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<1st attachment, "THEATRE.TXT" begin>
What's so implausible about "the Bridges of Madison County" is not the
story, but the notion that two lovers might find a love so deep as to last
their lives- and do it in a weekend. It's a fantasy, but one that women
have found delicious, because reality returned at the end: the woman
refused her lover and went back to being a housewife. The love story is a
fantasy that, at the end, graciously returned to being a fantasy.
Genre romance novels have always fascinated me. The heroine is often
imprisoned, humiliated, beaten, whipped and even raped- all this by the
arrogant six-foot lump of muscle and testosterone she somehow can't help
but love. All of this is gussied up in the florid language of such novels,
and the hero is always as pretty as his victi- excuse me, heroine. These
novels are immensely popular though (the only genre that is consistently
and extravagantly profitable) but what redeems these whippings and rapes is
not the fact that the perp is blond, six-foot, to-die-for. What redeems
them, what is most appealing, is that it is all fantasy.
Fantasy. There is a profound difference between "what if" and "if
only." Fantasy is an experience in itself, sought after for itself. It
isn't a frustrated wish, although it can certainly contain a wicked taste
of "if only." Fantasy is fantasy, an experience in itself, and as such, it
can enrich anyone's life. Florence in "Bridges" returned to reality after
her fantasy fling; an implausible situation, but there is a greater truth
there.
This story likely has more in common with slasher/ horror films (another
inexplicaby successful genre) than it does erotica. You may find it
distasteful. Read it if you will, all of it, and regardless of your
reaction, take a moment to reflect not on the story, but on the feelings
you have towards it.
Love those you love honestly, well and gently, and for the rest of it-
use your imagination!
The Theater of Erotic Death
Chrutli
The invitations arrived mysteriously, slipped under their hotel door as
they showered that morning. Tom and Sandra had been married for three
days, days when they'd barely emerged from their hotel room for food. San,
robed, her hair wrapped in a towel, found the invitations by the door, and
opened the expensive envelope, reading to Tom as he shaved in the bathroom.
"'By Invitation only. The Theater of Erotic Death.' There's an address,
tonight at seven. Jacket and tie. What is this, Tom? Is this your idea?"
"What is what? I've never heard of it." He looked at the invitations:
gold lettering on expensive paper. One pastel blue invitation, and one a
delicate pink. "Where did these come from?"
"They were by the door. I suppose someone slipped them under the door
when we were in the bath."
"Erotic Death? Come on, San. I don't think so."
San laughed at the distaste on Tom's handsome face, and threw herself on
the bed, examining the invitations. "It's intriguing, don't you think?
Lets go. It sounds so sinister and kinky."
"I think we should order room service and-"
"Tom, if all we're going to do is fuck, we could have honeymooned at
home. We should get out."
"A play, then. Ballet. The opera. I'll see what's playing tonight."
"The Theater of Erotic Death," San smiled impishly. "Please? Let's do
something a little bit dangerous. Please?"
Tom sighed, and half-dressed, took the pink invitation from his young
wife. "There's something embossed on here," he said, "Separate from the
lettering." He held it oblique to the light. "'Death by impalement',
embossed on the paper." He held up the blue invitation, but there was
nothing embossed on the surface. "I don't think so, San. This is too
weird."
San actually shivered, and licked her lips. "Impalement." She
hesitated, her eyes bright. "Let's go, Tom. Let's do something we
wouldn't dare tell the grandkids."
"The pink one says 'death by impalement.' The blue one says nothing.
What does that tell you?"
"It tells me you're an old stuffed shirt. I'm sure its some sort of
theatrical thing. Please? Please, Tom? I'll be a very good girl. I'll
make it worth your while. You can impale me afterwards. Please?"
Tom laughed, and went back to the bathroom to dress. "I already have.
Let's go out and get some breakfast."
San smiled wickedly, and jumped up, dropping her robe, dancing over to
the writing table and picking up the dagger-like letter opener. "You are
sweet, Tom. You're a gentle lover. But haven't you ever wanted to be a
little bad?" She started swaying, her breasts quivering as she drew the
blade between them and down her belly. Tom watched, rapt, as she presented
the tip to her vulva, her hips rolling. She eased it into her slit,
swaying, her eyes closing slowly. Nearly the entire blade went into her
vagina, and she gripped her breasts, rolling her hips, presenting her
husband with the handle between her thighs. Tom froze, but San was
shivering, her nipples swollen eagerly. She pulled the blade from her
vulva, licked the tip, drew it across her nipples. It was too dull to cut,
but the wanton hunger on her face was unmistakable.
"I might like it, Tom," she murmured, slipping to her knees. She tugged
his shorts down; his cock was a hard curve in front her face. San grinned.
"It looks like you'd like it too."
"San, please," Tom murmured.
"Hurt me. Just a little bit. I know you want to. I want it too." She
offered him the letter opener with open hands. Tom slapped it out of her
hands, threw her on the bed and glared at her.
"You don't want that, San. It's depraved."
San rolled over and reached for his cock. He had a nice big cock, and a
tanned, muscular body. She licked the bulging head, then pushed her face
down on it, barely choking as the thick mass invaded her throat. She
didn't rise immediately, but stayed there, her nose buried in his pubic
hair, bobbing lightly. Tom grunted, his hands tightening on her shoulders,
then pulled her off and eased her back on the bed. "Make it hurt," she
whispered as he slid into her. "I want that. Hurt me. Take me like an
animal. You want it. I know you want it."
Tom didn't though; he moved slow and gentle inside her. She was so
beautiful. He couldn't hurt her. She came just before he did, but softly,
and he felt like she was somehow disappointed.
***
San parted from him briefly later that morning, agreeing to meet him for
lunch at the hotel restaurant. At the restaurant, she handed him a small
jewelry box. Tom looked in it; it contained three heavy gold rings,
ornately carved. "What's this?"
