[Castration] [Non-consensual]

I felt the thrill rise in my chest as I heaved his limp muscular frame out the truck and onto the motel bed. The courtyard was deserted, the only light from the buzzing sign and the swinging of headlights from the distant freeway. It was all planned, of course, and he wasn't even nearly my first, but it was always a very different thing planning as to doing. The flimsy plastic dust sheets rustled and crinkled and clung as I hauled him onto that pedestal, but they never tore. He lay still now, his breathing slow and shallow, his body bound by the gentle ropes of the powder I'd so innocently dusted into his drink. I looked over him, and I felt that familiar rush. That excitement of the predator looking on its prey, ready to pluck him at its leisure.

I tugged and pulled at his jeans and his flannel before finally surrendering to the ENT scissors, lazy but effectively slicing until he was as naked as the day his mother born him. How she'd hate to see him now, if she knew what he'd become and what he'd done and what I's about to do to him. But how proud she must be to see her boy all growed up, a big strong man, muscled, making some kind of living for himself off the sweat of those broad shoulders. I got up on that bed, toying with my prey. In that moment I owned him, defenceless, sedated, his powerful arms and his fierce gaze tranquillised, every advantage of his brash maleness deserting him.

I crouched down between his legs, only one piece of clothing not yet in shreds in the trash bag. I put my hand over it, feeling the warm bulge of manhood, bundled it up into my grasp, squeezing and caressing it. I knew it was ridiculous, but it wasn't for him. Heck, he was asleep, he wouldn't know. It was for me. The closer they got to the knife, the closer their manhood came to becoming mine, the more it thrilled me. I sliced open the legs of his underwear, tore the fabric away, almost mesmerised by the gentle bob of his dick as it rolled over his orbs. He was completely hairless down there, bet he thought he was god's gift.

I leaned in closer, took in the smell, his sweat, his musk. Before I knew it I was touching it, holding it to my nose, my tongue, tasting his cock. It filled my mouth and I felt it grow, quivering attentively. Soon it would be soft forever, never giving him another ounce of pleasure, never leading him astray. I pushed my head down, allowing it to stretch my throat as I inhaled his musk. My hands found his balls, one in each palm, and I felt my heart flutter as I imagined taking them from him, taking his manhood, his muscles, his manliness. Leaving his sack empty and his cock limp and turning him into an 'it'. I savoured his taste, the pre-cum automatically oozing from him as his body responded to my touch. I sucked one of those balls, felt its smooth curves against my tongue, nipped at his cords with my teeth before I stopped myself, pulled my attention back to the task at hand.

I gloved my hands and taped his stiff cock to his belly and poured the iodine on, rubbed it into his hot skin with the swabs. I draped his groin with the sterile blue paper sheets, his sack protruding through the hole. I didn't need to rush, he'd be out a good few hours more yet, but it never took me long. Out of habit I injected the lignocaine he didn't deserve into the skin down the middle of his scrotum, held it tight as I sliced through that tough membrane. A little clear fluid leaked out, and there it was: his left ball, nearly mine.

I cut through its pale flesh and muscle envelope, pulled it away from his body and dissected his cords with the outside of my scissors like I'd learned. Tied off those arteries and veins that kept his manhood alive, One, two, three knots, one, two, three ties. I put the blade of my scissors between the second and third ties before I paused. Not yet. I took the scalpel again and cut a neat line through the wall between the two halves of his scrotum, fished out his other testicle, repeated the process. Both his nuts hung out the slit I'd made, his scrotum strangely - excitingly - empty without their bulk. Would anyone else ever see him as intimately as I had? Would anyone else ever touch his cock and feel it grow and glisten as I had? I savoured the moment. I took the scissors in one hand, and his manhood in the other, drawing them away from his body and towards mine. They were already dying, anyway, those tight stitches strangling them, cutting off his testosterone supply. I closed the handles of my scissors. His plucked fruit fell into my specimen pot with a splash of formaldehyde while his pruned cords sprang back into his body.

