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    I intend for this story to be a subpart of a more ample story on an private resort island in a world where women are willing to die because of societal norms, as they outnumber men by thousands to one and few can give birth to males. More or less the same setting as Monk18's on Dolcettish.

    Charity Gym

    This island truly has it all. If you would’ve told me five years ago that GYMs would become not only free, but filled with girls willing to lend their bodies for a greater cause, I would’ve laughed and nodded with skepticism. Of course, that skepticism isn’t unfounded - there’s always strings attached – but these strings I’ll dance to.

    “This week’s girls are all here on behalf of the ‘Beter Snuff Initiative’ and have pledged to let you train with their bodies – so long as terminal damage results in a $1000 donation for each totaled girl to the charity. ‘Submissive Snuff Sluts Initiative’ aims to bring better experiences through education of young girls in regards to their role in society. Sign right here if you agree.” The petite blonde at the reception tells me. She’s very cute, but with such a tiny frame and no tits, she’d only be good for giving head. She hands me a contract with quite a few small lines at the bottom, then proceeds to smile alluringly.

    “Sounds good. I’ll only take one, so give me the hottest you’ve got.” I glide over with the pen, since I already know what the small text is.It’s legalese to make me still pay a percentage of the terminal payout, in case the girl isn’t killed. They’ll claim even up to 80% for just a few bruises and a missing tit or eye – so… I usually go all the way.

    “Splendid sir, you can go get her! Today’s girl is stupid hot so I’m sure you’ll find it hard to resist using her to the full terms of this contract. The locker room is down the left hall and then you should proceed to room 103, where your personal trainer is waiting. Use of any implements you brought along is permitted, but may result in additional cleaning fees. We encourage you to train however you see fit, but also strongly suggest you don’t leave partially damaged gym bunnies on the mat as they are harder to find a use for and often end up as ground meat.” She droned on, much like a flight attendant, with a cheerful, detached tone.

    I bob my head in approval, wink at her then head for the locker room. I throw on a pair of shorts and equip my cleated sports shoes with steel tips; those always come in handy for inflicting serious damage. I also pocket a pair of steel tipped knuckles and the all-important switch blade.

    Comment too long, view post No.23444 to see the full comment.
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    i like it! as long as it's for a good cause...
    would love to see the switchblade in use a bit as well

    Intro – Welcoming a new battery

    ‘Peace… Good thing it never lasts.’ Isiltoth thought to himself as he admired the gorgeous brown haired woman staring lustfully into his eyes, licking the top of his shaft. Her blue lingerie matched with her turquoise visage. Laid back in his imperially ornate chair, he pondered what should the girl’s fate be. ‘She’s stunning… like most who come here. She could be a spy, sent by that sly bastard Arowin. What an ugly fate would befell this gracious bird if that were the case. Aah, she’s astounding with her tongue – I might even keep her around.’

    “So you’ve come here to be in my service, yes?” the deceptively young-looking wizard asks as he strokes the beautiful girl’s head.
    She briefly pauses stroking with her hands and tongue, looks up and nods with a charming smile.

    “Then you’ll have to accept my sigil – placed upon your body.” Isiltoth states coldly.

    As he led her to the large bed with him, her worries faded and again she was overcome by lust – beckoning the handsome wizard to take her. Her two blue lingerie pieces barely covering her slim, petite frame – she laid down on the red silk bedsheets. Any mere mortal would be overcome by an urge to give way to their sexual desire – but although Isiltoth was aroused and hard, he knew this would be a terrible waste. Fucking her as she was would only dissipate all the sexual mana from his orgasm. Acting coolly, he spread the girl’s legs apart and pulled down her underwear to reveal her juicy sex. Subduing his urge to penetrate her right away, he placed both hands upon her uterus and muttered a chant.

    “Anya. I bind thee to my service. Your body and mind I shall use as I see fit. Serve and live happily or betray and be torn into a million pieces.” He spoke as if possessed, his eyes shining with blue energy and exuding a powerful aura.
    As he withdrew his hands from atop her sex, the contours of a tattoo appeared – artfully painting a over her uterus, going from her slit into a T over the ovaries. This sort of tattoo was not only an erotic marking of slaves, but a conduit for redirecting the sexual energies generated by orgasm into magicka gems.

    Comment too long, view post No.23441 to see the full comment.
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    The Apprentice Trial – use the batteries!

    “You did good. But those were just the basics… Tell me, Nisroth, are you willing to use the very lifeforce of others in your quest for power?” Isiltoth asked young mage.

    He was anxious, yet determined to prove himself. The fire of youth was still blazing inside him, fueling his pursuit of greatness. He knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to prove himself to an arch wizard and be taken in as his apprentice. All his years practicing with magic in his God forgotten village would not go to waste.

    “Yes. What is my next task, master Isiltoth?” asked Nisroth.

    “Very well. Stay here and I shall bring someone to demonstrate your next challenge on. She’ll be pretty, but don’t get your hopes up … she’s not going to be used conventionally.”
    Having lived inside his village with his parents and with little social contact, he was quite the opposite of adept at social encounters, doubly so with girls. He had only caught glimpses of naked girls when they were bathing in the river, but he dared not approach them then – they were distractions from his great cause, anyway. Isiltoth’s words rang inside his head like a gong – over and over again. ‘not used conventionally’ – what could he have meant, was he about to partake in some unholy acts of sodomy? Nisroth did not know.

    After what seemed like an eternity, Isiltoth came back – followed by a beautiful lady with brown hair. She was almost naked, baring only stockings, high heels and a tattoo just above her sex, which Nisroth barely dared catch a glimpse of before averting his gaze in embarrassment. Isiltoth’s watchful eye caught the gesture and he knew this could spell disaster for the young candidate – he was sure his would-be apprentice had never seen a naked woman up close, let alone been with one. This challenge would be all the more difficult for him.


    Comment too long, view post No.23442 to see the full comment.
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    ‘I hope the next girl he brings me isn’t that pretty. I’ll surely regret having to kill a gorgeous girl… no... recycle a battery. They’re no longer more than that… I have to see them… as less than human. Their life is only a source of power. I’ll just… be brave. I’ll be ruthless. I can’t fail now.’ Nisroth soothed his doubtful heart, as he waited impatiently in the dark dank room.

    It was morning the day after Anya’s recycling and Isiltoth had told him he received a batch of batteries to recycle from the city. These had been used to power the various magical implements in the city, but no longer produced much from their orgasms.

    “Well, here they are. This time we’ve got a pair of batteries. They are seemingly inseparable friends – or so I’ve been told. You will do both of them. These are Leah and Liya.“ Isiltoth said as he walked in with two stunning girls in tow and a large grin on his face.

    ‘No way… no fucking way I can do that… they’re… Fuuck. And they just kill those? No fucking way…’ Nisroth was again left awestruck at the incredibly gorgeous girls brought before him. ‘Batteries? These are batteries?’

    Before him were two brunette girls with ridiculous bodies, clad only in a white bra and panties. Both smiled candidly, as if oblivious to what was about to happen – under some form of mind control. Leah had piercing green eyes and a well-rounded curvaceous figure with fair skin. She looked like a bundle of joy, with her joyful smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. Her tits didn’t look big when hidden by the white lace bra, but they were more than a handful. Next to her was Liya - a taller, darker skinned girl with tits nearly as big as her head. She, too, was beautiful, but her brown eyes and dirty smile sparked only lust. In addition to the womb tattoo, she also had a lion’s head tattoo just below her bountiful chest and a flower band tattoo around one of her thighs.

    “Yes. These are batteries. And yes, there is a way. I picked these to challenge you.” The wizard replied to the young mage’s thoughts.

    ‘He’s reading my… you’re reading my thoughts…I… please master Isiltoth!’

    Comment too long, view post No.23443 to see the full comment.

    <You have reached Hill's Culinary Enterprises! Press one for English. Marque dos para Espanol.>

    "One"

    <Thank you for being part of the Hill's Culinary family! Please listen carefully to our menu, and select which option best describes why you are calling us today.>

    ". . ."

    <Press one to find a local store that carries our fine meat products.>

    ". . ."

    <Press two if you want to arrange a bulk delivery.>

    Comment too long, view post No.23414 to see the full comment.
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    Wow! that was a big surprise not very often you see Dolcett parody story :)
    I think it does not count as porn or erotic story but it was interesting to read.
    >>
    Loved the absolute sadism combined with orgasm denial; wish the actual roasting didn't happen "off screen" as it were, though. Still a stellar dolcett-style cannibal story, please write more in this universe!

    Suddenly, Heather knew. She knew that this was her purpose, that she wanted nothing else. Even if it was going to cost her her life, she had to. As soon as she saw the line of red appearing across the blonde girl's neck she felt a rush like never before, and every second seemed like minutes when the girl's head separated from her body and fell towards the floor.