"It's an enticement."
"Earrings?"
San shook her head, beaming. "For piercing my nipples and labia. If
you take me to this "Theatre of Erotic Death," I'll let you pierce me."
"And if I don't take you?"
San laughed. "Then you'll have to tie me up first."
"I expect you'd like that," Tom grunted. "I don't want to pierce you. I
don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to take you to some kind of
perverted floor show."
"I don't think you're being honest. I think you would like it. We're
both adults, Tom. Consenting and sophisticated. We can do things like
this."
Tom looked at the thick rings, then at his young wife, who was pouting
prettily. "Sandra, you're a beautiful woman and I love you. I'm not going
to-" He shook his head, glowering- "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Will you take me to this show then?"
"San, I don't know. It might be dangerous."
"Dangerous? Oh, please, Thomas. Dangerous? It'll be fun. Kinky.
Sexy. Please?"
"'Death by impalement," that's what the invitation said. San-"
"Please please please? Maybe they do want me to be part of the show,
like a volunteer or something. It might be fun. I'm sure its all smoke
and mirrors or something like that."
"It's not something I would enjoy, San."
"I don't believe you."
Tom shook his head, flushing. "No. I don't want to."
"I'd like it. Will you take me for my sake? Can't we just have a
look?"
Tom snorted, laughed, shrugged. "Okay, look. We'll check it out, okay?
If it looks fishy, we're leaving. Is that good enough?"
San laughed and snuggled against him. "There's a caveman in there,
Thomas. A cruel hungry brute. I know there is. You wait and see."
***
Tom drove past the theater first. It was in a bad part of town, that
was true, and appeared to be simply another warehouse. But San pointed out
all the expensive cars parked nearby, so Tom agreed to go in, at least, to
look around. "I still don't like it, San. Why does your invitation say
'death by impalement?' This is a rough neighborhood."
San stuck her tongue out at him, grinning impishly. "Don't be such a
fraidy cat, Tom. Are you going to park? Or are we just going to drive
back and forth?"
He parked. Two doormen in livery opened the doors for them; a maitre'd
took their invitations, and a cute oriental girl in a white dress seated
them at a table with linen and a candle. The place was definitely a
warehouse, but it was filled with people at tables, chatting and drinking;
a dinner theater. It seemed almost commonplace. "You see?" San beamed.
"It's a very nice place. You didn't have to worry in the least."
Tom shook his head. "Death by impalement. That's what it said."
"The pink one. Mine, right?" She grinned, teasing him. "So. Where
would be the best place to impale a girl?"
Tom scowled. "This is just all very strange, San."
San stood, and leaned forward, kissing him hotly. "Maybe I'd like it,"
she murmured. "Maybe you would too." She straightened. "I have to powder
my sword-sheath. Be right back."
Tom watched her leave. Maybe she was right; maybe it was innocent.
That was more likely than not. What were they going to do here tonight,
anyway, actually kill women? It still made him uneasy. Where had those
invitations come from?
***
San didn't think anything about the other two women in the lounge, young
women dressed alike in little white dresses. She leaned over the sink to
wash her hands, and when she touched the faucet, one of the women pushed a
concealed button in the wall.
The electric shock slammed through San's body, and threw her back; she
felt hands under her arms, lowering her to the floor. "Honey, you all
right? You okay?"
San gasped and nodded, tried to speak, but she was still stunned. A
soft cloth covered her face, and the sweet bite of chloroform filled her
throat. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?" someone said, one of the women.
Hands slipped into her bodice, grappling her breasts, finding her nipples
and pinching. "Nice boobs. You're going to get the fuck of a lifetime,
little lady. About eight feet of steel cock. You're going to look pretty
fine too, when that thing goes in you..." San tried to grab at the hand
holding the cloth, but other hands took her wrists, and the world narrowed
to blackness as she was lifted by armpits and ankles.
***
Tom was almost ready to get up and look for his pretty wife when the
black woman approached his table. She had a wide, heart-shaped face and
big soft eyes, her body elegant and slim. The deep vee of her black velvet
dress displayed large, firm breasts and her smile was warm. "My name is
Ella. I'm the manager here. I'm very pleased you could come. May I join
you for a moment?"
Tom shook her hand, and stood as she sat, a gesture of gallantry. "I
appreciate the invitation. Though it really does puzzle me."
"Please. Let me explain. First, and most important, you should realize
that there are four men with silenced weapons postioned about the theater.
They're watching you now. If you should react in an unseemly manner, you
will be killed immediately. Do you understand this?"
Tom gaped, his heart stopping for a moment. "Weapons? Me? Why?"
"I'll explain. But it's important that you remain calm, and that you
not do anything sudden, or violent, or try to leave any time this evening.
Tell me you understand this."
"I understand. No, I don't understand. Where is my wife?"
"Your wife is not returning. She is to be the show's centerpiece
tonight. This is the theater of erotic death, and we have a most elegant
death planned for your lovely wife."
Ella sat back for a moment, studying Tom with wide, amused eyes; he
paled, shook his head, and then his shoulders tensed. "Please put your
hands on the table. Now. You're quite close to dying yourself." Ella
spoke softly and quickly.
Tom groaned, shook his head again, then slipped his hands slowly onto
the table top.
"Good, now listen to me. You can't stop this. Your wife is already
dead. If you're a good boy, you'll receive a cashier's check for fifty
thousand dollars when you leave. Your wife's death will be arranged to
appear as a simple alley murder; all the formalities will be in order for
you to collect the two hundred thousand dollars of insurance you have on
her life. I will send a woman over shortly. She will perform whatever
sexual favors you might enjoy during the performance. Do you understand
this?"
"No. What is going on here? Why?"
