Chapter 16E

Since I was on camera all by myself, I dropped any pretense of restraint and just let myself go. I writhed around on the hay bale, luxuriating in my orgasm, cooing to myself and basking in the fixed gaze of the camera. I really let it all out and it seemed to prolong my climax quite nicely. I was still going pretty good when Roxy walked over to me.

From the way she stood on my upstage side, I knew she had something she wanted to do to me on camera. In my sexual haze I thought she wanted to feel me up, so I spread my knees and raised my hips invitingly. I was surprised when her hand came out from behind her back holding a dagger that looked like it should be on the wall of some museum. It had a thin, shiny, double-edged blade that was well over a foot long, with an ivory handle and a gold guard with snakes intertwined across it. I remember it clearly because Roxy held it right in front of my eyes, where I could see it and appreciate the details.

When she was sure my eyes were focused on the dagger, she lowered the long, thin blade to my lips.

"Kiss it," she commanded, and I did. The bright blade was cool on my lips.

She moved the dagger down my chest and touched the edge to the swell of my right breast. She pressed down and I felt the razor-sharp blade try to bite into my flesh.

I froze just as still as I could as she held the dagger against my skin. Terror welled up in me, merging with the afterglow and rekindling my arousal. My breathing intensified, making my breast rise up under the knife that was already perilously close to cutting me.

Then I felt something familiar in the pit of my stomach, followed by a strong sense of veja vu. Being tied up and abused had brought back some of what I had felt during my visit to The Torturer. Now that I was once again being threatened physically, feelings that I thought I had buried were again welling to the surface. Fear gripped me in its steely claw, not at what Roxy might do but at what I might let her do once my self-destructive streak was reawakened.

Roxy let the dagger ride for a few seconds, then she moved it up along my breast in a shaving motion, scraping it along rather than slicing. She hooked her finger into my nipple-ring and pulled firmly upward, stretching my nipple out and directly into the path of the knife.

I watched intently as the blade slid toward my nipple. I wanted to look up at Roxy to see if I could tell if she was just teasing me, of if she really intended to cut off my nipple, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the gleaming blade. I watched as it negotiated the last curve and bore down on the taut pillar of pink flesh.

From the firm pressure she held on the knife, I began to doubt that this was just a tease. If she didn't ease up quickly, I was going to watch her slice my nipple from my breast.

Just as it reached the edge of my areola, the blade slid into a gob of cum and the slick stuff made it lose its bite. It abruptly slipped and instead of biting into me, it skipped past my nipple and hit the edge of my ring with a clinking sound, nearly taking a bit of Roxy's finger as she lost control of it. Startled, she let go of my ring and tipped the knife down, letting the whitish goo slide along the blade toward the tip. She moved the dagger directly over my face and lowered it toward my mouth.

Reflexively, I opened my mouth. Roxy let the tip dangle between my lips as the cum slid off and dropped onto my waiting tongue. Without thinking, I stuck my tongue up and licked the blade. When I realized what I had done, I looked up at Roxy to see how she would react to this act of self-debasement.

Roxy smiled. Reassured, I licked the other side of the blade and then carefully closed my lips on it to suck it clean.

Still smiling, she pulled the dagger out of my mouth and let the point rest on my lower lip. Then she dragged it down, tracing a path to my throat and pressing just hard enough to leave a mark without actually cutting me. I raised my chin slightly, moving my head away from the knife, but exposing my throat.

Roxy declined the unintended offer. She continued to draw a faint pink line down my chest, between my breasts and over my tummy, bumping through my navel until she reached my mons. She slowed then and lightly traced a line directly to the long hump between, where she dragged the sharp point feather-lightly along my swollen clit.

I was beyond terror at the implied threat. My personal demon had again risen up to destroy my self-control, my judgement, and my will. My sanity was the next to go and I felt it dissolve in the compulsion that took over my body and my mind. I could only feel the intense heat of arousal at being turned into a sex-toy for a goddess. With my body still firmly bound, I was now twice helpless as she threatened my sex with her knife.

