Thursday, April 27, 2017

CSJC: On Display

In time the Social Justice Movement came to mold and redefine the justice system. A new phenomena rose and was tried in some of the larger cities-- The Corporal Social Justice Center. In these centers the accused were tortured publicly, and in many cases the public was invited to participate in the punishment as part of the public shaming ritual of the social justice principles. As part of the Social Justice code, conviction of a crime was not required for punishment to be assigned; accusation was enough.

Melanie stared at the community college social justice tribunal in disbelief.

"I never called her a gorilla. I called her a guerrilla. As in the military insurgency soldier. It had nothing to do with her being black!" complained Melanie.

"I am not sure what you mean; a gorilla is a gorilla," said the tribunal prosecutor. There was no defense representative, of course. "Plus, you said this within her 25 foot safe speech zone."

"It was meant as a compliment, and had nothing to do with her being black, it was because she looked good in her camo pants and army green T A guerrilla!"

"What you actually said is of no importance. What is of importance is Miss Jackson's feelings, and she felt severely offended by your comment. Therefore you are guilty of offensive and insensitive communications within a protected person's safe speech zone."

The president of the tribunal stamped a piece of paper. "That's enough. Melanie Poulos, you are hereby accused and therefore convicted of offensive and aggressive behavior toward protected classes of individuals with negative comments and criticism; aggravated by safe space violation; aggravated by your white privilege. You are assigned to eight hours class three punishment at the CSJC, to be served..."

The 19 year old tribunal president consulted a schedule. "To be served next Wednesday at 8:00AM. Secretary, see to it that Melanie's punishment is publicized in the usual locations throughout campus."


"But... I didn't say anything wrong!" protested Melanie.

The tribunal president made a note. "Also aggravated by lack of contrition; special circumstances added to punishment bumped to class four punishment. May you find peace in your suffering."

And that was that.



Melanie had never been to the CSJC before. Many of her friends had gone, just to see the men and women who were being publicly tortured and humiliated. Some felt it was their civic duty; others simply went because it fed some sexual lust or kinky desire. So she had heard of some of the horrors, the humiliation and pain people were put through for breaking social decency standards in the modern word.

It was a large building just outside of campus. It stood three stories tall, and included inside and outside chambers, viewing areas, administration offices, research centers, and the like. Melanie went to the main entrance on Saturday, several days before her own scheduled punishment. She wanted to know what she was in for.

She signed in at the front desk and surveyed the schedule of punishments. There was even a public execution scheduled for 10:00 in the morning... she didn't want to see that. She examined the boards and determined which poor people were receiving a class four punishment, the same as she had been sentenced to.

Following the signs she passed by a cluster of giggling women in the hall. She overheard a bit of their conversation. "But he had an erection! I wouldn't think that was possible, with that thing rammed up his ass... " "Oh, but what about the redhead. She seemed like she was having a nervous breakdown and I can't believe those spikes hurt much at all. It had to just be the humiliating position she was in."

Melanie passed a girl that stood crying in the hall. "What's the matter?" She said comfortingly.

"My mom is in there..." she motioned to a closed door. "I... I... I came to support her but it is just too much..."

Melanie avoided a lone man walking down another hall with his zipper down and a stain on the front of his pants. She didn't want to know.

Finally arriving, she slowly opened a door and entered the viewing room she was looking for.



The room had three rows of seats elevated several feet high. At the front was a standing viewing area, for those that wanted to get close. There were about ten people in the room, all looking intently at what was happening in the punishment area, just beyond a railing.

And there it was. Three women, being punished.

They were naked. Not a stitch of clothing on them. All seemed relatively fit, though having their bodies stretched out probably made them look thinner than they actually were.

And stretched they were. All three hung by their wrists from the ceiling, secured by cuffs that were locked tightly. It was clear by their red and purple hands that the cuffs were quite tight and the women were in no danger of coming loose or wriggling free.

Their arms were stretched out at a 90 degree angle, in a wide V shape above their heads. The muscles and tendons in their arms stood out, partly as they strained to move, and partly because of the stretching force on their arms, pulling them down.

The women's legs were also tied apart, separated and spread at a 90 degree angle like their arms above them. It was a classic spread-eagle.

This position allowed the audience to clearly see the victim's inner thighs and sexual organs.

Melanie sat down in shock, the sight of seeing actual people before her, just a few feet away, pulled and stretched and hung like that... stark naked...

Melanie had never been naked in public before, and had never seen anyone else naked in public. She avoided the girl's showers, and while she allowed her boyfriend to see her naked, she usually tried to cover herself by sheets or blankets or a towel...

These poor women were being stretched wide in total nudity, just so everyone could see every aspect of their nakedness. A nakedness that also belied their suffering.

And these women were suffering. You could tell that just by listening. They were all panting to some degree, making quick gasps and breaths. Hanging like that must make it hard to breathe, Melanie thought.

The women were also moaning at times. On girl threw her head back so that she looked up at the ceiling from between her outstretched arms and let out a low, guttural moan that almost became a low scream.

Melanie stared in fascination at the women who were being punished. She tried to picture herself in their place, but couldn't. There was no way she could this.

Another woman was led in, apparently just to begin her own punishment. She shuffled in with little emotion, staring at the floor. The victim refused to look at the audience with Melanie sitting, watching.

Above each of the women on display was an LED sign with the name of the girl. It also displayed a countdown timer showing how long each girl had left on her sentence. The brunette that had her head thrust back had seven hours left... the blonde with her head sagging forward, drooling a little, had five.

The new victim was placed into position, and two ropes lowered. Her wrists were fastened in front of her, the bindings tightened, then tightened again. Melanie saw her wince as the wrist bindings were tightened so they had no possibility of coming loose.

The name of the new girl suddenly displayed on the LED screen. Sally. Her name was Sally. The man dressed in black that was preparing Sally kicked her legs apart, and then fastened a wide stick between them, a leg spreader that forced the ankles apart. Melanie watched and saw as Sally's legs were forced open, exposing her vaginal lips and labia.

Sally was crying silently, tears trickling down her cheeks, but people in the audience were excited by Sally's appearance. Melanie was simply dismayed.

With a sudden jerk Sally's wrists were hoisted above her head and spread out. The ropes continued to climb, higher and higher, slowly stretching Sally as her arms rose above her. Her body elongated and then her toes left the floor, her feet swinging free.

The bar holding the legs apart was connected to the ground with a chain, though, and that stopped Sally's upward ascent. Her legs suddenly became taught, her arms began to show signs of muscles and tendons stretching and her stomach became concave as her body stretched as well.

The hoist motor whined a bit with the effort of pulling Sally up against the chain that held her down, and Sally let out a moan and cry... and the hoist stopped going. Sally was hanging there, on display, her body pulled tight. She was unable to move anything but her head. She tried anyway, jerking and flexing her body as best she could, her head flopping back and forth. It was to no avail.

Sally was in place and would go nowhere. She would simply suffer.

The sign above her lighted up with the countdown timer. 8:00 hours.

Melanie could not watch any more. As she left the observation area she passed a young man with his hands in his pants. The bulge underneath was moving up and down quickly as he stared at the brunette shuddering in her suspension.

Melanie almost vomited out in the corridor. She understood now why the young girl had been so upset about her mother being in a place like this.

On her way out she passed a room that was marked as a Class 3 punishment viewing area. It couldn't be as bad as what she had seen... and she wondered if she could get her sentence reduced. What would happen in a class 3 punishment...

She opened the door and went in.

This room had no specific viewing area with seats. In the center of the room was a single naked woman, hanging by her arms. The cute brunette seemed very unhappy but not in as much pain as the girls in the class 4 punishment.

Several observers were standing about the room on all sides of the victim. Melanie stepped in and found herself moving between the observers until she came to a spot a little behind the prisoner.

She was hanging from her arms, but not in a spread eagle position, and it didn't seem quite as tight. Her toes touched the floor giving her some support.

But, there was a wooden bar behind her shoulders, forcing them forward. Or her wrists were tied behind the bar. It looked like the bar was there to create a more uncomfortable position.