"Sexual murder for entertainment. Your wife will die on our stage. You
won't be able to expose our little theater. Should you try, you will
embarrass yourself, firstly, and then die accidentally. Do you understand
all of this?"
"You can't," Tom groaned. "Please."
"We can; we will. I'll sweeten it a bit for you. The woman I send
over, you can take her back to your hotel with you, if you like. Use her
as you will. Take your outrage out on her; kill her. There will be no
consequences. Tell me you understand all this."
"I understand," Tom said softly. "I want you to stop. I want my wife.
I don't want her to die. Please."
"No. You shouldn't have come here, you know. If that's what you
wanted."
"She insisted. My wife insisted. I didn't want to."
Ella touched his hand. "Her death will be prolonged, its true. But
she'll be given a cocktail of drugs that will both ease her suffering and
enhance her sexual pleasure. I advise you to accept things, to enjoy the
companion I send you, and to enjoy our unusual entertainment."
The woman stood and walked away, her slim hips swaying under her dress.
She stopped at a table and shared a comment with someone, smiling. Tom
looked down at his hands, and then up again, at nothing.
Death by impalement.
***
San woke on a padded table with bright lights in her eyes, hands working
her body- her naked body, she realized. She was naked, bound to the table
at wrists, throat, waist and ankles by soft velvet straps.
"Do you have footage of her being subdued and prepared?" someone, a
woman, asked. "Yes," was the reply.
"She's a beauty, isn't she? Makeup on her nipples. And on her inner
labia. I want them to show up well in the spotlights." A hand molded her
breast, teasing her stiff nipple. "God, she's beautiful. Not too much
morphine, all right? I don't want her going zombie at the wrong moment.
Nice musculature. She's going to be special."
A face leaned close, between the bright lights and her eyes, a pretty
black woman. "Well, you're awake. That's fine. You relax now, everything
is going to be fine. You're going to be part of our show tonight. Just
take it as it comes, and any embarrassment or discomfort will all come to
an end soon."
San sighed, dizzy, and closed her eyes. "Are you going to kill me?" She
opened them again.
The woman stroked her cheek. "Yes. Didn't you suspect as much?"
San opened her mouth to answer, and then moaned. Delicate fingers had
moved inside her vagina as a pink tongue worked her clit. The woman
laughed lightly. "That's right. Enjoy it. You are too, too beautiful."
The face was gone and then there was only the greedy mouth at her vulva,
and San came gently and unwillingly, fear and desire rising in her naked
trembling body.
***
The woman who slid into the booth next to Tom was wearing San's dress.
It gave him a start because her face and build was close to San; he had
thought for a moment it was her.
"My name is Susan. Suse. I'm a sociology major at UCLA," she said.
She was nearly a sister image of Sandy, younger and thinner. "I was
anyway. There's much more money in this business than you would believe."
"What business?" Tom asked tightly.
"Snuff films. Most of the crowd here is paying of course, but the films
are where the money is. There are so few actual films that the ones that
do exist are terribly expensive."
"Where is my wife?"
"She's getting ready to die. You know that."
"I don't want her to die. You have to stop this."
Suse smiled innocently and slid her hand up Tom's thigh. "Tell me," she
purred, "Why is your cock so hard?"
Tom grabbed a steak knife and pressed it to Suse's left breast. "No. I
want you to let her go."
Suse looked down at the knife, then eased her shoulders back, leaning
into the knife so her breast dimpled against the tip. "You can kill me, of
course. But stabbing me in the boob isn't going to do it. The knife is
too low to be fatal. You'll be killed, of course. Do you want that?" She
smiled slowly. "Besides, I'm a pretty good lay. I don't fuck near as good
dead. Don't you want me around to satisfy this big ol' cock of yours?"
Suse smiled uncertainly. Tom sighed and put the knife down. "Now
what?" he asked weakly. "Where is my wife? What are you doing to her?"
"Tom, don't be tedious," Suse scolded mildly. She smiled and shrugged.
"Shall we order dinner? It's catered, but the food is excellent. Really."
Tom fell silent, and Susan ordered for both of them. "You love her,
don't you?" Susan asked as the waitress, a petite brunette in a little
white dress, left with their order. Tom didn't answer. "Of course you
do," she said, smiling innocently. "You love her so much it hurts. You
don't want her to die. You think you should do something to save her."
Tom glared at her, but said nothing.
"There is nothing you can do. Nothing. If you try something heroic,
you will die. And then your wife will die. You can't do anything. You
don't need to do anything. You don't have to feel guilty."
"Guilty?" Tom snarled. "Guilty?" Like an accusation.
Susan smiled and shrugged. "Yeah. Guilty." Tom stiffened when she slid
her hand over the bulge in his trousers, but didn't stop her. "This big
fella knows. When your lovely wife is up there, naked, her body shuddering
and trembling as it dies, those sexy boobs slipping back and forth, you're
going to want her like you've never wanted a woman in your life."
"Stop it," Tom grunted, grabbing her wrist hard.
Suse gave his cock a squeeze and laughed, then took her hand back when
he released her. "It's a guy thing you know. Men take; women give. Men
demand; women submit. It's an atavistic thing. It's in our cells. You
can't deny it, ultimately. There's this dark place in your heart eager to
see your wife die.
"It really is a guy thing, wanting to love a woman to death, to consume
her with his desire. The funny thing is, though, the women."
"What about the women?" Tom asked sullenly.
Susan laughed, an open friendly laugh. She might have been a California
beach bunny chatting at a refreshment stand. "Nobody wants to die, of
course. No woman is going to approach a man and say, yes, please kill me,
I want you to eat my warm flesh. No.
"But if a man tells a woman he wants her so fiercely he wants to kill
her, a woman will-" Suse paused, her voice catching. "A woman will submit.
