covering the ones that went right through me and out of my soft belly with my hands, but now there are too many. I clutch at my crotch with both hands and endure.

But the stage is tilting and my legs are shaking so badly that I stagger and crumple to my knees. I look out at the audience who are cheering louder, sensing my end is near. I see that the two Security guys have only walked about forty feet, which means the Snuff Master has been stabbing me for less than a minute even though it feels like hours.

I lower my head and watch the blood pooling between my open thighs, spreading as my life leaks from my body.

This feels like the end and an overwhelming crush of sorrow buries my heart.

The saddest thing for me is when people send me cut flowers. I love their colours and their smells, but when they get old they wither and die - just shrivel and curl up. I always try to remember to put them in the compost before that happens, so I don't have to witness their sad little deaths.

It's how I feel in this moment - like a sad dying flower curling up on the stage. My friends in the audience will keep dancing, they will watch me and other girls die, and they will fuck and cum tonight and tell stories about how I died until they find better stories to replace mine. They will live on while I will wither here like a little flower, feeling alone and hopeless.

I want more. More life. Even just a little more.

I feel the Snuff Master's fingers sliding through the hair on the top of my head. He grips a handful and slowly, almost gently, lifts my head and pulls it back so my throat is stretched and I am gazing up at him. At first I think he is grimacing and about to cut my throat, but I realize I am looking at him upside down.

He is smiling.

"ARE WE DONE?" he asks in his booming speaker voice.

In health class we learned that there is a syndrome where abused girls fall in love with their abusers and even seek out more abuse from them. As I gaze up at the Snuff Master, I feel that love; my heart, and more importantly, my body belongs to him. I feel owned and I love that I am owned.

He forcibly had me dragged into his nightmare - a nightmare I only wanted to watch others experience; to become excited by their screaming; their quivering bodies; their ruined flesh. But he dragged me in and made me part of the nightmare so I would truly know it.

And as he plunged his knife into my body over and over, he stripped away all my fakeness and lies, leaving me with only this moment, these sensations, and a lifespan shortened to two minutes.

Things are real for me now.

"ARE WE DONE, LITTLE GIRL?"

I slowly shake my head - I want to tell him I love him - I want to tell him I want him to use his knife on me more, to keep going until he kills me outright - no withering for me. But there is too much going on in my body for me to speak anything other than one simple word;

"… more …" I grunt and I hear my voice echo through the ballroom and the crowd reacts with a roar.

"GOOD GIRL." the Snuff Master says as he lets go of my hair and caresses the side of my face as my head slowly droops forward. Then his hand slides down my arm as he goes down on one knee beside me. His hand strokes over my arm down to my hand and moves my fingers down between my bloody thighs, pressing my middle two fingers up inside my vag.

He presses them deep, curling them inside me, reaching my g-spot and it feels so good. My lover - my last lover in this life - seeing to my needs.

I lay my other hand over top of the first and press inward to keep those fingers tight inside me.

I feel him rise and as he does he presses the tip of the knife against my lower back, right beside my spine. I do my best to just breathe, but the gurgling in my lungs is making it hard - I feel so short of breath. Despite this I know what he's doing - he's letting me know where the next stab will be.

He thrusts hard and I feel the blade sink deep inside me, through the muscles in my back, slicing through my bowels and impaling my clenched uterus that tightens even more, becoming a hard ball impaled by the blade.

Then the knife is out and plunged into the middle of my back, turned so the blade slips between my ribs. This plunge penetrates my stomach and I gag hard and lean further forward.

Please.

Please fuck my body again.

Do me hard!

As though he has heard my silent plea, he begins stabbing repeatedly again, this time nearer my spine, in and out, over and over, penetrating all the areas he avoided during the first set.

I feel my vag tighten on my fingers as a cramping orgasmic wave grips my core and the blade thrusts into me faster and deeper. I feel my stomach bloating and I puke hot and crimson as it starts to cycle through pulses of convulsions, filling and emptying as I bleed into it. My vag too is pulsing - clenching and releasing my fingers as a brutal sexual bliss rises up to overwhelm me.

This isn't an orgasm - an orgasm has a beginning and an end - these waves of intense pleasure/pain don't stop, they just roll on and on.

The crowd is a dull roar to me now, the music a thumping beat I feel inside me - in my stomach, my uterus, my vag. My loving Snuff Master is fucking me sweetly, penetrating my back high and low, his exquisite steel plunging deep through my belly, my body in a rising state of orgasmic bliss, my orgasm expressed by the tight rhythmic clenching inside me and the ejaculation of blood up my convulsing throat.

I am growing lost in this fevered orgasmic rush, shuddering as the knife re-penetrates a wound already there, grunting when it makes a new one. Even in my state of near delirium, I realize he is avoiding my heart - giving me as many seconds of life and nightmarish bliss as he can.

I feel gratitude.

How long am I in this place? How many times does the knife penetrate my body sending waves of pleasure/pain pulsing through me? How many times does my vag and uterus clench tight? How many times does my stomach roll, regurgitating blood up my gullet to be puked up in an ecstatic convulsion? I don't know. It feels like hours - it feels endless - it feels eternal.

I never want it to stop. If there is an afterlife, this is what I want - whether it's heaven or hell, I want to experience this forever.

But all things must end.

My heart is fluttering in my chest, small phantom pains there as it tries to pump what little blood I have left in my veins. I no longer grunt as the knife plunges into me - it no longer feels as invasive as it did. It feels … normal.

As this sexual violence fades in intensity and I am left dazed and dissociated, I feel my Daddy's warm and gentle arms wrap around my shoulders from behind. I wonder if it's because he is thinking of me. I hope more than anything that he knows that I am dying in bliss, that once it started and my fear was sent away, I wouldn't have traded anything for these last moments of life.

Held in Daddy's arms, my weakness increases, the ballroom tilts sickeningly.

Oh no, please no.

I'm losing control over my body - falling.

My vag is now loose around my fingers and I feel my anus gape.

My stomach sags soft and heavy, bloated and plump. My hands fall away from my crotch as my arms lose their strength.

I feel the Snuff Master's hands on my upper arms, holding me as he guides me slowly to the floor, preventing me from falling and hitting my head. It wasn't Daddy holding me, it was my sweet Snuff Master.

The blood is sticky in my hair as I lay on my side. My throat clogs and I cough weakly and a gob of blood sprays from my lips. I feel the tip of his knife in the centre of my back - he's going for my heart for the last thrust.

"… tell Daddy …" even over the speakers my voice is weak and thready, "… no regrets …"

"I WILL, SWEETHEART." and though it still booms, there is a tenderness in his voice.

I stare out at the crowd. I see them jumping and dancing. I see their mouths open and close. But no sounds come to me, only silence and the bass vibrations deep in my ruined body.

I am adrift in a peaceful sea of post-orgasmic bliss - no more fear, no more pain. I realize that I am no longer even trying to breathe.

One of his hands still on my shoulder, I feel the plunge of the knife in my back - slower this time, aimed with precision. A brief flash of anxiety as I feel it penetrate and stop my faltering heart, then peace once more.

Darkness creeping in fast around my vision. I see that the Security guys have made it another forty feet. Less than two minutes it took for me to die, just like the woman said.

Die.

Such a small word for it.