Usual Disclaimer: This a story for adults only. Keep it out of reach of children!

Julia, or Impalement Contest

by Gronkar ©2005

I Paris (1)

"Nervous?" I asked her.

"No," said Julia. I could see she was trembling. Her nipples were hard and her skin had goose bumps. Not all of this might be due to the cold. She always got aroused before every contest.

"I am only a bit chilly," she added. "I apologize, master."

We were walking down the long corridor leading to the arena. Julia was wearing only a brief silk robe, more like a chlamys, but was nude underneath.

"Don't worry, once it starts you will get warm soon."

She smiled. "My opponent, do I know her?"

"Some new kid, Tanya something, that T.J. found, you know how it is."

She stumbled. I held on to her.

"Its going to be alright," I said as I kissed her brow. "You are the best."

"Sorry again, master, I can't help it."

"Here." I offered her a drink out of a hip flask. "Cognac, to get you to relax."

"No, master, please," she shook her head. "I need to be at my peak."

"Its not your choice, dear."

"Yes, master," she replied and smiled at me. She took a swig from the bottle. She coughed. It was strong stuff.

"Its good, isn't it? You will feel warmer at least."

She shook her head. We reached the entry into the arena. I reached for her and hugged her. I could feel her trembling slightly. After a while, she knelt in front of me and kissed my pubes. I helped her to her feet.

" I have taken a fancy to you, my little nymph. I do not wish to lose you but I suppose that is how things are. Make it be a fair fight. Get a good grip, you know."

"Don't worry, master, I am OK. Really. I will put on a good show.”

For some reason I didn't believe her. There was a strange glow in her eyes. I had seen it before, in other women, but never as intense on Julia. She had the fever. This time it was me that could not help shudder. "Listen, Julia, do you want to back out? You and I, we make a run for it. We head for Polynesia or Papua. They won't ever find us."

She looked at me with astonishment. "You are mocking me, master. Besides, I am too far gone and you promised me…"

"OK, I admit it, my love for you is making me act and say foolish things," I said embarrassed. "I love you enough to ‘retire’ you, right now, damn the league!"

"Master," she said after a while, "I am yours to do as you please. My life is yours to take anytime. If you want to, I will forfeit it tonight and would do so without regrets. The only thing that matters to me is to serve you, to offer you my blood and pain and death if it would entertain you or make you richer."

I kissed her again. The robe fell off her shoulders. I caressed her nude body.

"I know you have the fever. I will keep my promise. You won’t suffer any longer.”

Her gaze fell down. "I can't help it. I crave it. I am sorry. But I will do my best to make it a fair fight."

"That’s all I ask of you now. You deserve one last victory. Then I will give you release."

"Master, I love you," she replied. We kissed again, even more passionately. Then she gently let herself go off my embrace. She straightened herself, loosened her hair, and walked boldly, sure-stepped, proud, and nude into the arena.

It was dark in there. The only illumination fell on the tatami mat. Around us, in the shadows, were several booths where the spectators sat silently. The audience welcomed the darkness. One did not advertise one's presence in these contests, even if they had been legalized and regulated and taxed by the government for several years now.

Opposite us appeared a tall, willowy brunette. I nodded to her trainer, T.J., who winked back to me. The other girl, Tanya, was very nervous but she managed to smile as she disrobed.

"Master, she is so young," murmured Julia looking at her opponent.

"Less experienced, you have the edge." But my eyes looked carefully at the younger girls torso and hips, trying to gauge her depth and power.

"She has nice breasts," whispered Julia.

I gripped her hand. "They will be yours tonight. You have an iron cunt, remember?"

She smiled. "Iron cunt, yes I know! Won't ever tear!"

The referee called the two women to the mat. Then he backed away, leaving them alone. The two nude women stared at each other for a long time. Then they held hands and murmured something to each other. Julia nodded. Tanya was trembling. The two embraced and kissed on the lips. They remained thus entangled for several long minutes, kissing passionately, caressing each other. Sometimes the contestants would take time to make love right there on the mat, but not this time. After a while the two women ceased to kiss and caress. They held each other's hand and nodded to the referee.

I had seen the same ceremony many times. Curious, I had once asked Julia what they said to each other out there, on the mat. Her answers were vague.

"Believe it or not, master, it's a very intimate ceremony," she explained. "We are all alone on the mat, both naked and vulnerable, the eyes of unseen strangers on us. Yet for those few moments the world ceases to exist while we make our peace. All I know is that it seems as if the goddess helps us say the right words to each other. It is a sacrament, magical, and we are the officiating priestesses. In the end its alright. We know both will suffer yet we welcome the pain that will come. It was our choice to become what we are, to be dehumanized, slaves, commanded to fight each other on the mat. No one forced us. Together we accept our fate and rejoice in it. This builds our resolve, removes all mercy, and makes us proud, especially when we lose. I can see you are skeptical on the latter point. Some cannot master the pain in the end, its natural. But those that overcome their pain are rejoicing and never regret their fate. I know it. I have seen it many times in the eyes of some of the women I have had the honor to kill. May the goddess grant me the strength when my time comes! Please forgive me, master. Words fail me. I can't explain it further. All I know is that we say things to each other out there. But I can't remember what was said afterwards. Perhaps some truths are understood without words."

The referee now approached the women and motioned for us, the trainers, to come forth too. The referee presented a long wooden box covered in lacquer. From this, he extracted a long, black, hardwood shaft and held it up so that the unseen audience could see it too. There were the usual gasps from the audience. Reality is very different from fantasy.

The younger woman was looking at the shaft intently, her eyes gleaming but Julia's eyes were shut. From the way her breasts heaved I could tell she was trying to concentrate, taking deep breaths. The referee held the shaft so that T.J. and I could inspect it. It was about three feet long, a good two inches in girth, with two rounded ends.

"Is this shaft satisfactory to both you gentlemen?" asked the referee.

"I recognize it. Its old Black Mamba, she has seen some use," I noted, looking at the shaft. "Sylvia died on it. No problem with me."

"Still as stiff as the first day," nodded T.J. He was a large Black American, a former protestant pastor turned street hustler, pretty well jaded. "No problem with me either, then again, I ain't taking it into my guts!"

The referee did not bother asking the women. The contestants have absolutely no choice in the matter once their trainer has agreed to a contest. I have known of trainers agreeing beforehand to split the purses and sacrifice both contestants. In that case, a shaft with razor blades imbedded is used. The audiences love it for these contests, though rather brief, are very bloody. Both women lose, of course. The only winners are the managers and the league.

The referee then opened a vial of vaseline and showed it to us. We nodded and the referee handed it to Julia first. She started applying gobs of it generously in her cunt under the careful eye of the referee. Then she handed the vial to Tanya.