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Some minor context for disclosures sake. I decided to try and use an AI to help me get off. Sometimes it works sometimes it doesn't….this time it didn't… but I ended up getting into the story. The AI contributed at most 6 sentences, four of which I rewrote completely because they were trash. The other two were so basic I didn't bother removing them. So without further addo, here's Little Captain:

****

Leian was a lab grown superhuman made with a supremely high intellect and sharp reflexes. The idea was to create the perfect starship captain, and the project was an overwhelming success. Leian was top of her class in every regard, at six years old she was outperforming veteran captains in simulations. Which is why Adrian was so shocked to find her in his room with his dirty gym socks in her hand. Her pale face flushed.
"Leian?" He said, confused. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to know…why seem to enjoy socks so much" she said. Her child's voice at odds with her language skills.

"I've seen you on the cameras … You masturbate into socks … Often your own but I've seen you taking some from some of the girls in your class" She said as a matter of fact, bringing the dirty sock to her nose and taking a sniff. It was a rather stale looking tube sock, the soles greyed and worn. It reeked strongly of the 14 year old's foot sweat. Adrian blushed, he'd been caught!

"Well Leian, I guess it helps me get rid of my stress after a long day." He told her trying to make light of the situation.


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With Asstr.org down and SexStories seeming a little too complicated, I thought to post on here. It covers all my favourite themes- (Dolcett, Incest, Feet, ashyxia, Necro) Enjoy !


Dolcett Gift

Exam results day. Two brown envelopes plopped onto the doormat of the Bridges household. Mr Bridges, briefcase in hand, about to go to work picked them up. Girls! He called and eighteen- year-old Louise and Becky came obediently down the carpeted stairs, still in their pyjamas as Mrs Bridges appeared with a mug of coffee.
Girls, Mr Bridges said sternly, it seems your examination results are here. Well, I had a feeling it was a special day. No use beating about the bush, I can’t be late for my appointment, so let’s see the results.
Nervously Louise went first, she tore open the envelope and scanned the first few lines of type: her grey-blue eyes tensed, then widened and a gentle smile emerged. I-I got two A’s and a B-plus! Better than I hoped.. I -I guess that means I can go to University!
Mrs Bridges balanced her mug on the radiator and clapped her hands while Louise’s sister hugged her. Very good girl, said Mr Bridges, I expected no less. Mr Bridges checked his watch. Now you, Rebecca.
Becky nervously opened the envelope, Louise looked over her shoulder as she read and re-read and bit her lip. Oh, Becks, said her sibling, I’m sorry, gosh, they were strict on geography this year, but I know you did your best.
Mrs Bridges frowned and stroked Becky’s hair, Oh honey I m sure we could appeal, couldn’t we father? It does seem a shame. She gave a little pout in her husband’s direction.
Mr Bridges read the letter. I’m afraid the exam board is strict but fair. We all must have faith that those in charge are always correct. I daresay girls we have put a lot of resources into getting you two an education while many poorer families have made different sacrifices. These are the facts. I must go to work now. Louise I congratulate you, he said gently patting her bottom. As for you, Rebecca, I think we owe your form tutor...er?
Mr Colesworth, said Mrs Bridges. A highly intelligent and respectful man.

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Kragh the Demonslayer: Maldria's Demise (revised edition)

Kragh strode down the darkened corridor, his blackened, spike-adorned armor blending with the gloom around him. The handle of his axe was clutched in one hand, while his his crimson eyes were narrowed as he peered through the slits in his helm. Sniffing the air to get his bearings, he took a guess as to where he thought the heart of the dungeon lay and turned in that direction. Finding the lair's entrance hadn't been too difficult; he needed only follow the slave carts carrying humans and their remains to the Demon Lady Maldria to be devoured or used in necromancy. Now that he was inside, though, he had found the corridors to be labyrinthine, and he scratched marks in the sickly glowing lichen that grew on the dank walls so that he would be able to find his way.

