Author: Urquhart Devlin Title: Contractual Obligations Summary: When you're at the end of the line, sometimes the only solution to the problem is accepting the contract - whatever the terms. Another very short story, where your imagination needs to fill in the gaps. Keywords: M F cons rel snuff tort ======================= Contractual Obligations ======================= by Urquhart Devlin "I can organise that, but it'll cost you." "How much?" asked Linda, although she suspected she already knew the price. "The usual." he answered, confirming her fears. "Your body for snuff." "And that will be an end to it?" "Of course." Okay, thought Linda, it's not a bad deal. I certainly won't be the first woman to strike this type of bargain, I can still remember being in the room when my mother agreed to be snuffed. Aloud, she said "Okay, it's a deal." "That's great." replied the negotiator. "We'll see you at eight o'clock on Thursday evening then." That was it, not even anything to sign. He stood up and shook Linda's hand before ushering her politely out of the room. Outside there was already another client, a mousy woman nervously waiting on one of the hard plastic chairs that lined the wall. Linda gulped in the fresh breeze that blew across her as she stood on the pavement outside the building. That was it then, she'd better let the kids know they'd have the house to themselves before the week was out. **** Linda stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam off the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Not for the first time since she'd made the deal in that pokey little office she ran hands over her curves, trying to will herself to understand what she'd agreed to. Why men enjoyed the spectacle of women's bodies being smashed up was beyond her, but it was one of the most popular entertainments around. She'd been to a snuff show once, her boyfriend at the time had suggested she come along to ladies night at a club in town. While she'd been upset by the brutal and drawn out way the women on stage were snuffed, what had truly shocked her was how half the women in the audience were cheering and baying enthusiastically at the bloody spectacle. Will these tits be torn open in a tug of war, Linda wondered, gently cupping her two good handfuls and boosting them until the dark little nipples pointed up towards her face? Once again she couldn't help digging out from her memory the most painful torments she'd seen. Will my clit be burnt out with acid? Linda watched, almost from afar, as her hand in the mirror descended into a hairy bush to seek out the little nub that had given her so much pleasure. What other mutilations had the poor women suffered? She leaned forward, using her thumb and forefinger to hold her eyes wide open, so she could stare deep into their reflection. The tortured woman who shrieked most pitifully had been the one whose eyeballs were gouged out - to be replaced by a pair of sightless red-hot steel balls. **** "I don't suppose there was anything else you could have done." said Cindy calmly when she heard, ever practical. "At least you know it's this week, you're not going to be made to hang around waiting." Linda had told her daughter Cindy first. Looking at her polite but unemotional face, it was quite hard to read what the girl was thinking. Since puberty Cindy seemed to have gone for a look that her mother thought of as dowdy, with a face that always seemed to be in a severe and uncompromising expression. If Linda hadn't once caught her being spit roasted by a pair of gasmen who'd come to sort out the central heating, she'd have assumed the girl was still a virgin. After that there was just her son to tell. Her surprise at Ryan's response just reinforced to Linda how little she knew about men. "I think I'll come along and watch." the lad announced, after a moment's pause to take in the news. "I've been saving up to go to a snuff club for a while now, and if my mother's on the bill I'll probably get upgraded to a VIP booth." "Are you sure you want your first visit to be seeing your mother snuffed?" Linda asked, trying to dissuade him. Now Ryan was twenty he was perfectly entitled to come along if he wanted to. "Oh definitely." Ryan answered, with an enthusiasm that showed he had no ability to comprehend her reluctance. Linda gave up. He'd never been very good at picking up on subtle hints, and this didn't seem like the moment to start an argument. "All right. I suppose we'll both be there on Thursday then." She rather hoped Ryan wouldn't manage to talk his way up to VIP status. Wanking in the clubs was rather frowned upon, but if you'd brought a woman it was generally okay for her to give you a blowjob, and if you were in a VIP booth a girl was usually provided to suck you off while you watched the show. The thought of her son being there at all was bad enough, the idea of him getting blown to her screaming mutilation was worse. **** She wasn't sure why, but she spent an inordinate amount of time getting dressed and ready on this last occasion. Her hair was cut quite short, but it was thick and a lovely shade of deep chestnut. After careful brushing, she used a couple of glittery emerald-green grips to hold its waves so they hung clear of her face. Never a big user of make-up, it took her even longer than most women to carefully paint her face, selecting quite muted colours to provide a more sophisticated appearance. She hardly recognised the person now looking back at her in the mirror, with its dusky red lips, carefully plucked brows, and black mascaraed rings round the eyes. After much changing, pulling out almost her entire wardrobe, she at last chose the clothes she would wear. Maybe it was some subconscious hope she'd be rejected, but nothing about her chosen attire was sexy. Plain cotton knickers, and a comfy bra that gave her well developed boobs good support, were covered with a straight skirt that fell below her knees, a plain white blouse buttoned up to her throat, and a neat jacket in the same charcoal shade as skirt. Only at the last minute, as she was about to put her feet into a pair of patent leather slip-ons with almost no heel, did she relent and add a pair of black hold-ups with lacy tops, changing the