Message-ID: <57431asstr$1205874602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: s19g2000prg.googlegroups.com!not-for-mail From: anony.mouse2@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <63c6a4b4-68e2-4315-8cda-ea6c94f51131@s19g2000prg.googlegroups.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 18 Mar 2008 12:46:45 +0000 (UTC) Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com Injection-Info: s19g2000prg.googlegroups.com; posting-host=203.213.7.130; posting-account=gtZVmwoAAAAgzR4fSEB1kU8MwnTI6Dqz User-Agent: G2/1.0 X-HTTP-UserAgent: Mozilla/5.0 (Windows; U; Windows NT 5.1; en-US; rv:1.8.1.12) Gecko/20080201 Firefox/2.0.0.12,gzip(gfe),gzip(gfe) X-HTTP-Via: 1.1 bri-pow-pr1.tpgi.com.au:3128 (squid) X-Spam-Prev-Subject: Gillian Anderson's Membership Fee ( viol, snuff, m/f tort } REPOST X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 18 Mar 2008 05:46:44 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} Gillian Anderson's Membership Fee ( viol, snuff, m/f tort } REPOST X-Original-Subject: [spam 5.4] Gillian Anderson's Membership Fee ( viol, snuff, m/f tort } REPOST Lines: 264 Date: Tue, 18 Mar 2008 17:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2008/57431> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, newsman "What IS this place, David?" Gillian asked with a nervous laugh. "It's a very exclusive club. I'm applying for membership, and I was hoping you might be able to help me get in." "It doesn't look very exclusive," she complained. They walked quickly through a dark alley. "Trust me, it is. This is just to keep the paparazzi away." They came to an unmarked door, which David opened. Behind the door was a flight of dimly lit stairs. "David, are you sure about this?" "Positive," he assured her. "After you, my dear." Gillian descended the stairs tentatively. Her black heels clicked softly against the wooden steps. At the bottom of the staircase was another door, which she opened without being asked to do so. She stepped through the doorway, into another world. The difference between inside and outside could not have been more marked. Gillian found herself in what appeared to be a very high-class lounge or restaurant, softly lit, tastefully decorated. The walls were paneled in teakwood; the carpet was thick, dark and lush. "Good evening, Ms. Anderson. Good evening, Mr. Duchovny." The maitre d' was short and immaculately dressed. "This way, please." He led them to a small, round table next to a large stage. A red linen tablecloth and a tiny oil lamp decorated the table. The maitre d' held Gillian's chair for her as she sat down. He gestured to a passing waiter, who veered towards them with a tray of drinks. The waiter did not ask them what they wanted, but simply selected a drink for each of them. "The show will start in about half an hour," the maitre d' informed them, and left with a small bow. Gillian looked at her drink. "Vodka Collins. My favorite! David, you're so sweet." She took a long sip. "Nice place." "Yeah. It's really hard to get into. But a lot of the members are big fans of yours, so I thought that bringing you might improve my chances. Thanks for coming, Gil." "Don't mention it." Gillian's tight black skirt stretched to the limit of its abilities as she crossed her short, shapely legs. Her black jacket fell open to reveal a clinging, grey silk blouse. David glanced at her firm, natural breasts. They were quite large for such a small girl--Gillian was only five foot two--and they nicely rounded out her tiny, compact body. Gillian took another sip of her drink and glanced around the room. Men in expensive suits sat at small, round tables, drinking and talking. Suddenly a startling truth dawned on her: "David, I'm the only woman here!" "Right. Sorry, I forgot to mention: this is a men's club. They made a special exception for you. Like I said, they're all big fans." "Oh, David. A men's club? That's so nineteenth century." "I know. This one's a little different, though," he declared enigmatically. "How's that?" "You'll see." She set her drink down suddenly; part of it splashed onto the table. "David, I feel a little funny..." "I'm not surprised." "What do you...oh, God, what was in that?" she asked, suddenly terrified. "Lots of fun stuff. A nice little aphrodisiac. A healthy dose of LSD. Oh, and a little bit of sodium pentathol, to make you more...cooperative." "You son of a bitch...you drugged me?" she gasped. "I had to," he explained. "Trust me, Gillian. It's better this way. Even a talented actress like you is bound to get stage fright in a place like this." "I don't..." He lifted her chin, looked into her eyes. They were deeply dilated. "Oh, yeah. You're ready. Let's go, girl!" He grabbed her wrists, pulling her roughly out of her chair. Applause filled the room. Gillian staggered forward. David slipped an arm around her waist and guided her towards the stage. "That's it, Gil. You're doing fine." "What are you doing to me, David?" she asked. Her voice was sleepy. "Just letting you do what comes naturally: perform." They managed to make it up the steps and onto the stage. Gillian was wobbling slightly, but David kept a tight hold on her waist. "I feel really warm...oh, David, I'm scared..." "Don't worry, Gil. You're doing great. Come on, let's get your clothes off." He began to tug insistently at her jacket. "What? No, please...what are you doing, David?" "You said you were feeling warm. Come on, Gil. You'll feel better once you get out of your clothes. It's so hot and stuffy in here." "So hot," she repeated, and closed her eyes. The jacket came away easily. "Good girl. Now hold your arms up." "What? Oh, OK..." The drugged actress raised her hands slowly; David lifted her blouse over her head. The audience cheered at the sight of her round, meaty breasts. Sheathed in a lacy white bra, they showed admirable cleavage. The bra opened in the middle; David unhooked it and lifted it away. Gillian's small red nipples were much harder than the temperature of the room warranted. "Why don't you