(2)

Three days later shortly before sunset, a pair of men armed with spears and covered in armor pushed open the door without warning, yelling complaints about the smell as they scattered furniture in their path.

Cecil had been expecting them to show up sooner or later, but had already decided against trying to resist or run away. Looking like a starved escaped slave, she wouldn’t have been able to spend the couple silvers her uncle had squirreled away, even assuming she wasn’t grabbed off the street by the first guard who spotted her, or stabbed in the stomach by a cutpurse within the hour.

At least inside her own house she could eat and drink all she wanted, ravenously making her way through all the food in the cupboards. She never expected fruit, but the simple chance to eat fresh bread and dried jerky were luxuries.

Without going out to the well to fetch water, cleaning herself properly was impossible, but Cecil had long since given up caring whether the house would stay clean when she was expecting to have her neck on the chopping block before the week was up regardless.

Part of her understood the futility of escaping the city, while another part was simply pleased to have received a chance for petty vengeance, and no longer cared about her own life. A miracle never came twice, and she was satisfied to die now.

And so when the guards came, she greeted them with an empty bottle of spirits, laughing merrily even as they followed the stench upstairs to her uncle’s rotting body.

There was no point hiding or justifying the murder. Everything she said to these soldiers would go in one ear and out the other. No matter what bruises she had or what abuses she drunkenly recounted, their expressions never shifted, until one finally got annoyed and kicked her to get her to stop talking.

Cecil had already seen enough public executions, back before she became that man’s plaything. They didn’t care about the story behind the crime, only that one less orphan would be around to pick pockets after today.

After a few minutes searching the house for anything else of value, and exchanging a couple words between each other, two of them grabbed the oversized shirt she had been wearing as a makeshift dress and tore it off her, leaving Cecil naked to the elements once again.

There was no need to take her out to the guard post and interrogate her. Her guilt was clear as day, so far as they were concerned. With one guard flanking her at each side, they lifted her by the arms and led her outside.

The man at her right began to ring a handbell. Three rings, then a pause. Three more. Indeed, the signal for an execution. A small parade began to form as her naked young body was exhibited for all to see, passersby making their way to the square to watch the show. They parted ways for her and cheered, like she was some kind of hero, and indeed, she was the most famous performer in this moment. For once in her life, dozens, hundreds were turning out to see her die.

In the square was her stage, a set of wooden steps that she was carried up. Convenient, as she was too drunk to even walk. Before her was not the chopping block as she had expected – perhaps hoped – but the gallows. She should have figured they wouldn’t let her die too quickly, she thought with a laugh at her silly misunderstanding.

The one at her left lifted up her lightweight body easily, raising her for all to see clearly. She counted no less than one hundred spectators. A record crowd, tired of watching fat old men hanged, cheering to watch a small girl dance.

Since the guards hadn’t even bothered to tie her hands, she gave them a delighted wave, the heavy dose of alcohol eating away at what shame and sensibility she might have otherwise had.

For several minutes, she was held there, waving, waiting for more to arrive. Eventually, she was set back down underneath the noose and the other soldier began reading out her charges.

For the heinous murder of her beloved uncle, who selflessly took her in to save her from being orphaned.

Cecil giggled, but didn’t bother to say anything. The crowd jeered her accusation, and a few even began throwing rocks, only to be shielded by the armored guard and stopped by others around. That handbell had promised a show, and having her neck broken by a hurled rock would satisfy nobody.

Finally, the noose was tightened around her thin neck, and Cecil was slowly, gently, delicately lifted off the platform until her toes left the wood.

At first, she felt nothing. Seconds passed as she was lifted higher and higher, for all to see. Despite the rope, she was too numb to notice anything.

And then, her throat began to burn like nothing she had ever felt. Her hands shot to her throat, trying to get under the rope, to no avail. She didn’t have the strength to save herself, and so they hadn’t even tied her arms or legs. Her desperate flailing only drew greater celebration.