"Its your turn now, sister," said Julia smiling at the young woman. "It's a good shaft, long and hard. Have no fear, I will be on the other end. We are both meat, remember?"

At this, Tanya managed to smile. "That is what I am afraid of." And she took the jar in her hands. These trembled slightly as she proceeded to apply a dollop of Vaseline to her own cunt. Julia reached for the jar and took more Vaseline, which she proceeded to apply to the inside of her legs.

"Masters, may I?" asked the younger girl looking at T.J. and me.

"Please, go ahead," I agreed and T.J. concurred. Tanya then inserted more Vaseline into Julia's cunt. A couple of Tanya's fingers easily went into Julia's cunt. Julia pulled her labia apart and allowed Tanya to service her. Tanya probed and felt the inside of her cunt, albeit to lubricate her well. Julia knew that Tanya was using an old trick by which an opponent's cunt strength could be gauged. Tanya then rubbed more Vaseline on Julia's legs and buttocks.

"This is so messy!" laughed the younger girl looking at her handiwork.

"Oh, one gets used to it," replied Julia smiling. "It gets messier afterwards, you know."

Tanya gasped and almost dropped the jar but Julia grabbed it. "Its OK, relax. I don't mind, see?" She looked at her intently. "You have the advantage because you are younger. Regardless, we will share something beautiful here. Here, let me help you. You need more lubricant."

And she then greased up Tanya further. I smiled. It was all a head game and Julia had just scored some points.

"You are very tight," said Julia smiling as she inserted a finger and then several more into Tanya's cunt. Tanya managed to smile at her.

"Don't worry sister," continued Julia, "I was that tight the first time I had a match. Its all on the grip." Tanya did not say a word, but her smile vanished and she paled a bit. Julia's cunt grip was legendary on the contest circuit.

When Julia finished lubricating Tanya, the referee produced another lacquered box and opened it for our inspection. It contained two large identical butt plugs. We nodded in agreement. Each woman bent over to receive the plug. The referee pounded the plug into their anus using a mallet for they would not have gone in otherwise. Both could not help but cry out in pain for the plugs were quite large. Then the girls knelt on the tatami, facing each other. From now on, they would be in constant pain due to monstrous plugs. More than one victor had required surgery to remove them.

Actually, the plugs were a relatively new addition to the contest rules. They were not merely ornamental or meant to punish for punishment's sake. The plugs served an important function for they kept the contestant's intestines inside her. It had gotten too messy to do so otherwise.

The referee now placed the shaft in the mat, its points resting against each girl’s cunt. Julia started her breathing exercises, trying to clear her mind in spite of the discomfort in her butt. Tanya seemed to regain her composure and was also trying to focus. Perhaps Julia's words had given her a surge of confidence. After all, her age did give her an edge on the contest.

"Where did you find her?" I whispered to T.J. Given his reputation I could not help asking, "Not a runaway is she?"

"No, those are more trouble than they are worth. She is anything but a chattel, quite the contrary, in fact," whispered T.J. back. "Tanya is a college kid, Ivy League, about to graduate. Her daddy's loaded, old money. I thought he was going to offer me money to keep her away but for all I know the bastard is in the audience right now, jerking off. Seems she is in it for the thrill."

"Oh I bet you she will be thrilled."

"How's Julia doing?"

"In top shape as far as I can tell."

"She is a pro through and through and a sly one too. She was playing with my girl's head just now, don't think I didn't notice."

"Well, you can't blame her."

"She looks healthy, you kept her well. Alas, I don't expect Tanya will last long. Three thrusts, tops, that's what she will last."

"I hope you are right. This will be Julia's last contest. I will retire her afterwards. She will turn 30 next month, if she wins, that is."

"Good for her. Not many retire. She didn't get the fever?"

"Hard to tell. She is a quiet one. Very devoted. I can't complain. She does have the fever. If she asks me to do her instead of letting her retire I think I might agree, but I don't know for sure. All I know is that she earned it."

T.J. laughed. "Earned what? The retirement or the shaft?"

Julia continued her breathing exercises. Tanya seemed impatient. She wore a look of determination and stared at the shaft fixedly. Looking at her carefully, I saw that even nude and with a plug up her butt she did look classy, uptown. Julia, on the other hand, also looked regal. Even seated on the tatami with a butt plug hurting her she had the elegance and grace of a queen.

"What a waste!" exclaimed T.J.

"What do you mean?"

"Tanya. The Ivy League, daddy's money, you know what I mean."

I chuckled. "Some of them are born with both a silver spoon and a touch of the fever. You are doing her a favor. Better this than the broomstick."

T. J. laughed. "Hey, you got a point, excuse the pun! Oh well, it's a living."

I looked around into the shadows.

"Good crowd tonight?"

T.J. nodded and smiled. It was hard to tell how many were in attendance as the booths were shaded. "A 500K purse as far as I can tell. Easiest 100K I have ever made."

The purse was split several ways. On a 500K purse 20% or 100K went to the syndicate, 60% or 300K went to the winner, and the remaining 100K went to the loser's manager.

"You don't have much faith in your girl." Obviously T.J. expected his girl to loose.

"I been around this business long enough to know a cunt's strength. Tanya is young, I grant you that, but clumsy, in spite of the mint she told me her family spent on ballet lessons when she was growing up. And I actually look forward to her losing. She is kind of snotty."

"You should have beaten that out of her."

"Oh, I certainly tried. I made her service winos orally on the streets, drink dog piss, pulled trains, the works. Amazing she did not get HIV. But I think she cannot help being a bitch. She kept begging for more pain and humiliation and still had that haughty look always. Look at her now, she is fuming, impatient with Julia, waiting for it to start. Boy, this sure is a head game and Julia knows how to play it to the hilt, sorry again. When it's all over and you retire Julia, give her my regards and respects."

The audience had also begun to murmur impatiently. They expected more for their money than two naked -albeit very pretty-women sitting on a tatami staring at a shaft. But the rules were clear. The only place where these women had any control over their lives was on the mat. The contest would only start when the oldest one, Julia in this case, had gotten her nerve up and was ready.

II Sylvia

You win some and you loose some that's the nature of this business. I met Julia the day after I lost Sylvia. Poor Sylvia, she ought never to have come back to the circuit and I never should have agreed to train her. I had seen her perform before, working for another manager, one Luigi that had a rather shady reputation, which, as it turned out, was entirely deserved. Sylvia had mastered all the right techniques, had a decent grip, and was blessed with a long torso, which helped her take the shaft to an uncanny depth without rupturing. Perhaps these gifts and the couple of victories she had accumulated made her reckless.