A rattle behind him reached his ears, and he whirled around, finding himself face to face with several shambling skeletons. Bits of decrepit flesh and moldy cloth clung to their bones as they stumbled forwards, their sharpened finger-bones reaching for him like cold, dead claws, the stench of death puffing from between their elongated, sharp teeth.

Swinging his axe, Kragh smashed the ribcage of the first skeleton, a battle cry escaping his throat as he began to crush and hew, kicking one skeleton with brutal force before cleaving its skull, then turning upon a third. The skeletons chattered, an ominous rattling of their sharp teeth as they sought to bite into the Demonslayer's warm, living flesh. True to the name he had bestowed upon it, the axe Bonegasher chopped easily through the dry skeletons, cutting and shattering their limbs and ribs. Raging, the Demonslayer smashed another skeleton's face with his gauntleted fist. The undead fiend reeled and then steadied itself, still coming until the warrior's axe thoroughly obliterated its skull, sending shards of bone skittering into the darkness.

Kragh kicked the some of the shattered remnants of skull aside, his massive battle-axe held at the ready. His breath hissed through the slots of his ebon helm, a low growl in his throat as he remained braced for battle. Eerie lights reflected dully off of his blackened armor, his eyes exuding a ruddy glow as he sought for any more foes that might make themselves apparent. Not finding any further threats in that corridor, he continued on his path, coming to a door which led to a downwards stairway.

The sense of his quarry was tangible now—a much more interesting foe than those mouldering skeletons that assured him of her presence. Boldly, he strode down the spiraling stairs and smashed through the locked door at the bottom with his axe, his crimson eyes blazing through the slits in his helmet. The throne room: this was easier than he'd thought, he mused, as no traps or guards presented themselves. Searching for his prey, his gaze fell upon her, and he licked his lips slowly; this would be one of the enjoyable ones.

A wicked smirk of her own crossed her glossy ebon lips, her white eyes narrowing. A silver crown sat atop her head, laced with black velvet and crimson rubies that shone like crystallized blood. A sheer black robe of silky material hung about her curved body; that was all that she wore.

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Part 1
https://boards.guro.cx/lit/res/11172.html#q11172

"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen” The large screen television came to life as the scene loaded. The redhead sat down on the couch and licked her lips as the blonde on the screen had her pussy exposed. One hand on her breast, she teased her stiff nipple, the other hand slid down between her legs to touch her moist pussy. As the teen on the screen began to moan in pain, the redhead began to moan with pleasure.

Her master had first exposed her to “The Pussy-cution of Amy Beth” a few months prior. She was made to suck him off as he watched the film, and she distinctly remembered the screaming of the girl on the screen when he shot his cum down her throat. The next day, while her master was at work, she watched the film in whole, and it quickly became an obsession for her. A self described painslut, she constantly fantasized that it was her strapped to the table instead of the blonde.

Pinching and pulling on her stiff nipple, the redhead pounded away at her snatch with three fingers. “Fuck… That’s so hot…” she moaned at the screen. “Goodbye my clit!” came through the speakers and an orgasm ripped through the girl on the couch. As Amy Beth screamed and writhed in pain on screen, the pale girl shuddered with pleasure, her hand soaked with her juices.

“Vanessa! You worthless cunt!” a voice boomed from behind the couch. The startled girl jumped to her feet, then bowed on her knees, her face to the floor. Master was home. “Welcome home, sir.” Vanessa stammered, she knew master wasn’t happy, and hadn't been happy with her for some time now. “I ought to beat you senseless,” he growled, “but you'd probably enjoy that.” He stormed off as tears ran down the redhead's face. She was forbidden to pleasure herself, and she knew she had disappointed him once again.

Rising Sun

Captain Hidetaka Fujiwara was enjoying himself, he looked over to his right, his men gathered around their makeshift fire place singing songs that extolled the virtues of the Japanese nation and prayed for good help to the Emperor, playing around with a pile of corpses that consisted of various young girls, late members of the Brisbane garrison

Normally the Captain would have chastised this lapse in discipline but for this occasion he'd let it slide. The 17th Army had just successfully taken Brisbane, the ultimate objective of 'Military Operation FS', an Army which included his beloved 6th Infantry Division.