    -

    The ride had stopped in a completely black room, leaving the riders confused about what was going to happen, until the spotlight came on revealing a girl standing in the middle of the floor, all alone, her petite, slim body only concealed by a white summer dress so thin it was practically translucent. She was stunning, with natural blonde hair cut in an even line with her jaw, deep blue eyes, and a natural, rosy complexion. She looked to be about sixteen, and her small, feminine body was covered with silky smooth, milky skin.

    Slowly, while looking straight at the cart but at no person in particular, she reached for the straps of her dress and pulled them aside. The dress drifted lightly towards the floor, its light fabric catching the air as it descended. Her breasts were larger than you would expect on such a slender frame, and they were crowned by puffy nipples surrounded by pale areolas, barely distinguishable from the skin surrounding them. Her stomach was soft and feminine, leading the eyes down to her completely smooth camel toe pussy.

    The boys on the ride were too transfixed by her beauty to even catcall her as they awaited what came next.

    The girl kept her gaze firmly planted forward and took a deep breath, as if she was steadying herself for what was to come. Suddenly, the sound of something mechanical could be heard, and shortly after that a 'whoosh'
    traveled through the air.


    Comment too long, view post No.23401 to see the full comment.
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    Absolutely fantastic story Loke!
    >>
    Superb!
    >>
    Nice! Consensual beheadings for the win!

    A thread where i will post stories i co-write with novelAi or Aidungeon. apologies for any weird inconsistencies and strange language, that’s all part of writing with AI assistance. Feel free to post your own ai guided stories too, or what you think of this-

    DIRTY BRAWL

    There are no rules here. The people who sign up for dirty brawls know exactly what they are getting into. One on one, in a 20x20 foot metal cage, a fight to the death, in the nude. No holds barred. It's not pretty.
    "I'm sorry," said Jimbo, "but I have to get ready." He was standing in his locker room, with his back to me as he prepared himself.
    Jimbo was applying oil to his naked body. The slipperiness of the oil is the only protection he could get in the cage. He has no idea who his opponent could be. This was part of the fun for the organizers of such events. You never knew who you were going to face, and that added an element of excitement to the whole affair. It was like being at a sporting event, but instead of watching two teams go head-to-head, it was two naked people fighting each other. Age and gender had no boundaries. Though the organizers liked making fights one sided for entertainment. They also made sure there was a good mix of men and women in the fights.
    He looked over his shoulder, smiled, and winked at me. I felt my cock start to swell again. Jimbo was a 6 foot tall bruiser, built like a wall of bricks. His muscles rippled under his skin, giving him an almost supernatural appearance. His dark brown hair was cut short, and he wore his eyebrows thickly. He had a strong jawline, and a pair of piercing eyes.
    the event starts in pitch blackness. The only sense was of the mumbling and chatting of the huge crowd. The audience consisted of all ages. The fighters are locked in the cage and stand in separate corners, waiting for the light. When the light kicks on, the fight starts and its only then that them and the crowd find out who they are fighting. A few tense moments pass in darkness as anticipation builds, the crowd going quiet. Then the lights come on, revealing the fighters in their glory.
    The crowd roars with the reveal. On one side is jimbo the giant nude specimen of a man, with a giant and quickly hardening cock, because his opponent looks to be a tiny girl. She couldnt have been taller than 5 feet or older than a highschooler. She has curly red hair down to her shoulders and has freckles covering her cute face and bare chest. Her breasts are a decent c cup, perky and trembling with fear. The crowd roars because we all know this is going to be a fun show.
    The referee walks in between the two fighters, the crowd going wild as he raises his hands to signal the start of the match.
    Jimbo takes a step forward, his cock sticking straight up from his groin, pointing at the ceiling. He starts pacing towards the girl confidently, closing the gap between them quickly. The girl had never expected to be forced to fight a man twice her size. She stumbles ans shrinks back to her corner in defense but her back finds only a metal mesh. It doesnt look like shes even going to try to fight jimbo.
    Jimbo steps up to the cage, taking a knee behind the bars. The girl stands timidly before him, frozen in place. He puts his hand on the bars, and leans forward to speak to her. “Im going to break you, little princess. Welcome to hell”. Tears start welling in the girls eyes and before she has a chance to sob, jimbo’s heavy fist lands straight in her flat stomach, blowing the wind out of her. She falls to the ground gasping for air.

    Comment too long, view post No.23417 to see the full comment.
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    This story is NOTHING like the first one. It is much more slow burn and psychological with way less action. But if youre into the really fucked up psychological shit than go ahead. Not really sure if this belongs here so let me know about that. I understand if you want to skip this one, but the AI gave me so many twists and turns that i think its a decent read.

    Female genital mutilation is a practice that has been practiced in Africa for centuries. The act involves the removal of part or all of the external female genitalia, usually performed without anesthesia on girls between infancy and age 15.
    The procedure is typically done by an older woman with no medical training. It is a cultural tradition that was brought to America from Africa and now continues to be practiced among many African-American communities here.
    According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), approximately 3 million women in the United States have undergone this type of cutting, which is also referred to as "female circumcision." The CDC estimates that one in five black girls will undergo the procedure before their 18th birthday.
    Although FGM/C is illegal in most states, it still happens because there are few consequences for those who perform the procedures. One of these poor girls is 11 year old Natasha. She is a victim of female genital mutilation and she's being forced to go through the procedure again at her grandmother's house. Her mother is too ashamed to tell anyone about what happened to her daughter and so she keeps it hidden. Natashas mutilation was done in her bedroom, by her two brothers and father. They had used a razor blade to cut off part of her clitoris and labia. When they were finished they told her not to say anything to anyone.
    Natasha doesn't know how much more pain she can take. She's only eleven years old and already she has been through so much. She knows she needs help but she doesn't want to get caught. That's why she goes to the school counselor, Mr.Boko. He promises he'll keep her secret if she tells him what happened. But when Natasha finally opens up, things don't quite work out the way she planned.
    Mr.Boko is going to have to do some digging himself. The first thing he asks Natasha is to show him her wounds. Natasha hesitates at first, but then she reluctantly pulls down her pants and shows him her wounds. Mr.Boko is shocked by what he sees. He feels so sorry for Natasha and wants to help her, but he's also worried that someone might find out what he did. He asks natasha to describe in detail how they did it. She says “I felt my insides ripping apart. I tried to scream but no sound came out. My vagina burned like fire and the blood gushed out of me. I started crying but the tears just wouldn't stop coming.”
    Mr.Boko calls the police and the detectives begin their investigation. They interview everyone involved and eventually arrest Natasha's parents. They're both charged with Female Genital Mutilation and conspiracy to commit FGM. Natasha has to go to court and testify against her parents. During the long proceedings, she would have to relive her experiences many times. And each time she would have to watch her mother and father being sentenced to prison.
    Natasha was very brave throughout the entire ordeal. She never once blamed herself for what happened to her. Instead, she always spoke about how lucky she was to have such a great support system in Mr.B. Many times she would burst into tears and mr. B would comfort her.
    Natasha had grown up in a small community where FGM was common. She had no idea that what happened to her was wrong. She thought it was normal and that other girls went through the same thing. It wasn't until she saw a documentary on TV about FGM that she realized what she had been through was not right.
    Now Natasha is an adult living in New York City. She's gotten over the pain and trauma of her past and has become a strong, independent woman. It took natasha a long time to ever let a man see her mutilated privates, but she finally met someone who made her feel safe enough to open up to him. She fell in love with a handsome young doctor named Martin. After a few dates, Martin asked Natasha to meet him at his apartment. He wanted to give her something special. He led her to the bedroom and there lying on the bed was a beautiful white dress. Martin said, "This is for you."
    Martin gently helped Natasha put on the dress. As she stepped into it, she felt like a princess. The dress fit perfectly. She looked in the mirror and saw a radiant woman looking back at her. She smiled and began to cry. She didn't know what to say or how to react. That night was the first time their makeout sessions developed into real love making.

    Comment too long, view post No.23418 to see the full comment.

    Temari's eyes widened and she let out a choked gasp as the thin metal wire slashed through the soft skin of her pale neck. Blood began to gush from her wound and drip down into her cleavage as she dropped to her knees, her fan tumbling to the ground beside her while her hands instinctively reached up to her neck, desperately trying in vain to hold in the crimson liquid pouring from the open gash. She let out a few more pathetic gurgles of panicked protest as the shinobi that struck her lingered to watch from the shadows for a brief moment instead of leaving to catch up with her platoon right away.