Take what you want from me; even that." Her eyes were dark, her breath
coming in soft pants. "Some women will. Many women. Women are nurturing
creatures, you see. It's not such a big leap from nursing a baby, feeding
it at our flesh, to submitting to a man, offering him not milk, but
ourselves.." Suse stopped altogether, taking a deep breath. "It's a man's
fantasy, of course. But women have a dark place in their hearts as well."
"You're the expert on all this," Tom said, looking at her darkly. Her
breasts were smaller than San's, as were her nipples, and her nipples were
swollen to rigid points against the satin of San's dress. They weren't
San's breasts, but they were sexy. He couldn't deny his erection.
The food was served, and once the serving girl left, Susan continued.
"It was me once, tied up and drugged on a stage like this one."
Tom hesitated, then his heart rose. "You mean this is all theater?
That San is not really going to die?"
"No. No. She's going to die. She will. I escaped. Things went wrong
that night. I was supposed to die, too." Suse reached over and squeezed
his cock again, giving it a couple gentle strokes. "She's going to die.
And I'm gonna make this big guy happy."
Tom glared at her, anger flashing in his eyes, then his heart sank. He
picked up his fork. "So what happened? With you?"
The man who was supposed to kill me was a huge Polynesian. Toby was his
name. He had this monster cock. I swear it was eighteen inches. It was
scary. I was spead eagled on the stage, and there was a little table with
knives on it. And his cock- he'd strapped this metal thing on the head
with a blade on the end. He was supposed to use the knives on me and then
fuck me to death, you know? That contraption couldn't have been very
comfortable on his cock, but I knew it wouldn't feel good inside me."
"But you longed for it?" Tom asked dubiously.
Suse laughed and shook her head. "Before the show, Toby had made love
to me. With just a little bit of his cock, enough to feel really good. He
was so funny and gentle. Then he told me what he was going to do. He
apologised, and said he would kill me as quickly as he could, so I wouldn't
suffer too much. No, I didn't long for it. But I was ready. I was- well,
I wasn't fighting it. And I was so very, very excited."
She took a bite of food from her plate. "Then a rope broke. It was one
of the "appetiser" girls, who'd been hung earlier. She was a tall athletic
black girl with the loveliest boobs, and she wasn't even close to dead.
She didn't even take the noose off. She grabbed a knife off the table and
started stabbing Toby. She surprised everybody. She kept stabbing him,
again and again. He finally pinned her and rammed that big contraption of
his into her, but he was already dying. They died together, just a big
bloody mess."
"Why didn't somebody else kill you then?"
"In the confusion, one of the patrons jumped up on the stage and
demanded that I be given to him. The show was ruined, and the man was
apparently influential. Ella gave me to him. He only kept me for that
night, but it was the best sex I ever had."
"Because you were still alive?"
"Because I thought he was going to kill me." Suse smiled. "After that,
he gave me back to Ella, and I convinced Ella that I could keep her books
for her."
"Sure. She let you live because you know accounting?"
Susan grinned engagingly. "Yeah. It's hard for Ella to recruit women
for her crew. Especially women as pretty as me. And I like to entertain
men like you, that helped. I really like it."
"What makes you think I want you?" Tom said quietly.
"Please. Don't be coy. When you and I watch your wife die up there,
you're going to be fucking me like a stallion."
***
San felt flushed and disoriented. The greedy mouth at her sex had
ceased to be a lewd intrusion; she welcomed it, and savored the wash of
pleasure from the woman's deeply lapping tongue at her vulva, the hands
stroking her body, teasing her turgid nipples. She was uncertain where she
was, or why; consciousness came and went. Bright lights and hands on her
body. Her body had been shaven, nearly every inch of it; manicure and
pedicure, her hair worked into a neat french braid, close to her scalp,
exposing her long neck and the line of her jaw, just so. Makeup, too, and
hands working her shoulders and arms, massaging. Mouths on her breasts,
and the mouth at her sex, urging her to excitement and pleasure. The
suckling at her clitoris was delicious, and she came gently, again and
again, squirming against restraints she barely acknowledged in her erotic
haze.
Then it was all gone, the hands, the tongue. A dark mass loomed over
her, a tall, powerfully built black man. "You want some cock, baby?" he
chuckled. "You want some black cock in your pretty little pussy?"
San opened her eyes wide, trying to focus, and shook her head vaguely.
She was married now, she thought, then smiled at that: married and naked
and drugged.
"Listen, baby, you want to get fucked by the man who's going to kill
your pretty ass?"
San caught her breath. Thick black fingers worked her clit and she
shivered and arched weakly. e leaned close. "You want me to fuck you
before I kill you?"
"Yes," San breathed. "Yes." She wanted a cock. She wanted a man. She
felt his hips between her thighs, half-saw the black mass of his body
leaning close, felt the blunt head of his cock nudge and tease her wet
labia. The head nudged inside her, big, and then slipped out, and she
whimpered, urging her wet pelvis towards him. The man chuckled. Another
nudge, then a hard, deep thrust and San squealled, bucking. It hurt when
the head banged her womb, but that quickly became a fragment of her
pleasure.
His cock was thick and long, much bigger than Tom's. She came
continuously from the moment he slammed deep into her. He rammed hard with
each thrust, and she met him as well she could, each deep thrust banging
her womb hard. He finished quickly, and she felt his come shoot into her.
Finished, he pulled out abruptly, then slapped her belly and walked away
chuckling, his still-hard black cock glistening with her secretions. The
gentle hands on her breasts and body return. The mouth returned to her
vulva, driving her to a gentle frenzy of pleasure, lapping the semen that
ran from her. She wanted more. She wanted him again. He was going to
kill her. He said he was going to kill her. She wanted his cock.
***
The theater went quiet when the lights went down. A single spotlight
shone on Ella on the stage, holding a microphone in front of her. She
spoke softly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our club. We hope you enjoy our
little entertainments tonight. As usual, the doors have been locked, so
please remain seated. The entertainment tonight is, of course, being
filmed for those less fortunate than you. I suggest you remain seated so
your face doesn't appear on one of our cameras."