On the day of her third victory Sylvia got hurt, seriously. Her cunt was bleeding pretty bad and it was only because the other girl was already puking blood that we knew Sylvia had won. Sylvia disengaged, bleeding cunt and all. The referee examined her cunt and reluctantly declared her the winner. Sylvia was in much pain but managed to kneel in front of her opponent and took the shaft with both her hands. She slowly drove the full spit into her opponent who was by then past caring.

After that she disappeared from view. I thought she had died from her injuries or her manager had arranged for her to be impaled, which is the usual case with injured contestants. The manager can do all this, for he has complete ownership of his trainee. The league keeps a cadre of designated executioners to impale the girls when a manager decides it is necessary. If a girl is too hurt to continue competing, impalement is generally accepted as the humane way of terminating a trainee.

As for me, I was always reluctant to take that step, though I had done so before on three separate occasions. This was not done out of any qualms I might have about disposing of the girl's life for legally they were not even considered human anymore. Rather, it was because I usually pampered and spent freely on them. Having one of my girls impaled was an economic setback.

But one day Sylvia showed up at my doorstep. She did not look good. She had lost a lot of weight and looked disheveled.

"Monsieur Peron, do you recognize me, Sylvia --?"

"Ah yes, madam, what can I do for you? Long time no see."

"I need a trainer, will you help me?"

Naturally, I refused, and told her to go on with her life. She was lucky to have survived.

But she insisted. "Please, Monsieur, I need help. My manager was thinking of disposing of me. I didn't mind, but he didn't even give me the courtesy. He abandoned me and took all my earnings."

"Why, that is so unethical! Did you approach the league?"

"Yes, Monsieur, but they could not help me. I asked to be impaled but they flatly refused. I was still Luigi's property they said and they needed his consent before I was impaled. But he ran off to Southeast Asia. Please, monsieur, I am desperate. I know of no other way to earn a living or earn my death. I still have all the moves, it's only that I am a little out of shape."

Well, I am a sucker for a hard luck story. Furthermore, I remembered well that she had the skills and, frankly, I was a little short of cash at the time. My last girl had died three months before and volunteers were rather thin on the ground, for some reason. I figured that if Sylvia won a couple of purses it would get me back on track.

"OK, I will take you in, but you will retire or be impaled when I judge you cannot continue."

She was close to tears. "Thank you very much. I am yours to do as you wish. I just need some help to get back in shape."

I contacted the league first, however, and got all the legal paperwork in order. Her status was equivocal. Did she revert to human status once her trainer abandoned her? The lawyers had a field day arguing. Finally, the league lawyers played it safe and had her go through the induction process once again. Thereafter, the league used its influence to get a court order for Luigi's property to be transferred to me.

Once the legalities were over I had to nurse Sylvia back to health. We went off to the mountains where a friend of mine ran a secluded training facility. We stayed at a small cabin where we would not be molested. For the first few weeks, I let her rest, regain her strength, and put some meat on her bones. I examined her cunt thoroughly and found that it was very scarred, the last shaft apparently entered the womb. It was a miracle she had not ruptured but the womb was still very tender, with some bleeding. It did not look good. Still, the scarring could be a plus, for it toughened her flesh.

"To be frank, Sylvia, I don't think you can go on. Your cunt suffered a lot. I suggest you just forget the idea. I will let you go, OK? I am sure I can talk to the league about returning you back to human status. After all, all those legal maneuvers they went through are kind of shaky if you ask me."

"No!" she insisted, "please, master, at least let me ask the league to impale me properly. My body is yours now. I know they will let you do it."

"Forget about that. And I can't afford the impaler's service fee at this moment. Anyway, you are still young, you have a whole life ahead of you."

She smiled, close to tears. "Master, you have been very kind with me so far. I am such a crybaby! Please, if you won't have me impaled, then let me go on competing. I am good for at least one contest, one purse, even if the outcome is a given. Better that I die on the mat and make you some money instead of you having to pay for it."

"I don't know," I said hesitantly, for she did have a good point, "you know I cannot match you if you are going to rupture on the first thrust." In fact, the league gives the contestant a medical examination before each match. This insures that contestants are healthy and do not rupture immediately. No one likes the 30-second bouts.

"Master, then the best thing is to get my cunt tough once more. We both will be happier. I will be impaled and you will earn a purse."

"OK," I answered. "But we must toughen that cunt of yours the most we can. Its your only chance."

And so, after a couple of weeks, her training began on earnest.

I figured I would not pamper her anymore. From morning till night she trained, hard. When I was not fisting her I would pound cunt with a large wooden dildo, the better to toughen the flesh, just like a karate master will build a callous on the edge of his hand. When I got tired, I let her do so herself. She masturbated in that manner continuously, for hours, till her cunt was raw and bleeding. Then she hit the weights and ran laps. I made sure she ate and slept well and I could see was slowly regaining her strength. Of course we made love, though by then her cunt was so cavernous that no man's penis could satisfy her so I used her anally.

One morning I figured that she was ready now for her final test. I led Sylvia back to the training facility. There the owner had tethered a stallion that was already trained for loving women. As soon as he saw Sylvia the horse's penis dropped out of his sheath. It was several feet in length and about the girth of a grown man's arm. Sylvia knew what to do and bent over next to him and guided the monstrous penis into her. The beast then pounded her innards brutally until he came inside her and a jet of horse semen shot out of her. When he ejaculated, the head of his penis ballooned to the size of a cabbage. Sylvia shrieked. It was the final test. If her cunt did not rip then she was ready. Thankfully, Sylvia survived.

By then I had already called around to try to schedule a bout. There was one in Vegas next week. I asked Sylvia if she was willing. Understand that once a manager signs the contract the league expects the contestant to show up. If she doesn't show up, the league will track her down and impale her. Furthermore, sometimes they do the same to the manager. Every once in a while a girl runs away right before the bout. This probably wouldn't be the case with Sylvia but I did not want to risk riding the one legged horse myself. To be on the safe side, I kept her chained as the date neared. Thankfully, a few days later I delivered her safely in Barcelona where the syndicate's goons took us on a private plane to Vegas.

As for me, I knew she had no chance but I felt no qualms. I had done my best to insure Sylvia's survival. She was, after all, my investment. On the other hand, the purse, the syndicate had said, was decent, at least 300K of which I would get 20% on the event of Sylvia's death. I would be a winner either way. And I knew Sylvia felt that way too.

The bout was no contest. Her opponent was also a veteran, one Amalia, a tough gal from Brazil with a curvy body and a cavernous cunt. Her manager later told me that she made love to a donkey daily, the better to strengthen her cunt.

By the end of the first round both women were grunting and pushing and were covered with sweat. It is, I must admit, a rather sexy spectacle, the sight of these two women pushing themselves on a two-headed shaft hoping to tear the other's cunt. But my experienced eye told me that Amalia was going easy on her, to keep the contest going.