slip-ons for something with a bit more heel. Even after that, unless she lifted her hem, there was really nothing about her costume to excite anyone's curiosity. As she stood finally in front of the mirror, smoothing out creases in her skirt, Linda almost burst out laughing watching herself. Who was she trying to kid? Did she really think looking smart and refined was going to make any difference? You know what's going to happen, she told herself firmly. All of your lovely clothes will be ripped off, and then, exposed in front of a bunch of leering men, you'll be mangled until your tears of pain make that mascara run in black lines down your silly face. **** Linda thought she recognised the face, but it was ten years since she'd last seen it, and it wasn't until she got close but she could be certain. "Jimmy? It is you. What are you doing here?" "Hi Linda." he answered with a smile of welcome. "I thought it was going to be you when I saw there was a Linda Moretti down on the list for tonight. It's lovely to see you." Despite a decently active sex life in the decade since, Linda hadn't forgotten Jimmy. He'd probably been the best fuck she'd ever had, the three months they'd been screwing now felt like it had been one long orgasm for her. Jimmy had never mentioned an interest in snuff, although, like most other men, she assumed he frequented the clubs at least occasionally. It was still something of a surprise for her to find him backstage and apparently part of the staff. "And you too Jimmy." answered Linda, accepting the opportunity to share a brief hug with him, not failing to notice how well-muscled he still seemed to be. "But what are you doing in a place like this?" "Chief executioner." he announced to her, with a slightly bashful grin. Linda's little smile of pleasure dropped straight off her face. "Does that mean...?" she asked with a gulp, unable to finish the sentence. "I'm afraid so." he confirmed. "There's no one else?" "Not tonight - and I can't loose this job as well. If I start trying to back out just because I know the woman I'm going to be hurting, I'll be straight out the door. "No chance of you at least going a bit easy on me is there?" suggested Linda, although a little hopelessly, suspecting she knew the answer. Jimmy looked at her a little pityingly. "You know there's no way I can do that. They're a savvy crowd out there, any suspicion I'm being a bit soft and they'll be jeering and throwing things. If I was going to do that I might as well quit now." It has been worth a try, and Jimmy did give her another, slightly apologetic, hug before pointing out the holding room where she needed to wait. Sat on a rough wooden bench, it was hard to believe the warm arms that had just encircled her so gently would soon be mercilessly torturing her. She didn't have to wait alone for long. In quick succession two other women, both looking equally apprehensive, were shown in to sit on the bench beside her. Despite their shared fate there was no talking, they barely even glanced at each other. When eventually a bored-looking hand came in, to show the first of them to the stage, the remaining pair just silently watched as she shuffled timidly through the door. The room wasn't sound-proofed. Linda could feel the woman next to her wincing and shaking, as the muffled roar of the audience, mingling with the screams and shrieks of their erstwhile companion, filtered through the closed door. **** "Get your clothes off. " There was now no hint of a smile from Jimmy. No suggestion of pleasantness in the brutal way he told her to strip. Whatever he might be thinking, it was pretty clear he meant to be professional in his job. "Faster. If you don't get a move on, I'll just have to throw you to the audience, and they can rip them off." Linda's gasp, as Jimmy brought his staff across for one vicious stroke on her buttocks, was almost lost in the shout of approving laughter that accompanied his comment. Linda cursed a bit the silliness that had made her dress so smartly, something loose and elasticated would have been off by now. "Not quick enough." Jimmy announced a minute later, as Linda, hands shaking, reached behind to unhook her bra. This time the stroke, aimed squarely at her stomach, brought Linda to her knees, leaving her badly winded. "Get back up and get them off." There was no suggestion she could avoid any pain by doing as she was told - both she and Jimmy would have known that wasn't true anyway. The thought didn't stop Linda's staggering back up, pulling the bra she'd already unhooked off her arms to let her tits swing free - if she didn't comply, at least while she was still able, this might all be for nothing. **** It wasn't until some time later, her body now covered in welts and bruises, that Linda remembered her son Ryan should be somewhere in the audience. Strapped down, her legs held wide apart on a spreader bar, it was quite difficult to look, but eventually, craning her head round, she spotted him. He had managed to talk his way into a VIP booth. There he sat, with a look on his face that suggested below the barrier a young woman was performing her job. He was staring straight at the pussy that birthed him, showing nothing but fascinated delight. As the first stroke from the flogger that Jimmy was wielding, studded with tacks and glass, landed on her crotch, she miserably watched as Ryan's face contorted with what was, almost certainly, an orgasm. After that Linda wasn't up to noticing her son. She pushed her head back and screamed continuously as her cunt was mercilessly ripped to shreds. **** "How was your evening?" asked Cindy, when her brother finally arrived home. "Not half bad." he answered enthusiastically, clearly still buzzing a little. "Mum hung on until after she'd been gutted. I came three times to the gorgeous howls she was giving." "I know." said his sister, wiping an imaginary speck from her lips. "You were so caught up in watching mum being abused you didn't even notice whose mouth was round your cock." ********THE*END******** (c) 2014 Urquhart Devlin This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it's glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn't immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.