Ella stepped off the stage, the spot following her; Tom noticed she had
something rod-shaped in one hand, the microphone in the other. She talked
as she wandered among the tables, not looking at anyone in particular.
"Erotic death, that's what we have for you tonight. Lovely young women
dying slowly and elegantly before your eyes, a rare and rich delight." She
stopped beside a booth where an asian couple sat; a well-dressed
middle-aged man, and a willowy young girl in a skimpy party dress. Ella
didn't look at them.
"Seppuku is a ritual suicide performed in Japan when one is in dishonor.
We have among us an beautiful young woman who has dishonored her name and
her family."
At that, the slim young woman looked at the older man, her dark eyes
suddenly fearful. "She lied to her father, and took a lover secretly." The
young woman started to rise. Ella turned smoothly and pressed the rod she
held into the girl's deep cleavage. Sparks flew; the young girl stiffened
and then slumped against her table. The older man lifted her back grimly,
and the girl groaned. "Tia is her name, ladies and gentlemen. She is
beautiful, isn't she?" Ella pulled the spaghetti straps off the dazed
girl's shoulders, and big rounded breasts tumbled out, brown breasts with
large,black nipples, coase and pointed. The rod went to one nipple, then
the other, blue sparks leaping, Tia's breasts leaping and jostling as well.
Three women hurried from the back, lifting the limp Tia from the booth.
"She's merely stunned, ladies and gentleman. She will come around in a
moment. Tia doesn't embrace her dishonor, so we are going to do it for
her, after a fashion."
The women carried Tia's slender, twitching body to the stage, and two
black men took her, holding her up by her forearms. The women stripped off
her dress. Tia's breasts were big and slightly pendulous, her torso and
legs long and shapely, her waist small, hips flaring elegantly. A girl
stripped away her silk panties, baring a small tight vee of black pubic
curls.
The older oriental man, her father, came up to the stage carrying a
velvet-wrapped bundle. A girl took the bundle and held it while he
unwrapped the velvet. It held a case, and he removed a small ornate dagger
from it.
The theater fell silent as the man faced his daughter. She was rousing
from her shock, tears streaming her smooth cheeks; she spoke softly and
urgently in Japanese, but her father didn't answer. He lifted a heavy
breast, squeezing it, and his knife hand thrust and withdrew; the young
woman cried out. He stood aside, so the crowd could see. One coarse
nipple seemed to be spreading, dripping down her breast and side. He'd
buried the dagger deeply in her breast. He faced her again, and again she
cried out. Her other breast bled freely, and she sobbed, twisting against
the men who held her arms.
Her father leaned in front of her. The small dagger snapped into her
vulva, and the young woman wailed, her eyes wild. The father turned from
her as she begged him, sobbing. He put the dagger in his left hand, and
unsheathed a long sword with his right.
He moved in close to his daughter, and reached around behind her with
the dagger. Even as he thrust the small knife into her buttock he was
stepping away, pulling the sword over his shoulder. When Tia arched away
from the angry pain in her buttock, her father swung, opening her belly top
to bottom. Tia's mouth opened in pain, but nothing came out. Pink
entrails spilled from her opened belly. Her father picked up yet another
knife, long, with a curving blade. He lifted her head by her straight
black hair, kissed her high forehead grimly, and drew the blade hard across
her throat. Tia gurgled and convulsed, blood washing her breasts and
belly, then abruptly went still. The father bowed low to each of the men
holding Tia's limp, glistening body, then left the stage, his face stony.
"Tia, ladies and gentlemen, her honor restored with her dramatic death."
Ella paused as the men carried Tia to a chair in the back of the stage and
set her in a spotlight, her head back, eyes staring sightlessly. "We would
like to thank her father, who consented to perform this act for our
pleasure." Young women in little white dresses worked with towels and combs
on Tia's limp body, cleaning away much of the blood to display her wounds
to better advantage.
"That's ghastly," Tom murmured as Ella continued talking onstage.
"Yeah," Suse said. "Kinda strong, you know? Some guys get off on the
gore and all. It'll look a lot better on film, because they can do a lot
of editing and stuff. Ella likes it like that, you know, fast and flashy.
But she knows what sells. Tia was just an appetiser girl."
"Let me introduce Roxanne," Ella was saying on the stage. Two
barechested, muscular black men carried in a young black girl, her wrists
and ankles bound, a gag in her mouth. She was pretty, with wide brown eyes
tilted elvishly. Her head had been shaved bald. She was dressed in the
white blouse and plaid skirt of a school girl, but she was voluptuous, big
breasted, with lush hips and long, shapely legs. "We met Roxanne just this
afternoon walking home from school, and she agreed to entertain us this
evening. Of course, a pistol pointed at those lovely young breasts helped
her decide; she doesn't know yet what we have in store. Roxanne is
seventeen. She's a cheerleader at a catholic school. She likes
acrobatics, boys and plush animals. She gave us a little surprise when we
prepared her for you. Roxanne is a virgin!"
The men turned the girl, supporting her by her upper arms; the girl was
a bit dazed, and clearly frightened. "Let's have a look at our nubile
young lady before she performs for us."
The girl struggled a little as the men stripped off her skirt, and then
her blouse. Big, rounded breast with small buds of nipples; a curvaceous,
athletic body.
"Shall Roxanne have a man before she dies, ladies and gentlemen? Or
shall she die an innocent, pure virgin? You decide." Ella paused. "Clap,
if you will. Virgin?" There was a modest patter of hands. "Fucked and
killed?" More hands clapped lightly, and Ella gave a throaty laugh.
"Excellent. Our Jock has been hoping he could have this little girl."