The invasion of Eastern Australia was launched in 1944, and after 3 months they finally now have an established beachhead to bring in more personal for the ongoing conquest of the abandoned British Dominion.

"Fuckers," he heard the soft utterance of a female voice, Fujiwara shifted his attention towards his squirming captive.

Her name was Annabelle Lee, or so her dog tags said, she was a young American woman of white extraction, 18 or 19 if Fujiwara were to bet on her age.

She along with several of her fellows were the last element of resistance that the Captain's unit faced, dug within the center of the city amidst bombed out ruins.

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I still vividly remember reading "Applicant for death" by Juan Gotoh for the first time. How shocked I'd been. How I, a fairly savy internet user, had been shaken. My heart BEATING. Then, I'd still thought I'd been shaken by how bizarre and insane the story had been.
My mind kept wandering back to it, and a week later I revisited the story, believing I was confronting it and would close the chapter on that insane story. Instead I later found myself spraying cum well over a meter away and trying to catch my breath from my most intense orgasm yet. And so my fetish for snuff was born. I wonder how many others were hooked by Juan's story.

------------------

But enough reminiscing, the here and now is what this story is about, and in this here and now, I have two beautifull ladies, who happen to share my fetish that I met in an online chat.

We are in a simple enough room. It's just us, with a small table holding only three collars, in white, gray, and black, and a face mask that could completely cover somebodies face, leaving only a hole for the mouth, and convenient straps to keep the mouth opened.

Eva was still clothed and filming using a camera, but Lisa was completely nude and she looked very excited. She was a real looker too. When she had arrived, she had worn simple clothing, actually even a bit on the convervative side. A bit like Velma from Scooby-Doo I suppose.

When she took everything off, her boobs were revealed to be much larger than her clothing had made them appear, but still very nicely proportioned to the rest of her body. She had great legs to go with it too, and a cute, lightly freckled face that made her seem so much more innocent than she really was.


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I wrote this one for Jeanette: >>21012

Gates

It’s amazing how fast technology that first seems incredible becomes commonplace. One day, we’re monkeys hiding around the fire from predators in the African savannah, the next we’re monkeys flying around in airplanes and communicating instantly with each other through the Internet. It was like that with the gates. When they were first introduced, it was like literal magic—you step through an electronic door in one place and step out almost instantly half a world away. They started as the province of the ultra wealthy, cutting down the commute of rich CEOs and movie stars between their homes, work, private yachts, etc. Just a few years after that, everyone had one in their home. Now, I barely even look up from my phone when stepping through a gate to go from my favorite grocery store in Cincinnati to my apartment in Buffalo.

I certainly looked up this time, though. My first shock was when I discovered my phone had not followed me out of the gate, and neither had my grocery bag. This was almost immediately sidelined by the realization that neither had any of my clothing. As I was shrieking and trying to cover myself with my hands, I took in the fact that I was not in my apartment as expected, but instead a medium sized windowless room, sparsely furnished with a couch, bed, and what looked to be an old, antique television.

I looked back at the gate. It was no longer showing the grocery store on the other side. Even if it were, I couldn’t go back there naked. I’d heard that gates have manual controls you can use to get home if you don’t have a phone or if it gets lost or stolen or broken, but either this one didn’t or I just couldn’t find them.

Thinking fast, I grabbed the blanket off of the bed to wrap myself up, then started looking around the room for some way to call for help. Besides the gate, there were two doors in the room, one of which turned out to be a bathroom and the other of which seemed to be locked shut. I turned on the TV to see if it had some sort of network connection I could use to send a message, but the ancient device was too primitive for that.

All other options having been expended, it was time to turn to yelling.