Melanie was only a couple of feet away from the poor suffering woman. She could see the muscles twitch and strain, her weight shift on her toes. The victim tried to avoid eye contact with the observers but at times she did look at someone. She looked at Melanie and Melanie saw something... like recrimination. Blame. As if the girl was saying you did this to me... by coming and watching me you have made my misery possible.

A small sign said "Do Not Touch". Most of the observers respected the request, but one guy put his hand out and ran it down the smooth curve of the girl's breasts, and down the bumps of her rib cage. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Melanie quickly left the CSJC and went home, climbing into bed with the covers over her head.



The time came. Melanie's alarm went off at 7:00 AM on Wednesday. She had been told to be there 15 minutes early for processing. She showered, dressed, had a light breakfast and then drove to the CSJC to serve her sentence.

The victim's entrance was in the back, and the parking lot was already full. There were a lot of people there today, being punished. The sky was cold and grey and Melanie trudged into the entrance. She got in line with about 20 people ahead of her.

When she reached the front she gave her name. The clerk looked her up and directed her to sign two forms and then go to a specific room.

The room was an austere locker room. Signs announced the process.

"Remove all clothing and place in locker of your choice. No jewelry, contact lenses, piercings. Remove everything. When naked report to technician."

Melanie was already crying in humiliation. Two other girls were with her, already mostly undressed. Melanie began to undo the buttons on her top.

As they stripped Melanie hid her face and tried to cover her private parts. The other two women didn't care and were simply getting naked but Melanie was humiliated by the fact she was having to undress.

She removed her rings, an ankle bracelet, and her earrings. When she was done she was as naked as the day she was born.

Terrified and shaking, Melanie walked to the end of the locker room, where a door labeled "Intake Processing" was located. She attempted to cover her breasts and genitals with her hands. It was cold and unfriendly and felt like she was being made into cattle, but she walked into the room with several others. A technician dressed in white lab coat was there, talking.

"After a brief medical exam you will be offered --- you, you are late," she said to Melanie. Melanie looked confused. She had arrived exactly at 7:45 as she had been told...

"As I said, you will be offered some options to your punishment. The first is the privacy option. If you wish to remain anonymous you can selection this option. It involves wearing this sack over your head the entire session." The technician held up a large burlap sack. Melanie had at first thought she would opt for privacy, but... eight hours in that thing, she thought she would suffocate.

"You have the option of experiencing enhanced discomfort for a reduced sentence. In this case, an additional 20 lbs of weight on your body will reduce your sentence by one hour."

Melanie thought of hanging with an extra 20 lbs of weight... for seven hours... she had no idea what that meant. She might try it. Anything to get out of there faster.

"Some of you have enhancements added anyway. For example, Melanie here has an enhancement for being late, as well as an enhancement for... let's see... ah yes. Lack of contrition. Common mistake. All right, line up for your medical exams."

"What..." Melanie said, dismayed. She already had enhancements?

The technician spoke a little more then had the girls line up. There were five in all.

The medical exam was conducted quickly. The tech listened to their heart, took blood pressure and pulse, checked their eyes for dilation, and took their temperature. The exam was not too bad until they had to get on their hands and knees and have the thermometer thrust up their anus. Melanie gasped at that.

The medical exam was over quickly and the girls had cuffs placed on their wrists and ankles. The cuffs were a wide leather but had a metal cable running inside the leather. This was tightened sufficiently that the cuff would not come off even with the weight of the victim placed fully on the cuff. The cuffs were made to be sturdy, not for comfort.

These cuffs were chained together and the girls were told to stand and wait. The girls did as they were told, standing and waiting. One girl was shaking uncontrollably. Melanie was feeling faint, wondering if she would make it. There was so much fear in the room you could smell it.

One of the girls had apparently been to the CSJC before. "The medical exam used to be more thorough. I guess they don't care that much any more. Well... this is it. Next stop... our punishment."

They were led away. Chains clinking softly, they walked in a line down a hallway.

The CSJC had a pleasant, modern decor for the observers and guests. Behind it all was a warren of concrete passages and rooms where the workers and condemned were processed and transported. Melanie found herself following the girls down the grey hallway, turning right and then entering a metal doorway into a tiny grey room. They were told to sit and wait their turn.

The room was tiny, cramped. Clearly it was just a temporary holding area while the main punishment area was beyond the door on the other side of the room.

One by one they were taken. The chains were released and a girl would be taken through the door. A few minutes later the technician would return, unlock the next girl and take her through the door.

It was finally Melanie's turn. The technician came in, unlocked the chains that fastened her wrists and ankles to the girl next to her and told her to get up. Melanie rose, but fell again. She was faint, weak with fear. The technician prodded her, no sympathy given, simply demanding.

Melanie rose and followed.

Three girls were already in their punishment positions, already stretched out. The audience area could be seen clearly, though there were stage lights shining on the floor were Melanie stood.

The shock was seeing the three girls. They weren't just hanging spread-eagle... they were hanging upside-down!

Melanie gasped and jerked back-- only to be stopped by the tight grip of the technician.

"Don't be givin' me any problems now," she growled.

Melanie knew that those who resisted social justice were simply put to even worse tests and had their punishments extended. It was better to cooperate and get it over with... but... upside down???

"Lay down on your back, here." The technician pointed. Melanie did. Working quickly, the tech attached ropes to her ankle cuffs, and then other ropes to her wrists.

Melanie was sobbing softly as this was done. It was like waiting to be executed while the hangman put the noose around your neck and tightened it. Any second now....

With a whir, the hoist began pulling the rope up. It was the rope attached to Melanie's ankles, and she felt her legs slowly being lifted into the air.

Higher... higher her legs were pulled until her ass also left the ground. She felt the beginning tug of the ropes, separating her legs. High and higher, the ropes pulling further and further apart as they lifted her. "Oh... my god..." she said as her back left the ground her only her shoulders and head touched the concrete.

Her head dragged on the concrete as her shoulders left the ground and then suddenly, she was fully suspended. She swung back and forth the whole world upside-down. It made her nauseous.

But the hoist kept going. Her legs had been spread wide apart by now, and her entire weight was on them. But the hoist pulled her up and her arms stretched out wide as she lifted further off the ground.

Suddenly, the hoist reached the limit-- her arms were tightly pulled out now, the ropes tight. But the hoist kept pulling, groaning. Melanie cried out, "It's not working, I'm all the way up... it should turn off!"

The hoist was designed to place a very specific amount of tension on the victim's body. A certain number of pounds of pressure, and it pulled Melanie up until her arms felt like they would separate, her shoulders coming out of their socket. She screamed out just as the hoist stopped, having reached the proper tension.

Melanie was in agony. Her punishment had just begun... and she wished to die.

Her head pounded as the blood flowed the wrong way. Her feet and hands were numb from the tight pressure of the cuffs. Her elbow, shoulder, hip and knee joints all felt the pressure, all felt as if they might give way at any moment.

Melanie was so glad she had not opted for the additional weight to shorten her sentence... it would have been unbearable.

Melanie's screams had excited the audience. Some laughed, some were cringing, some were... masturbating... as Melanie hung before them.

She had no idea there would be immediate pain. She thought that the suspension would be all right for a while, that over time the muscles would tire and it would get more uncomfortable. But this... it was like being stretched on a rack! Her joints ached, her back was cramping, and her head was going to explode.

Nakedness was now a small part of Melanie's problems.

The last girl was brought in and strung up next to Melanie. She too sobbed when the hoist pulled her, creating increasing tension in her body.  The audience applauded when she screamed, and there was excited chatter as all the girls simply hung, unable to do anything but cry.

Tears came from Melanie's eyes, and trickled down her forehead, finally becoming lost in her hair, which hung toward the floor.

She wished she could see the countdown timer. She knew there was one, above her feet along with her name. But she couldn't see it.

As she suffered, hanging upside down, the audience shifted and changed. People came and went. Time went on, but it seemed like an eternity. She couldn't move. Any attempt at struggling just caused more strain on her joints, and when she cried out in pain it seemed to excite the audience.

At one point she heard a guy say, "That girl. the one called Melanie, yeah. Fantastic body. Look at her cunt. Damn, I hope she fucks up again and gets sent to the rape rooms. I'd pay a lot to get a piece of that."