    Temari's life began to fade from her eyes and her arms fell like lead to her sides as she bled out before finally slumping forward, her face pressed to the dirt and her ass up in the air. The shinobi grinned and hummed in contented excitement at the sight before dashing off to catch up with her comrades as drool dripped from the dead kunoichi's slack tongue and her bladder began to relax, a damp spot of wetness beginning to spread in her panties and trickling down her thighs to pool around her knees in a shameful puddle of piss fit for the corpse of a ninja that wasn't quite quick enough.

    (first time writing guro lol let me know if there's any desire to do other/longer oneshots with Naruto characters or even Overwatch characters)
    >>
    Very well-written, and straight to the point without 100 paragraphs of preamble. Would definitely be interested in reading more!
    >>
    >>15999
    Yes, more cute kunoichis being mercilessly murdered by their enemies. Write one about Ino patrolling in Konoha at night and being garroted by an enemy ninja. Also I disagree a bit with Chalk, preamble are nice IMo, spending a little time with a character before she is killed in her prime

    I draw my suppressed gun and quietly enter my targets hotel room. There he was, Santiago, in bed with two naked little girls no older than ten. A little blonde and a little redhead. He smiled gleeful at the little girls discomfort as he rubbed the shaft of his penis against the little blonde girls vagina that was clearly to small for him and fingered the little redheads pussy. My finger hovered over the trigger; the bounty was finally mine.
    I quickly turned the corner and put a bullet in his head before he could react. His blood splattered the wall behind him and the little blonde gasped in fright and stared up at me, her eyes wide. The little redhead was frozen like a statue, eyes locked traumatically onto the hole in the now dead man’s head.
    “Sorry about this girls, no witnesses…”
    I raise my gun again and fire twice. The little blonde grunts in pain as the bullets impact her chest and she is thrown back against the bed. The little readhead is snapped out of her stupor and screams at the top of her lungs as she watched her best friend get shot before her eyes. I turn my gun toward her and silenced her with a clean headshot. Her head snaps back and she falls off the side of the bed, hitting the carpet with a soft thud. I put one final bullet into the little blondes head and I turn to leave the room, closing the door behind me. One man and two kids. Easiest million I ever made.

    This fictional short story will immerse you in a weekend in the life of two lesbian girlfriends and the absolute blast that they had while "borrowing" the daughter of a woman that they meet at the Zoo.
    This story is NOT to be reproduced in real life, take a chapter from Mr. Rodgers and be a good neigbor to others ok, we only live once, be a good influence on the world, this is FANTASY only!

    This story contains rape scat and watersports, specifically 2 lesbian women brutally fucking an unconcious girl for fun, and is not for the weak of heart, but is for the wet sadistic pussy or throbbing sadistic dick. It is officially in the "epic life" universe, but alot more tame, and meant for a quick read while on lunch at the office or at home taking care of the kids during the few seconds that an overworked mother has to herself in her bathroom with her dildo, so I apologie for the brevity.

    Now enjoy, as with my other works, A couple of suggested songs to play on your earbuds as you masturbate and suggested vibrator settings is included to make the story more interactive. Now, tell the coworkers that your headed to the bathroom, or tell the kids that mommas going to take a thirty minute break, and enjoy!
    Lawrence Zoo, Ravenville South Carolina.

    Virgina Wallace twiddled her thumbs as the SUV infront of her spent ages dropping off what seemed like two whole families worth of kids as she sat there looking for an open parking space.

    Virginia sighed in relief as the SUV finally pulled away and she found the perfect spot to park her Jeep Wrangler. After quickly shifting to park she glanced in the mirror and smiled. At 28 years old, she wasn't as young as she wished that she was, but she still retained a youthful, almost teenage look. Her long golden curly hair was something that she wished she could cut, but her girlfriend Kristen insisted that she keep it. Virginias green eyes sparkled as she imagined the fun time that she and Kristen were about to have at the Zoo, and for what they had planned for the next few evenings if things went right.

    The low black halter top that Virginia wore showed off both of her C cups to the point that if it were cut any lower both of her nipples would pop free, exactly how Virginia liked it. Virginia shifted her perfect apple bottom in her seat as she unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her purse.

    Comment too long, view post No.23372 to see the full comment.

    She was almost shaking from the nerves.
    She was right to be, she knew that in only a few minutes she would be dead. The thought took up her whole mind, with no room for almost anything else. Over and over it turned in her head; she was going to die. She was going to die. She was really about to die. It had probably only been a couple of minutes since she walked in, she had been just on time when she left to come here. But she had left her phone behind, along with all her other belongings, so there was no way now to keep track of the time and it felt like it had been an hour or more.
    Sitting in a single folding chair alone in the small room, she fiddled with a strand of her long, dark hair without thinking, wrapping it around a finger and unraveling it. Waiting, anticipating.
    She was so high-strung by the time the knock on the door came that she almost jumped out of her seat. The door opposite from the one she came in opened; "Amy?" the man who had come in said. "Everything's ready. Just to make sure, you still want to do this?" She could barely make a sound for a moment. "Y-yes, I'm sure." Her voice steadied slightly as she continued, "The more I wait the more nervous I'll get. Let's get it done quick." He nodded approval, "All right then." With that she stood, and then nearly fell as her vision fuzzed and she was hit with a wave of dizziness. The man caught her arm, supporting her and looking with surprising concern from someone who was about to take her life. "It's all right. Anyone would be a bit nervous. Just through here." guiding her through the door and into a dim, medium-sized warehouse.
    The only light shone down on a table near the closest wall. Her quickening breath seeming loud in her ears, her footsteps echoing as she took step after step toward it, knowing what waited at the end of her short journey.

    I was almost awed when I opened the door, looking at the young woman sitting in the waiting room. She had sent me pictures when we were setting up this meeting, everything had been through the internet, but it didn't compare.
    She was gorgeous. Even in simple nondescript clothes, she was stunning. Her body of course was sexy, I had chosen her for it, but her looks struck me again as I stepped into the room, the sort of effortless beauty that's hard to define and impossible to imitate. A detached, dumb part of my brain absently said, 'maybe I'm in love?'. Though it was the first time I had seen her in person, the photos I had seen clearly didn't lie.
    Continuing into the room after that short moment, I confirmed her name, and made sure she was ready. She nearly stumbled as she got up, but after helping her through into the main building she steadied out and stepped almost confidently, proudly, towards her demise.
    I had prepared for this days, weeks in advance, carefully choosing the time and location, choosing the woman herself, buying supplies and equipment, and arranging for everything to be in place on the most important, and last, night of her life. I led her over to the table, openly admiring her as we went. Noticing, she gave a slight smile and looked near her feet. A bit shy, then, or anxious to get on with it.
    As we came closer I pointed out the clear plastic I had hung, an obvious precaution to make the cleaning easier. The large-ish canvas on the wall, backed by a heavy plate. And on the table, the only centerpiece to be seen except herself, sat the gun I would be using. It was almost a small cannon, I had built it myself exactly for the task as well as custom crafted the bullets it fired. "You'll do fine" I told her as we approached. "Now just undress and stand right on the spot I marked."
    Even though it wouldn't matter in a moment, she still seemed embarrassed to strip, then she gave a quick, hesitant laugh at it when she realized the irony. She folded her clothes neatly on the table next to her execution weapon, which seemed almost funny considering the circumstances. As she did, I noted distractedly that she wore no panties under her shorts. She stepped out of her shoes, peeled off the socks, and put them all underneath. Then she stood there, ready, right in front of me.
    "Would you like a blindfold? I know you'll be facing away but it might help anyway." She shook her head slightly, hair slipping off her ears. "No, I want to try and see... it before, uh..." she trailed off. "All right. Well I'd like to tie your hands though if that's all right, just as a personal preference." This earned me another nervous near-giggle as she nodded, turning, and I took out a length of rope, locking her arms behind her waist and wrapping her wrists snugly. But not so tight as if I expected her to try to escape, of course. Then everything was ready.