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The Experiment
By
Edward Hyde


“Come through if you can?” The sweet-faced young woman in the white uniform smiled as Oliver sat up on the bench and stretched his arms out, wiggling his fingers as if they were new to him. It was strange to see his arm, and the rest of his body when he glanced down, entirely devoid of hair but otherwise he felt quite normal. Carefully, he swung his legs around and felt the cold, tiled floor beneath his feet. He took a few tentative steps – everything felt normal so he walked through into the next room where the two young women were waiting to prepare him for the oven.

“We really appreciate this!” The bustier of the two young women smiled disarmingly, tossing her blonde hair. “It’s really kind of you to help with our experiment! I’m Sarah by the way!”

“Oliver.” He smiled, holding out his hand and immediately feeling awkward about the gesture as she was a uniformed chef and he was nothing but naked meat. “And it’s my pleasure! Anything I can do to help as many people as possible experience getting cooked!” Sarah took his hand and shook it with mock formality, giving a little bob as she did so.

“That’s the spirit!” she grinned. “And trust me, our testers are very excited about getting to taste you! This is Rebecca by the way.” She introduced the other young woman, the one who had invited him in. She was shorter than Sarah and less well-endowed chest-wise but no less pretty, he chestnut brown curls in a loose ponytail.


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Hi, my name is Jason Couch; I’m 36 and a trucker. I’m so happy about all the benefits my profession grants me. Here is one event I had not that long ago.

I had a surprise on a trip between Chicago and Las Vegas. In the middle of the journey, somewhere in Kansas, I stopped to rest and fill my 18-Wheeler with fuel. It was already dusk, after filling up the tanks and eating, I got back in my truck to sleep. I looked out the window and saw a young couple arguing and screaming at one another.

Next to them was a stroller with a baby who, even with so much yelling and shouting. The little child was sleeping quietly. I began to wonder if the child had been drugged. After watching and listing to the couple for a bit I ducked into my sleeper and tried to sleep. I just laid there looking at the roof of the cabin. It’s been a couple of hours then, finally, everything went silent. I looked out the window, and the couple had departed, from what I could tell.

I had parked in the back part of the truck lot. There were very few of the lights working. Consequently, it was rather dark on this moonless night. I was about to crash back down on my bed, but out of the corner of my eye, the couple had forgotten the stroller, to my amazement. Being I was still very much awake, I slipped on some shorts and boots to go check out what the furious couple had left behind. On my walk over to the stroller, glanced around to see if anyone was watching. I could not see anyone or any movement in any of the sleepers on the trucks.

Inside the stroller was the same six-month-old infant I had saw earlier that night when it was a bit lighter. Had they forgotten the infant or just up and abandoned the infant? My mind was swimming with the possibilities that were before me. First, I needed to back away from the stroller and sit in a shadowed area to see if the couple would show up, realizing they had forgotten something.

I sat there and considered what my next step might be. I could grab my cell, then call the local 911 and feel good about myself. Option two was to do what I had fantasized about for many years. As that thought raced through my head, my cock was making that choice for me. Yup I would welcome that baby into my sleeper. After two hours, there was no sign of anyone new driving into the lot or anyone moving about. The time had come to grab the infant and high-tail it into my rig. I needed to go back into my rig first to get some nitrile gloves. Never can be to cautious when dealing with kid stuff. I knew this truck stop was relatively cheap, and affording a video security system was not an expense the owner would choose. I slowly walked up to the stroller and slipped my right arm under the child. When lifting, I found the infant was uncommonly light. The baby did not wake. I then quickly hustled back to my rig. Once in the sleeper, I laid it on my bed.

I was still unaware of the child’s gender. I was hoping it would be a girl, but if it were a boy, that would work also. I’ve never been picky about what I use to get my rocks off. I have been with adults of both genders and, from to time-to-time, kids of either sex. Heck, I’ve been known not to pass up an animal, alive or dead.