A technician appeared, a different one. "Melanie. Time for your lack of contrition enhancement."

A rope was encircled around Melanie's neck. She cried out, "What are you doing? Are you killing me? Am I going to die?"

The technician laughed. "Not likely dear, though you might wish to before the day is out."

The ropes themselves didn't bring any extra discomfort to Melanie... until the iron ball was added as weight.

Melanie choked, gasping for air as the ropes tightened around her neck. "Oh god... oh godohgodohgod..."

The weight was not enough to strangle her, just enough to make it harder to breathe. And upside down, it was hard to breathe anyway.

The weight also added a bit of stress to her back and leg joints.

The technician was right, Melanie wanted to die. She actually found it impossible to talk any more, but if she had been able to she would have asked for more weight so she would just strangle... and die.

But Melanie hung, unmoving. Her body was completely still except for her labored breathing.

The whirring click of a camera would sometimes fill the observation area. Someone took photos of the punished girls, hanging upside-down.

Just when she thought she was going to lose consciousness the original technician came in and stood in front of Melanie's agonized body.

"You don't think I forgot you, did you? Here's your enhancement for being late today."

Nipple clamps. Tight ones. First the right nipple; Melanie sobbed and cried out when it went on. Then the left nipple; Melanie once again cried out...

A few minutes later she forgot she even had the clamps on. Her nipples were numb and other areas of her body hurt a lot worse.


The girl on her left had opted for the privacy option. Her sobs had initially been muffled by the sack which enveloped her head and upper body.

After a while, it appeared that the girl was no longer making any noise. Melanie wondered if she had, in fact, suffocated in the sack. She didn't think so, but in her agony Melanie believed anything was possible.

She might be hanging next to a corpse.

There came a point where Melanie realized she needed to pee. She held it briefly but finally realized that just added to her agony. She released it. A stream of urine shot out from between her legs and arched in front of her, splattering on the floor in front of her face.

This brought cheers from some in the audience. Clearly, Melanie had exchanged the pain of holding her urine, for the humiliation of peeing on herself in front of an audience who enjoyed the show very much.

As the stream of urine subsided, it fell on her stomach and trickled down to her breasts, and finally covered her face. Some got in her eyes, and Melanie cried out again from the stinging.

Event such as these were actually welcomed as they broke the tedium of constant pain hanging upside down... hour after hour.

The punishment of one of the other girls had included extra humiliation.

This turned out to be forced orgasms. A vibrator was suspended from her rigging and pressed against her exposed pussy. It was turned on every hour or so for about 15 minutes.

The girl tried to resist. She was in pain, after all, from being suspended and stretched upside down. But eventually the vibration directly on her clit got to her and she shuddered and moaned with pleasure, instead of pain.

Time was a blur marked only by slight changes in her agony. She lost consciousness at one point but was brought around by a splash of water and some smelling salts.

The audience changed, though who they were was not important. They were simply people come to watch her pain. At one point she recognized a guy she had dated some, and even slept with a couple of times. He was watching her with intense concentration. Probably reliving the time he came inside of her, she thought.

The black girl she had referred to as a guerrilla came by to gloat. She made a few comments and laughed as Melanie suffered.

Melanie actually managed to find words in her state and called the girl a corrupted bitch. "Wait until you are here, and I will come see you," said Melanie.

She then passed out again from the pain.

When she was finally released, Melanie was unable to walk for a day. It took her two days to recuperate before getting back to classes. Once she did, everything seemed perfectly normal.

In her Social Justice 101 class they learned about the very first social justice corporal and humiliation punishment, some 20 years before. It was a girl named Fiona and she had been strung up naked in the arboretum of a major university for a few hours while passers by taunted her. Her crime had been to complain that men were using the women's bathroom, pretending to be transgender.

Melanie laughed at the photo in their textbook. That girl had it easy.


Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Sold Into Slavery: The Circle of Life

Stephanie continued to grow as a slave within the Jackson household.

Sometimes, she would remember her life in the other world, the outside world. To be free. To wear clothes whenever in public, and even at home. To choose who she associated with and what she did. To be admired, viewed as attractive, and be able to use the attractiveness to manipulate men.

It seemed very strange to her. Detached. She knew that when she was there, she had felt happy and comfortable. Now, she could really only imagine absolute obedience to males at all times, and to females that were the designated representatives of the males.

A couple of months after moving to the dorms she was given a new collar. This collar was the most wonderful of gifts to her. It had two small chains dangling down with nipple clamps. These were worn as decorations.

Yes, the clamps hurt, but that was the point. The collar was essentially an item of slave jewelry, designed to show off the slave's beauty. The pain of the clamps were just considered another form of beauty, a celebration of the slave's submission.

The collar and clamps were to be worn proudly as an indication Stephanie was a favored slave of the household.

She threw herself into her new life and role, her old self washed away. Because she was such an intelligent, educated woman she had certain skills and capabilities many other women did not. She could organize an event. She anticipated male needs better than most of the other women slaves, simply because she thought critically rather than simply waiting for orders. And she was remarkably good looking.

Yes, the life of a slave was not without discipline. Sometimes the discipline came simply because it pleased her male masters. Sometimes it was because of an imperfection or mistake. As a human she had a natural tendency to make mistakes, and as a slave she had limited control and was unable to influence events as she would prefer, thus increasing the likelihood of a failed outcome.

There was always something to punish.

Punishment happened a couple of times a week, on average. Certainly nothing too serious and it was simply an aspect of life Stephanie accepted.

In fact, she was obedient and accepting enough that she often would simply go to the punishment room and start her punishment by herself.

The most common form of punishment she received during this time was the wooden pony. When told she was to be punished, she would simply climb up on the inverted V shaped wooden structure and sit on the edge. She couldn't secure herself, a male had to do that, but the process was simple and quick.

She accepted the resulting cunt pain and endured it as a routine part of her life.

Her typical punishment length was an hour on the horse. Enough to make her sore and very uncomfortable, but not debilitating.

Since moving to the dorms, Stephanie had been able to keep herself cleaner and more presentable. As a result she was making a better impression on the guests and males in the household. She was attractive. Very attractive.

The result was that she was called upon to service males very frequently. It was not uncommon for Stephanie to be cleaning a table, moving some furniture or doing paperwork and suddenly be told to bend over the table or kneel in front of a male.

It didn't matter who the male was, she obeyed quickly. Spreading her ass cheeks she would take the male member into herself and allow herself to be fucked.

Some of the men were quite rough. Stephanie didn't like this because the damage and discomfort between her legs made it more difficult to do her jobs. It also made it more difficult to service the next male that wanted to mate with her.

Nevertheless, if there was a male that wanted to be inside of her, Stephanie would open her legs, mouth or ass cheeks as they desired. No matter what she was doing or when she was doing it.

Sometimes she would be called upon to service several males during the course of a single morning or afternoon. When this happened she would frequently discover she was walking around, organizing a party or reception with semen dribbling down her leg. She ended up riding the wooden pony more than once for this infraction.

Because of her standing in the household and her more aggressive stance in the dorms, Stephanie became the alpha female. Her old nemesis Farah did not take this well, and Farah's work performance had declined. She was sullen and unhappy and was frequently whipped, suspended from her wrists without food or water for days, or subjected to the water torture (something Stephanie had avoided so far). Farah's life was spiraling downward.

One day Farah was simply not in the dorms. No one knew where she was. The security guards came and asked, but she had simply disappeared.

Apparently they found Farah because two days later the entire female population was called to attend a special punishment.

The rumors whispered. "They caught her...", "She had tried to escape...", "She didn't get far...", The penalty is death..."

Stephanie remembered when she had tried to escape. It seemed like a lifetime before. She had been told the punishment for escaping was death; because she had not actually succeeded they were lenient. Her punishment, though, was several days of constant, horrible torture. It was this last torture than had finally broken her mind completely.

The women came out into the courtyard, and saw Farah standing next to a peculiar bench. It was a vertical post with a wooden beam that jutted horizontally out in front, about two feet above the ground. About four feet above the ground was a metal collar attached to the wooden upright. Behind that was a sort of handle, or crank.