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    8 posts omitted. Click Reply to view.
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    Maddie's day was not starting out well.
    She had just gotten out of bed and put her uniform on for another day of work when she heard her name being called from down the hall. She rushed to see what was the matter and found her master standing at his desk waiting for her: "Finally, I was wondering when you'd show up. Didn't I tell you yesterday to take care of the papers here?" She couldn't remember him saying anything like that, in fact he usually didn't like her to be in any of his rooms besides for the bare minimum of cleaning.
    She opened her mouth to say so but before she managed a single word, a hand came out of nowhere to casually hit her across her face. Surprised, she took a step back as her glasses went flying to the floor somewhere. As she bent down to retrieve them, he followed it up with a lazy kick to her side that knocked her to the ground. She simply collapsed there, closing her eyes tight and bracing herself for the beating. But nothing came and after a few seconds of quiet she opened her eyes, crawled to her glasses and put them on, then got up to a kneeling position in front of her master. She knew he would punish her for making him wait just the same as he would punish her if he thought she was resisting.
    He looked down at her for a moment, making sure there was no sign of defiance, then told her "So don't you think you should apologize now?"
    "Yes, master! I'm sorry!" She hurried to comply, in case he felt the need to make the point some more. "I don't know why I didn't remember, I just thought---" "Shut up." He cut her off, making her flinch. "I'm tired of hearing useless excuses from you, it seems like you can't even apologize right." He continued on, as if stating simple facts despite that she was now pitifully trembling from the blows and verbal assault. "You're useless around here and all you do is keep making excuses and complaining. That's another thing, too! I can't stand complainers! You keep telling me it's too cold in your rooms, or your uniforms fit too tight, or there's not enough food, it's always something else from you."
    "Master, I---" She stopped herself from contradicting him just in time; she knew she hadn't voiced a complaint since the first time he asked how she liked her accommodations, and after the immediate punishment that followed she had learned to keep quiet. She substituted instead another "I'm sorry," keeping her eyes on his shoes.
    "Apologizing is all fine now, but you can't make excuses forever." He kept going as if he had barely heard. "This time I want you to make it right." She fought the urge to shy away as he crouched down to her level, moving closer. Freezing in place like an animal was her only defense now, she was too frightened for even a thought or a hope. "What do you think is a good way for you to make up for being so useless and pathetic?" She could only go along with it now, "I don't know, master."
    "The only way you can make up for your fuckups now is with your death. I want you to end your worthless life, can you do that for me?" As the meaning of his words hit, they sent a shiver through her body and tears to her eyes. Was this really going to make up for her mistakes? But... "If that's what you want, master." She risked raising her eyes for a moment, almost believing it could be a horrible joke and he'd be wearing a cruel smile, but he was as matter-of-fact as he ever was when dealing with her, whenever he wasn't angry that is.
    "Good girl." he told her, and the rare praise made it somehow easier for her to accept. "Here's how you're going to do it: I want you to cut your throat. I hear it was a popular method with women in Japan, it should be easy enough for you." And with that, he took a long knife out of a sheath at his back and put it in her hands. For a moment she sat motionless, her eyes glued to the razor sharp edge, then she snapped herself out of the trance to say a shaky "Y-yes, master. Thank you, master."
    Almost half believing she was in a dream, she raised the knife to the left side of her neck, trying to steady it with her other hand on the blade, but both hands were shaking so badly she nearly opened up a cut unintentionally. She bit her lower lip, hard, both in concentration and to try to stop the tears she felt coming. After several deep breaths, she managed to get the shaking under control enough to lay the edge to her throat, resting there feeling like a victory by itself for some reason. The blade really was sharp, she thought. Maybe it was just her nervous imagination that she felt a tiny trickle of blood just from that much. As she began bracing herself to make the sideways jerk that would have to come next, she tried not to think about the pain or her fear, or anything at all really.
    But the small victory was short-lived, as the sobs burst out of her in spite of all her effort, and her arms fell to her sides. Useless after all, just like master said. She was crying too hard to speak for a minute as he stood by and watched in mild disappointment. Getting her composure back bit by bit, she frantically stammered hiccupy apologies as she reached for the knife again, her hand shaking even worse than before. To her surprise though, he reached in and took it from her; her hands went limp as she couldn't think what she was supposed to do now. Did she dare ask for him to give it back? Had it just been a test?
    "You're fucking it up, of course," she heard. "I'm going to have to fix your mistake for you again. Cleaning up after you, as usual." He moved close beside her, and for the first time she could remember him showing any kind of care for her, he was gently wiping her face dry with a handkerchief, then carefully smoothing her hair. She almost burst into tears again when she realized what was happening, and she was shocked so numb that she only nodded without thinking when she heard him ask "You'd like me to do it for you, wouldn't you?"
    Satisfied with just the nod, though, he finished with her face and stood, pacing away down the room. "So it's settled. But this is quite a favor for you to ask me, especially since you're the servant here. You're supposed to be making less work for me, not more. So what would you do in return to make it worth my while?" She could hardly think for a second, everything seemed to have rushed past her in a blur from the start. "What?" she came out of the daze, even forgetting her manners. Too late she realized that was an offense that could have earned her even more punishment, though it mattered less now.

    Comment too long, view post No.23084 to see the full comment.
    >>
    He sat waiting for his date on the coffeeshop's patio. The man hadn't touched the cup in almost a quarter of an hour, he just needed an excuse to wait for her. he always makes sure to be early anyway, just in case. The weather was perfect for it though, he noticed, the late summer sun cooled down with a slight breeze. She would be coming around any minute, and he was looking forward to it. Right on time, he watched her turn the corner. She was a short redhead, hair cut close to frame a cute face and wearing a deliciously light outfit that showed off her soft stomach and thighs. She came down the sidewalk, glancing around the street, and he took a closer look at his mark from behind his sunglasses. There were probably a dozen others on the street surreptitiously joining him in eyeballing her as the spring in her step bounced her generous tits slightly, but red ribbon choker around her throat caught his eye in particular. It was their private signal just to ensure no lookalike got caught up in the little game, though, he thought, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing... She headed past the corner without even looking his direction. As planned, she would soon be continuing on to the shady alley where the fun would begin. He had arranged a route for her that led through a few likely spots as well, so she would never know exactly where he was about to "meet" her until too late.
    As soon as she was out of sight he left cash on the table and headed around to his shortcut so he could be waiting when she came around. Timing is key here, and he had worked out the route to perfection so there was nothing left to chance. He made it to his position with a few moments to spare, and considered his options while he blended into the late afternoon shadows. There was no fun in a quick kill, he definitely intended to savor the encounter, but too much noise would attract attention and any passers-by would definitely kill the mood. As he unsheathed the long knife strapped under his jacket, he decided it would really depend on how easy she was. She had agreed to the meeting knowing what he had planned, after all, but if she had a change of heart halfway through he might have to cut the date short --- shorter than intended, at least.
    Her footsteps broke him out of his train of thought as she unknowingly came into his line of sight for the second time in half an hour. She was now walking slowly and purposefully, carefully keeping herself from looking anywhere but ahead. She was b

    Comment too long, view post No.23195 to see the full comment.
    >>
    >>15815
    I love it, consensual snuff without shaming. I may be a weirdo here, but dom/sub turns me off. I want girls to die just because it's awesome.
    >>
    realized i have only written one on one so far, thought i would change it up and make it a group scenario. so here's the lineup:

    cass: d cup, brunette, shoulder length. death fetish, makes april play a client snuffing her when they fuck
    ally: b cup, brunette, past waist. newest slut in the group, virgin
    christine: c cup, blonde, pixie hair. secretly betting with herself how rude she can be to the customers without getting killed
    april: d cup, redhead, wavy mid-back length. has been fucking cass in her time off since the day they met. would do almost anything for her
    >>
    Four young women walk through the dimly lit hallway of snuff club. They're all on the free kill list, and they've all just survived one more shift, mostly by luck.
    Christine, the tomboyish blonde, has been a snuff slut the longest out of all of them at just over three weeks, and it's a miracle someone hasn't killed her yet despite her attitude with the customers; most of them must find her amusing. She has a protective arm around Ally, a taller, quiet girl with straight brown hair that falls past her waist. The new girl is visibly shaken after her first day, and Christine reassures her: "Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes, just stick near me tomorrow. You'll still be serving drinks for the first few days anyway, and nobody ever wants to kill you when you're the one bringing their booze." The timid brunette nodded, clutching the other girl's arm like a life preserver as they walked.
    The other two are paired off as well, April and Cass all over eachother with not much attention for anything else. Cass has an arm over April's shoulder, squeezing the girl's tit. She isn't paying much attention to the other slut, however. Instead, she's daydreaming her favorite fantasy of her own demise, imagining how dozens of bullets would feel tearing through her beautiful body, how much more sexy she would be dying on the ground, soaked in blood. Over the short time she's been working at the club, she's started to become incredibly turned on by the death all around her, especially the idea of meeting her own early end. Her partner April, a shorter girl with waves of red hair down her back, is a bit more focused. Cass's lightly tanned body is the best out of the four and April is giving it the attention it deserves, stroking and nuzzling into her, admiring her with just a hint of jealousy.
    As they turn a corner all four are stopped short by two men blocking their way, the distracted two in the rear almost bump into the pair in front. The men stand outside one of the private rooms looking like security or bodyguards, seeming not to care that they're blocking most of the narrow hallway. Christine is the first one to move after a second, walking purposefully towards them, already telling them off. "Hey! Don't you know there's a hallway here? Why don't you scoot to the side a bit?" Ally follows after a moment's hesitation, hurrying to try to slow her down. "Wait, *please* hold on! They might---" She never finished as, without warning or hesitation, one of the men drew a silenced pistol from his suit jacket and fired directly into Christine's chest, stopping her short. Finally out of luck, she falls backward with the softest grunt of surprise, a single bullet fatally through her heart. She's dead in moments, no time even to struggle. A second after, Ally realizes what happened, letting out a cry as she collapses by her side, burying her face in her would-be mentor's lifeless shoulder. Meanwhile Cass watches it all, mesmerized as her deadly fantasies start to become reality.
    It all moves on quickly from there. The man who had shot Christine took her by the ankles and pulled her body into the doorway, leaving a smear of blood on the carpet. The other turned to the surviving three and instructed them "All right, sluts. Everyone inside, now."
    Cass and April, still in each other's arms, move obediently through the door into a room furnished with all kinds of snuff implements. As they enter they take in tables of weapons, restraints, a gallows, guillotine, and a couple of more exotic devices. Meanwhile Ally is too shocked to get up, sitting on the floor in a daze. Her client isn't patient enough to let her rest though, so he wraps a hand in her hair, dragging her into the room after the other two and throwing her down roughly near where the dead blonde now lies in the center of the room. Both men focus on punishing her for a minute, sending dozens of brutal kicks into her defenseless body. Cass, still watching, feels a bit of pity for the new girl, and a bit left out, anyway. She is certain now that they're all going to die tonight, but she was ready for it, she thought, and aching to be snuffed already. Why not try to provide a distraction for the poor girl? So she did the only thing she could think to and knelt down near the two men, looking up at them with her best doe eyes, hoping they would take notice. Eventually one did glance towards her, and Cass took her chance and turned up the charm. "Please, sir. Won't you hurt me too?"
    He laughed at her boldness, and took out a wicked knife that made her heart flutter. "Play with Red," he told her, "We're busy." Then faster than she could blink, he expertly threw the blade into her thigh. She inhaled sharply, hands going to her wounded leg, then after a moment pulled it out, gasping "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
    She retreated, limping and dripping fresh blood, to April's side to offer the handle to her shyly. "Are you sure?" whispered the redhead, "I... don't know if I can." "I'm ready. Please." replied Cass, pressing the knife into the other girl's reluctant hands. "Wherever you want. As hard as you can." as she dropped to her knees, closed her eyes tight, and raised her arms behind her head, leaving herself completely vulnerable. April hesitated as her willing victim took a shivering breath, biting her lip. Not wanting to make her wait any longer, though, the girl stepped forward, before she can lose her nerve, and with all the strength she could put behind it, jammed the blade into Cass's soft tummy. The eager slut let out an "Ooof!" and slumped over, cradling the knife sticking out of her. April could hardly believe what she had done, in a rush she was by her lover's side, trying to confort her. Cass was a tough girl though, and after a second she sat up, and with some effort pulled the knife out, releasing a spurt of blood. She turned to her partner, rewarding her with a short kiss; after the taste she got of the knife she was more excited than ever. She offered it back again, but April shook her head. Blushing nervously, she told Cass "You... do me this time." By this time both men are taking a break to watch, Ally lying still behind them, so April decided to give them a show. She tossed her hair back, showing off her body like a dancer, slipping out of her tiny bikini top. Working her way down to her knees to follow Cass's lead, she ended with her arms up, eyes shut, ready and waiting for her turn to take the knife. She felt Cass press her curves against her back, nearly jumped suddenly the point of the knife slid down her chest. The tip moved over her skin, around her body and down her spine, up and over her right tit with just enough pressure to make her whimper. Cass made her move then, April felt her tense up, and her eyes popped open just in time to see the knife plunge into her side. She wasn't finished yet though, the redhead had no time to move as the blade disappeared into her twice more, the last one ending up sinking all the way in her belly button. She kept herself from screaming, but she couldn't help but let out a moan as streams of blood begin to trickle down her stomach. "Three... no fair," she gulped "I only gave you one." "That's what you get for being such a sexy bitch" Cass whispered in her ear, and gave a half twist before pulling it roughly back out, taking her breath away.
    Cass held the long knife out to the men then, blade pointing inwards toward herself and April, and gave them a provocative look, daring then to come join in. She explored her partner with her free hand, squeezing her tits, running through her hair, playing with her blood, as one of the men appeared to accept her invitation and stepped toward the pair. As he took the knife, Cass nudged April forward, hoping to watch her die as well before it was her own turn. He didn't seem to care which of them went first, as he took the unresisting slut by her throat, lifting her to her feet, and pushed the knife into her stomach, just using her to hold it for him for now. Taking out a handful of large zipties, he tossed them to Cass and told her "Make yourself useful, slut. Tie her hands behind her back for me." She went to work immediately, maybe even *too* enthusiastic, twisting her friend's arms into place and tying them snugly; she's had a little experience in bondage that she shows off now. The girl's arms are up behind her back in no time, unable to move barely an inch, her wrists, arms, and elbows tied together. "Now her feet" he says, and she goes to work again. Once she's done with her legs she thinks she's finished, when he tells her "Now her neck." This gives her a moment of pause: did he really want...? He looked pretty serious, she thought. Her slut gave her a smile as she threaded the plastic around her neck, but couldn't completely hide a glimmer of fear and pain. The lovers kept staring into each others' eyes as Cass tightened down this last strap just under her chin, enjoying the complete control, the willingness, and helplessness, of her partner. She paused when it was just snug, looking to the man for approval, and got one word in response: "Tighter." She cinched down several ratchets, the edges biting into April's smooth skin. "Tighter." Another adjustment, their hearts racing together as Cass pulled the redhead's airway closed little by little. "Tighter." Her breathing was rough and strangled by the time he was satisfied, the strip of plastic deeply indented into her neck and her face beginning to turn red. Cass wastes a bit of her precious air with a long kiss, leaving her wheezing desperately when she finally breaks away. The man is bringing out a blindfold meanwhile, tying it around her eyes; she's totally helpless. Unable to move, her breath constricted, unable to even see the next attack coming. Her executioner tied one last restraint, a rope from around her body up to a hook in the ceiling, to support her weight when she would inevitably fall. Then he picked up where he left off, pulling the knife out of her and considering where to put it next.
    He decides on a breast, April's are large and inviting; too good to leave alone. He squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh for a few moments, before holding it roughly in place and driving the knife straight through, from bottom to top. The injury earns a gasp from both girls, one of agony from April and one of arousal from Cass, who had been unable to keep from rubbing herself while watching the bloody spectacle. He looked over at the distraction briefly, where the snuff-happy whore was turning pink in embarrassment, then gestured to the other man (take care of this, will you?) and turned back to focus on his current victim. She had to bite her lip as he began fingering the hole in her navel, more blood running down her stomach from the abuse. He casually drove the knife into her several more times, slipping it quickly between her ribs. A strangled sob escaped her and she almost buckled under the assault, but she recovered and managed somehow to remain proudly upright, giving her best as she approached her final moments. Then he carefully put the edge against the nipple of her uninjured breast and neatly sliced the sensitive spot in half. The pain became too much, and she gave a weak scream that ended with her choking and coughing up a mouthful of blood. Thick streams of crimson drip from her lips, drizzling down her chin and painting her bare chest as she takes a rattling breath. "You're making too much noise, darling. I'm going to have to shut you up now." and with a sudden yank he zipped her throat closed completely. She opened her mouth wide, desperately searching for air and overwhelmed with pain. Then the man cut her struggle short by burying the knife in her back, skewering her heart. She jerked once, surprised, then went limp, her body beautifully dangling over a pool of blood. He watches her corpse swing sightly in her bindings, her head hanging, body covered in red blood and face hidden in red hair.
    Meanwhile, the other customer has been warming up on Cass. He starts by shooting her in the legs from across the room. She watches, fascinated, as bloody holes punch through her plump thighs one by one, panting with pain as each bullet impacts. Soon she couldn't have gotten up from where she knelt if she wanted to. Occasionally one will go high and hit her in the stomach, making her groan. As she tries uselessly to hold back the blood, she's distracted by a scream, and as she turns to look she's rewarded with the sight of April losing her life. She can only watch and wish she had been the one holding the knife, but even just as a spectator she can still savor the view as the girl she loves is slaughtered.
    April's killer takes the body to the others, dumping her roughly by Christine. Then he checks on Ally to find that the terrified young slut is now awake, suppressing her panicked breathing and trying not to attract attention. He drags her to her feet, calling the other man over as he walks her across the room: "This one was faking, sneaky little whore! I don't think she's learned her lesson!" She whimpers aloud as she hears this, earning herself a slap across the face, but she's unable to hold back another cry of despair when she sees her destination, the gallows against the far wall. Marching her up the steps to the platform, he takes a spare ziptie and cinches her wrists behind her back. Then he drops the noose over her head and gently pulls her long hair free from the rope, taking his time to enjoy its silky weight sliding through his hands as he spreads it over her shoulders. They're face to face for a moment, there are tears in her eyes and a tremble in her voice as she begs "Please! I don't want to die, I just needed the money so bad." He turns without a word, stepping off the platform. Her desperation growing, "They said I wasn't supposed to get killed this quickly, it's only my first day! I'm not ready!" The men chuckle at that, and her horror and panic grow as she sees one getting ready with the lever. "No, no, wait! I'm not legal! I lied on the application, I'm only s---hgk!" The platform falls away, leaving her over a heart-stopping drop before the rope snaps tight as it catches her by the throat. She dances for the two men, kicking and arching her back, slowly turning to show every angle of her slim body. "You think she's telling the truth?" "Hard to tell. I wouldn't take her word for it." Both men watch her twitch in midair for a bit, then growing bored they used her dying body for target practice, one taking a few lazy shots while the other threw knives until she hung lifeless.
    Cass watched the execution from the sidelines, slumped against a wall where she had been left for the moment. She rubbed herself slowly, still awake enough to be aroused by the death, but slowly fading from blood loss and losing strength to do much else. She dimly realized they would be coming for her next, to finally finish the job. Sure enough, one of the men comes over and she smiles up at him weakly, welcoming the end. He drags her to the others, giving her the opportunity to see April's body in her own final moments, and lays her down to the side. She sees her killer carefully take out a garrote, the wire as fine as a thread, and passes it around her neck. Then she feels a tug at her throat, and realizes she's been cut as blood spurts out, the stream pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She involuntarily makes a pitiful noise through her severed throat, but her strength is gone and she can only lie quietly, her breath gurgling softly as she bleeds out.