Jock strutted onstage, a towering, muscular black man with a cock that
was at least eleven inches long, and big around as Roxanne's delicate
wrist.
Roxanne was facing the audience, the two men lifting her by shoulders
and hips while Jock moved behind her. "He's not as good as he thinks he
is," Suse said. "He can't last for shit, and he doesn't care about the
girl he's banging." She paused as Jock slammed his big cock into the girl's
slit. Roxanne screamed and her eyes bulged; her body arched and then
convulsed once, twice. "Maybe it just as well, though. He's so big, I
wouldn't want that monster banging me more than a minute or two." Roxanne
squirmed and arched with each heavy thrust, her breasts bobbing and
swinging wildly; after a couple minutes, her brown skin glistened with
sweat. Jock came quickly, though, just as Suse predicted.
Roxanne was pulled off of Jock's glistening cock, and led over to the
white rope. She stared up where the rope vanished into darkness, tears
glistening on her cheeks. She squirmed weakly but couldn't prevent the
noose going around her neck.
"The noose is being tightened loosely, and our Roxanne will be hung
slowly," Ella murmured.
The rope began rising, coming taut, with the knot beside her jaw,
forcing her head sideways. The girl gave a little cry that was cut off by
the noose, and then her naked body rose slowly.
"A little higher please," Ella murmured into the microphone. Roxanne
rose; her toes pointed to find the floor, her finely muscled legs
straining, her lovely flat belly hard. A soft gurgle came from her throat.
"There. Just so. Please watch, ladies and gentleman. Roxanne can kick
against the floor, there, see? And as she rises, she can catch a small
breath. Watch those pretty breasts bounce, those fine, sexy legs kick and
kick again. Do you see the blood glistening between her thighs? Virgin
blood, and more I think. It appears that naughty Jock damaged something in
her nubile body. Look at those silky brown buttocks. See how they harden
just as she kicks? Roxanne could do this for us all evening, until she
grew exhausted and stopped fighting the death that waits to ravish her. In
a few minutes, we're going to encourage her to accept her death. For now,
though, let's enjoy her dance for us. Consider how delicious it would be
to make love to her fresh young body as she shudders in death."
Roxanne made her little hops, gurgling and gasping with each hop. The
two men who had carried her onstage stood at either side of her, caressing
her body, her heavy breast, her belly and buttocks, turning her slowly on
the rope so that all could see her struggles. Roxanne continued kicking
and squirming for several minutes, and then Ella was back on the stage.
"I thought you'd like this," Suse laughed throatily, leaning over Tom's
lap. Roxanne's flat brown belly hardened and twisted. Her hips jerked and
bucked. Her heavy breasts swung and bounced dramatically, and Susan's
mouth descended on Tom's hard cock. Once, then twice, Susan sucked his
throbbing cock down her throat. Tom grunted, then grabbed Susan's hair and
pulled her off.
"She's dying," he gasped. "This is terrible."
"Yeah," Suse giggled. "And sexy."
Roxanne's body straightened, her shapely brown legs flexing, toes
pointed down like a ballet dancer. Body and breasts shot upward and she
gained another breath, her taut body filming with sweat. Tom groaned, then
grabbed Suse by the nape and shoved her face back down on his cock. Suse
giggled before his cock slid down her throat. Tom was barely aware of
similar things going on at the tables around him, the murmurs and grunts in
the shadowed tables of the theater. Roxanne kicked and fought for each
gurgling breath, her naked body clearly weakening, and all eyes were on her
beauty.
"She's a spirited girl, isn't she, and such a lovely young woman. In
the next few minutes, she's going to die for us. Stun rods, ladies and
gentlemen." The two black men held up black rods, two prongs sticking from
the ends of each. The men touched the rods to Roxanne's struggling body.
Blue sparks flew to an erect black nipple, and Roxanne twisted violently.
Sparks flew to her brown belly, and her long legs flew up involuntarily.
Time and again sparks raced across Roxanne's squirming body. She was
turned so her back was to the audience, and a stun-rod drawn up her
delicate spine; she arched back elegantly, her buttocks trembling. Face
forward; her breasts and belly were shocked. Her little pink tongue
protruded slowly, and that was shocked; as her struggles grew weaker, blue
sparks were drawn across her labia. Tom came hard, and Suse stayed with
him, milking him with her tongue and lips.
Finally, Roxanne stopped reacting to the stun rods. Her eyes stared
vacantly, half-open, the tip of her tongue protruding from her lovely dark
lips. Her arms were untied and they hung loosely at her sides, palms out.
Ella went across the stage to the still girl, and made a theatrical
gesture of accepting a stethoscope, putting it on, and listening to the
girl's chest. "She is gone," she said, then stroked Roxanne's glistening
breasts. "But even in death her nipples are deliciously erect. Thank you,
Roxanne. You've given us quite a treat." Ella kissed the girl's cheek.
Ella moved to center stage as Roxanne's body was moved next to Tia's at
the back. "Ladies and gentlemen," Ella murmured, "We are going to pause at
this point. Please remain seated. You will have an opportunity to admire
these lovely women after the show."
Finished cleaning his cock, Suse rose beside him and daintily wiped her
mouth on a linen napkin. "The main attraction. That's going to be
you-know-who."
Tom dabbed the perspiration off his face with his own napkin. As the
lights came up, he saw others around him sitting up, straightening clothes,
restoring themselves. "I want to see her. I want to see my wife before
you kill her." He hesitated. "Please? Can I do that?"
Suse regarded him with a crooked grin. "Let's ask Ella."
***
San's eyes opened and then focused. "Tom," she whispered, "My god.
Help me. They're going to kill me." She closed her eyes, twisting against
her bonds as another orgasm rippled through her golden body as the cute
girl between her thighs continued lapping eagerly. Her nipples were
swollen, her body taut and aroused. "Tom, I'm afraid."
