Gone for Six

I'm struck by how handsome Seven is, shaved, bound and masked. His slender body is radiant with physical and intellectual energy -- it's a shame that such a life must end, an honor for me to share that end. And he, like me, does not want to fade into dementia and nothingness. His life's work may someday help to end that dilemma, but we aren't there yet. Our sacrifice is real -- our bodies will go from this chamber directly to the Neuroscience Institute, where their exceptional condition and the controlled conditions of the end of our consciousness will provide invaluable data for further study. Flashing back over my own life, I'm proud to recall how Seven beat me years ago at bondo-battle.

I come out of my reverie to see Two in front of me. She's prepared, but not in a hurry -- this must be exceptionally hard for her, and I love her for it. I'm quickly penetrated and fully secured, after a brief final foot-contact with Six. Looking in the mirror, I'm rather proud of myself, not as tall or slender as Seven, but decent-looking -- I've tried to take care of myself. Bound in steel, my shaved and masked appearance is exquisitely erotic -- I wish I'd had the nerve to try that before, but the subsequent explanations I'd have to make always deterred me. No problem now.

Six's preparation follows. As her penetrators rise into contact she moves gracefully, assisting Two in sliding them home. Two presses the saddle gently and firmly into its final position -- Six's terminal lover is ready to ravish her. With the arm-binder in place Two releases Six's wrists from the spreader. Six lowers her arms and clasps her hands together behind her -- Two guides her arms into the shackles, then binds her wrists.

Two raises Six's pole, but Six's legs do not dangle like ours did, since she is still spread by her leg shackle bar. Two releases one ankle and then the other, gently positioning Six's legs vertical, and removes the spreader bar, then binds her legs, knees and thighs in steel as Seven and I are bound. Once Six's binding is complete the igniting wire is strung across, wrapped twice around each of us at our ankles.

Six prepared for sacrifice is stunning, though now I can see her only in the mirror. Upright and vertical on the pole, firmly secured in her steel bands which so beautifully frame all her features, she undulates smoothly within the limits of the restraints, radiating sexual energy. Her fantasy includes another dual-purpose element I'm about to appreciate. Two reappears with a bucket and a sponge on a stick.

In Six's fantasy we will be drenched in flammable oil, and when the intense rays of the sun are focused on us, the rapidly evaporating oil will be ignited by the wire wrapped around our ankles. A jet of pure oxygen pouring out from nozzles below us will cause the oil, and our bodies, to erupt in flames, turning us into roman candles, to be devoured in minutes to the delight of the crowd.

Two sponges Six, the glistening oil oozing over her breasts and down her body, over her shining black triangle, down her legs to the igniting wire we all share, finally dripping from her feet. She squirms sensuously, the oil further highlighting the beauty of her glorious bare skin. Two works the oil all over Six, back and front, as Six twists and writhes under her steel bonds. Two moves to me, and starts to sponge me down. All of a sudden the steel bands, which were starting to gall a little, take on a voluptuous smoothness. They are perfectly polished and have no sharp edges, and they are positioned so that no joint in my body can escape their embrace, even as they slide against my skin. As I writhe on the pole the steel bands massage me exquisitely. Seven appears to enjoy the treatment also. The oil serves another purpose -- it's a bit electrically conductive, substituting, given the minor part electricity will play tonight, for electrical gel. The bands are connected to the punishment equipment, but they do not torment -- we are gently electrically stimulated, forcing all three of us to writhe and squirm erotically in our bonds, both for our pleasure and our audience's.

Once we are oiled, our poles are raised up, leaving about a foot clear beneath us. The oxygen nozzles are positioned beneath us. I shiver a bit thinking about Six's fantasy, but the room is comfortably warm. The nozzles serve a real as well as a fantasy function. Our bodies will be chilled quickly, from both the inside and the outside, when we are gone. The igniting wire is pure theater, but it binds us together yet again - we will erupt simultaneously. I struggle a little, but I'm committed at this point -- I look in the mirror at Six, swiveling gently side to side in her bonds next to me, and let the thought pass.

Six wants us to be displayed this way for a little while. The cg system needs some footage of us in pain to make a compelling rendition of her fantasy. Something rather like the calibration I remember from the punishment session follows, though it isn't as severe. The Tormentor needs this also -- it is her objective to bring us all to orgasm simultaneously, and having a calibration will help her.