"Master, I won't last long," said Sylvia to me during the first break.

"Yes, she is about to do you," I whispered back.

"I will die happy, master. Thank you for letting me die in this manner."

Towards the end of the second round it happened. Amalia gave a particularly powerful thrust. Sylvia shrieked and everyone present heard the usual horrible tearing sound. Amalia laughed triumphantly. Several inches of the shaft suddenly disappeared into Sylvia's cunt and she fainted.

We revived her. It was expected, circuit rules mandated she be conscious for the impalement. The shaft was all the way into the base of her stomach.

"Get ready Sylvia," I said to her as I held her hand.

"I am impaled! Oh master, its in so deep!" she said in a soft voice. Her hand rested on her belly, feeling the hard outline of the shaft killing her.

"You must be brave now."

"Yes, I will be brave! Master, I am so happy!"

She managed a half smile in spite of the pain she must have been suffering. She spread her arms in seeming triumph. For a moment I doubted who the victor was.

"Easy, now, don't move. Let Amalia do all the work. There is no rush. I am proud of you. Everybody will watch you take every inch. Amalia will go slow."

"Thank you, master," she replied, grimacing when a wave of pain overwhelmed her. "I won't let you down."

Then she seemed at peace. Perhaps endorphins had kicked in, dulling the pain a bit. By now she was resting on a pool of blood and other fluids.

The two women were then left alone on the mat. The crowd's expectant murmurs could be heard in the gloom. Amalia knelt in front of Sylvia and put both her hands on the shaft.

"It's the best thing for you now, sister" said the Brazilian. "I will take the shaft one day also, remember that. Forgive me."

"Yes, sister, I understand," whimpered Sylvia. "I forgive you."

Amalia gave a small push. Sylvia moaned. Amalia shook her head.

"Look, I will only start when you tell me, OK?"

"Help me!" cried Sylvia.

"I won't take it out, sister. Don't ask me to do that," said the Brazilian.

"No! Help me! I want to keep my legs spread real wide while you impale me. But I no longer feel them."

Amalia pulled her legs back and Sylvia managed to grab onto them in a crablike position. She could see the shaft buried in her cunt and nodded for Amalia to start. The Brazilian slowly pushed the shaft in. Sylvia stared wide eyed at the shaft entering her and her moaning increased. The flow of blood and other fluids out of Sylvia's cunt also increased. The shaft was tearing her innards.

"You will die soon," said Amalia, grunting and pushing. "Try to stay alive until the entire shaft is inside you."

"Yesss! Deeper, go deeper!" cried Sylvia loud enough so that everyone could hear. The audience applauded. Such eagerness was always appreciated.

Sylvia kept crying. "Impale me! Deeper! Put it all in! Every inch! Yessss! I want it all inside me! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Aaaaargh! Deeper! Oh Jesus! Impale me! I want it all! Every inch! Aeeeyy!" The crowd went wild. Sylvia was definitely giving them their money's worth. Her death would be memorable.

Amalia kept pushing the shaft in slowly, lovingly, mercilessly. Eventually, Sylvia was no longer able to talk and could barely breath. She moaned and cried incoherently all the while valiantly holding her legs wide open. Her eyes were wide as saucers, locked on Amalia's. Then a gusher of blood came out of her mouth, her hands could not help but let go of her legs. She started convulsing. Amalia kept pushing, thrusting the shaft deeper, trying to guide the tip around bone or the heart so that Sylvia would last longer. Finally, the entire shaft was inside Sylvia. The tip of the shaft must have been up to her chest, behind her breasts. Sylvia squirmed, her torso shook uncontrollably, her mouth frothed with her blood. But her hands reached down to the exposed end of the shaft and kept it in place.

Amalia stood up triumphant, covered in Sylvia's blood. The audience cheered her victory. Amalia took her labia lips and spread them open, displaying her cavernous cunt to the audience and making obscene thrusting motions with her hips. The audience was now applauding her furiously. Cries of "Sylvia! Sylvia!" also could be heard. Sylvia continued on her death throes, it would not be long now, a matter of seconds.

The reflectors illumined the scene. The iron smell of blood permeated the room. Then Amalia stood on top of Sylvia, straddling her, and sat down upon her face, pressing her cunt to Sylvia's bloody lips for her to kiss. Amalia's cunt was the last thing Sylvia saw. She died in seconds, fully impaled, with her opponent's cunt pressed to her lips.

The arenas have an abattoir to process the body. It is better if the girl is dead by the time she is taken there, otherwise they start cutting her up while still alive. I never have liked that inflicted on my girls and always carried an injection filled with a lethal narcotic just in case. I know it is against the official rules but the syndicate doesn't care much at that point. Or at least they used not to back then. Thankfully Sylvia had died on the mat, before being cut.

The cutting is not a pretty sight. I never have enjoyed the spectacle for I usually have invested a lot of money and effort in the woman being butchered. But circuit rules required that I be present. Basically all the choice parts of the impalee are cut off, cunt lips, legs, breasts, buttocks, etc. The cunt lips are hard to get. These are usually torn and driven into the impalee. When they can be found, they are considered the choicest morsels, especially if eaten raw, like sushi. The flesh is then packaged and sent to the winner who will usually dine on them for several days. The rest is incinerated. The impalee's manager is given the ashes. I make it a point of scattering the ashes out in the desert or out at sea as a token of respect. Some managers, however, just flush them down the toilet. I really don't know what is better.

III Amalia

I called on Amalia's dressing room to pay my respects to her manager, but he was not around. I only found Amalia. "Congratulations, Amalia, it was a fine contest." The Brazilian woman had bathed and was wearing an exquisite silk robe. In contrast to the savage creature that had killed Sylvia she looked now very proper. Her eyes, however, were steely and gleamed like those of a predator.

"Thank you, master," she replied with a smile. Then she proceeded to disrobe; meat may not be clothed in front of humans. She knelt in front of me, her mouth open to receive my phallus if I so chose. "You are very kind with this piece of meat. May I service you?"

"Not right now. I just witnessed the cutting and am not in the mood. You may sit. I recognize talent. It was a magnificent bout, no doubt about it."

"Your cunt Sylvia was very brave, master. I can only hope I will be that brave when my time comes."

Then her manager appeared. He had a quite stunning tall blond nude woman in tow, apparently also one of his trainees.

He asked me if I wanted to have sex with Amalia or with the blond but I declined. At his insistence and not wishing to offer offense, I agreed to let the blonde fellate me. She promptly knelt in front of me and serviced me, very skillfully in fact, letting me ejaculate into her mouth and swallowed afterwards. She thanked me ritually and stood up. Then the manager and the blond left. I failed to ask her name.