"Don't be. It'll be over soon. Don't be afraid."
"They're going to kill me. Didn't you hear me?"
"I know. I heard you. You wanted to come here. Now you're going to
die. I can't prevent it."
San swallowed, then squirmed a bit against her soft restraints. "I'm
not ready, Tom. Please. Not yet."
It only took a moment to drop his pants and ease the little girl aside,
and then he was thrusting inside his helpless wife. "I love you so much,
Sandra," he murmured, sliding in and out of her wet tunnel. San smiled
uncertainly at her husband, then closed her eyes and came when he did,
shuddering and whimpering, writhing against her bonds.
Finished, Tom withdrew, and almost immediately the young girl was
between San's thighs, lapping his seed. He kissed San's mouth, and kissed
her hot breasts before he left her. "They're going to impale you, on this
big pole." he said. "I'll be in the audience watching. Okay?"
"Why me? They drugged me. I'm going to be killed."
"Hush. Hush. You're going to be beautiful up there. Close your eyes.
It won't be long now. I'll be watching."
"Tom," she whimpered, "They're going to kill me."
"Yes. I'll be watching in the audience. Be brave for me. It won't be
long now. Okay?"
San closed her eyes as the girl lapped Tom's semen from her and then
focused on her clit. Then she opened them again, and nodded weakly, her
body shuddering in an orgasm. Behind Tom, Suse watched it all, her head
cocked, an innocent smile on her face. When Tom finally stood away from
his wife, Suse handed him a towel to clean his cock.
***
The long steel shaft was spotlighted and Ella's voice came from the
shadows. It looked a bit like a jousting lance, and the foil toward one
end was clearly designed to cradle San's pelvis once she was impaled. It
was fully three inches in diameter, the first foot tapered to a blunt tip.
Another spotlight came on over Sandra, stretched out on a table behind
the staff. Her ankles were bound to her thighs, and her arms were crossed
behind her and tied. Two black men restrained her and Jock stood by,
smiling down at Sandra. The table was tilted up so Sandra faced the
audience. Her bonds had been arranged to strain her muscles; her belly,
buttocks and thighs were taut and hard. Her erect nipples and her labia
were a pearly pink, and her entire body had a satiny gleam as if she'd been
buffed. She was beautiful.
"This is Sandra, ladies and gentlemen. She's a newlywed bride who has
come here tonight for a very special occaison. Sandra has consented to be
impaled on this staff. Sandra's impalement will be ala Dolcett, that is,
the staff will start in her vagina, travel through her abdomen past her
viscera, until it reaches her stomach. It will then pierce her stomach,
and be guided through her esophagus, to emerge from her mouth. The
"saddle" at the end of the shaft will carry her pelvis when the shaft is
mounted upright. At that point, Sandra's restraints will be removed and we
will be able to see how she struggles against her impalement. Please watch
closely, then. We begin."
If San understood any of that, she didn't give any indication. Her eyes
were dark, a look Tom had seen in intimate moments, but she didn't seem
completely aware of what was going on around her. One of her male
attendents fetched the staff, swinging the pointed end to Jock. Jock
leaned over San, one hand in the middle of her chest, pinning her, the
other rubbing the staff against her stiff nipples. San squirmed, trying to
raise her head. Jock seemed to be saying something to her; San's pink
tongue came out, awkwardly licking the steel near the tip. Jock spoke to
her again, lifting her head. San nodded, looking down, and her full lips
pressed briefly to the end of the shaft.
Jock moved the shaft down and presented it to her vulva, spreading her
lips with two fingers, working the point against her vulva, then easing it
against her vagina, entering her delicately. Jock muttered instructions to
the man holding the far end of the staff, and it began moving into San's
belly. When several inches of the rod were slipped into her vagina, she
smiled vacantly, rolling her hips. Her breasts slipped back and forth on
her chest, filming with sweat.
For several minutes, Jock fucked her with the staff, the tip of it
working in and out as he fingered her clit. San stiffened and writhed,
breasts rolling back and forth, her big nipples gorged and dark. She
crooned something softly and came. The entire theater was taut with
silence.
At their table, Susan slipped out of her dress and laid across the
table, watching San intently. Tom didn't need encouragement
Jock was in control of the rod, one hand on San's belly and the other on
the end entering her body. Jock signalled as San stiffened in orgasm, and
the rod moved inward, paused, then slipped a foot inside her body.
San screamed and lunged against her bonds, her entire body taut and
straining, her breasts bouncing and quivering. Jock held her shoulders,
forcing her back, restraining her.
San finally subsided to passionate sobbing. A gout of blood welled from
her vagina, and a girl rushed up with a towel, cleaning her quickly, then
retiring from the spotlights. Jock signalled again, and the staff was
tilted sharply down at the far end. A point below San's navel bulged, the
point of the staff deep inside her, and San squirmed and wailed. "Can you
see it, ladies and gentlemen?" Ella murmured. "It's deep inside her now,
having pierced her womb." The shaft was straightened in line with her
spine. Jock worked the rod in slowly, pushing San's body back and forth,
probing her belly with one hand, easing the rod in an inch at a time. San
lunged and struggled with each increment, but it didn't take two minutes to
work another foot into her writhing, naked body.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the tip is past the viscera, and ready to enter
Sandra's stomach in the vicinity of her esophagus. Guided properly, the
rod will emerge from her mouth a moment later. If Jock misses, though, it
will pierce her heart, and Sandra will die before we want her to. Please
watch closely. This is the critical moment."
Jock judged the angle of her body, judged the angle of the shaft, moved
it slightly, then nodded to the man at the end. A hard push, and another
six inches slid into her body. San sobbed, gagged and then shuddered.