A long stream of warm pee ran down her legs, spraying off her toes as her legs darted back and forth seeking a distant surface. To answer her release, more cheers from the crowd, mixed in among a chorus of frustration. When the prisoner would soil herself was always a subject for betting when a girl came up, and she had no doubt the smirking guards beneath her who knew how much she had been drinking had won big.

With her fingers clawing at the rope, she could occasionally draw in a short breath, but exhausted as she was, she had no energy to keep herself up, and the weight of her body began to choke her once more.

Minute by minute, Cecil continued her dance at the end of a noose. To her, another sixty seconds felt like an hour of agony, although to the crowd watching, after half an hour, her movements became mundane. Constant cheering gradually decayed into amused yells every time her legs twisted her around and her thighs kicked open to spread the hairless folds between them.

By the time an hour had passed, she was clearly losing energy, and those who were still invested in her ballet were the dozen or so who still had a chance of winning their bets.

Between the alcohol she had drowned herself in and the oxygen missing from her brain, Cecil was well past the point of rational thought. She was losing the audience, she thought, as she gazed down at the crowd and the choking of the rope around her neck overlapped the choking she so often experienced during sex. In that moment, she decided to put on a show.

Her hands fell away from her neck, and her legs came to rest. Her audience focused, expecting her to finally expire and the winning time to be announced. Then, her fingers found her labia, and worked their way in. A fresh wave of cheers washed over Cecil as she began to finger herself on the gallows, thin waves of tingling pleasure barely reaching her failing brain. She twitched as she came under the gaze of a hundred men, then finally went still after seventy-two minutes of dancing.

One guard’s bare hand pressed against her chest, feeling for her still heart, before yelling out her time to the joy of many. Cecil was lowered down as the crowd dispersed, some eager to celebrate their winnings with whores of their own, others off to be berated by their wives for losing.

The soldiers who had brought her in didn’t miss the chance to offer the girl’s corpse to the highest bidder while it was still warm, a stonemason’s apprentice and his two mates who had guessed her moment of death to the minute, eager to reward her final show for speeding up her own demise ever so slightly to save their gold, in the way they thought the little slut would have loved most.

Before dawn, her semen-caked body was thrown over the wall, into the mass grave below.

(3)

Cecil awoke surrounded by the putrid stench of death and decay. The deep pit she had been dropped into was filled with the city’s dead, be they men, women, or children, in various states of both undress and decomposition. With tall walls being so expensive to build and maintain, only the richest got marked graves. For everybody else, their corpses were discarded by tossing them outside, all equal before death.

Her thoughts raced through everything she had done last night. Of all the things she could have done while drunk off her ass, to treat her own hanging as a sexual show, and perform for the entire public square. She certainly wouldn’t be forgotten for a few days at least. Meaning, even if she somehow could get back into the city, she might actually be recognized by somebody. Not that there was, with neither money nor even clothing to her name.

With the new day, her neck felt perfectly fine without a single bruise, despite dying on it just half a day prior. However, her crotch was once again covered with dried sperm, and she could even feel more of the liquid still stuck inside her womb, as well as taste the bitterness all along her dry throat.

Clearly, somebody had seen fit to ravish her body even as it was growing cold. Cecil reached one hand down to spread open her lips and squeeze out what was stuck inside, and was surprised to find them already moistened from the thoughts and memories alone.

Her outburst had not been merely the result of alcohol and asphyxiation, but something she had enjoyed doing both in the moment, and looking back on it again. Who else could publicly masturbate in front of a crowd and not be interrupted by the guards, even receive their cheers? In a way, a dead girl was more free than anybody else, she rationalized. Something had already irreparably broken inside Cecil by now.

Licking what remained off her lips, she swallowed to slightly wet her parched throat. Her roaming hand found her clitoris and she briefly considered laying right there all day to pleasure herself, but ultimately decided against it.

Just beneath her was the body of another girl, probably a couple years older than herself. Importantly, she was covered with a thin gray sundress, which might be a little too big for Cecil, but the fabric looked to be in good repair aside from the dirt, with the added advantage of being easy to pull off of a heavy corpse.

With a tug, she pulled the dress off the dead girl, and put it over her own head. The bra beneath she obviously didn’t need, and unfortunately the girl was without lower underwear, so Cecil had to go without as well.