I was left alone with Amalia. She offered me coffee and I accepted. We chatted for a while. Amalia was really a very attractive woman, quite urbane and easy to talk to. I was intrigued about her training method.

"Yes, master, I let a donkey fuck me daily. The head on his penis is very knobby," she explained. Then she half blushed in a very coquette manner. "A donkey penis is the best thing to toughen one's cunt. And it's very enjoyable, master. I am glad my manager decided I should train with one. It has kept me alive."

Then a league representative arrived with a set of packages, which I knew to be Sylvia's flesh.

"Master, would you care to take some of her flesh of it with you?" inquired Amalia. "I am sure she would insist that you do so. There is more than enough for my master and me. We can only eat so much, you know, we still have some left over from my last victory."

"Thank you, Amalia, but it would not be proper." For some reason I felt I had to be civil with her, even though she was no longer classified as human.

"You are concerned as to whether my master would approve, isn't it so?"

"Well, yes, you have little say in these matters. Basically, I should just ignore your wishes and treat you as nothing but a beast on the hoof awaiting death. This is the way things are supposed to be, my personal feelings aside."

"Yes, I understand master, I meant to cause no offense. And you are right about my role. I am meat. In fact, I am not going to be around for long. My master decided I will be impaled in two weeks if not sooner. I am glad I gave him one last victory."

I stared at her intrigued. She was a very good money earner. Why on earth would her manager decide to have her impaled? "Oh, I suppose your master knows what he is doing. It's probably for the better. Anyway, you certainly have earned the shaft."

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Thank you, master. Alas, I think my master is tired of me. I have served him five years and I have made him a lot of money."

"Well, too bad you won't get to spend your earnings."

"It's OK, master. My owner promised to send my league earnings to my family in Brazil. The blond he has with him now is my replacement. I am happy, I really don't mind." Still, she sounded discomfited.

"I commend your devotion." I knew the story. The girl had fallen in love with her master who in turn had not cared, rightfully so, for she was no longer human. Then he had gotten himself a new cunt and decided to get rid of the old one.

She sighed. "The new girl will also know take shaft some day, probably quite soon. I have been training her and her cunt is not as strong as mine. I am sorry, master, this is out of place for me to say. I am just meat."

"Yes you are," I said caressing her breasts.

"Please, master, if I may mention this, I saw how you comforted Sylvia. She was so happy in the end. You trained her very well; very few managers are so kind to their girls. I must insist and beg your forgiveness for the impertinence. I am sure Sylvia would want you to have some of her flesh, if only a small portion. That she mentioned before we started. I myself would will you these breasts or whatever parts you fancied out of me, but that is not for me to decide."

"OK, I will take some of Sylvia's meat" I agreed reluctantly. I could not help admiring her humility. "Let's keep this between us then. Yes, I will take some with me."

"Don't worry," she said smiling as she handed me a piece of Sylvia, "in a couple of weeks or less I will have a shaft inside me. No one will know. This piece of meat won't say a word."

IV Paris (2)

Julia eventually opened her eyes and laid on her back on the mat. She opened her legs wide and took the shaft and inserted it into herself. In went the shaft, slowly, while Julia grimaced. Black Mamba was thick but her cunt was by now very stretched. She pushed the shaft in until it reached bottom, the head resting against her cervix, and signaled to the referee. This man in turn pressed a hand against her mons pubis feeling how deep it was.

"This cunt has eight inches of the shaft inside her," announced the referee. At least 28 inches of shaft were still exposed. Julia sought my dim shadow. I nodded my approval. She smiled. Tanya also laid on her back and guided the shaft inside her while the referee gripped it in place so it would not go deeper into Julia. Tanya grunted, the shaft was quite thick and being a rookie she had more problems getting it in than Julia, who was used to these girths. Slowly, she willed herself unto the shaft until it did not seem to be able to go in further. The referee carried out his inspection.

"The cunt has taken ten inches inside her," announced the ref. Everyone looked expectantly at Julia. Tanya smiled triumphantly in spite of the rictus of pain in her face. The contest could not start until both were matched.

"Damn!" whispered T.J. "In training she only went as far as eight inches. I didn't think the little bitch was that tough."

I nodded. The rules required that Julia had now to make up the extra two inches but she had bottomed out. Being intimately familiar with Julia's cunt I knew she could still stretch a bit more, though it would be painful. By all means she had to keep the shaft from entering her womb; it was very tender. Julia slowly pushed her torso further down the shaft while the referee held the shaft in place. I could see that she was suffering. Slowly, she managed to get the last two inches into her.

"Both are matched! Sixteen inches clear!" announced the ref. Julia was now covered in sweat, breathing shallowly.

The younger girl held her legs up high. I noticed that Julia did likewise with difficulty. Tanya had gained an advantage. Whether or not she managed to capitalize on it was still to be seen.

The ref guided Julia's feet so that now both women's soles were touching. Their feet seemed to grip each other, as if they were primates. Thus positioned they would be able to exert leverage. However, their greased backs and buttocks meant that they could slide on the mat. This had its own perils. The first one to slide off the mat, in the referee's judgment, would be declared the looser. The winner would then proceed to finish her off. The manager was not allowed to intervene. Any protests would be made to the syndicate afterwards, when it was all over.

"Hands on the mat, ladies, torsos flat. Keep your soles together. No kicking and no hard feelings, let's have a fair fight. No hard feelings, right?"

Both women nodded.

"This is an impalement contest to the death. You will push until one or both of you rupture. When the rupture comes," said the ref snickering, "you will let me know. I am sure you will. I will examine the loser to make sure she has ruptured. The contest only ends when one or both of you are impaled. If one of you falls out of the mat, she loses. Its my call as to what is out, understood? The winner gets to impale the loser. No mercy must be shown. The winner must insert the entire the entire length of the shaft into her opponent, 36 inches of wood in this case. Not one inch will be left out. If the impalee dies before the entire shaft is inside, the winner will continue until it is all in. If you both rupture, you will impale each other by turns, each taking an entire shaft of the same length. Order is determined by a coin toss. Whoever wins the toss impales the other first. If one of you dies before impaling the other, then your opponent's manager will impale the survivor here on the mat. Give the audience a good show, ladies, do your best, and good luck. Did you understand my instructions?"

Both women managed to nod. The referee let go of the shaft. "Now, impalers, thrust!" ordered the ref and stepped back. The two women thrust their hips forward brusquely, gripping the shaft with all their cunt's strength. Their torsos could not help raising themselves off the mat, a technical fault, and their legs pushed mightily forward. They were both seeking to early rupture their opponent. If it did not end in the next few seconds it would be a memorable, brutal, match. The instant stab against their cervixes was very painful. Both women screamed in pain.