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account crime scene morgue examination and autopsy of Ellie Williams Abby Anderson

crime scene both women were found in pools of blood and also found were the murder weapons a knife and a gun

morgue examinations showed the typical injuries associated with knife and gun wounds

autopsies also showed the same

so in conclusion cause of death for Ellie and Abby Anderson was knife wounds and gun wounds

The Hanging of Martha Lyam

The tall oak gallows that served four towns,and which was overseen by the regional executioner was located under a circular grove of tall,old trees in a shaded glade,near the borders of three of the towns.It was painted a flat,dark brown,that contrasted with the somberness of the black uprights and crossbeam of which the gallows itself was comprised..The uprights were ten square-inch oak,each nine feet tall,surmounted by an oak crossbeam of the same thickness,but which was twelve feet in length..A trapdoor that would accommodate the hanging of one prisoner,was located beneath the crossbeam at the mid-point of it's length,but most of the hangings were carried out in the manner of the gibbet ,rather than by use of the trap and drop.The traditional thirteen steps,with a rail on each side that led to the platform,,were also black and were wide enough for the condemned to be brought up the stairs by two assistants of the executioner if the subject was struggling--a common enough occurrence.The space around the gallows was large enough for several hundred onlookers on each side,although the usual total numbers were only three-five hundred, consistent with the size of the population of the area.Executions by hanging,and by beheading on the block,the executioner using a wide axe,were well-attended by both men and women,and were witnessed with enthusiasm.Public whippings and public floggings were also carried out for more minor offenses. Men who beat their wives,petty thieves-men or women-and the like,could expect to be taken to the scaffold,bound to the waiting post,stripped nearly naked,and then lashed well as all looked on.Usually,two dozen lashes were inflicted with a long,wide heavy strap to render the skin and the muscles beneath exquisitely tender and painful,then the knotted cat-o-nine tails was taken from it's leather bag,the tails made wet with salt brine,and the guilty victim well-flogged for his or her crime.The executioner used a nine-tailed cat with three-foot long tails of 1/2 inch width leather.A dozen small,hard knots graced the tails.Two dozen lashes of the strap across the naked back and buttocks,followed by a severe,no-nonsense flogging of two dozen lashes was punishment so excruciating,that many offenders were unable to control their bodily functions as it was being inflicted,this to the applause of the onlookers.There were few second-time offenders at the whipping post.After the flogging had been administered,the bleeding cuts were stanched with raw alcohol,,rinsed with salt brine and salt rubbed in to insure continued suffering for the guilty.The victim was left in shame for a full two hours before being cut down and released. Flogging before execution was also mandatory for the punishment of some crimes such as rape and molestation.

Crimes were well-punished and justice was swift and certain for the guilty.The specter of the scaffold and the public executioner insured that the law was observed by most,and that any and all lawbreakers were justly punished for the public good in a public place.The gathering of the community to see justice done on the high scaffold was a unifying event,drawing it together physically and spiritually,and affirming it's beliefs regarding crime and punishment.The use of the public whipping post,as popular as it was with men,was even more enamored of by women. Women of all ages smiled and laughed openly,and exchanged enthusiastic comments as whippings were being carried out--the grim walk up the steps,the binding to the stout oak post,the reading of the sentence aloud to those assembled,the baring of the flesh of the back and buttocks(the latter causing shrieks and squeals from women in their late teens to elderly women in their 80's.The lowering of the skirt or trousers to bare the cheeks for the singing lash,the flesh jigging uncontrollably as the victim anticipated the excruciating pain while below,the women squealed and the men controlled their grunts with varying success). The shame of suffering public whipping or flogging tied to the post,while two to three hundred men and women looked on with pleasure,was severe psychological punishment that greatly intensified the suffering caused by the well-knotted flogging cat,as it was drawn back and administered by the unsympathetic executioner.