As she stood up and started to look around for more clothed girls, an arrow whizzed by, grazing her cheek. Looking up in a hurry, she saw a soldier aiming a bow down at her.

Occasionally a body thrown out turned out to be barely alive, or the pit attracted looters and animals from outside. In either case, the guards would use anything moving in the grave as target practice when they so felt like it.

Hurriedly, she clambered over the fresher bodies and up the slope of the pit, pulling herself away from the wall. A second and third arrow flew her way, but each was further than the last. Fortunately for Cecil, this particular soldier seemed a terrible shot, and couldn’t hit a running girl, and she made it over the edge, dashing straight into the nearby forest as fast as her legs could take her.

Her breathing quickly became ragged from exhaustion as she ran further than she ever had in her life. She didn’t expect pursuers to bother leaving the city just to chase some scrawny looter, but she couldn’t be certain either, and being caught would be a fate literally worse than death, in her case.

Suddenly, with a sharp crack, a searing pain tore through Cecil’s ankle, and she fell face-first into the forest floor.

Looking behind her, she saw through tears in her eyes that she had stepped into a hunter’s bear trap. Her own leg, being so much smaller than a bear’s, had been less trapped, and more mangled into a pulp, hanging on by just a few threads of skin and muscle preventing it being amputated entirely.

She let out a tearful scream, the sudden loss being an entirely different brand of pain to anything she had ever felt before.

Her stump of a leg tore loose as she moved, leaving the foot behind inside the trap’s closed jaws. Running like this was impossible, she could barely even crawl. If indeed nobody was following her, she would bleed out or starve here for however many days or weeks it might take for the hunter to come back and check his traps to find they had captured a fresh slave. Assuming hungry animals or monsters didn’t find her first. Compared to that, she might even have preferred pursuers.

However, in that moment, Cecil had an insane idea. Just a week ago it would have been unthinkable, but while she couldn’t move far, she might just have enough strength left to pull the bear trap open once again.

Leaning her entire weight into it, she could just barely pry the jaws open and rig the spring. Her own severed foot sat next to the trap like some macabre bait, but she didn’t need it anymore. Taking a deep breath, she nervously lowered her own head into the trap, hanging her little neck exactly where the jaws would close.

In that moment, fear overtook her, and her body froze. She had died twice before, but this was her first time trying to deliberately kill herself, and in such a gruesome way. Her eyes focused on the bloody metal that she needed to press, only her hand refused to move any closer.

More bizarre thoughts entered her head. Her other hand slid under her dress and between her legs, resting on her pussy. She slowly, rhythmically began to rub. Closing her eyes, she forcibly distracted herself from what she was about to do. Strangely calmed by her actions, she pressed down on the metal trap.

With a thunderous snap, the metal jaws tore through Cecil’s neck and shredded her spine. Her eyes shot open as her head rolled and her headless body fell away, twitching and spasming with its hand still on its crotch. Her vision focused on the mangled cross-section of her neck pouring blood on the dirt, even as she felt like a ring of fire was burning at the bottom of her head where the rest of her body was supposed to be.

She wanted to scream, to cry out in pain, but no air came out of her severed head, it only continued to open and close its mouth like a fish out of water. It was only after a minute of living life as a freshly severed head that Cecil’s gaze finally faded and her blue eyes closed.

Cecil woke up an hour later, standing on two legs, with fresh blood now covering the neck of her dress.

Without a word, she ran off deeper into the forest, now looking beneath her feet as she moved.

A few starting chapters to get the concept across. Not sure if I will have time to add more, do not have a clear idea of where the story will go, only loose ideas. Open to suggestions, but no guarantees about using any of them.

I love it! For a second I thought she could be an Immortal like in Highlander, especially when the beheading was avoided in the beginning. But after the bear trap... :D Anyway, IWould love to read more!

(4)

Late at night, Cecil ran through the forest with all her might.