    Comment too long, view post No.23347 to see the full comment.

    1325056
    Sherri's luck smiles when she comes across a gorgeous, flirty waitress with a promising tongue stud. She'll take her (and her pretty heels) home.

    The charming, witty Sherri hides a sinister secret, down in her bloody basement. The dark-haired lesbian nurtures a deep obsession with gorgeous women and their even prettier feet and she doesn't splitting the two apart, to broaden her morbid collection.
    “Hmm, you could look more chipper” Sherri, pondered looking at the girl’s heavy eyelids and blood-shot eyes, her torment too much for consciousness. “I know what will wake you up” Sherri left her toy for a moment, returning with a small black box and two electrode cables that ended in two crocodile clips. The box was Sherri’s modified old car battery, which instead of 12 Volts now operated at 50 V, a potentially lethal and definitely dangerous amount.
    Gabrielle was at this point, too exhausted to put up a fight, resorting only to weakly moaning and minimal nervous shifting. Her pussy was scorched and torn and with her leg starting to cramp from the strain, the red-faced black girl was holding on for dear life.

    “Come on, haha, give it to me” Sherri referred to the woman’s tongue, which she was trying to clamp with the electrode clip, shoving it through the girl’s wide ring-gag. Despite holding the girl’s head still by a handful of her puffy hair, Gabi was ‘strangely’ not cooperating, turning her face away and sneaking her pierced tongue in the back of her mouth. Eventually the girl’s flopping ‘fishy’ took the bait and was “hooked” between the fierce teeth of the clamp.

    Gabi had gotten some energy back already, cursing obscenities at Sherri who was dead-focused on clipping the second electrode securely onto the girl’s tongue, next to the first croc-clip. “There, all set” the white naked woman said, as one black and one red cable were now running through Gabrielle’s pried-open mouth and down to floor, where they were connected to the car battery, sitting beside Sherri.

    Gabi’s English-accented gibberish now sounded even funnier to Sherri, with the girl’s cable-hooked tongue making things even more difficult for her. Despite her attempts to seem defiant, the girl could not hide her heavy breathing of dreadful anticipation, as her tongue was sticking through her ring-gag.
    “Aaaaand showtime!” Sherri cheered as she squatted over the black box and looking up at her toy to not miss any lovely reaction, pressed the ON button on the modified battery. 50 mA of electrical current, an intensity belonging in the “extremely painful shock” category by official standards, moved in a flash from the battery to the waitress’ tongue. Gabrielle did not utter any sound, the debilitating pain freezing her lungs to ineffectiveness, but she did jerk delightfully before Sherri’s eyes, her whole body tensing and forced to “dance” with electricity as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.


    Comment too long, view post No.23103 to see the full comment.
    1 posts omitted. Click Reply to view.
    >>
    >>15669
    I agree - kinda goes against the "spirit" of this site...
    >>
    >>15669

    I don't make multiple threads, just the one for each story.

    I also have posted all complete guro stories i have in this forum. They're called Kids Murder Club, if you wanna check them out. :)


    It's fine if you consider this spam, but keep it mind that it might interest someone else, either to read this small segment or to purchase the story.
    >>
    Allowing artists to sometimes post (their own) paywalled work here, as long as paywalled content is not the majority of work posted on the site, helps maintain the existence of a market for this kind of art, and thus the existence of a set of artists who create such art, which results in more people viewing and producing guro art of both the free and paywalled varieties, so at the end of the day we benefit.

    feed the artists and the artists feed the community, feed the community and the community feeds us. again, as long as paywalled content is not the majority of work posted on the site.
    >>
    >>15795
    I think that's fine for everyone, just that Denkira7 did not post anything else on GC and on the previous version it had different name.
    If artist is posting free content some spam is completely tolerable.
    >>
    Some "advertising"[i] could be tolerated, if it is not overdone AND if it is marked as such in the very beginning of a post, e.g. in the subject. Instead of being frustrated and upset the reader would be free to decide, whether to skip the text or to give it a try. Crippled texts without warning are spam.[/i]

    Tags: Assassins, reference to matricide, mentions of asphyx, John Wick-esque inspired setting

    So I've been sitting with this document on my laptop for weeks now and what more ironic a day than this of all 365 in the year that I'd finally find the motivation to share it! Big shoutout to Eficient, who is easily my biggest inspiration as far as the snuff genre of writing goes (sorry I took so long!)

    There was a story I read 'here' on Gurochan quite a few years ago, a drabble of some 1k words (maybe 1.5? less?) describing the scenario of a young hitwoman carrying out a contract to assassinate her own mother (also an assassin, implying the daughter inherited the trade) but this was long before I found the drive to so much as comment on a thread, let alone post something like this myself. Truth be told, while I suspect there were some number of satisfied readers at the time I personally found it lackluster despite my fixation on the execution method (strangling via garrote) but rest assured I mean no disrespect toward the writer if you're still out there. I don't blame them for not tailoring their work to suit my exact tastes, and the reasons why aren't worth going into detail on... What matters here is that some time after reading it I decided to imagine a different version, a perspective of events that kept the eroticism found within the act of the kill itself while both heightening and decidedly altering the emotions involved... But then I got lazy and decided to leave that part entirely to my imagination rather than put it into words, and after all this time the best I could do to kick things off was formulate a vision of the aftermath.

    So here it is, the 'followup' to a nameless story wherein I decide to bestow names upon the formerly nameless, establish character motivations and perhaps throw in a touch of worldbuilding!
    Serena trembles as she catches her breath, the physical exertion of maintaining her grip on the garrote barely registering amongst the thoughts flooding her mind. "She really couldn't stop me..." the young woman mumbles aloud, habit overtaking her desire to keep at the notion of stealth. A memory surfaces, She is twelve and panicking at the feeling of a cord wrapped around her neck. "The most important thing is to remain calm, dear." She remembers that voice, the careful instruction of how best to escape precisely such a situation. But Mother had also explained how the attacker could counter those escape measures, and Serena had been distinctly aware of them just now. She'd been ready to follow any movement her target could make, and had done so flawlessly. "...Why, then?" she mutters softly.

    An even more deeply rooted instinct triggers suddenly, pushing everything else from her mind. With the target neutralized, there was no reason to remain at the scene. The contract hadn't included any specific post-mortem instructions, therefore protocol was to leave the corpse where it had fallen. All that remained was a basic inspection to check the area for evidence, and take her leave. A glance around the room showed no signs of intense struggle, nothing that could have resulted in a stray DNA sample. No hair, fingerprints, skin, or blood. What technically counted as a fight barely moved them a few feet from the spot where she'd first slipped the wire into place and pulled tight, yet had failed to disturb any of the surroundings but for the slightest shift of a rug.

    Shoving down the impulse to loot the area as well, Serena collected herself and spared one last glance at the body of the woman responsible for her existence. Her Mother's face seemed so calm, as if merely in a peaceful sleep. Only the tears staining her cheeks below closed eyes and the mark around her neck showed what had truly happened, and it made Serena wish she hadn't looked. Cursing under her breath, she broke into a quick pace and made her exit.