V Meeting Julia

The next day, in my hotel suite, I had room service prepare Sylvia's rump. The concierge dropped by with a note from the league. It was notification that a wire transfer for 60K had been made to my Swiss bank account. An urn with Sylvia’s ashes accompanied the note.

Pretty soon my dinner arrived. I settled down to a fine dinner, thinking about Amalia and Sylvia. The Brazilian was really a fine person, I thought, though she became a merciless beast on the mat. I found the final face sitting rather inappropriate though it had turned out to be a real crowd pleaser. As I settled down to enjoy my dinner I felt quite contented. Life was good.

Then the doorbell rang and I met Julia for the first time. She looked stunning, Parisian gown, veil, gloves, expensive jewelry, hairdo, custom perfume, the works.

"May I help you?" I could not help but admire the beautiful woman that stood in front of me. She was a brunette, at least six feet tall, with long legs and high cheekbones. She was showing some cleavage, the breasts seemed just the right size.

"My name is Julia Esterhazy", she said in a quiet voice. "You are monsieur Alex Peron right? I witnessed the match last night. I don't know whether to offer my condolences or congratulations on the performance of your trainee. Forgive me, but I am not sure what is in order. All I know is that it was a beautiful thing. May I come in?"

"Please do so, Ms. Esterhazy. You are obviously familiar with my line of work."

"Yes, monsieur, you train women for impalement contests. They say you are quite good."

I nodded. "Then you must also know that I do not take just anyone of the street or suicidals or cultists. As for last night, I do not know how to react myself. On the one hand Sylvia was quite suicidal when I took her in but then again she was good for one last purse."

She smiled. "Well, I understand your position, sort of. As for being suicidal, you do have to be a bit crazy to engage in this....contest, don't you think?"

"Or desperate," I replied as she brushed past me. Her perfume was enervating. "You don't look either."

She shrugged. "I am certainly neither suicidal or desperate, monsieur. I am here merely to satisfy my curiosity. Yes, I am considering becoming a contestant. Yet I have not made up my mind completely. Hopefully you will be able to enlighten me and help me decide."

I led her to my dinner table.

"In that case, would you join me for dinner?" I offered. A delicately cooked portion of Sylvia's buttocks was under a covered plate.

"That's very gracious of you," she said as she sat down. I uncovered the plate, revealing the unique morsel. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes, of course. This is Sylvia, or part of her, at least." I pointed to the urn that contained her ashes. I noticed that Julia did not seem to be repelled by the contents of the plate.

"She was," I continued as I halped her to her chair, "a very good and brave person. Have you ever eaten human flesh?"

"I can't say I have."

I poured her a glass of wine and then cut off a portion of Sylvia’s rump and placed it on her plate.

"Just don't tell me it tastes like chicken," she said smiling as she picked up her fork. I ignored her comment, it detracted somehow from the sacrament I was offering to her. Instead I sat down and looked at her expectantly. She slowly picked up a morsel with her fork and placed it without hesitation between her perfect ruby lips.

"So?" I was mildly amused as she consumed Sylvia's flesh. "What do you think?"

She chewed slowly, then drank a sip of wine. "Delicious," she said after a while, "enervating, though rather salty." She took a sip of her wine.

We ate in silence, communing with Sylvia in this curious manner.

"And now, Ms. Esterhazy," I started after we had finished off our meal. "How may I help you? You mentioned you were interested in joining the circuit."

She seemed to hesitate for a minute. It was a natural reaction. She had just had her first taste of human flesh. Her smile revealed that she had found the experience enjoyable. She took another sip of her wine. Then she looked at me very seriously.

"Yes, I want to join the circuit or league or syndicate or whatever it is called nowadays. I want to become a contestant in an impalement bout."

"No, you don't," I shook my head regretfully. "You saw the contest last night, got aroused, and sought me out. It happens all the time. I would be irresponsible if I took advantage of you in your present frame of mind. Besides, I cannot bear to think of someone as beautiful as you ending up on a dinner plate. I suggest you just forget the idea. You had a nice dinner, an interesting one, and your company honored Sylvia and myself. Let us just part amicably then."

She smiled. "I think you doubt my commitment."

"I can't help but doing so. Let me explain some facts to you. The trainees give up all their rights, forever. We, the trainers, have absolute power of life and death over these women. Yes, it is a form of slavery, perhaps a more extreme one than what the Romans practiced, for this slave is no longer considered human. She consciously agrees to be dehumanized. Retirement, the only way for her to regain her human status, is no option, unless the manager agrees, and few do. When these women want out or are hurt, most managers just have them impaled by the league. You become a walking piece of flesh, destined for the spit. That you are alive is only incidental. It's the ultimate submission. Is this all clear to you?"

She stared at the bits of flesh left on her plate. "For a year now I have been following the circuit," she explained, "attending matches all over the world. I purchased videos and watched them repeatedly, wanting to absorb the moves these women made on the mat. It took a strong stomach to watch some of these matches. But everyday my desires have increased. I practiced with a monster dildo, driving it deep into myself. One night I hurt myself and started bleeding. I became frightened enough that I sought counseling. It helped, for a while. Then I realized I was denying myself. Now I freely admit it. I want to be impaled one day, yes. No, I am not suicidal, not yet. You must rest easy on that regard. But the day I am impaled I will be happy. May the goddess make me brave then."

I looked at her carefully. "I admire your zeal, Ms. Esterhazy. You are not the first to be obsessed with being impaled. But becoming a participant is not a decision to be taken lightly. You probably could find a manager to train you quite easily, because so many are unscrupulous. If I take you on, your body belongs to me until said time I decide to have you impaled or retired. However, if you retire then you will be extremely rich for legally you are entitled to a percentage of the purses, which the league keeps in escrow. But in fact, it is very rare for a contestant to be retired. And even then your sanity will be questionable even more so at that point. I've known of cases where the woman retires and then voluntarily submits to being impaled right afterwards. Your most likely fate would be like Sylvia's. Your butt will end in someone's plate. I think that would be a shame."

She dismissed my warnings with a shrug. "I realize I am not quite sane, monsieur, but I don't expect to get any better. And I am not concerned about money. You see, monsieur, I am a very competitive woman, a successful businesswoman and independently wealthy. I always play to win, though I know in the end I will die. I fantasize about impaling another woman or women before I myself take the shaft. Perhaps my forthrightness repels you. I have found that to be the case with some men."

"Actually, milady, I find it refreshing."

Her perfect eyebrow arched. "I am also a thrill seeker of sorts. I want to try everything, live life intensely."

"You want a thrills, try climbing K9."

"I did, up the north face. I fucked all my sherpas on the summit just 'because it was there', as the saying goes. Its hard to reach orgasm at that height, I would have you know. But when you do, the lack of oxygen causes quite a rush."

"Interesting, milady, I don't think I would have found that bit of information in the National Geographic. But impalement is very painful."

