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...


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.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Suicide Club: Jolene (Part One)

Simone disappeared one weekend.

The thing was, she had said goodbye to a number of people before disappearing, including Jolene. Her disappearance was not entirely unexpected, and that is how Jolene learned of the Suicide Club. A club where distraught, depressed people who wanted to end their lives could do so in the presence of others that encouraged them, supported their decision and even provided the means to do so.

Jolene had no intention of killing herself. She sort of respected Simone's decision, but she didn't have suicide in mind at the moment.

But the stories... the rumors about the Suicide Club were salacious. It was more than a way of getting help to kill yourself. It was a sex club. The members celebrated each suicide by having a grand orgy afterward (some reports said the orgy began before the suicide was consummated).

Jolene searched for this club, curious. It was hard to find, but she finally found one of the members, a slack jawed, sickly young guy named Simon that seemed depressed and a likely candidate for suicide.

And that's how Jolene got a hold of the guillotine.

Simone had showed it to her. It was a piece of equipment the club had gotten as a potential self execution device but it had never been used. Why? Too obvious.

When police found Simone's body floating in the ocean it had been torn apart by fish, rotting for days, and it was presumed to be a suicide (which of course, it was). But if the police found a body with the neck cut clean through by a sharp blade, such an event would not be swept under the carpet as a plain suicide. There would be an investigation, the club might be discovered, and some members even prosecuted for having aided in the deaths of many of its members.

After all, part of the ritual of the Suicide Club was that there was no backing out. Once you joined and you were randomly chosen, the rest of the members made sure you died. If they had to tie you up and throw you overboard (as had been done with Simone), so be it.

Jolene didn't want to join the Suicide Club but she did take the guillotine. She had always been fascinated by various means of execution her whole life, and to find an actual, working guillotine... well, it made her heart beat with excitement just thinking about it. Plus, there weren't that many in the world and it had to be worth some money.

It sat in her basement for some time. She thought at some point she could sell it to a museum. Maybe auction it to a private collector. The thing had been used for real, there were dried brown blood stains on the wood frame where the neck would go. The blade was a old and rusted, nicked in a few places. She polished that and made it nice and sharp.

But she didn't sell it.

Instead of selling it she thought about it. In fact, she thought about the people that might have died on it, and imagined the heavy blade sliding down its track and hitting the bottom with a thunk.

She decided to try it out. A nice sized watermelon positioned just so. The blade cranked high. With an imaginary drum roll she pulled the release cord, the blade descended and *thunk* the melon was in two halves. One of the halves on the small body table, the other in the basket on the other side of the blade.

"Whoa..." she said out loud. Seeing the guillotine in action gave her a somewhat sick feeling but also excited her. Her heart had been pounding and she was panting just before she pulled the release, and afterward it felt as if she had experienced some sort of sexual release herself. In fact, after cutting the watermelon in half, she went upstairs, got completely naked, and masturbated.

She had no idea why but the operation of that guillotine had excited her. It gave her erotic thoughts. The thoughts were mixed up with thoughts of the poor victims that had been killed on that thing, tied and unable to resist, heads locked in place, and that huge blade descending for the final, most horrible violation of their bodies imaginable.

Jolene masturbated again that night, this time imagining a victim on the guillotine she had in her basement. Perhaps a peasant from the french revolution. Marie Antoinette. Someone, anyone. She fantasized about the jail, their sense of helplessness, their bondage just before, being laid on the table, slid in place, the neck bracket lowered and then... whump... their heads suddenly rolling...

Time passed and Jolene did nothing more with the guillotine except think about it.

Jolene was a good looking woman and had no problem finding sex partners. She never seemed to have a long term, romantic relationship, but there were plenty of men to share her bed. Some of them left because her kinkier side began to show, some left because she kicked them out.

Kink was something Jolene had always loved and was slowly getting into more and more. The guillotine had a subtle but profound impact on this side of her sexuality. Her fantasies had frequently involved rape and bondage and now they became more precise and specific. She wanted her men to fuck her while holding her down, choking her.