Jock pulled her forehead sharply back as the rod began moving smoothly into
her. Her tongue came out of her mouth just before the point, but her
tongue was only a pink slip as the rod continue moving through her, pushing
out of her mouth until nearly a foot and a half jutted from her lips.
Blood welled around her lips, dripping down her cheeks. San squirmed, her
eyes wild, and her teeth clacked against the shaft with her struggles. Her
breasts jounced and swayed wildly, but she was fully impaled.
It was done. A murmur went through the room, but nothing more. Despite
the mass of the pole passing through her torso, San was clearly alive,
squirming and struggling against the horrible invasion.
Jock lifted her by the shoulders and the other man anchored the pole in
a hole in the floor. In an instant, the pole was upright, San's gleaming
body run through and still struggling. The bonds at her feet and hands
were quickly cut free, and the men stood away from her impaled beauty. San
kicked, and kicked again. Her hands went to the tip of the rod, trying
vainly to dislodge it. She kicked, one hand sliding to her throat, the
other to her belly. San kicked, her breasts jouncing madly, kicked again.
Her entire body strained, every muscle hard and defined under her gleaming
skin, her nipples standing out from her breasts like pink lemons.
Then slowly, she relaxed. Her arms first, slipping to her sides, palms
outward; then her legs, relaxing and opening slightly. Her belly
shuddered; her breasts jumped once, and she was still.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sandra. She has probably gone into
shock, or passed out from asphyxia, but to make certain she has died for
us, Jock is going to pierce her once more, this time through the heart."
Jock raised a long dagger for the audience to see, nearly a foot long
and gleaming brightly. e moved behind San, steadying her shoulder, then
his thrusting arm flexed and several inches of blade popped out of her
chest, just inside and above her left breast. The blade tip jumped
rhythmically; her heart was still beating.
After a moment, her entire body shuddered once and relaxed profoundly.
The knife in her chest was still. The girls in the little white smocks
came forward and wiped her body down with thick towels, cleaning away the
sweat and the blood from her lovely still body. One girl straightened
San's face on the steel post slightly; another fixed her hair.
"Sandra, ladies and gentlemen. A fresh young newlywed wife, who has
died for your pleasure tonight. That concludes our entertainment. I thank
you all for coming. You may examine the young ladies at your leisure once
the lights are turned back on, but I must ask that you not removed any body
parts, nor use any of the silverware at your table to further abuse their
bodies. Again, thank you, and good night."
***
Watching his naked, helpless wife die, Tom had fucked Suse savagely as
he'd watched. He had fucked her hard, a fury of frustration and desire.
As San had struggled against the rod impaling her, he buried his cock in
Susan and clawed her hips and shoulders as he came. Susan had grunted and
whimpered beneath him, but she met his thrusts; he couldn't tell if she'd
liked it. He didn't care. Finished, he shoved her onto the floor, then
cleaned his cock with a dinner napkin. Susan looked up at him, half-naked,
her eyes dark with hunger or anger.
It was done, then, and the lights started to brighten over the tables.
At the next table over, a young man was cleaning his cock as well. The
blonde girl laying back on his table wasn't moving, her eyes staring
sightlessly, her head at an odd angle. The man grinned at Tom and
shrugged, embarrassed.
Tom straightened his clothes, stepped over Susan, and approached the
stage and his wife's lifeless body. San's skin was warm, her nipples still
swollen under his fingers. It was over. It really was over. e touched
her throat, and then her breasts, shaken by the raw eroticism of the
experience.
Before he could leave, Ella approached him and handed him a plain
envelope. "You've done well," she said, "Much better than I expected."
Tom shrugged, accepting the envelope but saying nothing. The envelope
held a check drawn on a Bahamian bank.
"Take Susan to a night club. She resembles your wife, as I'm sure
you've noticed. After a couple drinks, Susan will go to the ladies room,
and then leave. After an appropriate time, you will make inquiries, show
anxiety, act a part. Can you do that?"
"I suppose," Tom said quietly. "What if I want to kill Susan?"
Ella smiled broadly, and waved at Suse, sitting at Tom's table. "Then
take her to your room and kill her. We'll make other arrangements. The
point of the night club business is to protect you, and to make it easy for
you to collect Sandra's life insurance. The choice is yours, but you might
find it prudent to take Susan to a night club."
Tom looked at the check again; it was a bank draft, and he doubted it
was forged. "This snuff show, you do it often?"
"Often enough," Ella said carefully. "Why?"
Tom pulled out his billfold and found a photograph; it was a young
dark-haired woman in a bikini. "If I brought her here, would you-?"
Ella took the picture and examined it critically. "She's nice. Pretty
face. A lovely body. Really quite lovely. We could do something with
those breasts, don't you think? Yes, I should think so; they're quite high
on her chest to be so large. Who is she?"
"My sister, Dana. She's sixteen."
Ella appraised him, smiling darkly. "You are a naughty man, aren't you?
When you're ready, bring her to town. Stay at the same hotel. We'll find
you."
Tom nodded, looking at his dead wife. Her nipples were still erect, and
he fingered one gently, then kissed it. "I'll do that," he said.
When Jock came over to talk to Ella, Tom moved quickly. The knife came
out of San's limp body easily. It went into Jock's back almost as easily;
the man arched, eyes wild, grunting, reaching behind him to dislodge the
blade that was out of his reach between his powerful shoulders. He sagged
to the floor, still grappling behind him. Tom stood away from the dying
man and the knife quickly, aware that there might be rifles trained on him.
Ella had drawn back when she realized what had happened, then, slowly,
smiled. "Was that revenge?"
"I loved my wife, you know. I loved her."
"Apparently so," Ella said softly, then, "Are you going to kill Susan as
well?"
Tom looked at the woman waiting for him, shock on her face from the
moment's violence. "Not tonight."
"But later-?"
Tom shrugged and smiled darkly. "You need someone to replace Jock now,
don't you?"
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