Stephanie had no idea what it was, but the other women did. Some were stoic and silent, some cried.

Farah was grabbed and forced to sit on the wood beam that jutted out, as if it were some sort of uncomfortable seat. She struggled as she went, but it was to no avail. The other slaves stood silently and watched Farah's body struggle and kick as she was forced onto the makeshift seat.

When finally seated, the metal collar was wrapped around Farah's neck and attached to the wood upright. The men let go of Farah at this point. She could flail her arms and legs and move her body about, but her neck was permanently secured in one place by the metal collar.

Finally Farah stopped struggling and just sat there, waiting. One of the security males went around to the back of the device, behind Farah and began turning the crank.

It went especially slowly, but Farah's head and neck eased forward, the metal collar becoming tighter and tighter on the girl's neck.

Panic came into Farah's eyes as her neck was pressed hard against the metal collar and the flesh began to bulge out.

Suddenly Stephanie understood what was happening. The crank was slowly screwing a piece into the back of Farah's neck. The piece was pointed, she saw that before Farah was forced into the collar. As the male cranked the device, the pointed piece shoved further and further into Farah's neck.

Farah made choking noises as the pressure became so great that her air was cut off. Her tongue protruded from her lips, the force of the collar pressing on her neck pressing the tongue up and out of the mouth.

Along with the slow, torturous strangulation, the sharp point was driving deep into Farah's neck.

The man behind her continued to slowly crank the device, which inched slowly deeper and deeper into Farah's neck. Her entire body was shaking now, convulsing. Stephanie couldn't tell whether it was a need for air, or because the device was cracking apart the vertebrae in Farah's neck.

Farah continued to convulse, her chest heaving, trying to draw air into her lungs as the male guard continued to crank the device tighter and tighter.

After a couple of minutes of this Farah suddenly let loose a stream of urine. The other slaves all gasped at this sudden loss of body control.

Farah's eyes were open but here eyeballs suddenly rolled up inside her head. Her tongue protruded purple, and her entire head had taken on a reddish purple hue.

She was now limp, no longer moving.

A few more cranks of the garrote just to make sure, and Farah was dead.

The women all turned away and were told to return to their locations of service.

There had been no trial. Slaves were not entitled to due process. Mr. Jackson had decided Farah was an escapee, and she was immediately strangled to death in front of all the other slaves. That was that.

There had been no love lost between Stephanie and Farah, but it was still a shock to see the other woman suddenly executed like that. Stephanie wondered how close she had come to being executed during her first days as a slave in Malsi, and shuddered.

The execution had a temporary effect on the girls of the household, but it was short lived. Within a couple of days everyone had forgotten Farah. She was just another slave and she was gone.

There was only one lingering image that haunted Stephanie for some weeks later. She had been returning from the banquet room along a hallway that opened onto a courtyard. It was dark and she couldn't see well, but she stopped for just a moment. What she saw, in spite of the dark, was unmistakable.

Farah's body, browned and turning on a spit over a roasting fire outside.

Stephanie almost vomited and ran back to the dorms, and tried to forget Farah.

Men continued to take Stephanie at a remarkable rate, which annoyed her because it slowed her work down. She knew that she would be a far superior worker, accomplishing so much, if she wasn't constantly stopping to let one of the household males or male visitors slide his hardened cock up her ass, or sinking it into her mouth, or both.

It all came to an end rather unexpectedly, about two weeks after Farah's execution and roasting. Stephanie had not been feeling well. Hesitant to ask for assistance, she had kept it to herself. A sick slave could be given medical care... or might simply be gotten rid of. It was best to try and deal with it herself.

After throwing up several times in the mornings and feeling strange in other ways, Stephanie finally decided to pursue it.

She approached one of Mr. Jackson's wives.

"Ma'am, I am sorry to bother you. May I speak?"

"Yes, Stephanie. What is it," said the wife. She had always been kind to Stephanie.

"Um... ma'am, I think... I think I am pregnant."

"Oh, my dear! What wonderful news! Is it your first?"

"Yes... ma'am. I've never been before. I, um... I don't know who the father is." She could have been impregnated by any one of 20 men that had taken her in the last few weeks.

After submitting to a brief examination my Mrs. Jackson, Stephanie was reassured about the baby's father.

"It's not important who the father is. What's important is that you were impregnated and have fulfilled your role as a complete breeding woman in Malsi."

It was true, Stephanie had learned that one of a woman's main purposes in Malsi was to give birth. To make babies. It was considered fulfillment of a higher calling. It made Stephanie happy to know that she was fulfilling her role in Malsi.

"Well, my dear, we must get you out of the dorms and over to the maternity center."

"What? Am I to leave...?" Stephanie suddenly panicked. "I have work here, what... what is the maternity center?"

"The maternity centers are located all around and are where all pregnant Malsi women go to have their babies. They are cared for and contribute in many ways until their child is ready for integration."

"But... but..." Stephanie was suddenly pierced with fear. Whenever she moved from one place to another in Malsi, the experience was always traumatizing.

"Don't worry, Stephanie. The discipline in the maternity center is not much more strict than here. You will do fine."

What??? Had Stephanie heard right? The discipline in the maternity center was more strict than at Mr. Jackson's? Where a girl had just been executed, and Stephanie herself had spent hours suffering a variety of tortures?

And so it was that Stephanie was packed for shipping.

Because pregnant women were more delicate, her packing was more elaborate. She was placed in a coffin and completely encased in a stiff foam. Only her face was exposed. It would take one day, 24 hours, to be shipped to the maternity center.

As the foam hardened around Stephanie's body, trapping her immobile, she cried quietly. She was terrified of the maternity center, but... there was nothing she could do about it.

She was on her way to have a baby.

Friday, March 10, 2017

Suicide Club: Jolene (Part Two)

Read part one here first.

The guillotine needed a human trial. Jolene was now convinced of that.

But how to get a human, some person, to allow themselves to be beheaded? It wasn't something that just anyone would submit to. Jolene herself planned to submit to the guillotine blade, eventually, but she was special. It was her passion, her desire to end her life in the midst of the adrenaline rush of sexual excitement, fear, and helplessness that she experienced whenever she lay on the bascule.

Perhaps an unwilling participant would do. Jolene began to troll some of the pickup bars she knew, looking for the right victim. Someone she could get to her place and overpower, slide into the execution machine and watch to see how the blade performed.

Men were easy to get. She had a constant stream of them in and out of her bed, some men she knew, others pickups from bars or clubs. Once she brought home a guy that she didn't like very much... his cock was small, he came too fast, and he smelled of bourbon. She fucked him hard, legs up on his shoulders while he pounded away, but had no intention of keeping him around longer than she had to. He seemed like a possible candidate.

When it came time to somehow get him down to the basement and into the guillotine, Jolene realized he was going to be tough to overpower. He was arrogant and controlling, and she wasn't going to be able to fool him into the guillotine... and she couldn't knock him out or force him... she gave up and let him live. He walked out of her front door, swearing he would never come back and she spat at him, swearing she'd call the cops if she ever saw him again.

Jolene began to look for a woman.

It wasn't that hard; Jolene was bisexual and enjoyed bringing women home. She began to frequent some of the gay clubs that women sometimes cruised. She was hit on a number of times but she just couldn't bring herself to fuck the first few dykes that approached her. She liked femme girls, young ones with good bodies and these lesbians were not attractive. Yes, they were just coming to her place to die, and she was using her sex to get some level of control over them. Still... she had her standards.

A couple of weeks later she was at a major girl club in West Hollywood, and an acquaintance spotted her and came up.

"Jolene! So good to see you!" It was Megan.

Jolene immediately warmed up to Megan, who was a beautiful younger girl. She was lesbian, but very femme and very pretty.

"Let me get you a drink," Jolene said. Megan sat next to Jolene and the two started hitting it off immediately.

"Are you lesbian Jolene? I had no idea. Though I am certainly glad to know it." Megan was flirting heavily, leaning into Jolene, and clearly a little drunk.

"Oh Megan, it is nice to see you, I've thought of you several times recently. I haven't seen you since... well, since before Simone disappeared."