Roxy played with my clit like she was fencing with a rapier, tapping and poking it with the point of the knife. In response it grew even larger, swelling and standing stiffly to attention. This seemed to please her and she continued to punish it, while threatening at any second to split it or spear it.

My clit became so engorged that I thought it would burst with no encouragement from Roxy. Each time she slapped it with the flat of the blade, I experienced an orgasmic rush that made me shudder and gasp. Each time she touched it with the point, a burst of electric fire jolted through me, the pain pushing me into an incredibly intense climax as well as making me flinch and putting my poor clit in even greater danger.

Any thought I might have had of resisting, of escape, or anything else, had been driven right out of my mind. My world had shrunk to the hotly-throbbing bundle of nerve-endings between my legs for as long as it was still attached to my body.

With her free hand, Roxy stroked the inside of my thighs and I became aware that I was holding my legs open so far that my hips were almost disjointed. Her touch was a reward for this act of capitulation.

I stared down through the valley of my breasts and tilted my hips even further back, redoubling my effort to present my clit to her for whatever she chose to do to it. I felt like I was lying on a sacrificial altar, making my clit an offering to the goddess standing above me. I tensed my abdomen to try to make it stand even taller for her — to make it bigger than ever. Roxy had complimented it before, both its size and its unhooded nakedness, so I wanted to impress her again by showing her how magnificent it could become.

She watched curiously as I struggled to enlarge my clit and make it a more worthy sacrifice to the beautiful woman who had me so completely at her mercy. I must have been successful, because she stayed her hand while I fought to give her a bigger target. I remembered how I had been able to extend it to such a huge size that I had been able to penetrate Jolene with it and I tried desperately to duplicate that feat.

When at last it stood as big and tall and hard and proud as I could make it for her, Roxy's expression changed from her thin, ethereal smile to one of wonderment as she stared at the stunningly large organ rising up from my groin. I saw the tip of her tongue slip out to lick her lips, then she swung a leg over the hay bale, straddling me. Still holding the dagger with one hand, she pulled the crotch of her panties aside with the other and lowered her pussy down to let my clit slide between her labia and into her vaginal opening.

She let her weight drive my enormous clit as deeply into her as it would go, then she shuddered and her proud head bent forward and her lovely eyes closed. She sighed deeply and reached out to rest her hand on my stomach, sliding it up to cup my breast.

Her hips jerked once and I felt her legs clench against my hips. Her lips parted and she took a long, deep breath before rising up off my hips, slowly letting my clit slide out of her as she stood.

She backed away a bit and then the goddess smiled a thin, cruel smile and placed the very point of the dagger directly on the tip of my clit with her arm extended. She paused and looked into my eyes. Her expression was different from before, now unreadable.

I looked up into her face. I opened my mouth to plead with her, but I couldn't think what to plead for. Don't do it? Do it? Spare my clit? Cut me? I was pleading with every fiber of my being, but I didn't know for what. Was Roxy expecting me to beg her not to hurt me? If I did, would she do as I asked or would she do the opposite? I no longer knew what I wanted. Figuring out what she wanted was impossible.

She tilted her head a bit, and her eyes narrowed. She had made her decision without any input from me.

I accepted my fate. I welcomed it. I yearned for it. I clenched my teeth and arched my back, holding my big, stiff clit as still and high as I could and waited for her to accept my offering.

Without moving her arm, Roxy flicked her fingers and the sharp point of the dagger sliced through the thin, taut skin, cutting open the very tip of my clit.

The awesome, overwhelming sensation was exactly what I had expected it would feel like to have my clit explode. Every nerve in my body fired at once, throwing me into an uncontrolled fit of convulsions. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. The muscles in my back spasmed so hard that I thought my spine would snap. It threw me up off the hay bales and I bent backwards almost double before the intense sensation faded almost as quickly as it came, leaving me feeling as if my clit had been turned completely inside out and all the nerves were exposed to the air. It was a lot like being hooked to the Electrocutor device and I loved it.