It begins much as before; the phallus penetrates me deeply and locks in place, the phallus which will help stimulate me to orgasm, and along with my gag deliver the terminating chemicals when I do. We all squirm a little. A spotlight illuminates Six intensely, she convulses and screams, thrashing desperately on her pole. In the fantasy, as the sun comes up but before it reaches full intensity, the mirrors are turned on each of us momentarily from time to time, both to check the focus, and to give the crowd extra enjoyment. I remember that scream and brace myself -- sure enough, a moment later I'm lit up and convulse violently, howling with pain. It wasn't as bad as I remember it from before, though -- I think Six was acting a bit. I can get into that also, and struggle as hard as I can. The oiled steel actually feels pretty good to struggle against, and I know nothing will come loose. Seven is lit up and screams, then we proceed with the grunts and groans, the yelps and gasps, that I also remember. It's over soon, leaving us once again writhing erotically and uniformly, and relatively comfortably. Two returns with a folding platform and sets it up about five feet in front of Six.

The chief priestess of the sacrifice enters. In contrast to Two, the Tormentor is completely covered by an intricately decorated dress, swirling with red, orange and yellow flames, topped by a golden mask which matches the woman sacrifice's mask - they are one flesh. Her solar-inspired covering is drawn to her body by an elaborately knotted thong which telegraphs her figure with exotic clarity. The barest hint of what lies beneath peeks through the bands of her sandals, inviting us to imagine the delightful secrets above. Two helps the Tormentor mount the platform and hands her the control pad. Touching it, she rotates Seven's and my pole to face her, and adjusts our heights. Unlike before, the bands slide deliciously as the pole jerks, but they also remind me how securely I am bound, and as before, the inevitability of what is to follow. The slots in our masks allow us to see the Tormentor's eyes perfectly, even through her own mask. She will have full eye control over each of us. Unlike a punishment session, quiet speech is on the menu, if used sparingly.

She locks me in an icy stare, making me shiver to the core, and whispers "I could kill you, I could have years ago, you know that. But I won't. You will kill yourself, when you come. But then again, you'll be helpless to resist, won't you, so does it really make any difference?"

But the stare lightens up. "We've been through so much. You know I'll miss Jen and Michael, and I'm honored I could do this for you too. I never let you down before, and I won't this time. You will come when I am ready, when Jen is ready, when Michael is ready, when I'm ready. I'll do my job for you."

I'm melting with love for these women, even as I'm crying that my disease is bringing me to an end sooner than I'd have wished. But the sight of Six next to me, Seven beyond, the Tormentor in front, and my experience the last five days, brings me solace. Far better this than pass away on a cold operating table. The Tormentor holds me in her gaze a few moments longer, then turns to Seven. I'm squirming helplessly under the electrical stimulation along with my companions. The sight of the three of us gyrating beautifully against the smooth embrace of our steel bondage make sad thoughts difficult.

The Tormentor turns to her lover. I won't repeat the words they exchanged -- they were far too intimate. The farewell of Six and the Tormenter was heartbreaking and elevating. I can only be grateful for the privilege of spending eternity with the Tormentor's lover, Six, and their friend, Seven.

It's time. I feel the movement of the sleeve on my penis. The Tormentor mostly locks eyes with Six, but she looks to Seven and me from time to time with eyes of comfort as our arousal mounts. She is true to her word; I'm completely helpless, lost in subspace though acutely aware of the intensifying arousal of Six and Seven as well as my own. I could not resist if I tried, but I won't -- I'm almost in heaven already. The Tormentor wields all her skill, bringing us to unbearable heights of ecstasy and suspending us there for a few seconds, then gently pushes us over.

The orgasm wells up and up inside me; I explode, ejaculating furiously, the wave of Six's orgasmic supernova blinding me once again. On and on it goes, on and on and on...

The curtains in front of the second row closed instantly. In the punishment chamber the staff from JenLiz and the Neuroscience Institute turned quickly to their tasks, while Liz, sobbing profusely, returned to the viewing theater, with Sara right behind. Liz collapsed into my arms, physically and emotionally exhausted. Sara burst into tears also, and I folded her into our embrace. "Take me home, to your home, to our home," Liz said softly.

THE END