"Hit me," she often said to them once they were inside. Some would hit her, some were taken aback. Those that hit her were greeted with "Hit me harder! Choke me!"

When their hands slipped around her neck and squeezed and the blood flow slowed, she would shudder in an orgasm. She loved the feeling of her neck being immobilized, constricted, her head unable to move.

Her fascination with the guillotine in her basement led Jolene to learn all about the process of how it was used. She spent hours on the internet doing research.

There was remarkably little variation in the usage, as the basic automated execution design was efficient and effective. It's most efficient use was during the French revolution, when a single guillotine could chop the heads off dozens of victims in the course of one afternoon.

The victims would line up at the bottom of the execution platform awaiting their turn to be killed. The lead person was taken up the steps, usually willingly as their was no chance to escape, and the quick death of the execution device was preferred to the beating one received if one resisted. Might as well get it over with.

At the top of the steps, the victim would stand facing a board called the bascule that was roughly four to five feet high. The executioner would push the prisoner up against it, pressing the front of their bodies against its flat surface.

Two sets of ropes or straps would then be quickly buckled around the upper body and upper legs of the victim, holding them in place on the bascule. Once buckled, no last minute panic could interfere with the beheading. The victim could rant, rave, struggle all they liked; it wouldn't last long.

The board was then lowered onto the guillotine along with a victim, into the prone position, the victim facing down. Their head hung over the end of the board, of course. The bascule and the victim was slid into place, pushing forward until the victim's head was nicely positioned in the lunette, the brace that held the prisoner's neck and head in place for the beheading.

Once slid into position, the top half of the lunette was lowered to prevent any movement. The prisoner could scream, beg, drool, lose bladder control (many did), and it didn't change the solid bracing of their neck in exactly the right location for the blade.

The victim was normally placed facing down, partly for convenience and partly to spare them the view of the blade descending to kill them. This rather false comfort was balanced by the fact that most victims had their head conveniently placed looking over a pile of other, previously severed heads below them.

With simple pull of the d├ęclic, the handle that released the support that held the blade in place, the blade was released and would slide down, gathering momentum over the six feet or so before it struck the victim's neck.

The blade was made of a heavy metal and the bracket that held the blade was also quite heavy. The result was that even a dull blade would chop through the victim's spine and neck tissue and their head would drop into a basket below, joining others that had been previously severed.

At this point the body would be unstrapped and pushed to the side, dumped into a casket or larger communal box of bodies.

With skilled executioners this whole process could take place in less than 60 seconds, allowing for a steady stream of victims. Queue times waiting for death during the French Revolution were fairly short. The guillotine made executing people very efficient.

Jolene studied these details, searching and learning as much as she could about the horrible device. It held a morbid fascination for her, a very unhealthy obsession that became erotic as she thought about the details of bondage, submission, horror and death. She masturbated frequently when reading and studying about the guillotine's use.

Over time, the whole subject of the guillotine and its use became extremely sexually arousing to Jolene.

Unhealthy fascination, yes. But Jolene didn't recognize this. Her life was relatively narrow and unfulfilling. Men floated in and out of her life without leaving much behind except their semen. She fucked who she wanted but it gave her no real pleasure. Not like the instrument of death in her basement could give.

She took to masturbating on the device itself. The bascule, the flat table like board on which the condemned lay awaiting the blade's drop, was narrow and uncomfortable. This simply added to the excitement for Jolene. She would lay on top, spread her legs, and rub her clit with increasing agitation until her body shuddered with climax.

She began this practice facing up at the blade, watching it and pretending that she was to be a victim. Later, she began laying down on the bascule face down, like a victim would normally be placed.

Jolene played with a boy toy named Steve. He wasn't that much younger than she was, but at 19 he was her boy toy and tended to be grateful for all the sexual attention she bestowed on him. They had developed some kinky practices involving some mild bondage; he would cuff Jolene, or tie her, perhaps forcing her legs apart before fucking. He was adept at her favorite kink, being choked while being fucked hard.