When the surge faded, I refocused my eyes and looked down my body, expecting to see a gory mess between my legs. Instead, I saw my hugely distended clit, intact but with a small stream of blood undulating down the plump shaft from where the quivering tip had been slit open. As I watched, the blood stopped flowing. I honestly don't know if I did that not.

I felt like I had burst into flame and consumed by my own fire, leaving only a brittle ash shell behind. I was so numbly stupefied that I didn't even flinch when Roxy raised the dagger over her head and plunged it all the way through my chest and out my back, pinning me to the bale of hay like a bug in a Biology class project. Then she turned and walked off camera, leaving me to die alone.

I stared at the hilt of the dagger sticking up between my breasts. She had missed my heart, but it was a very near miss. I could see the hilt vibrate to each beat. It looked like it would be a slow death.

I was numb and on fire at the same time. Conflicting feelings roared through me and I froze as I tried to decide what was happening to me. Once I was able to sort out the real sensations from the climax-driven phantasms, I found that I could still feel everything below my waist, so it hadn't severed my spine, even though I had felt the point grate across my backbone in passing. The blade transfixed me front to back almost perfectly. A steady stream of blood flowed from the wound and ran both ways, making a bright red track across my stomach and curving past my collarbone to run off my right shoulder. The surprising thing was that the pain wasn't too bad. At first it was just a dull ache; but it was building.

With a look of terror and shock that may have been my finest film moment, I rolled my eyes back, dropped my head back onto the hay, closed my eyes and went totally limp. To the camera, it would look like I had died. In reality, I was going into a trance, a state which would slow my perception of time and let me deal with the damage that had been done to my body. In seconds I had the bleeding stopped and the repairs underway. All that remained now was to wait until the healing had progressed to the point where it was safe to remove the blade.

While I waited, motionless, with the camera lingering ghoulishly on my bloody corpse, I thought about the ingratitude Roxy had shown in killing me so quickly.

"The bitch screwed up any chance of a sequel!" I thought. "This was fun! I could have done a lot more. I might even have got better at acting. Was this their idea of criticism — killing the star? More likely that Winslow got a 'special request' from a customer that he thought justified wasting my career like this. I hope they promised him a shit-load of money for it, because he's not going to get a chance to spend a single penny!"

To say I was pissed would be a vast understatement. I was so mad at having been written out of the film and the business after my very first scene that it was a few moments before I realized that this also meant that Roxy had — to all real intent — committed the cold-blooded murder of an innocent girl. Winslow told her to do it and Smith and Jones watched it happen without lifting a finger to stop it. They were all guilty of conspiracy to murder, and accessories before and after the fact. The drug business, the extortion, the kidnappings — these were all very bad stuff. Murder was a whole new ballgame. And fucking up a promising career in porn — something I thought I had a natural talent for — that was really going too damn far!

"How many other careers have they cut short with their damn snuff-films?" I wondered. "How many other young lives... ?" I stopped. My train of thought had just run off the end of the track. They obviously had done this to other girls. More than a few? More than a dozen? I had no idea.

My anger became resolve. The resolve became steel. The steel flared into incandescent heat as more adrenalin than I had ever felt before poured into my veins. Healed or not, it was time to act.

I opened the eye away from the camera. The dagger still stuck straight up out of me. Now there was an inch or so of blade showing. My healing must be slowly forcing the blade up and out.

"Good," I thought. "It's not hung on anything. I just have to speed things up a bit."

I focused on ejecting the blade. Once my body knew what I wanted, it happened quickly. The blade rose steadily, tilting to one side as it did and then fell to the ground with a soft thud. The hole it had made closed behind it and in seconds the flesh was healed. No trace of the puncture remained, except for the blood coating my torso. Even my sliced clit felt whole again, although it would probably be a while before it stopped throbbing along with my heartbeat.

I turned my head and looked over at the group standing behind the camera. They seemed to be discussing how to best dispose of my corpse.