take your skirt off now, Gillian?" David suggested, eyeing her erect nipples. Gillian giggled like a drunken co-ed. "What for? Are you gonna fuck me, David? Is that what kinda show this is?" "Yes, you could say that." He waited to see if she would offer any protest. But the drugs were doing their work admirably. Her hands reached unsteadily for the zipper. She unzipped the skirt with minor difficulty, letting it fall down around her ankles. "Now the panties," David commanded, confident of her obedience. "Can't believe you're doing this to me," she murmured, as she ran her thumbs under the straps of her white g-string. "Oh, God..." "That's it, Gillian. Just relax and go with it." The panties inched down her sleek, slender hips, revealing curly red pubic hair. There were whistles from the audience as Gillian dropped her g-string. She was now naked except for her black leather heels. "Good girl. Now raise your arms again, and close your eyes." She smiled nervously. "What are you gonna do to me?" she asked, her voice thick and husky. "I'm going to tie you up," he replied. A pair of leather restraints descended from above on a winch. "Ooh, kinky!" she giggled. He buckled the straps tightly around her wrists. "Spread your legs for me, Gil." "Oh, David, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that..." He spread her legs until her feet were about a meter apart, then used another pair of leather straps to secure her ankles to the stage. He touched her red curls; they were dripping. "Stuff really works," he murmured. "OK, Gil, you're ready. Enjoy!" "Oh, yes, David...fuck me...let's give these guys the best show they've ever seen!" Her breathing was rapid, her eyes dilated. "All right, Gil," he replied with a chuckle. A thin steel spike was rising slowly out of the stage. David grabbed Gillian's hips, holding her in place above its sharp tip. "Can I open my eyes yet?" she whispered. "No, not yet." The tip of the spike vanished into her red curls, and then into her. Her eyes snapped open. "Oh! David, that isn't you..." "No. Goodbye, Gillian." "Goodbye? David, what...?" "It's a dildo, Gillian. A nice, hard steel cock. Fuck the cock, Gillian. Fuck it." "It's kinda sharp..." she protested. "I know. Go nice and slow." As the fascinated crowd watched, Gillian's lithe body began to move up and down on the pole. She whimpered softly, her hips rocking back and forth as she fucked the spike. Her drug-induced movements were languid and unhurried, but that only made her self-impalement twice as erotic. "Doesn't that feel good, Gil?" "Mmm hmm." Her eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip. Her breasts jiggled as she bounced gently on the pole. "I wish it was your cock, David...but it feels good." David reached up and cupped her breast. His fingers came together, pinching her nipple. She gasped. With his other hand he reached down into her thick bush. Locating her clit, he began to massage it gently with his middle fingertip. "Oh, yes, David...oh, Jesus, yes..." She began to fuck the spike faster now, though she was careful not to thrust it too deeply into herself. Her bright red lips parted slightly. "Oh, God," she gasped. And then she screamed a scream of pure release. "Oh, thank you, David," she gasped. "Thank YOU, Gil." David grinned, removing his hands from her body. "Oh! David, it's still moving! Oh! Please, David, it's too deep! It hurts!" Suddenly Gillian's feet left the floor. The leather straps held fast, keeping her heels near the stage as the prod thrust up into her. She was screaming a very different scream now. "Oh, God! It's so sharp...oh, David, it's hurting me! Make it stop, David, please!" There was a wet tearing sound, and Gillian's screams changed in tone. The spike shot up into her abdomen. Blood trickled out of her red curls and ran down the steel shaft. David stepped back. There was a soft hissing sound, and Gillian's taut belly began to swell. David turned to the audience. "Gentlemen, I submit my application for membership in the Hollywood Snuff Club. A thick rubber balloon has just emerged from the end of the spike. It's filling with water, inflating slowly inside Gillian's abdominal cavity." Gillian howled wildly as her belly swelled, but no identifiable words passed her lips. Her sleek, slim body thrashed in its bonds, muscles rippling as she fought. Over a period of about ten minutes, Gillian's belly simulated the various stages of pregnancy: first the tiny bulge of recent impregnation, then a larger roundness, until at last she looked like a swollen sow about to drop. Gillian's tortured cries reflected the fact that her skin had stretched around her massive belly bulge in minutes rather than months. At last her belly stopped expanding. Her screams died down to soft whimpers. Tears stained her pale cheeks. David touched her navel. The skin was incredibly tight; her abdomen seemed ready to burst. Wistfully, David stepped away. The spike began to withdraw from Gillian's cunt, pulling the inflated water balloon with it. Her whimpers became howls once more. Slowly the massive bulge moved from her belly into her womb as Gillian gave birth. Her slender body twitched in agony as her twat stretched. The bottom of the balloon emerged from her gaping pussy; her blood had painted it bright red. Little by little the balloon came out of her. The withdrawal was tortuously slow. And then all at once the balloon's equator emerged. Now it withdrew quickly, and there was something behind it. Gillian's intestines spilled easily out of the vast hole where her twat had been. They followed the water balloon down to the floor. Gillian managed to open her eyes a little. She stared down at her warm, wet guts, her lips twitching. She was beyond all screams now. She received a standing ovation. David bowed for her as her leather straps grew painfully tight, stretching her dying body. She lasted another fifteen minutes, and during that time she was, perhaps, in as much pain as a woman can be. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+