"Oh yes, that was awful, wasn't it? I heard she committed suicide..."

Jolene wondered how much Megan knew about the circumstances of Simone's death. "Yes, I heard that as well. She had been contemplating it for some time, I think."

Megan nodded. "I know. She and I ... well, we have, or had... similar issues." Megan looked rather down, in fact.

"Really? I had no idea. You know, Simone confided in me, about... well, about some friends she had in the same situation."

Megan immediately looked at Jolene sharply. "You mean... the club?"

Jolene nodded. "The suicide club. Yes. She was a member."

Megan looked at Jolene steadily. "You know about that club?"

"Yes, I've had some contact with them. Not quite... well, not something I would do, though I can honestly say I've thought about ending my life before."

The two continued talking, Jolene becoming more impressed with Megan and seeing possibilities opening before her, unfolding like a map. Megan in turn was finding what she thought was a kindred soul in Jolene, and the flirting was ramping up until it became clear they needed to find a place more private.

Two hours later, Jolene and Megan were naked in Jolene's bed, faces buried in each other's pussies, doing a marvelous 69.

Jolene came first, but the two continued tongue fucking each other until Megan shuddered with a climax as well.

The two girls were remarkably well matched, their desire, bodies, looks... all excellent.

After three hours of continuously stimulating each other's bodies in every way imaginable, the two girls lay exhausted next to each other, resting, sweat glistening on their bodies. Megan lay staring at Jolene's ceiling, thinking.

"Jolene, do you know much about the Suicide Club?" she finally said.

Jolene rolled over and stared at Megan, her fingers idly playing with one of Megan's nipples. "Well, yeah, a little. I hear it is actually sort of weird, perverse. It has gotten to be as much a sex club as a club for suicidal people looking for a way out."

Megan was silent, but eventually confessed. "I've thought of joining."

Jolene feigned surprise. "You, Megan? You've seriously thought of ending your life?"

Megan nodded. "I don't know how to get in contact with the club though, and... I've never had the guts or resolve to go through with it on my own. And sometimes... like now... life seems OK."

The two girls lay together, talking and sharing, Megan opening up about how empty her life was, how it had become just an endless stream of empty sex encounters. She had lost her job and had seriously considering ending it all, though she wavered and was currently content, probably because she was in Jolene's arms.

Finally Jolene judged that Megan was ready, and she introduced the topic.

"You know, if you ever really want to die, I can arrange it. In a clean, simple, fast, painless way. Better than anything the Suicide Club offers. I mean... Simone was drowned. It must have been horrible for her."

Megan turned to Jolene, fascinated. "Oh? What painless way do you mean? Drugs?"

"Nope, drugs are unreliable, and can leave you permanently brain damaged. No, I have something faster and more reliable. Come, I will show you." Jolene led Megan down to the basement. They were both still naked from having made love earlier, and were still in a very intimate mood. When the lights were turned on, the guillotine was plainly seen. Megan gasped and stepped back.

"Jo... you have a guillotine?"

"Yes. I got it from the Suicide Club, actually. They prefer to use more... painful, prolonged methods."

Megan went over to the machine and put her fingers on it, walking around it, observing.

"Let me show you how it works," Jolene said. She quickly tied her hair up in a knot and lay naked on the bascule.

"So, the person simply lays on this sort of table thing and puts their head through." Jolene wiggled up and hung her head over the edge of the lunette.

"Then you... just slide the top part there, down. That's it, just push it down. No worries, you won't hurt me. There's plenty of room. This machine was actually designed to be as painless as possible."

Megan pushed the lunette into place and Jolene was trapped, as she had been many times before. She was already aroused, her vagina wet and ready. She thought briefly of telling Megan to pull the blade's release... but decided to wait.

"So the lunette, this neck bracket thing. It just holds you in place so there is no chance of error. Then the blade gets released and its over. In a split second, you are gone."

Megan lifted up the lunette, Jolene climbed out and said, "You want to try it? Just see what you think?"

Megan shook her head immediately. "Oh, no, I couldn't. No, this is way too intense for me, I mean... a guillotine? Are you kidding?"

"I actually find it a rather erotic experience. Here... feel me..." Jolene took Megan's hand and guided it between her legs. Megan's fingers wriggled and quickly discovered the wetness that indicated Jolene's intense arousal.

"Oh, my god! Jolene, you are so wet! And from this... thing?"

"Yep." Jolene was slowly edging closer to the machine, holding Megan's hand as she did. Megan's hand was still on Jolene's cunt and Jolene was urging her hand on, guiding her fingers to massage her clit slowly as they got closer to the execution device.

"You'll find it amazing, fascinating. To be locked at the end of that blade, like the victims of old. Just for a minute, to feel what it must be like. And, well, maybe some approach behavior. If you ever decide, the device is here to help you pass on quickly and painlessly."

Megan was still protesting though somewhat mildly. "This is just too weird, Jo. I don't feel comfortable--"

"Come on, Megan. I did it. I've done it many times before, actually masturbated there. It's an amazing experience."

Jolene took Megan's hand, wet from her own pussy juices and raised them to Megan's lips sensuously. She had Megan suck her fingers briefly, and then kissed her as she slid her own fingers between Megan's thighs, finding her own wetness.

Slowly pushing with her body and continuing to rub Megan with her fingers, Jolene pushed Megan back against the edge of the bascule and then down into a seated position. Megan had her own fingers on her cunt now, and was rubbing herself, aroused as much as Jolene was by the rather kinky situation.

Kissing her gently, letting her bare breasts brush against Megan's body, Jolene pushed gently, pressing Megan into a laying position on her stomach with her head facing down. Her hand remained on Megan's cunt, rubbing, sliding, keeping her as aroused as possible, distracting her from what was happening.

Her own heart was beating like a hammer. Her arousal was through the roof, she felt like she would instantly explode if anyone touched her clit. Having a living, sexy, nude body laying on her guillotine was the most exciting thing Jolene had felt... well, ever.

Quickly and without hesitation Jolene let go of Megan's pussy and took the upper body straps, pulled them behind Megan, slid the straps into the buckle and then pulled it tight.

Megan didn't realize what was happening at first but quickly moved her arms to try and get out. Fortunately, the straps were too high on the body for her hands to reach, and too far below her shoulders for her to wriggle free.

The positioning of those straps were actually designed remarkably well to keep a prisoner in place with as little fuss as possible.

Megan began to struggle a little, still not fully aware of what was happening. Jolene's hand returned to her cunt and two fingers sunk inside Megan's vagina, seeking her G spot, something Jolene had discovered and used just an hour before in her bed. Megan moaned and stopped struggling for a moment and Jolene moved to the leg straps.

Quickly, Jolene wrapped the leg straps around Megan's knees, and pulled the buckle tight. She was secure.

"Jo? What's going on, Jo? I... this is erotic, exciting, but... I want up now, Jo. Please?"

Megan had begun wriggling hard in the straps. "This is scaring me." She began to beg.

Jolene was standing next to her lover, rubbing her fingers across her clit, shuddering. She managed to gasp out, "just a second or two more, Megan. For the full experience."

With one hand pressing into Megan's cunt from behind, Jolene pushed her sex partner up slightly so her head hung out over the edge, and her neck was in place. Megan's face now looked straight down at the basket below, a blood stained basket from previous victims decades, perhaps centuries ago.

Megan gasped and choked, almost vomiting.

"I am getting sick, Jo, please, let me go now." She begged.

Staring down she had the full feeling of terror growing on her. The terror of the condemned. Slowly realizing this was real. She could, at any moment, lose her head. She was wiggling in the device, pressing against the restraints, resisting the reality of where she was.

Jolene returned her fingers to her own clit, rubbing, sliding one inside, two over her clit, panting as she felt another warm glow of climax coming over her.

"Jo, no, please, I don't like thi--"

Jolene hit the release button and the blade slid down and landed with a *thunk*. Megan went instantly silent. No more panting, struggling, crying, begging. Absolute silence from her headless body that lay on the bascule, motionless.

Her orgasm slowly fading, Jolene stood up as if waking from a dream, and saw the still form before her.

The straps still held the body down, though they were no longer needed.