On night Jolene was laying naked next to Steve and asked him if he could keep a secret, a kinky thing just between them.

"Of course," he said.

"You can't tell anyone. This is going to be between us, but I want to give it a try."

"I love trying things with you," he said, kissing her while his finger found her clit and slowly began making circles.

She suddenly got up and took Steve downstairs and showed him the guillotine.

"Wwwooooowwwww.... " he said. "This looks... real..."

"Oh, it is. But don't worry, it is completely safe. See here; these two pegs hold the blade up and it won't come down unless you pull them out."

Steve ran his hands up and down the execution machine and looked at Jolene's naked body sitting on the bascule.

"Fuck me..." she demanded in a husky voice. "Fuck me harder than you ever have. Take me right here. Now."

And he did. She lay down on the bascule, he lay on top of her, slid inside and fucked her. He rammed home as roughly as he could, choking her as she looked at the blade above, hanging there, waiting...

As Steve thrust into her cunt, each push nudged her head closer to the lunette until the top of her scalp was bumping against it. "Hard, fuck me!"

The lunette was in the way. She reached up, pushed up the top of the lunette, and demanded: "Fuck me, push me into place!"

Steve came, gobs of semen ejaculating into her cunt as Jolene's head rested in place. The top of the lunette had come down and held her from pushing any further, her shoulders now pushing against the lunette with each of Steve's thrusts.

That night she had three shuddering orgasms on the guillotine table, demanding that Steve fuck her and choke her to near unconsciousness. Her entire body, but more importantly her mind, were sent reeling to new heights of pleasure.

The second night that Jolene guided Steve downstairs to the basement and guillotine she lay on her stomach, slid forward until her neck was in the lunette, and then told him to lower it in place. He hesitated at first, but she threatened to never let his cock enter her again unless he did this.

And so he lowered the top half of the lunette into place, firmly grasping her neck to that she could hardly move her neck or head. Her body was free to react, arms and legs could move, but she was helpless to prevent Steve from taking her.

Once again Steve slipped his cock into Jolene, noting that her pussy was dripping wet, slipperier than it had ever been. He rammed home harder and fast than ever in order to get the right friction to get him off, and he left a huge load of cum to ooze out of her pussy as she lay in the lunette, trapped, demanding her fuck her again.

He teased her, playing with her body as she lay immobile. While she was on her stomach she could flail her arms but do little else. He had complete control, and used it to tease, deny, tease, deny... and then finally he slipped his hardened cock into her once again.

Jolene's body was shiny with sweat even though the basement was cool. Her body had experienced repeated sexual climaxes, prolonged by Steve's teasing, emphasized and made sharper by the confinement of the guillotine. Her hips jerked, her body writhed, but her head and neck stayed in place. The constriction, the placement of the neck brace was a bondage heaven to her.

She began to visit the guillotine at night when no one was with her. She masturbated there, laying on the bascule. When no partner was there to fuck her the guillotine was there to cradle her, excite her, bring her to a better orgasm than she had with just a man.

Steve eventually left her. He said she had become a little too weird, too obsessed and kinky. He advised Jolene to get help. She flipped him off as he left then went downstairs, slipped her head into the lunette and masturbated to an orgasm. Good riddance. She could have any man she wanted.

A few other men came and went; they all saw the most intimate details of Jolene's body, but none ever saw the guillotine. The guillotine was now hers alone, no longer to be shared.

Using the lunette was fine, except it wasn't true bondage. It slid up and down, and when she finished masturbating she just reached up to it and pushed, and it slid up. She was free. It wasn't the same as when Steve had cuffed or tied her; he was in control then. She could not get free, and she missed that feeling of being trapped, unable to get out.

The answer was to make some modifications to the machine.

Jolene added a latch for the top of the lunette that would hold the lunette upper half raised until a trip wire was pulled. Then it would slide down into place. This allowed someone to place their own head in the lunette, and then through the use of the wire, bring the top of the lunette down, thereby capturing their neck and the bracket.