Though she technically hadn’t slept for well over 24 hours now, she strangely didn’t feel especially sleepy, nor even the exhaustion of her muscles burning after running that same morning. She had pondered whether this came as a result of her dying and waking up again, but at the moment, she didn’t have the luxury of stopping to think.

When she tried to sleep, Cecil could do nothing more than lay down on a pile of leaves. She lacked the skills needed to climb into a tree or make any temporary shelter, but discomfort was nothing new. The howling that woke her not long after she began to doze off, however, carried a primal fear.

Under the light of the full moon seeping through the treetops, she sprinted even as she tripped and stumbled over roots and branches, motivated by the impending death stalking her from behind.

Her right foot caught on a vine, and she fell to the ground, rolling forward and trying to scramble back to her feet, but her ankle refused to support even her meager weight. Now, the wet snarling came from directly above her.

Rolling over, she came face-to-face with a colossal black wolf. Standing over a meter tall and three meters in length, although it was nowhere near large enough to swallow her whole, she could easily believe the children’s stories her mother had once told her about small children who wandered alone being devoured by the monsters.

Worse, a second wolf, identical in size but slightly gray-blue in color, was approaching from the side. Not that she realistically stood any chance even when there was only one. An adult man could easily be mauled by these things, were he alone.

The black wolf lunged at her as she tried to slowly pull away, biting down on her injured ankle. She heard the wet crunch of the bone breaking inside the animal’s bloody mouth.

Crying out in pain, Cecil desperately kicked out with her other leg, striking the wolf in the head, trying anything to get it away. Surprisingly, blood flew that wasn’t only her own, and one of the fangs caught inside her shin bone snapped at the root.

Just as quickly however, her moment of relief vanished as the monster only grew angry, not fearful, its gaping maw no less intimidating with one large fang missing. This time, both wolves bit her legs simultaneously.

Screaming in horror, Cecil felt the ground, trying to find a stone she could at least swing, yet found nothing except leaves. Miracles did not happen twice. Both creatures began to pull her legs apart in opposite directions, lifting her halfway off the ground, twisting her feet in their jaws, until with a final sickening crack, her entire right foot tore off and vanished into the black wolf’s mouth.

Satisfied with its prize, it stepped back and began to crunch the limb inside its mouth, entirely unconcerned with the bones it was swallowing.

The second gray wolf, however, was still gnawing on Cecil’s leg, every single tooth feeling like a hot knife stabbing through her skin as it tried to tear off some meat of its own. She reached forward, now trying to shove the lone wolf off her leg.

Faster than she could react, the gray wolf had dropped her leg, and, her balance suddenly flipped over, caught her outstretched arm inside its hungry muzzle. The next second, those jaws snapped shut, tearing her left arm off at the elbow.

For a moment, Cecil stared at her bloody stump, her brain failing to process what had just happened, before the building pain overpowered the adrenaline, and she began to scream in agon once again.

Both wolves now stepped back as they cracked and crunched and chewed through her flesh and bones, temporarily sated by the meal, but Cecil could do nothing but sit and watch them eat, her attempts at pushing herself along the ground drawing a crimson trail along the grass.

She made it barely two meters by the time both monsters had swallowed, closing the distance with just a couple steps, drool dribbling from their mouths as they hungered for more of her.

The black wolf tore her other leg off halfway down her thigh. The gray wolf took her entire right arm at the shoulder. Now that they were aware she was incapable of resisting, they happily took much larger bites out of her.

With all four limbs devoured, Cecil fell flat on the ground on her back, looking up to the moon as a growing pool of her fresh blood soaked into the soil. Now, she could truly do nothing except cry and whimper, unable to even lift her head to look up at the predators killing her, only listen for the regular sounds of crunching bones and squelching flesh.

At least she was caught by one of the few things which would not try to fuck her first, she thought idly, as the wolves began to take thick bites out of her torso. Her hips and crotch were ripped apart by one, her womb and guts swallowed by the other, and they only continued alternating bites quickly from there, until her entire body vanished from the forest floor. It was the gray wolf that got the final bite, unable to fit her entire head in its mouth, so its strong jaws crushed her skull and pulped its contents before devouring the entire meal.

