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From: purfect9@aol.com (Purfect 9)
Subject: STORYbyMISTY: Don't Lose Your Head pt.2 (snuff?)
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Please see disclaimer in Pt. 1.

   ...He continued, but his efforts were slowing.  He was nearly worn out with
the effort it took to hold her muscular legs in place.  One leg got away, and
she kicked him in the head, hard, knocking his glasses across the floor.  Then
she used both feet to push him away, and he landed on his butt on the floor.
Hyperventilating, she yanked at the handcuffs till blood dripped from each
wrist.  And she gasped in agony as she heard and felt her right thumb break.
   Suddenly, the man was sitting on her stomach, replacing his now cracked
spectacles on his face.  "YOU BITCH!  I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU KICKED ME LIKE THAT!
I was just playing around, I wasn't hurting you, yet!  But I'm gonna now. 
Reaching bravely through the path of the blade, he grabbed her hair and pulled
her head up so that she could bear witness to her punishment.  Pinching her
right nipple, he used the Swiss Army Knife to cut it off!  Then did the same to
her left!  Then he tore off two short pieces of duct tape to bandage her
wounds.  As her mind reeled from the pain and the irreversibility of the
sadistic act, she watched in horror as he impaled both severed nipples on a
poker blade of the knife and held them over the flame of a bic lighter. 
"That's about medium rare" he said, popping them into his mouth and chewing.
   She looked pale, about to faint.  "Oh no you don't." he said, grabbing the
rope a moment before her mouth released it.  He had to switch hands as he
walked around to the head side of the Guillotine and stuck his newly hardened
cock into the passed-out bitches gaping pie-hole.  I'll be glad when THIS rape
is over with, he said to himself as he thrust in deep.  
   As she faded back into consciousness, it took her a moment to realize that
this was real and not a dream.  The pelvis pounding against her up-side-down
face helped to convince her quickly, as did the blood dripping down her breasts
and from her wrists.  She did nothing to reveal that she had regained
conciseness, but quietly began working at sliding her slick, broken hand from
its unyielding metal restraint.
   "Yeah, fucking an unconscious girls mouth is DEFINITLY better than those
conscious girls who always gag on it." He said to himself, preparing to release
the rope at the moment of climax, or if she started to wake up and gag.  He'd
taken all the shit he was going to from this bitch.
   Noticing how deep he was in her throat, he decided to re-align the
Guillotine just to make sure that it missed his pecker by a few inches when it
whistled down and severed her pretty neck.  Such re-alignment was a simple
task, for the Guillotine itself was mounted on the carcass of an old lawnmower,
and could be rolled easily--totally independent of the bench on which his
guests lay.  And so he moved it so it aimed lower on her long neck.
   His dick began to throb, and he thrust in deep.  Mary prepared herself to
swallow still more of his vile fluid, when suddenly, painfully, her wrist
popped free of the handcuff.  Just as his dick began to spurt; just as his hand
released the rope, Mary swung her arms up to push him away.  Instead, her hands
caught the rails of the Guillotine, rolling it back toward him by several
inches.  
   SLICE!  She felt a sharp pain as the blade carved off the very tip of her
nose.  But to get to her nose, the blade had to first pass
through…."AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!  MY COCK!!!!"  Her nostrils filled with
his blood, and her head jerked up in pain.
   "Toohey!" she said, spitting out the cleanly severed tube of oozing warm
flesh.  Then she reached for the bow knot which held her to the bench.  Pulling
one end, the last of her bonds unraveled.  
   "Hey, HEY!"  I'm bleeding to death over here!"  She was trying to put her
clothes back on without using her broken hand.  She took a second to coldly
toss him the roll of duct-tape.  "I want to die.  I don't want to live like
this."  
   "So bleed to death, then."
   "NO!  I'm gonna die on my Guillotine." He said, leaning forward and raising
the blade enough to work his head underneath.  But from his position on the
floor, he couldn't get the blade high enough to be sure it would completely
behead him.  "Help me.  Please, help me die with some dignity."
   "Tell me the combination to this door!" she demanded, pulling on the lock.
   "33 right.  2 left."  She spun the dial.
   "Yeah, and the last number."
   "Help me raise the blade up."
   Against her better judgement, she walked over and pulled on the hateful
rope, placing it in his hand but also standing on the very end of it.  "What's
the last number?"
   "Hold my head."  
   "You're fuckin' crazy. I mean, in ADDITION to being fuckin' crazy."
   "Hold my head, and look into my eyes. I'll blink you the last number."
   "Fuck you." she said.
   "No, Fuck you!" he replied, releasing the rope.
   "No, fuck YOU!"  she shouted, all her weight on the  foot still holding the
rope. 
   "No, FUCK YOU!" He grabbed the rope and yanked her off balance, knocking her
onto her ass.  "If you want that last number, you better be fast when it comes
to picking my head up off the floor."  And with that, the blade left him beside
himself.
   She scrambled to the other side of the machine, picking up his head by the
hair.  His features sagged, like the Warholian "silent-screaming man".  But the
eyes began to move.  ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. EIGHT. And then
one eye.  NINE?  Or EIGHT plus a Wink? Or a higher number that he didn't have
enough life left in him to wink.  She'd forgotten the other digits by now, but
they were already dialed into the lock.  Drop kicking the head like a
discounted soccer ball, she knew she would get just one chance…
   The End  
                   (but for both of them, or just the bad guy?  What number
should she dial? And would it work?  And what should she do if it doesn't?
What where should she go if it does?)  Let me know.  Write "COMBINATION" in the
subject line of your E-mail to me.

---M
Visit my web-site:
Http://members.aol.com/purfect9
Most of my stories are copyrighted, and my not be posted or archived
by anyone but me. 
When Sending me E-mail, always write "STORY INQUIRY" in the subject line.


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