Slowly Jolene ran one hand along Megan's still form, starting with her naked shoulders, down the curve of her back to her buttocks. There was a very slight smell of urine, not much at all. Her legs were smooth and Jolene unbuckled them as her hand slid over the leather restraints.

She prodded the body. It moved slightly. She pushed again, and it slid on the bascule slightly revealing the bloody blade and stub of neck next to it. There was plenty of blood, but it was more like it was draining, and slowly. Apparently the shock of the head being severed had stopped the heart beating pretty quickly.

Sliding her hand over the body once again, Jolene noted that this no longer felt like her former lover's body. No, it felt, and -- was -- a piece of meat.

Megan, in one instant, had ceased being a living breathing sex partner woman, and had become merely a piece of meat. Just like the one Jolene had used to test the blade the other day.

Jolene pushed the body hard and watched as it rolled into the large body bin she had positioned next to the guillotine. It fell in with a flopping clump.

Suddenly Jolene remembered. The head! The head was in the basket on the other side of the blade!

She rushed around and looked down. There it was. Megan's head. Her pretty face staring up, hair somewhat messed, blood spattered neck severed cleanly and perfectly. She had a look of calm surprise on her face, mouth slightly open.

Jolene picked up Megan's head. It was surprisingly heavy. It was dripping a little blood but not a lot. The basket was messy with smeared blood as well, though not as much as one would have thought.

Holding Megan's head in her hands, Jolene examined it, tried to imagine it as the woman she had just been making love to. It was difficult. This was the matching head to the piece of meat in the crate; it wasn't real. She even raised the head and kissed its lips... she sort of recognized the lips she had kissed, but it wasn't real. This thing wasn't alive.

She dumped the head in the crate with the body and closed the lid.

Sighing with satisfaction she turned, climbed the stairs slowly and took a shower to wash off the blood. She soaped herself thoroughly, feeling the sensuousness of the water and slippery skin. For a moment she wished Megan could join her in the shower. It would have been nice to wash each other, exploring each other's bodies.

Jolene had complete freedom to explore Megan's body now, but she no longer wished to. It was merely meat.

She masturbated in the shower, reliving the entire scene over and over again, remembering details. How Megan had complied by lying down on the bascule. How her naked body had shuddered and strained against the straps. The pleas of the woman that were cut off suddenly with the impact of the blade. The slight sound of the thud when the head struck the bottom of the basket. The tiniest of shudders when the body was left without the head. The sudden silence and stillness that followed.

Jolene though about what it must have been like to be Megan, and decided then she could not wait long before she, too, became a victim of the guillotine.

The next morning Jolene was getting ready for work when the fact she head a headless corpse in her basement began to bother her. It was going to begin to smell soon. She needed to either execute herself in the guillotine very soon, or get rid of the body.

There were some refinements Jolene wanted to make to the device before she committed herself to it. It might take a little time. She needed to get rid of the body.

She removed her clothes (a personal rule: always nude in the presence of the guillotine) and headed downstairs. Megan's body remained on the floor next to the device, still and unmoving. Her head lay next to it and stared into space.

Jolene rolled and lifted the body into a large box and hauled it upstairs. It wasn't easy, Megan had been a small girl but she still weighed over 100 pounds. Jolene finally managed to get the container upstairs where she dressed, dragged it out to her car, and put it in the back of her small SUV.

Taking the long way to work, Jolene kept her eyes out for a place where she could dump the body. She came across a small ravine that might do nicely. There was a small dirt road next to it. Jolene drove up the road a few hundred yards, opened the back of her car and pulled out the box. She rolled it onto its side and tilted it up. Megan's nude, headless body rolled out of the box and down the embankment about 20 feet where it came to a rest. Her head followed.

Not a great place, the body would probably be discovered within a day or two, but Jolene didn't care. She popped back into the car and went to work.

With her human test out of the way, Jolene began her final preparations for real. One of her ideas was that she wanted the executed body to be automatically rolled into the container next to the bascule. As soon as the blade dropped, the bascule should drop down on one side, allowing the now unencumbered body to roll into the coffin. The head would remain in the basket.

She worked at this problem for some time but she simply didn't have the mechanical and carpentry skills to make it happen. Her body would remain on the bascule.

Jolene also wanted to record the entire self execution. Every aspect of her death needed to be recorded. This excited her tremendously. It was the idea of her being helpless, the video recording her final moments as a human being, It appealed to some new exhibitionist side of her, one she had not realized she had until now.

She wanted this to be a public execution. She wanted to be dragged naked to the execution platform, strapped helpless into the device and while thousands watched, she wanted to have her body severed in half and to become... simply meat. Just like Megan.

Sometimes she looked at her body and imagined herself dead, lifeless, just a slab of meat. She would always masturbate when she did this, it was so arousing.

During the week that passed after Megan's execution, Jolene realized that seeing Megan executed in the guillotine was exciting to her as the idea of dying herself. The idea that perhaps she needed a second human trial, that she might enjoy feeling the execution of another woman... it grew on her. She had been focusing on her own time in the guillotine, but did it need to come immediately?

Thus it was that Jolene became a serial killer. One of the very few female serial killers history has known.

The second victim was Melanie. Jolene met her at another bar in West Hollywood. Remarkably cute and barely old enough to be ordering drinks for herself, Melanie was not a lesbian but had a habit of frequenting the gay clubs. Jolene set her sights on the girl, meeting her for drinks several times in several different venues on the strip.

Finally, one night when Melanie was quite drunk, Jolene convinced Melanie to come home with her.

The evening was similar to the one with Megan. They made love Jolene's bed, the two of them lusty and craving sexual pleasure from the other. Melanie turned out to be quite the slut, having experienced many men and women. She had been with almost as many men as Jolene, and had fucked more women.

It was glorious making love to Melanie all the while knowing that she was soon to die on Jolene's guillotine. They moved together, exploring and cooperating in so many different positions. Melanie introduced Jolene to scissoring, and they tried several different ways to hook their legs together and make sure they could grind their pussies constantly. Melanie was multi-orgasmic and came like a freight train more than once.

Jolene actually began to feel regret about ending Melanie's life so suddenly. She was such a wonderful lover. But... she had a plan and needed to follow through. Get Melanie to the basement and into the guillotine. That was the objective.

This time when Jolene took Melanie down to the basement she used the story that she wanted to video record something, something special, something kinky. She wanted Melanie's help in it. Melanie was all for it, and still quite drunk. Had she been sober she might have questioned what was going on.

"It's a bondage bit I want to do. I am working with a couple of guys on this movie but I wanted to see if the video will work. Whether the lighting is right, and whether the angles and panning is good. You can be my model!" Jolene was giggling and had her hands all over Melanie as they approached the guillotine. "It's a sort of BDSM snuff film, and if you want, you could be in it. It pays well, like, I think the producer would pay you a couple of thousand, or maybe more."

Melanie was slutty but didn't want to be in a porn snuff movie. But she would be the test model for Jolene.

Jolene guided Melanie to the device. She turned on the lights, the cameras, all of which she had previously set up for her own execution.  Jolene strapped Melanie to the bascule.

"Oh god, this is so hot, Jo. I'm into bondage and I can see doing a great scene with this thing."

Melanie was masturbating, her hand between her legs even without Jolene's prompting. Her hips were thrusting visibly as she worked toward and orgasm. What a good victim she was!

Jolene got all the cameras working and watched on video for a while.

"Struggle for me, struggle against the straps," she said to Melanie; she was rubbing her clit harder and harder, feeling the orgasm coming.

Her victim happily complied, wriggling against the straps that held her to the bascule, pushing against the lunette that held her head fast. "Just, damn, Jo... this is... OK, maybe I could be in your movie. If he really pays that much, I could see this is fun. God... hey would some guy fuck--"

Jolene continued rubbing her clit, feeling the climax build, and at just the right moment released the blade. Melanie never knew what happened, never realized what was coming. One moment she was talking about being in a snuff film, the next... she had been snuffed.

The basement echoed with the sound of the blade thudding, the very soft thump of Melanie's head dropping into the basket, and Jolene's loud moan as she shuddered in sexual ecstasy.