Beheading in the traditional manner,at the high block with the condemned man or woman kneeling obediently at the block,the throat resting on the grooved portion,hands bound behind the back,and the ankles spread wide apart and tied off,drew large numbers of the populace whenever beheadings were carried out, Two years earlier a criminal gang of three men and a woman were executed by beheading at the block,the woman was beheaded third,sobbing and struggling,the leader beheaded last,also struggling desperately.The first head fell at 5:24 PM and by 5:28PM,all four heads had been chopped off and mounted on spikes,one each on the four lonely corners of the scaffold.There they remained for three days and nights. Hangings were also carried out at the pleasure of the sentencing judge and the regional high executioner. Occasionally,the hanging was carried out by the drop method with swift,harsh effect,but most often,the condemned man or woman was gibbetted in some form--twisted off a ladder,or drawn up slowly,or the small platform on which he or she stood was pulled suddenly away.The noose was positioned with great care so that the victim's weight was borne by the jaw and the side of the neck as much as possible and not the windpipe,this to prolong the procedure as long,and as painfully as was possible.The large,life-sustaining arteries and veins in the neck were also largely spared,this also lengthening the time of hanging while fully conscious and suffering severely,both mentally and physically.

The regional executioner performed his office over a forty by fifty mile area,and was always busy,either going to conduct an execution or travelling from one.He was sixty-eight years old and had officiated as the high executioner at more than three-hundred and fifty public executions over nearly thirty years..Seventy-three were of women,and of those,fifteen were beheaded,all but two with a single stroke of the axe,and fifty-eight were hanged,only four by the drop method.The rest were gibbetted and their hangings painfully prolonged. Many danced on the scaffold for twenty-two minutes or longer.The longest was that of a twenty-seven year old woman who kicked for twenty-nine minutes,then spasmed and twitched violently for several more.Of the two-hundred-eighty men,forty-one were beheaded,thirty-two with one stroke,the rest with two strokes.Two hundred-thirty-nine were hanged,only nineteen by the drop method,the rest by slow gibbetting,the longest was a forty-three year-old man who danced for just less than thirty-one minutes,then twitched badly for two or three more.His execution was still spoken of years later as the cruelest hanging in the region in thirty-eight years,but at the same time,very richly deserved.Those present enjoyed the hanging thoroughly and it was spoken of frequently for years after he danced.

The condemned prisoner who would next mount the thirteen steps to face him was a woman of forty-nine,a murderess who was going to die on the gallows the following evening to pay for her crime.Two women from several towns away would assist the executioner in carrying out his office.All three would wear hoods to conceal their faces as tradition allowed,indeed dictated.All three now stood upon the gallows platform,and the assistants were given their final instructions by the executioner.Both women,one twenty-nine,and the other fifty-five,had assisted him numerous times before. The consensus was that the condemned woman,genteel and well-educated as she was,who admitted her guilt and who accepted her sentence,would go bravely at the end. lf she faltered,the assistants would be sure she complied.No one thought she would struggle badly,but until the terrible moment of her judgement was upon her,no one would know with certainty.The following afternoon,the assistants would enter her cell and prepare her for the ordeal of judicial hanging as punishment for her heinous crime--the crude cropping of her hair,the donning of a long,dowdy-white ankle-length dress,long-sleeved,and with a modest yoke,revealing the upper half of her beautifully-shaped breasts.Her hands would be bound behind her with her wrists crossed,first with a wet ,narrow cloth strip,and then a narrow leather strap wound crossways around and over. A heavy leather strap would then be placed on one upper arm,across her back,and bound tightly to the other arm.,her bound hands first pushed up ,to hold them tightly to her body.Her ankles would then be tethered,allowing only 18-20 inches of play as she danced high and pretty to pay her debt.The hangman would make it a point for her suffering to be maximized.Her height was five feet-seven inches,and her weight only one-hundered and ten pounds,with a fairly stout neck-not masculine,but better developed than most women-the executioner knew she could be made to do an awful dance with so little weight pulling on the neck..Hundreds would watch the beautiful woman swing before them,thrashing,gurgling and kicking with violent abandon,as the knot tightened,and her neck was stretched and torn,fiber by fiber,with agonizing slowness,in retribution for her crime.