"Pain? I would welcome pain. I am a devoted sadomasochist, monsieur. I understand pain. I have administered and received it. It's the body's poetry, the song of sensations, do you understand what I am saying?"

I shook my head. I was never able to understand the S&M lifestyle. The only redeeming quality I found in pain was that it afforded me a good living.

"Don't glamourize impalement, milady. Bladders and intestines empty, body fluids spill, impalement is messy, smelly."

"I am aware of that, monsieur. Impalement is its own reward, monsieur. Last night Sylvia offered no resistance after her rupture. She earned the shaft and took its blessings willingly."

"Frankly, there was not much she could do at that point," I replied rather cynically. "By keeping her legs wide open while the shaft went in she shortened her agony. I would think it's the smart thing to do."

"I disagree. There was love in her gesture, perhaps love for you, no greater gift could she give. I feel honored to have partaken of her flesh. Her offering redeems her death."

"Pierre, the hotel's cook is an artist, what can I say? He would turn road kill into a work of art."

She frowned. "Will you take me, monsieur? Yes or no? I would appreciate your immediate answer. I must thank you, however. Eating this flesh has made up my mind. I want to be a contestant. I look forward to being impaled and I hope that whoever eats my butt will enjoy it. If you won't take me, I believe that there is a Mr. Toad who would be willing to train me."

The thought of an animal like Foxworth Toad handling her revolted my stomach. His girls were pimped on the street between matches and barely received any training. I suppose that pleased a certain type of volunteer for he always kept a large stable of slaves. But the creature in front of me was a goddess, worthy of a better fate. Besides I was frankly lusting after her by now. I cursed myself inwardly. It would not be the first disastrous time my dick did my thinking for me. I refilled both our glasses and offered a toast. "If you are serious, we will go to the syndicate headquarters here in Paris tomorrow. As I said, there are some legalities. Cheers!"

"Cheers! I suppose there is always paperwork," she said as she smiled and stood up. I thought she would leave at that point and doubted I would see her ever again. But no, something had caught her eye. She walked towards the matel where the impalement shaft Sylvia had taken was on display. Her curiosity was aroused.

"This is the very shaft, is it not?" Her hand ran over the entire length of the shaft while she stared at it enraptured.

"That one is known as Black Mamba," I explained. "It is made of some tropical hardwood. It is said that the first woman to take it was a French Creole in Martinique early in the 19th century. It was some sort of magic ritual or consensual human sacrifice."

"You mean, she volunteered?" She looked at me incredulously.

"Yes, that is the story. Amazing, isn't it?"

"No, monsieur, quite understandable. How was it performed?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "The legend says that the shaft was inserted up her cunt into her intestinal cavity at first. She remained thus for three days, suffering all manner of agonies but also servicing orally any that wished to use her thus. On the third day, feeling near death, she herself pushed the entire shaft inside her, ending her agony soon afterwards."

Her eyes were gleaming. She was thoroughly aroused. "Oh, what a beautiful death!"

"No one knows how many more women have died on this shaft, but it the legend is that it won't let a woman die until it has gone in all the way, to the hilt. And a few have been known to remain alive an inhuman amount of time with this shaft inside them fully. There may be some truth in all this. Sylvia remained alive until it was all in and even a little bit afterwards. I am not superstitious, you know, but this shaft is said to have its own aura, and it is an evil one."

Julia took it almost reverently, holding it in both hands, judging its weight. "Nonsense! It is powerful, alright, but kind to those that take it."

"You must be kidding me."

"No, monsieur, these are matters esoteric which I have also studied carefully." She held the shaft with both hands, admiring it. "Alas, the dark gods that created it will reveal their knowledge only to a woman that takes it fully. I suppose a brief moment of insight is worth dying for."

"I personally think that it is the resin that the wood still exudes that has an psychotic effect. It both keeps the women alive and maximizes their desire. This shaft is dangerous, Ms. Esterhazy."

She opened her blouse and exposed her breasts. They were magnificent. Then she held the shaft against her chest for a while, letting it rest between her breasts. Her eyes shut, saying nothing, as she rubbed the shaft against her now bare breasts. "Ohmigod,” she said after a while. “It is powerful indeed."

She had grown very flustered. "Its so thick and so hard. Goddess, grant me the strength to take it all in someday!"

"Are you alright?" I reached for the shaft but she pulled it away from me.

She was sweating now, feverish. "I need this shaft inside me, now. Please, do not deny me."

I shook my head. "Impalements are only legal on the mat or when performed by an official league impaler."

"At least let me masturbate with it," she said, with a hint of pleading in her voice.

I made an encouraging gesture. She disrobed completely. Her figure was magnificent. She held the shaft lovingly and placed it against her body, mimicking it going up inside her all the way to her chest. She closed her eyes. "One day I want to take it all in, every last inch, all of it," she whispered. I shuddered, for her voice was unearthly, and I thought I detected a hint of a Caribbean Creole accent.

Then Julia laid on the couch and proceeded to masturbate with Black Mamba. I kept a grip on an end of the evil shaft to keep her from self-impaling as she obviously would have done had she been alone. She struggled to get it in because of its girth but once in she started pounding her cervix with it. She soon achieved a volcanic orgasm. She looked at me through narrowed eyes and smiled ferally. The shaft was still deep inside her.

"Push it all the way in, please monsieur. I want to take it all, every inch! Impale me!"

I shook my head. "Impaling you would be murder. You are still legally human. Besides, it would be very messy. It would ruin the rug. The hotel would complain."

I could feel her trying to push it in deeper and I firmly held on to the shaft and pulled it out of her. She sighed when the shaft left her, leaving her cunt obscenely dilated. This I attributed to the resin Black Mamba oozed. It was probably also a muscle relaxant.

She looked at the shaft longingly. "I will die impaled, monsieur, on Black Mamba, hopefully, or on a broomstick if need be. And I don't think I will regret for a minute that I will die thus."

I inserted my hand into her dilated cunt and palpated her cervix. She shuddered when I inserted a finger into her womb but otherwise she allowed me to do as I wished. I deduced from all this examination that she was very healthy and strong. She was also dripping wet.

"Julia," I said as I continued my examination, this time putting my fingers up her anus, "it will be easier if you give up your freedom of choice and become meat legally. Then I can train you. You will be impaled, but I can assure you that it won't be on a broomstick."

"Then let it be so," she said in a steady, quiet, precise, tone, "consider my life and body yours from now on. I vow to be your slave, to do as you please, to serve you or those you wish to be served, in whatever manner you wish. Just promise me that I will die impaled." I looked at her but did not reply for it would trivialize the moment. I merely nodded my consent. If that is how she wanted it, I wasn't going to deny her. No red-blooded man would have done otherwise. She was obviously half mad but beautiful and that overrode everything. And if she was some sort of witch or priestess then her spell had ensnared me. Then I helped her stand and took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

V The Syndicate

We made love through the night. The next morning I woke up with a goddess next to me.