A second latch automatically engaged when the top of the lunette slid down into place. This secured the lunette in place so it could no longer be raised. Once the lunette was released and dropped, whomever's neck was inside would be trapped there, unable to raise the lunette and get free.

In this way Jolene created a mechanism where she could lay down with her head in position, pull a wire, and have the guillotine neck bracket slide down and lock in place, thus trapping her and not allowing her to get loose. A guillotine based self bondage device.

Of course, this was not enough; Jolene wasn't looking to be permanently trapped in the guillotine. She just wanted to be trapped there for... say half an hour. Or an hour. Self bondage always needs some way to release the victim from the bondage. Eventually.

So the second latch, the one that held the lunette in place when it was down and trapped the victim's neck, was designed to have a release that was activated by a magnetic switch. This switch could be connected to a timer. The timer could be set to activate and open the latch after a predetermined time.

When this was all in place, Jolene decided to test the device, but as with all good self bondage, a backup emergency plan was put in place. Jolene invited her sometimes lover Kevin to come over at 6 PM that Friday for a bit of fun and games (meaning an evening in bed fucking). He was to enter the house and if she wasn't upstairs, he was to look for her down in the basement. If she got trapped, Kevin would discover her.

At 3 PM she descended the stairs and pulled the lunette up into place. It latched in the raised position nicely.

Jolene removed her clothes, folding them and placing them on the floor to the side of the machine.

She set the timer for one hour. She should be released by 4 PM, plenty of time to get dressed, go upstairs, and meet Kevin for their 6 PM orgy.

Laying down on her stomach on the bascule, she pushed forward until her neck was properly in place. She pulled her long hair through and brushed it to the side, so it would not be trapped when she released the lunette. She lay in position for a while, her entire body wired and feeling excited and alive.

With one hand on her clit, she took a deep breath and pulled the trip wire.

With a well oiled slight scraping of wood the top half of the lunette slid down and into place with a secure and solid *thunk*. Jolene actually jumped a bit, her heart pounding. It almost felt as if the guillotine had released the blade! She was acutely aware of the sharpened blade hanging six feet over her neck and it excited her. It was locked in place, but just having that instrument of death, sharpened and ready, hanging over her made her feel terrified and... aroused.

Carefully, she raised her neck, pushing against the lunette. It didn't budge. She struggled with it, ramming her neck against it, clawing with fingers and palms, trying to get it to move. It refused. Her locking latch had worked perfectly. She was destined to spend the next hour in place in the guillotine.

She had forgotten to set up a clock where she could see it. She stared at the floor beneath her, no idea how long it would be.

Oh well, nothing to do but... her hand slipped over her stomach, crawled down her abdomen until it found the soft flesh of her pussy. Her fingers pulled, separated, found her clit, and... oh... heaven... she began the slow rubbing motion accompanied by one finger sliding into her wet cunt that was her most common masturbation routine.

She came almost immediately. Being locked in the guillotine without the ability to get out excited her to no end. Her heart raced, every inch of her naked flesh felt alive and sensitive, and her clit was swollen, cunt dripping wet.

After the fifth orgasm she heard a loud *clack* and knew the timer had released the locking latch. This time when she pushed on the lunette it slid up easily. She held it up with her hands, slipped her head out and sighed with satisfaction.

When Kevin came over at 6 PM, Jolene was already naked and practically raped him, she was so horny. He never did figure out why.

From that point on an idea began to form in Jolene's mind. A sick idea, certainly. But it slowly spread through her thoughts, infecting and perverting her mind. She never experienced more excitement, greater heightened awareness, better orgasms than when she was locked in place with the giant blade hanging over her head.

What if she actually did it?

What if she actually let the blade drop. Slice her head off. Separate her head from her body. What if she joined many others that had preceded her in the Suicide Club, and made her death the most exciting, erotic, heart pounding ending to her life that was possible.