What a satisfying experience. Jolene appreciated every second of Melanie's contribution, and treated her remaining meat carcass with respect. She was boxed and dumped in another ravine the next morning.

Somewhere along the way, Jolene lost Melanie's head. It bothered her at work, wondering where it had gone. She hoped it wasn't under the seat of her car. It was a hot day out.

She never did find the head, though the police did, eventually.

Jolene was ready for her own execution. It had been fun, enlightening, useful, and very sexually arousing to play with Melanie and Megan. But Jolene now looked at the guillotine with envy. She wanted her time on the device. She just wanted it to last.

The technique had been decided on. Set the random timer locking the lunette, and another random timer for the blade. Depending on the overlap, the chances that the blade would drop and sever her head were controlled and predictable.

For example, if the lunette release was set for a random time between one and three minutes, and the blade release was randomly set between one and three minutes, there was a 50-50 chance the blade would drop before she was released.

She wasn't good at math, but she figured if she set the lunette release for 10 - 30 minutes, and the blade release for 20 - 40 minutes, there was a 60-40 chance she would have her head cut off. Or... maybe it was a 30-70 chance. She puzzled on that and finally gave up. Not knowing the exact ratio made it more exciting, anyway.

Two days after dumping Melanie's body she decided to take the chance the first time.

The entire day at work she was a wreck. She knew she might die that evening. The chance was small, but very real. She was going to do it. Looking around her cube, she mentally said goodbye to all her things. She had a nice lunch, maybe her last. Her nerves and fear actually got her aroused, so she masturbated at work. Twice.

She drove home carefully. She watched jeopardy, perhaps for the last time.

She couldn't concentrate on anything. Her hand kept sliding between her legs. The fear gave her an adrenaline rush, and the rush made her aroused, and when aroused she wanted to masturbate.

The decision was to do it at 8pm that evening.

At 7:30 pm she went into her bedroom and removed every item of clothing, including jewelry. She was to be completely naked. She urinated, to void her bladder both for comfort and to reduce the chances she might soil herself in case the blade did drop. She descended the stairs.

The guillotine greeted her silently. She went over and knelt before it, kissing its rough wood.  She spent some time turning on video lights and making sure the video was working. Suddenly, she felt like millions of eyes were watching her. They weren't, but if this video ever got leaked to youtube or some porn site... yep. Millions of eyes were watching her, right now.

She checked her body. It looked good. She was proud of the way she had kept fit and slim. Fine with her if a million guys were jacking off to the sight of her right now.

She set the timers. The lunette was set to release her neck at a random time sometime between 30 and 60 minutes. The blade was set to release at a random time sometime between 50 minutes and two hours. This meant she would be locked in the lunette for a minimum of 30 minutes. If the lunette held her past 50 minutes there was a very real chance the blade could drop and she'd die. Suddenly.

If she was there the full 60 minutes her chances of dying were... something like... 15%. Only if the lunette lock held her that long, though.

The timers were set. One for the blade, one for the lunette. They started a ticking countdown. Her fate was now set, whatever it might be.

Her heart was beating so hard she totally believed she might have an aneurysm right then. She would probably survive tonight. But... then... there was a chance she would die. A significant chance. The fear she had experienced during the day had turned into a sort of terror.

She lay down on the bascule and buckled the top strap over her breasts. It wasn't necessary, once the lunette locked in place the only thing that would allow her to go free was the lunette timer. It felt better though, to have an extra bit of security.

Her head was extended out and dangling with no support, her neck stretched. She took a deep breath. This was the moment. She could stop the whole thing right now, just get up and walk away. The timers were ticking but until the lunette locked her head in place, she was free to go. There was still time to change her mind.

Reaching up, she released the lunette from its raised position. It slid into place and latched shut, locked in the closed position. That was it. The timers and random chance would determine if she would go free tonight, or die.

When the lunette locked into place her hand was on her clit, rubbing and the sound and feel of the wood circle fastening around her neck brought her to an immediate orgasm. She gasped, arched her back and moaned as the climax course through her body.

When the orgasm had passed Jolene opened her eyes and said, "wow." The orgasm had been intense.

She was laying on her back, looking up. The blade hung there, like a dark omen. Her naked body lay on the bascule, waiting, perhaps never to get up from there . This might be the last view she ever sees. The blade, hanging, waiting to drop...

Jolene choked with terror with the knowledge of what she had done, what she was getting herself into. The chances were actually less than 10% that the blade would drop on her, but... it could. She had done this to herself.

Her hands slid up and down her body, thinking about how her flesh was now coming very close to simply being meat, like Megan and Melanie. Her head... thumping below her into the basket.

Well, the blade would not fall right now. The earliest it would fall would be in 50 minutes. Well, 45 minutes. How long had she been here, anyway? Time was passing, but she had no idea how much. This was part of the torture. It was psychological torture, not knowing what would happen, or even when the period of real risk when the blade was armed would occur.

Jolene whimpered a bit. This was what she wanted. The true chance of death. It was doing what she had wanted, electrifying her body with massive amounts of adrenaline, her mind sharp and tormented. Her hand slipped between her legs again and began to play idly. There was little else to do, actually, she couldn't get loose. Her neck was trapped.

The longer things went on, the closer she got to the time when the blade would be armed. The lunette could release at any time. Soon, the blade could release. Jolene contemplated death, and masturbated.

The video camera caught closeups of her face hanging upside down from the lunette as she orgasmed. Another video camera showed a clear view of her spread legs and hand circling and rubbing her genitals.

Another camera caught the long shot, the view of her entire body and the guillotine, including the suspended blade.

Jolene waited. Time went on. Fear subsided at first because the time window for the blade had not arrived yet. 50 minutes, max. The lunette could easily be released first. She was sure it had reached the 30 minute mark, the lunette could release at any time now, but the blade was not going to drop. Not yet.

But how long had it been? She stared at the blade. Time ticked on, and her terror began to increase once again. Time when the blade might drop. It could even be now...

A sudden, loud clacking noise made Jolene jump and almost faint in terror. The blade was dropping! Her head, it was about-- but no. The blade was in place. The clacking noise was the lunette release. She was free.

Quickly, she pushed up on the lunette and got out of the guillotine. Moving to check the timers she saw that she had been in the guillotine for 45 minutes. The blade timer had not even reached the point where it was armed and might drop.

With a huge sigh, Jolene sat down and breathed hard. She was still alive. She was there. Her head attached to her body. "Wow..." she said to herself. "That was... intense..." Staying seated she remained for another 15 minutes and watched the blade release activate, the blade slide down and bounce where her neck had been earlier.

The next day she went to work as normal. The world looked completely different to her. She began to truly understand the attraction of the Suicide Club. She fully intended to die with her neck in the guillotine, but until that happened, the experience of being put at risk and surviving another day was thrilling beyond belief. Every moment was cherished, every experience exciting and appreciated.

Her boss called her in when she arrived.

"Jolene, we've been noticing that your productivity has not been exactly what it used to be," he said. "In fact, it has take a steep decline over the last few weeks. We are a little worried."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Franklin, there have been some distractions in my life. Things will change very soon, I promise."

Mr. Franklin nodded. "I can see you've been preoccupied. I hope... well... I hope there is nothing wrong. I shouldn't mention this but the police were by yesterday. A detective. He asked about you."

Jolene knew exactly what the police were there for. They had discovered one or both of the bodies and had somehow traced the association between the two dead girls and Jolene. Who knows what would come of it, but it meant they might be closing in. She would need to act soon. Being arrested and placed in jail would be a disaster.

She stood and turned to head out. "Don't worry, Mr. Franklin. I can't imagine it's anything serious, and I do promise things will be different."

She looked at her boss for a moment and then closed the door again, leaning against it. "I've... always found you very attractive," she said, moving slowly across the room to Mr. Franklin's desk. "Now might seem a strange time to admit it, but... I've always had fantasies about you."

Jolene's fingers went to her blouse, slowly unbuttoning the top button, and then sliding to the second one as she got closer to the very surprised Mr. Franklin.

It wasn't clear why she did it, but a few minutes later Mr. Franklin and Jolene were fucking on his desk. He had her hips and was pounding her from behind as she moaned and grunted from the thrusts.