"Wake up!" I said as I kissed her.

She was confused for a moment. "This was all, so unreal."

"Are your vows still in effect then?"

"Yes, very much so," she replied in a quiet voice. "I serve you, master."

"Then I have to pee."

She looked at me and grimaced..

"Come, you will be my toilet. I will pee on your mouth every morning or when I feel like. I expect you to drink as much as you can. You will retch the first few times but eventually will get used to it. It's all part of your training, the humiliation and dehumanizing. Do you understand? You are to become just meat on the hoof. Come, it's the last time you will get an explanation from me. From now on I expect you to respond unquestioningly to my commands."

She stood up and followed me to the restroom wordlessly. She was naked but her eyes cast chastely downwards. Then she knelt where I indicated to her and opened her mouth to receive my urine. She stared at me fixedly as I relieved myself on her mouth and, to her credit, swallowed it all without retching.

We spent the next three days making love. Then I decided I should take her to be processed. "Bathe and put on some clothes," I instructed her after relieving my bladder. "There are some clothes that will fit you in the closet yonder, left over from other girls. We are going to the league headquarters to formalize this relationship."

She nodded. So far I had kept her in the nude, the better to become acquainted with her muscles and nerves. These I mapped carefully and did likewise with all her orifices, taking careful note of their depth and strength of their tissue.

I could hear her rummaging through the old clothes. That a person such as her would be forced to wear hand me downs from dead women would probably have been quite galling, for the old Julia, that is. The new Julia did not protest. She obeyed quietly.

"Master, is this too slutty?" she asked as she paraded in front of me.

"Definitely, you look like one of Toad's streetwalkers," I replied morosely. She was wearing a vaporous halter-top, crotch flossing shorts, and stiletto heels. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. Just stay away from any 14 year old boys or men in their sixties. You will make the first come when they see you and give a heart attack to the latter. I love what those heels do to your leg muscles, but those shoes must violate some city code. Also, be aware that if you are offered money for a blowjob on the street I probably will give my consent because I get to keep all your earnings from prostituting you. A piece of meat has no need for cash, do you understand? "

"Yes, master," she answered meekly but her left eyebrow arched.

I looked at her again. "Nah, this won't do, its not you. And I am certainly not a pimp. That outfit, its just too...proletarian. You are regal, even if you drink my piss in the mornings."

"I could just go nude, master. Isn't that how meat is kept at all times?"

"Yes, you will forfeit clothes, but not now. Once you become meat then it will not be illegal for you walk naked down the street. Meanwhile, I won't have you arrested."

I went back to the closet until I found a nice business outfit that had belonged to Petra, a German former schoolteacher I had trained briefly. She was, however, hopeless and her cunt never could grip firmly, so I sold her off to a cannibal restaurant. I held the clothes in front of Julia, it seemed like the suit would fit and at least she did not look like a streetwalker.

"Remove the slut outfit. Try this on. One rule, however, no panties for you, ever. And as soon as we go near a salon you will be done, OK?"

She looked at the outfit critically. "Well, at least it is a Dior. I will wear it if it pleases you, master. But the slut look won't go away. There are semen stains all over the jacket."

"Alas, its my fault. Use a wet rag on it, perhaps it won't be so obvious then."

"Master, may I masturbate first?"

"Fine, as long as I get to watch."

She took out a small pagan looking statuette from her purse. This she placed next to the bed where she could see it and proceeded to pleasure herself.

"It's a statue of the goddess," she said when she finished. "I offer my pleasure to her. Do you mind, master?"

"A piece of meat with religion? Well, why not? I don't mind allowing you small, harmless liberties. It won't make a difference. Your rump will end up in a grill regardless. Hurry up now, we have to make it to downtown Paris before noon."

The league, also known as the syndicate, had its offices in a neo-classic edifice fronting the Seine. It seemed like a non-descript business setting, perhaps a staid old firm of solicitors. The logo for its official name, WIL or World Impalement League, an outline of a nude woman skewered on a pole, was tastefully displayed on its front door. I held the door for Julia to enter. She smiled at me. I cursed myself inwardly for not staying in the role of the harsh master. The semen stains on her outfit were not so obvious now.

"May I help you?" asked the receptionist, a pretty young brunette.

"Yes," I replied as I handed her my card. "Is Monsieur Blondin in? I need to process an inductee."

We settled down for a short wait. Julia paged through the waiting room magazines and was mildly amused. Instead of the usual fare of business magazines there were instead copies of Cannibal Cuisine, Dolcett Life, Electrocution Today, Modern Guillotine, and The Shaft, the official newsletter of the league.

"Look at this shaft, master," she said showing me a foldout in Dolcett Life. "It has a steel core and imbedded razor edges. Guarantees an immediate rupture with little pressure."

"Too good for you, cunt. You deserve a dull tipped broomstick from a dumpster."

"Cunt?" she smiled. "I sort of like that."

"Rump roast, labia filets, breast patties, that is all you are now."

"Well, yes, master, anything you say, master" her eyes were glinting with amusement, "though it's not legal yet."

"It will be so, cunt, in a few minutes."

And she said not a word more and contented herself with idly browsing the magazines.

Blondin was the league's lawyer. He bore an unfortunate resemblance to Pierre Laval.

"Long time no see, Alex!" said Blondin amiably as we were introduced to his office.

"You know how it is, Maurice. Here, let me present to you Ms. Julia Esterhazy. She is still legally human, but not for long. Hopefully you can facilitate matters."

Blondin hurried to kiss Julia's hand and praise her beauty. Blondin asked his secretary to bring in one of the pre-packaged agreements. While waiting for it, we all engaged in idle conversation, league gossip, and Blondin was very deferential to Julia.

"If you will just be kind enough to sign these papers, Ms. Esterhazy," said Blondin, laying out the agreement on top of his desk.

Julia hesitated for a moment. Blondin's secretary was another pretty young woman who would act as a witness and notary.

Blondin noticed her concern and hurried to explain. "You abrogate all rights over your person, you understand. Its all legal and sanctioned in most of the planet. Once you sign you will no longer be considered human and will belong to Monsieur Alex Peron," continued Blondin point

tres bien ecrit

Edited by Franck Master, 1 year(s) ago

"Very well written" translates previous comment.

I love this story. It is such a huge turn-on in my mind to see the underlying absolute devotion to being impaled these women all seem to experience. Very nice background story, skillfully webbed.
Keep up the good work, Author of this text ;o)

hm, definitely like that story, especially the idea behind it is... something new :P would love to see someone painting such scenes