Neither skin nor bones remained of Cecil, only blood-soaked scraps of cloth scattering in the night wind. Thoroughly gorged, the wolves walked off in search of a cave to digest their meal.

Despite everything, Cecil woke up before dawn, alive and fully intact, though her hard-won clothes were obliterated, and not coming back.

Looking down at the spot where she had just died, she cautiously picked up the razor-sharp fang she had accidentally broken off in her struggle. Whether or not the small prize was worth the price of this fresh memory of being ravenously eaten alive by wolves, only time would tell.

I really like this concept!

(5)

The forest began to thin out not long after that, and the loose trees made way for rolling hills. However, though Cecil was glad for the change of scenery, she already knew she wasn’t safe, merely about to encounter different dangers. The wolves and bears may not leave the forest, but other creatures were always out there, and of course, any other people were by no means likely to be friendly.

She could see a river meandering through the hills from a distant mountain, and with no particular destination, decided to make her way towards it. Even though she seemed fine without eating or drinking for a few days, she was still getting thirsty as she kept walking for hours. Evidently, if she wasn’t going to die, she would still need to drink to keep moving.

Of course, if she was willing to kill herself, that could be circumvented, but Cecil wasn’t sure if she had the means to reliably finish herself off. The worst thing she could do to herself would be to leave herself crippled from a failed attempt, suffering yet unable to end her life to save herself.

Unfortunately for Cecil, she immediately realized that would not be an issue today, as she saw a small creature crest the hill just fifty meters ahead of her. A tiny thing, the size of a toddler, with dark green skin, commonly called a goblin.

It saw her just as she saw it, and it let out a screech. Then there were two, then twenty, then fifty. She turned and began running. They were not smart creatures, and even a child could strangle one to death but they were persistent, numerous, and a girl getting caught by them met a fate described as ‘worse than death’. Whether or not that was an exaggeration, she would still prefer not to experience it.

However, the excited screeching was steadily growing closer, not further away no matter how much she ran. Cecil glanced backwards just in time to see a creature bounding across the ground like a rabbit to leap at her neck. Its thin claws dug into her side as it clung onto her, almost knocking her off balance, until she drove her own borrowed claw through its head, and the tiny thing fell away with a dying scream.

Despite that, where there was one, there were a dozen more just seconds begin, and the vile creatures began to mob her, pulling her off her feet, clinging onto her as she rolled down the hill like a sack of potatoes. She was covered in wounds, stabbing what she could, but the goblins were far too numerous, and dozens pressed down her arms. Before she noticed, her only weapon left her hand. With every move she tried to make, claws lacerated her skin, leaving her mostly immobile.

Cecil could no longer hear anything but screeching as the creatures pulled her legs apart against her best efforts to keep them closed. Indeed, the species looked vaguely like animals, but behaved more like parasitic wasps, using human hosts to breed.

The creature stuck its tiny prick inside her, and sprayed its seed only a second later. There was no pleasure to be found even if she wanted it, she could hardly feel the penetration, if she could even count this as sex. One by one, they poured foul-smelling seed into her, until her belly was swollen like a girl already halfway through pregnancy, when they were finally spent.

Still, the swelling did not stop even as the semen slowly flowed out of her, but kept growing as she watched. Just as she feared her belly might burst from its contents, one of the goblins stepped on her, and the contents poured out onto the floor. Like tadpoles, they squirmed out of her vagina, numbering in the hundreds, swimming in a pool of whatever fluids had been mixing inside her.

Nobody understood how the bizarre biology of these creatures’ reproduction worked, only the broken girls left after their breeding remained. Contrary to popular belief, they were not man-eaters, nor even carnivorous. In fact, they didn’t even finish off Cecil as she lay bleeding in the grass, collecting what young they could carry and running off as fast as they came, perhaps off to find more victims.

Deciding there was no time like the present, Cecil felt around on the ground until she found the lost wolf’s claw, still in a goblin’s corpse. Her arms felt weak from the blood loss, but the claw was still impressively sharp in spite of all the use it had just seen. So she held it above her own neck, and began stabbing, until she found her escape through blacking out.