The boss probably thought she was fucking him to get out of trouble. This was far from the truth, for Jolene knew her days were numbered at the company, and in this world. Perhaps that's why she did it. Just as a last act of perversion before she left. She rather enjoyed it, though her cunt was sore for the rest of the day.

Jolene didn't waste any time after work. She hadn't gotten any work done at all, and had driven home quickly. On the way she stopped at a Petsmart, where she purchased a doggie bed. This was an oval basket with a padded bottom. Rather than the austere receptical that had come with the guillotine, she decided she wanted something soft for her head to fall onto if it did come off tonight. It was dumb, she knew, but... this whole thing was dumb.

She ate a quick dinner at home, again appreciating every savory bite. She smoked a cigarette for the first time in five years. She cleaned up the dishes, straightened the house.

She then stripped her clothes off in her bedroom, slowly removing every item and folding it neatly until she was completely naked. No clothes, no jewelry. Nothing.

The slow stripping was the first ceremonial act in her self execution and her fingers were shaking as she undid her bra, slipped off her panties, removed her necklace. Her breathing was coming fast and hard. Just the sensation of fear, anticipation, and arousal she felt at this moment, standing naked in her bedroom, were worth it all.

She then urinated and defecated. She would not soil herself. After wiping, she went to the basement door and entered.

The guillotine greeted her with the same ominous invitation as always. Jolene was shaking as she turned on the lights, then positioned and tested the video cameras. She even aligned a coffin next to the bascule, though her body would not roll into it as she had hoped.

She set the timers. Last time she had set the timers to give her close to a 90% chance of survival. She needed something more aggressive this time.

The lunette release... starting at 25 minutes, ending at two hours.

The blade release... starting in five minutes, ending at one hour.

Five minutes to start. Enough time for an orgasm. One orgasm. No more. After that, the chance the blade could release. If the random lunette timer set for a time after one hour, she would die. If the random blade time chose a time before 25 minutes, she would die. Between 25 and 60 minutes... it was all a race.

Jolene had no idea how to calculate the probabilities, but she figured there was at least a 70% chance of the blade falling before the lunette released. There was a chance though, and that was necessary. It was required, for the excitement. For the thrill. For the element of unknown.

If she survived the night, she decided in her mind that should would bring Mr. Franklin home tomorrow evening and fuck his brains out.

Most of the time Jolene had lain on the bascule with her head up, facing the blade. The ability to look at the blade, to imagine it descending on one's neck, the alignment showing the blade and neck on the same plane, all this seemed to make the experience more exciting for Jolene.

This time she lay flat down, as they did during real executions. Pushing her body forward until her head we through the lunette and her neck was aligned properly, she took a deep breath, gazing down at the basket below her.

She knew she had a chance, a good chance she would live. But she also knew the probability was that she would die. This was it. Again.

"Oh... fuck, fuck fuck fuck." she said to herself.  The timers were going, but she had not released the lunette yet. It was still raised.

Once again she was faced with that moment. The moment where she could get up and walk away, or release the lunette and be faced with the very real probability of death.

She found herself crying. It was a big moment. Jolene had wanted this, had prepared for it, for weeks. For months. This was what she wanted. She had imagined it, desired it. She had masturbated to thoughts of this. Her hand, even now, was between her legs and rubbing.

With a sudden act of will she raised her hand and released the lunette. It fell into place with thunk, the latches connecting and locking Jolene into place.

"Ohhhhhh fuckfuckfuck..." Jolene was trapped. Locked into place. There was no way she could get out now, unless the random blade timer had somehow set itself for a time longer than the lunette release timer, and that was unlikely.

It was more likely that the basket below her face was the last thing Jolene would see.

Jolene had stopped masturbating, her nerves had escalated into terror and she was struggling against the lunette now. She knew it would not come loose, she had designed it to keep the victim secure. No way was it coming loose, but she couldn't help it.

All right, she finally relaxed and slumped down. How long had it been? Oh... the blade timer was set to arm after five minutes. She had spent precious minutes struggling. She needed to reach down and touch herself, using this excitement, this fear, to bring her to a sexual climax.

The camera just to the side of the basket recorded every bit of her facial expressions, the tears, the terror, the resignation, the hope. And the sexual ecstasy. Yes, that came as well, and fairly quickly. Her eyes rolled up inside her head, her mouth opened wide into a big "O" and she came, shuddering and shaking as endorphins flooded her body.

She was sure it had been five minutes. The blade was armed now.

The terror in her body was screwing with her mind. She didn't remember what she had set the timers to. She knew there was an overlap, but that the blade was armed first.

Her mind went through waves of panic and resignation. Her body became tense and then relaxed. She fingered herself, waiting. Waiting the outcome. Waiting to see if she would die. Or live.

God, she thought, what a trip. I bet there is nobody who has ever experienced this.

No, not true. The chance, the probability, facing death-- it was Russian roulette. One bullet, five empty chambers. spin, point at head and pull trigger. Except she had just put five bullets and only had one empty chamber.

Tears came again.

The cameras captured everything. The second orgasm she experienced, her hips rising up in response and then flopping down and her back arched.


She knew the blade could fall at any moment. Any moment. She was well into the period where the blade was armed, but there was no chance of the lunette releasing her.

Any moment. Her body was already as good as dead. Meat. She reached her hands down and felt her buttocks and sides. Meat. Except her head was still attached, not quite meat yet. But soon... probably.

Time went on. She couldn't stand it. "Just... just drop already!!!" she yelled at the blade. Her neck was sore, rubbed raw from where she had been struggling. She laughed then; her neck might get a lot more raw. Any second now. This was nothing.

Jolene took long breaths, realizing each might be her last. Last time she had felt the same terror, the very real possibility of death and no ability to escape it. This time it was worse, because death was almost assured.

It's what she had wanted. She felt more alive now than ever, and used that feeling of being alive. She rubbed her sore clit once again, forcing another orgasm. What a trip, she thought if-- OMG!"

Something had made a noise.

It was nothing. Just the house creaking.

She had lost bladder control, and peed just a tiny bit just then. In spite of the fact she had urinated first. She felt like throwing up, too.

Her thought continued. What a trip, if the blade were to fall just as I climaxed...

The close up rear end camera watched as she masturbated. She had positioned cameras to catch her face, her body, and her body from the rear; the one from the rear was zoomed in and caught every motion she made with her fingers. Her index finger frequently slipped inside. her two middle fingers keeping things going around her clit.

She remembered now. The world was watching.

This video... whether she died or not, this video would go viral. She knew it. Right now, there were millions of men, and maybe some women too, masturbating to the image of her masturbating while waiting for death.

How long had it been? The blade was armed. She knew this. Was there a chance the lunette would release now? Every second that she lived increased the chances she would survive until the lunette was unlocked.

How many orgasms had she had? She had lost count. This was her dream. She was trapped in the guillotine... waiting... unbearable tension. Fear that morphed into terror and flooded her like a wave that receded and then came back.

Suddenly, the noise. The loud *Clack!*.  Jolene gasped and waited for the pain, for the end, the blackness.... but... it didn't come.

The noise had been the noise of the lunette unlocking.

She had made it. She was free.

She had beaten the odds, this time.

She sobbed, crying out loud, the tension releasing into relief. Slowly she raised her hand to the lunette to lift...

*Clack* 

The blade dropped.

It only took a split second, faster than Jolene had imagined possible, for the blade to descend and slice right through her neck.

Her head fell immediately, directly onto the soft cushion of the dog bed basket.

Jolene actually saw the wood of the guillotine slide past and then observed the ceiling as her head rolled in the basket.

Consciousness did not fade instantly.

It wasn't painless. What she had told Megan was false. It might be quick, but it was the most painful thing in the world. In fact, her entire body had exploded in pain when her spine had severed, and now she felt her brain melting down with the pain, the lack of oxygen quickly taking hold.

Jolene's eyes registered something within view. Her hand, limply hanging down from where her body lay on the bascule, still glistening wet from her cunt juices.

Jolene's last thought as consciousness faded was how she wished she had been able to have one more orgasm, that she wished she had been able to time the climax with the drop of the blade.