    Comment too long, view post No.23298 to see the full comment.
    >>
    Its very interesting. There is not much guro content, or sex, but it is well written and the idea itself is very interesting. I feel that I am missing a lot by not having read the original story, though.

    If you want to continue with this, I would consider rewriting the first part of the story yourself if you didn't save it!

    I am garbage. I am a piece of trash. Entirely without worth as a living breathing thing, and much more useful as an object to be used and thrown away, in that anyone gets any use at all out of me. I am the kind of fetid trash that is so repugnant it can only be immediately carted far away from a well kept home as not to offend its occupants. Im not a special piece of trash, not even valid as a conversation piece or memory. Im common trash, daily trash, entirely unmemorable.

    I lay, with other replaceable trash like me, beside the city street. Thrown from my home, where I could not be of service, where my presence made my keepers upper lip raise on one side towards their nose as if trying to seal it off from a rank smell. I lay now with my shoulderblades on cold cement and my eyes blankly staring towards the sky. I think my eyes are blank, I hope theyre blank. Blank and gray. So that a glance could inform passersby that nothing of significance is taking place behind them. Trash swarms over me, trash like me. I feel what I imagine to be a roach crawl over my forearm. I hate roaches, I find them to be the most deploreable. I envy them. They neednt consider their lot in life. They ask themselves no questions and are not sensitive to answers.

    I feel a tug at my shin, and the sky above me moves. Good, turn me over, I dont deserve to see the sky. My useless body flops to its stomach and I feel my rear end raised. Useful. This is what Im useful for. The assailant grabs my hair and lifts my face from the cement, he looks at me. I look past him. Some part of me is dead, and has stopped searching for human connection. I dont feel the inclination to meet his eyes, the natural will to has died somehow. I just watch him glance over me from my peripherals. He kisses me. He must approve of me. I let him play with my limp and listless tongue until thin strands of saliva drip down my chin and hug my neck. He drops me when he becomes bored. I dont make any effort to catch myself, so my head quickly smacks into the ground. I chip a tooth. It hurts. I let out the slightest of mumbles, a light murmer to satisfy mt bodies desire for me to do something about the pain. He says something about me being alive, and I feel him punch me twice in the back of the head. It hurts less than the tooth. But yes. This is right. Use me like this. I want my worthless shell to be made useful by you, to be recycled, to have some second hand value to even just a stranger. Make me a punching bag. Enjoy

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    >>
    >>15943
    Thank you for answering :)
    >>
    as Dean McCoppin from the animated movie can turn pieces of trash into art even you have not found what you are supposed to be. Do not let others misunderstanding your value trick you into thinking that you are worthless when you are not. And even if you were completely without worth at the moment then, you can take action to give yourself worth.
    >>
    I was wondering if this is a real thing or just a story, which is not that bad actually. :)

    But if you are worthless that's actually a good thing it means your are living your life right. Your total value has to be zero because you take just as much as you give.

    And don't worry about wasting someones time because I bet that everyone will enjoy playing psychologist for you and everyone gets what they want.
    >>
    >>15946
    It was real. In so far as, I wrote honestly from my heart. It's a train of thought I wrote from a cellphone in bed without going back to edit.

    Regardless of weather or not I deserve to, I found someone to talk to and feel better. I won't ruin the earnestness of this by pretending to be miserable just to continue the game, I'm not good enough a writer to fake such self-disdain successfully.

    I am glad my emotional state, temporary as it was, could provide something for anyone. Maybe I'll return to this. As a character, rather than from a real place. Maybe I'll write from other places of fear or insecurity I have. Or just come back when I'm feeling down.

    Maybe I'm not so low as to be undeserving of a name.

    >>15945
    I may feel better, but I still can't imagine a version of myself which is worth almost anything at all. The most I could do is say I'll try to plan to make an effort to imagine something like that.
    >>
    Well I'm here to read some erotic fiction not some downers, so if you have a problem get well soon, and I you don't write more stories.

    Hello, first time poster on gurochan. My name is pusmonster and i write sadistic torture stories focused on women’s feminine parts. This is one of my requests about a girl named Taylor. Enjoy and let me know what you think.
    WARNING- there is no sex in this story, it is purely torture so if you are into that-

    TAYLOR
    Descripton- Taylor is a girl in her early twenties with bright blue eyes and brown-red curly hair down to her breasts, which are around a size C.

    Taylor is sitting in her room at her dresser getting ready to go out. Shes looking at her own pretty face framed with curls in the mirror and is waiting for her hair straightener to heat up. Taylor hasn't gotten to go out in a while because of work and world circumstances so shes excited to meet her friends and go out to a nightclub for a well earned break. Maybe she could even find a cute guy and bring some adventure back to her life.
    Little did Taylor know that I have been watching her through a crack in her door, slowly stroking my cock and looking around her room thinking of ways to make her life a lot worse and mine a lot more fun.
    While Taylor is preoccupied looking down and painting her nails, I realise its my opportunity to strike. I thank god these young sluts nowadays always wear their airpods listening to trash music, just so I could make my entrance more dramatic. I slowly open the door and creep towards her until im a foot behind her, looking down at her little shoulders, with her blissfully - of how different her life would soon be.

    Suddenly I violently yank on her little necklace backward, causing Taylor to make an amusing choked yelp of surprise as her necklace breaks and she falls backwards off her stool and lands on her back facing up right between my legs. For a second there she is, in a momentary shock, lying on the ground with her beautiful big blue eyes staring straight up at the balls of her worst nightmare. As she gulps in air preparing to scream, I suddenly sit down on her face, mashing the bottom of my cock and balls into her pretty features smearing her mascara and lipstick. I quicly grab her arms and tuck them under my legs, immobilising her upper body. Now she is all mine. Her legs are trashing violently and her muffled screams are pleasuring my junk but she is unable to protect her vulnerable front. my hands descend on her young perky clothed tits with viciousness. I find her nipples and then cruelly twist them in opposing directions. This makes her scream louder into my bulge, sending vibrations of pleasure. while keeping a twisted grip on her nipples, I start alternatively pulling them away from her body and then mushing them into her ribcage, causing indescribable pain to poor Taylor- who had only had so much as been slapped a couple times in her life. I suddenly let them go, and then start smacking them hard with downward motions like im playing the bongo.

    Im glad Taylor chose to wear sheer stockings today, as I could easily use my strength to tear them off her kicking legs. then I grab her pink panties on either side and YANK them towards me, causing a cruel wedgie straight up her cunt. Her legs straighten for a bit as she lifts her ass off the floor to subside the sharp pain in her privates. This is when her panties deicide to also snap, freeing her womanly parts for my viewing and torturing pleasure. Before I get to work on her though I have to tie her up. I get off Taylor, and on cue she starts screaming at the top of her voice, trying to push me away with one hand and covering her pussy with the other. I quickly wrestle her into a headlock and choke her with my arms till she passes out.

    Comment too long, view post No.23281 to see the full comment.