After a time,the executioner nodded to the assistants.They departed the gallows,each aware of the details of Martha Lyam's well-deserved hanging.The woman would swing for her sins in twenty-five hours.Four to five hundred onlookers were expected to attend to watch her dance-a passionately delivered solo dance, done with her whole body as it swung from the stout hemp rope. The day ended and the stars rose in the night sky and a new day began. It would be the shortest day of Martha Lyam's life and it would end at 6pm on the regional gallows,witnessed by half a thousand men and women.

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This is part one of a snuff story I'm working on. I hope it's not too bad.

They all sat in the wagon. The whole thing rocked and freaked as it trundled along the forest trail. The sun was setting low beyond the green hills and the air in that vast forest was hot and humid, soupy.

They all sat in that wagon. Twelve in total. All the elven girls who were taken in the village raid. They were wailing with pure panic, fear, and despair. Some were too filled with hopelessness to cry and they stared out through the cage with empty eyes that were devoid of anything except acceptance. Among them was a young pointy-eared beauty, not unlike her companions, except that her eyes were a deep brown color. Her hair was mid-length and blonde, and her skin was a mix of gold and bronze that felt like lantern light against homely cottage walls. As she stared into the setting sun, her heart felt heavy with a crushing despair she had never experienced before. Her whole world was shattered in front of her, much like her comrades, as her family was slain and her home village destroyed by marauding soldiers who were hellbent on bloodshed.

The bronze-gold beauty, whose name was Merelyn, began to sob as she thought of the pain and destruction that she and the others around her had experienced. It was almost like a dream. It was unthinkable that something like this would happen, especially to a simple, illiterate elven girl like herself and her comrades-in-misery. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she spoke to herself. "W-What will they do to us..? Why do they do this..? Mother.. Father.."

One of the elf girls who had that same empty look in her eyes had heard her words. She had the very same questions that she pondered in her mind as she drifted in and out of a pain-induced coma. Her arm was missing and covered in blood-soaked bandages and she was pale. She looked over at Merely and spoke in a low and weak voice "I..I don't know..But.."

Merelyn looked over to her quickly, expecting a response but alas there was nothing. Suddenly the wagon came to a stop, and the voices of their takers were heard. One of them hopped out of the upper part of the carriage and walked to the back, opening the doors. Some wanted to make a run for it and some began to breathe heavily and cry harder in fear. The armless elf was grabbed and dragged out onto the ground. She woke up from her stupor and began to yell and squirm as her clothes were torn off.

The man yelled at her as she squirmed and cried "Quit your yelling you knife-eared cunt and I'll make it easier for you!" He pulled a knife from his boot and showed it off as he wanted to scare the elven whore into submission.

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Pest Control in the Garden (TEASER)

by TDMalpha

This story contains: torture, rape, lolicon, toddlercon, furry, lots of gynophagia, cannibalism, harem elements, slavery (willing and non), fantasy elements, a dystopian society, lots of blood and gore, amputations, pretty girls being cooked/eaten alive and a storyline somewhere in among all the smut.
Day One


Evening was coming on, so it was time to check the traps in the back yard. That's where Dranix's garden was. He was very proud of the work he'd put into it, and the plethora of herbs and vegetables he grew there. Though he was a predator, and ate mostly meat, he still liked to add to the flavor of his dishes with what he grew in the garden he'd been tending for years now.

The problem with growing food is that it attracted pests that liked to eat it even more than he did. Critters like mice, rabbits and even the occasional fox would raid his garden, eating and ruining what they didn't eat. Then there was the fay creatures, such as imps, fairies, elves and even gnomes that would sometimes either raid for food, or tear up crops just because they felt like it.

Most of the pests he caught were female. For some reason, they either didn't want their males going out and risking themselves, or the males were just too lazy or smart to get in much trouble.

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I remember reading a really long literature piece about an alien predator in Gotham city going around brutally murdering and raping batman universe women,such as catwoman, killer frost, oracle, etc. I think it was called something like Gotham Headhunter or something. If anyone can find it, I would be very grateful.