It beat dying of cancer in a hospice. It was better than growing old and slowly losing your mind from dementia. It would be leaving life on her own terms, at her own timing, in her own way. In a way that would make her as excited as she had ever been. Her death would because the last explosive orgasm, a climax in life like no other.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

Of course, the process should be prolonged. The original victims of the guillotine were slapped on a board, had their head removed and body disposed of in seconds. No fun there. What was fun was the anticipation. The waiting. The slowly increasing fear that escalated to terror, that was accompanied by an orgasm.

When she actually did it, she would need to be locked in place, no chance of escape, and the blade would have to be released at an unpredictable time. There had to be enough time to feel the horror and use it to heighten her last orgasm. But beyond that... she couldn't know when the blade would drop.

The answer was to replicate the mechanism she had created for releasing the lunette based on a timer. For that, the lunette was released after a predetermined time, allowing her to end her self bondage. Apply the same retractable latch to the blade... and it would release the blade at a time determined by the timer.

As Jolene considered the plans for this adjustment her breathing was fast, heart beating. Even planning the mechanics of her death gave her a heightened sense of being. Every sensation was greater, especially the sexual ones. Her nipples were hard. She salivated. Her cunt was wet. She kept shifting her position, spreading her legs and touching herself as she worked on the new latch.

It went into place, attached to the top of the guillotine's track where the blade was locked up. It replaced the normal locking mechanism. The blade would be locked in place unless an electrical current was turned on to an electromagnet. If the current was turned on, the magnet would pull the latch and the blade would descend.

And her head would roll.

She had an orgasm right then, sitting on the guillotine, just thinking about it.

She did several run throughs and watched the guillotine in operation. Placing a watermelon in the lunette she set both timers. The lunette release and the blade release. She then sat back and watched. She sat in a chair in the basement, playing with herself, legs spread wide, watching the motionless guillotine as the timers counted down.  The timers had random modes so she was never sure which timer would activate first. The lunette release... or the blade release...

Sometimes the lunette latch clunked open before the blade dropped. Had she been trapped in the lunette she would have gotten out without losing her life. Sometimes the blade dropped first. In those cases, her head would have been severed and she would be dead.

The concept of the blade descending while she masturbated, not knowing when it would happen or even if she would be released first... made her cum. More than once.

After a couple of weeks of testing she was getting close to wanting to actually set the timers and put her head in the lunette.

But then she thought... what if the blade isn't heavy enough, or sharp enough? The worst case scenario, it would not severe her head, just leave her bleeding and damaged, in terrible, agonizing pain. For how long? Until someone found her? Could she become a quadriplegic? This was a scary thought. The guillotine absolutely had to work. She had sliced melons all day long, but were these in any way representative of a human neck?

Friday evening grocery shopping. She poked around for something that would do, settling on a large beef roast. It was thinner than her neck, but seemed rather hefty and solid. It might be a good test.

She brought it home.

It was a ritual now that she would remove her clothes before entering the basement each time. She was always nude in the presence of the guillotine.

Hefting the roast in her hand she examined it and imagined that it was the raw meat of her own neck. That gory thought got her heart beating again and she became aroused. She wanted, needed, to place her neck under the blade and transform herself into meat, no better than this thing she held in her hands.

Jolene stuck the roast into place and lowered and latched the lunette. There was some extra space in the opening between the meat and the wooden bracket. She didn't bother to set the timers, she just sat back, idly played with her clit for a while, and then pushed a button.

With a sliding, hissing noise the blade descended in a split second, reached the roast with a *thump* and bouncing a few times.

The roast on the body side of the blade flew off and landed to the side of the bascule. Upon examination it appeared that the blade had in fact cut through the meat nicely, but there were ragged tears and some uneven cutting. It wasn't clean.

The other half of the roast that ended up in the basket for the victim's head was in worse shape. Smashed, a little mangled. The blade had certainly cut the roast in half, but it hadn't been a clean cut like Jolene had anticipated. In fact, a ragged piece of it remained in the guillotine under the blade.

The test was... unclear. The guillotine would probably work. She had to be 100% sure.

There needed to be a human trial run.