>>11223

Suicide Club by "a man" [2014]

Ch. 2 Night life.

A typical night begins with the first watchers and savages trickle in. Certain people, like the two death seekers I mentioned earlier, come in throughout the day. Some come in savages or watchers, and become ‘victims’. Sometimes I direct the motions of the orgies and suicides like a conductor, other days, I simply let it happens.

Tonight, as far as I can tell, is a rainy night. I can hear the drops on the streets and the roofs. A boat howls its foghorn and the older, the desperate and the broken come in. You can tell when someone is fucked in the head. They’re off. Humor, style and everything. Just a little off. Esmerelda agrees! Hoo hoo hoo. I don’t actually laugh out loud. If I did laugh, I like to think it would be like that.

Today, I had Alejandro arrange blunt instruments, ropes and small knives. Somedays, it’s a dancing competition, or a gladiator fight. Today, I want it up close and personal. Some enjoy it. The quiet touch in spilling blood or ending life. It makes them feel as close to love as they can. In a world that prizes beauty, and punishes the slightest failure. This is a refuge where they can touch and be touched. A deadly utopia for those unfortunates at the bottom. I pity them, though, I, after tasting the fruits, will not touch them again. They are a little dead, and cannot love. They act out here, because they are too cowardly, but rather, like beaten dogs than yellow cads.
The first one every night, Mickey George, is a regular. A widower, he’s been coming since the beginning, drinks gin straight. Then there’s Greg Occur, a coroner, ironically enough, scooping business and pleasure, drinks anything. Alanda Stuart, a pervert of particular tastes, does not drink, but does partake.

The debauchery begins at 8. Others are welcome to join, but I like to give warm up time to the supposed victims. Some alcohol helps the uncourageous our makes the courageous fool hardy. It’s fascinating.

An English woman came in. Brown haired, large breasted, full hipped, with hints of wrinkles. Birthed many children, but they’re gone. Greg, who favors any foreign woman, told her she was well preserved for all her labors. She smiled and slipped him a glance at her breasts. Actually, she was having herself cloned, and wanted to go out, believing her soul would transfer into the younger, less broken body, a lot do. Even had a brain scan done. It’s why parents don’t care much anymore. She began playing with Esmerelda’s hair as Greg ordered her a Gibson. Strong, but she seemed the type.

A teenager came in. She was under the table blowing someone almost as soon she signed the paper. I think I recognize her, but she was dead and if she lives now, what do I care?

A drunk stumbled in, signed the papers and began drinking himself to death. He paid in advance, though I tried to deny it through signs and puppeteering Esmerelda’s head to the Englishwoman’s and Greg’s amusement. I’ll say this right now, he succeeded.

At 8, the doors closed, but were kept unlocked. Alejandro is as much bouncer as butcher. I had him make Greg and the English woman some food. Tender flesh, cooked.

They begin. Watchers paying out the ass for live snuff pornography. Mickey and another regular are double penetrating the teenager. In out in out. I see her enjoy it, the search for breath, the violence. Mickey is not a gentle man. But that’s part of his charm. She cums, squirting. Her tits are very fine, and they are bouncing about. A fork is stuck in one. It only increases the perceived motion.

The girl is on painkillers and amphetamines. Maybe ecstasy? But that’s fallen out of favor recently. You can tell in the eyes. Her eyes are going up and up into her head. It’s not asphyxiation through the dick in her mouth, it’s the drugs and the physical pleasure.

Englishwoman and Greg are making out now. Greg always liked the the slow build up. There was a cruelty to that. Once, he spent a week playing with a woman before he killed her. Whereas Mickey is an equal opportunist, he is straight, and likes what he likes. He likes the mature woman, in attitude, body, at least one, and wants to appreciate death.

But this was to be quicker than normal. Greg does not enter the orgy directly, and despises masturbation. Kissing was quick and the petting heavy. He went for the boobs immediately, fondling them ravenously. She grinned, she was loving the attention. This was exactly what she wanted. I could see his hands move under her clothes, he was twisting her left nipple for all she had.

In the back, Alanda was bashing in the back of a man’s head on the brass railings. He was fucking her for all he had, and was struggling. If a Savage becomes a victim, it’s part of the unspoken contract. He had a hand on her throat and was gripping it tightly. One would die before the end, and both had a long way to go, Alanda was an amature swimmer, and the dude’s head was big with a lot of hair. His dick, I appreciated, was suitably large.

Mickey began to work his magic on the teenager repeat customer. He had bound her hands with a rope. He was going for the ass with wild abandon. Mickey is not a small man, for all the teen’s sexual experience, I’m sure it was exquisite. She was struggling and crying in pain and whatever else she’d feel with a giant cock up her ass. I decided I hated that teenager. Coming multiple times like that is cheating. Her legs and feet flailed about like whips.

The English Woman was naked. Her breasts were fantastic. Round, fleshy globes well preserved and nearly the size of her head. By the way she carried herself, I am sure her back hurt a little. Greg was receiving a tit job. Up and down on his cock, occasionally, her mouth would go down on his penis, sucking it for all its worth. He came into her eyes. She opened her left eye and allowed cum into the pupil. Greg then ripped out the spermless eye with one of the small knives. . She grunted harshly, suppressing a scream. In a few seconds, she began smiling again.

Greg pushed her over and ate her out for a few seconds. She was blind, so I didn’t mind her over the bar, besides, she wasn’t actually in the way. Watchers were only just beginning to order the next round. If she could see, I’d put her eyes out myself. I don’t like people with functioning eyes in my territory.

He fucked her, gently at first. His penis is of average size, but his mastery is excellent. His knowledge of anatomy is put to good use. He used to be a neurologist. Despite the pain, she was oooing at the thrusts and manipulations. She huffed and puffed, then screamed. Greg was carving geometric designs into her back. They were quite good. He started with a simple square, then a series of hexagons and then a face. He showed it to me, I nodded.

She was breathing heavy, her hair was covering her face. Greg began skinning her back. There was an art to it. A checkerboard of art pieces of blood. I can’t appreciate skill in art, though I do appreciate metaphor. Complexity from simplicity on the back of complexity. Not bad. I nodded again. She was crying a little, but she turned over and started making out with Greg.

She looked him in the eyes. He looked her in the eyes. Greg took the knife and began to saw at her neck. She started to cum. The pain must have been intense, but these people want death to be real. He pulled her down, He had sawed enough to get to her larynx. He began fucking the hole. His penis had been enlarged by his own pent up lust. I was sure she would bite off the glands, but they were moving to his thrusts. Her hands, to my surprise, were palpating his testicles and feeling herself up.

As she expired he came, sperm shooting up and onto her face. She died. I don’t really know what of. Asphyxia through a cut throat? Blood loss? The trauma? Eh. Greg was happy. He asked if he could take her back to his place for burial. I let him. She was fine meat, but there were plenty others. A lot of fat, I shouldn’t wonder.

I saw that Mickey George was smashing the teenager against the wall like an unwanted sack of rats. Her brains spread over the walls. Serves the bitch right.