    The rebels did not have a chance. Tired after a week-long march and most still bearing their burdens they mustered little in the way of a defense, those who drew their weapons were quickly cut down. The camp was swiftly surrounded, the rebel men were given no quarter and were swiftly put to the sword, the river on the banks of which the camp was just being established ran red with their blood. I want to spare the my dear readers the description of the horrible torments inflicted upon the leader of the rebellion but suffice it to say that by the time he started to pray for death, the king’s executioners were only halfway done with their work and at the end of it his corpse hardly resembled a human being. The children of the camp were declared outlaws and prohibited from ever returning to civilization under pain of death, then allowed to run away. For the wives, adult daughters however, the commanders had something special in mind to make sure no further rebellions would spring up in this remote part of the kingdom. The rough soldiers, still bloodied from killing their male relatives forcibly removed their clothes, leaving them in naught but their shifts. The unfortunate rebel women were also ordered to remove their shoes and stockings to ensure against flight and prevent them from strangling each other to avoid the king’s justice. Females unwilling to undress themselves or bare their feet were effectively “encouraged". Loud wailing and screaming from fear, humiliation and grief could be heard throughout the camp, much to the amusement of the hardened soldiers.
    The next town was situated a three day's march away from the rebel camp. Horsemen were sent out who could make the trip in a day. Meanwhile, canes and whips were used to drive the unfortunate barefoot and almost naked prisoners to their fate. It was obvious that the march would not be a quick one as the rebel wives and daughters rightfully suspected they were headed towards a painful and, even more importantly to most of them, extremely humiliating end. About twenty out of the two hundred and fifty captured women tried to escape but none succeeded, barefoot and exhausted with most of the road leading through dense forests the bloodhounds would quickly catch up with them and just as quickly, their already flimsy shifts ripped and bloodied, they would rejoin the rest of the doomed wenches on the way towards their destiny. Heart-breaking scenes could be witnessed among the doomed women and girls, a mother tried to strangle her two twin daughters with her bare hands before soldiers intervened and separated the crying family members before they could do real damage to themselves.
    Meanwhile, the Royal horsemen had arrived in the town and immediately went to work. Every man able to lift a saw, hammer or shovel was pressed into service but promised a fair wage at the end of it all. Soon the entire town was working to prepare the upcoming mass hanging of the rebel wives and daughters. Construction on a huge gallows spanning the whole town square lengthwise, big enough to accommodate 250 women began and a mass grave just outside the town to accommodate 250 female corpses stacked one on top of each other was dug. The town had quite a large rope-making industry so there was no shortage of this most cruel and humiliating means of execution. The women of the town were tasked with tying the nooses that would ensnare the necks of the defeated rebel wenches, there was no time for elaborate hangman’s nooses so when the time would come, the sinful women’s necks would be ensnared by simple slipknots, lengths of rope used to bind their wrists behind their backs as a mark of their captivity and humiliation were also cut to size. Crude benches would have to be hammered together as a last perch for the bare feet of the doomed women and girls before a series of swift kicks would send them them dancing on their way to oblivion.
    The sounds of the doomed females preceded their shameful procession, there was much screaming, wailing and praying caused by their shameful fate as well as the grief from losing their sons, brothers, fathers and husbands. Then the first of the miserable creatures emerged, then another and another. Their white and grey shifts, faces pale from fear and bare, dusty feet made them look more like ghostly apparitions than human beings. And so the sorry procession slowly made it’s way into the settlement. Before they are led to the gallows, there is one more humiliation the poor lasses needed to endure. Slender wrists were chafed by rough ropes, hands made fists to test the unforgiving bindings. A few young women broke down as they were bound, attempting to escape, trying to fight the guards or just pressing their slender arms against their chest, piteously begging the guards for mercy but the overwhelming majority of the doomed females took this new humiliation about as well as anything that came before it.
    With the gallows birds securely trussed up it was time to drive them forward towards their fate one last time. As the gallows came into view wails and screams rose once more in volume, about five of the doomed wenches wet themselves in fear of the waiting nooses and the slow and humiliating deaths they would bring. Without ceremony, the unfortunate girls were marched towards the long benches, forced up and then with an almost industrial routine nooses were put around their necks, long hair was removed from within after which the nooses were tightened, ready to seal their windpipes and with that, their collective fate.
    Getting all of the future “brides of the noose" ready to dance their shameful dance at the end of short hempen ropes for the amusement of the King's men and the deterrent of the townsmen and women did not present a quick task, a surprising number of townsmen and more than a few women however derived pleasure from seeing the prisoners treated in such a way. It is to be noted that the shifts of some of the wenches were ripped as a result of the cruel journey and without means of covering themselves, they were presenting their bare breasts, nipples erect and covered in goosebumps from fear and the cold of the morning.
    Having to wait for the preparation of their fellow prisoners was a form of torture within itself because it prolonged and worsened the fear of the prisoners and gave them more time to further dishonor themselves by crying, screaming and begging to be spared the humiliation of dancing the Tyburn jig in front of the whole town. Again, a few of the terrified captives could not control their bladders and their contents formed puddles on the benches, since they were placed close to each other, this meant that their neighbors too would have to suffer the smell and the discomfort and humiliation of standing with bare feet in a stinking yellow puddle. A particularly unfortunate creature, the daughter of a rebel lieutenant, a raven-haired, doe-eyed beauty of 21 summers named Elizabeth who’s delicate features and small but incredibly well formed breasts with nipples that seemed ready to burst through her thin, white shift, suffered the worst humiliation. She tried to pray to calm herself but in the end panic won and she evacuated herself down her slender, trembling legs. She gasped in shame, her face blushed intensively and tears started to flow down her face and, without any means of wiping them away, fell down onto the bench, mixing with her leavings. She tried to move her dainty, now soiled feet away from the disgusting pile but the dimensions of the bench and the tightness of the rope did not allow any meaningful escape. The four other females on the bench wrinkled their nose and the sound of suppressed gagging came from her immediate neighbours while poor Elizabeth was left to stand in her shame with the noose around her delicate neck reminding her of even more suffering that was to come.
    Then it is all ready. 250 necks are now surrounded by rough hemp, 250 pairs of bare, dusty feet are perched uneasily on rickety, crowded stools. 250 hearts beat as quickly as they can, 250 chests heave with the last breaths. Some are silent, some still pray, beg and cry but none of that makes any difference now, their fate is the same. Initially it had been considered to kick away the benches one at a time but the fact that the execution, were it conducted in that manner, would take up the whole day plainly argued against it and so it was decided that all of the prisoners would loose their footing and commence their shameful "wedding dance" at the same time. There is no need for a sentence to be read as the king himself had proclaimed that any man or woman joining the rebel cause would immediately forfeit their life. 50 of the King's men, chosen at random step forward and slowly walk behind each of the benches and put their heavy military boots against the last support for vulnerable bare feet. At this moment the mental anguish of the rebel wenches reaches its apex. The flow of liquid can be heard again. Some faint but the ropes stop them from falling. All sorts of emotions were painted across the faces of the condemned women: fear, grief, sadness, despair, anger, shame, disgust and everything in between. Jaws tremble, naked toes scratch the rough wood, hair is plastered to pale foreheads with the sweat of fear, breasts heave with final breaths, lips utter their last curses, prayers, pleas and barely coherent babbles. The town clock strikes ten.

    BANG!!!

    50 benches fly forwards as one, 250 necks now know the weight of the bodies that are supposed to carry them. Bare legs kick, gurgling of all volumes and pitches can be heard throughout the whole town, they form one collective, desperate plea for air, a cacophony of suffering beyond imagination. Some of the suffering prisoners kick each other or attempt to wrap their bare legs around their neighbour to escape the deadly pressure of the noose that way. Heads are forced into various, sometimes unnatural angles. Desperation fills the eyes of the poor wenches, efforts to free bound hands lead to nothing but bleeding wrists. Shifts are kicked far and wide, sometimes tearing leaving poor sufferers with their breasts exposed and in a few instances even utterly naked.
    Gradually and with a few exceptions the kicking is replaced with twitching. Faces turn blue, tongues make their way through discoloured lips. Bare, dirty feet point down in the vain hope of finding support. Squeaks replace gurgling, clicking replaces squeaks. Eyes once filled with life become grotesque, with broken capillaries but still tell the tale of the horrible suffering felt by the poor lasses. Bladders and bowels void themselves en masse down twitching legs, sometimes accompanied by last grunts of shame and sometimes it is quite obvious that the utterly dishonoured wenches no longer care. Literal puddles and small mounds of excrement form themselves under the unhappy rebel wives and daughters. A disgusting smell permeates throughout the town heralding the utter defeat and humiliation of the rebels. The last to stop her looking fight against the noose is the 22 year old flaxen-haired daughter of the rebel leader, a spirited girl, sometimes acting as her father's commander. Before darkness envelops her the rope turns her to the left, then the right. She sees all of those women who put their trust into her father and herself turned into corpses, shifting and pissing themselves in death. A last strangled sob makes it’s way through her constricted throat, then there is silence. Some of the condemned die a “clean death" but it is an exception not a rule.

    Comment too long, view post No.23264 to see the full comment.
    >>
    Great job. I'd love to see more

    When Tim walked into the butcher shop, he was obviously terrified. Holding the red ticket in his hands, he was on the verge of tears when he heard the tiny bell jingle above the door. In the window several butchered boys just the same age as him were hanging by hooks, their naked bodies in clean pieces with prices stuck into their flesh with pins. Slowly he walked up to the currently empty counter. "Hello?" He called out. "My mommy told me I had to come here?" A few moments later an older man came from behind the counter and greeted Tim.

    "Hi there little one! What's your name?" Asked the man gently.

    "Tim," answered timidly, still holding the ticket.

    The child handed the ticket over to the butcher. It was a notice from the Department of Population Control - Tim had been randomly selected to be culled for his meat in order to address the food shortage the area was facing. A half dozen boys came in each day with tickets like this. Each boy would then be taken back to the front of the store where they'd have their bodies weighed, measured, and inspected before being prepared for slaughter. The inspectors were not gentle men, most of them having spent their entire lives hunting, killing, and butchering people just like Tim. They were all looking forward to breaking this small child down so that they could enjoy a hot meal tonight.

    "Well, well, well... Tim. Lets see if you're a big enough boy to become dinner!"

    "Ok, what do I have to do?" The nervous child said.

    "Well, first off we'll need you to strip."

    Comment too long, view post No.23262 to see the full comment.
    >>
    Fun story. Hope you keep up the writing. It's always good to see new meat

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