"I know we buried the others out by the woods," Jones said. "But, have you any idea how hard it is to dig a hole deep enough so something won't dig her up? Shit, boss, you want her buried, you dig the damn hole! I say we take her to the Everglades and give her to the gators."

"That's too far!" Winslow argued. "You idiots will get stopped for something and they'll find the body. No, we need to... Holy shit! Look!"

Winslow was pointing at me. It was time. I had only seconds while they were still too stunned to try to reverse my resurrection.

I levered myself to my feet. My ankles were still bound to bolts in the floor with the leather straps, but the tape on my arms had stretched quite a bit from my jerking around. I had leverage now that I hadn't had before. I gave a great shrug and flexed like a bodybuilder. The strapping tape parted with a loud snap and I brought my arms out from behind my back.

The pain was blinding. Being stabbed was much more pleasant than moving my arms again after having them bound for so long. I had to do something to gain a few more seconds to recover, so I did the only trick I could think of. I became The Dragon and I roared out my anger and my pain at the top of my lungs in a howl that would have shattered the windows in anyplace but a big barn.

It served. The group of murdering scum froze into a surprised tableau. I kicked out with my right foot and the leather strap parted. I spun around to my left so I wouldn't be trying to balance with my feet on either side of the hay bale. I had just jerked my left foot free when Jones came to his senses and reached into the waistband of his slacks for his pistol.

Jones going for his gun seemed to set everyone else into motion. Smith was first. He lunged for the door, knocking into Winslow and Roxy, who were slower to react. All three of them went down in a tangle of limbs.

I saw that there was no way to get to Jones before he could bring the muzzle of his big gun to bear on me, so I did the only thing I could think of, I kicked the hay bale in front of me as hard as I could, sending it flying toward Jones.

I expected the bale to fly apart, making a hay-storm behind which I could move without Jones being able to see me and blow large holes in my favorite body. The bale was either better-packed than I expected, or had been compressed by the use it had seen. It stayed together as it sailed across the room, striking Jones just above the knees, hitting him so hard that I could hear his bones break the instant before it slammed him into the far wall.

Jones jerked the trigger as he was hit and the booming noise of the gun followed closely on the sound of his bones snapping. His shot was way off target. It went high and wide, hitting one of the metal lights hanging from the high ceiling. There was a great shower of sparks and the whole fixture came crashing down, nearly landing on the three stoners who were lethargically reacting to the situation.

Roxy and Winslow were scrambling to their feet, with no help from Smith, whose panicked attempts to get up seemed more laughable than purposeful.

"Fuck me!" Winslow cried, in a voice high enough to have been mistaken for Roxy. He was staring at me with recognition in his eyes. I thought at first he had figured out my disguise from my visit to his store, but then I remembered that everyone with a TV must have seen the footage of the fight with the tank and that was where he had seen me before.

Roxy didn't appear surprised or alarmed, just annoyed that her act of murder had been so ineffective. She looked around on the floor for the dagger so she could try it again.

"God, what a cold bitch!" I thought. Any sympathy I had for her evaporated at that moment. That one expression explained to me how someone that gorgeous could bring herself to cook up addictive poison and retail it to a whole city.

With the only gun out of commission, along with its master, I advanced on Roxy to keep her from finding her knife and using it to make another hole in me.

Smith grabbed her from behind, comically yanking her panties to her knees in an attempt to get to his feet. "Fire!" He screamed, pointing toward the pile of hay in the corner.

I looked around to see the three punks fighting a small blaze by giggling and throwing handfuls of hay mixed with dirt onto it. The effect was to make a small fire into a larger one in a matter of seconds and they found this riotously funny.

Smith finally struggled to his feet and dashed up the hall toward the door that Roxy had come out of.

"I'll get the extinguisher!" he shouted.

"Good man," I thought, bending down to jab at a button on the video recorder. "First, he prevents everyone from escaping; now he's going to put out the fire. Maybe I'll put in a good word for the idiot, later."