deaddirty
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This follows on from Hangtime's post in the Links section:
"Guys, I've just added a new story to the blog. It's called Personal Services 2, and it's a sequel to Personal Services 1, which is also on the blog. If you haven't read either one, you may want to read 1 and then read 2. Deaddirty, I think you may really like Personal Services 2! For those of you who haven't read my blog, the address is http://johncoldianistories.blogspot.com . I hope to keep the stories and my friends here cumming.
"
Great story, and his reference to the changing room door sealing shut inspired me to rewrite it with a different twist - thanks Hangtime for agreeing to this.
So here it is - starts halfway through his Personal Services 2, first modifying his text then goig off in a totally different direction.
“Excellent, Jack. And Jessica, I want to thank you for emailing me both yours and Jack’s measurements. It will save considerable time with the fittings. Speaking of which, Jack, please follow me. I’ve spent the morning preparing tuxedos for you to try on. I found three styles for you to choose from. I need you to go in the fitting room and try them on. Once you’ve done that, you can tell me which one you prefer.”
“Sure, Donald. Let’s get this done.” Jack then followed Donald to a large fitting room, with three tuxedos hanging at the ready for him to try on. Jack noticed that the fitting room was mirrored wall-to-wall. There was one seat - more a stool with thin splayed legs, and rudimentary backrest above it suspended from the ceiling just below shoulder level.
“Hey, Donald. Why all the mirrors?”
“Ah, that is a specialty of our firm. It allows you to see yourself from all angles as you try on your tuxedo. And similarly with the seat - with the mirrors, it allows you to see yourself sitting from all angles. Though we have a more stylish design on order ”
“Yes, that is smart. Good thinking, Donald.”
“Well, I’ll leave you now, Jack. I need to go back to my office and get Jessica ready for her bridal gown fitting.” Donald left the room, and closed the door. Jack didn’t notice, but as he closed the door it locked shut. Donald went back to his office and pulled out his laptop.
“Jessica, I thought you might want to watch our execution of Jack. He doesn’t know it, but the mirrors hide secret cameras to record the entire room. Also, the door not only locked, it sealed itself as it locked. There is no possibility of escape.”
“But how will you execute him. I mean I can see that he can’t get out, but how will your men get in?”
"They will not need to. The air conditioning will deliver a low concentration of anaesthetic that will make him want to sit down. There is a basin of weak acid under the seat, and this lever will tip a more than adequate amont of cyanide into it when the moment comes. And of course the basin will receive any. um, waste products that Jack may eject during the process".
"You mean he may - disgrace himself?"
"I am afraid so - that often happens. Does the thought distress you?"
"Um, no, I guess he deserves it". Actually Jessica was suddenly turned on by the thought - something about Jack hasd always been a bit too clean and smart, and just once she had fantisised about slipping someting into his cocktail and lying with him, fucking in his final convulsions, a dirty dying animal.
"By the way, some clients do change their minds when they actually see it happening to their 'beloved'. That is awkward as we do charge a substantial fee, but it can be done in the first few seconds until he starts to lose control of his body. I will turn to you when we see the first signs of urine, and if you want him to live you will have to decide very quickly - once his bowels start to empty it will be too late".
"Thank you".
"You will notice that Jack’s stripping off his suit now. I will start the process". He turned a dial on the air conditioner.
Jack removed his jacket, then his tie, then his shirt, and Jessica noticed how he admired his torso in the mirrors, the white of his boxers just showing above his trousers and accentuating his smooth lightly-tanned skin. As he unzipped the trousers she saw him fondle himself inside and realised he was turned on by his own body. His movements were becoming slightly slow and sleepy as he pushed his smart truusers down round his thighs and admired himself in his crisply-laundered white poplin boxer shorts, perfectly fitting and just loose enough at the legs for the eye to travel up inside. Jessica saw that he had unbuttoned the fly. Donald watched intently.
Sure enough, Jack swayed slightly and suddenly sat down the stool, his torso flopping back slightly against the backrest. Immediately Donald pressed a button, and the ends of the backrest swung forwards under Jack's armpits, a belt quickly passing over his chest and fastening before the backrest retracted and lifted to the ceiling leaving the belt as a harness suspended from the ceiling round Jack's torso, while the seat opened under Jack leaving just a frame. Donald whispered to Jessica "that will hold him upright during the agonies to come", and pulled the cyanide lever.
Jack heard the splash of crystals into liquid under his seat and felt the belt suddenly holding him round the chest. He realised someting was very wrong, snapping awake and trying to stand up. But already a mist of vapour was rising from beneath him. He coughed slightly as the first fumes reached his nose, then breathed in and took a lungful. Suddenly he was coughing and choking, trying frantically to stand up and run, his face going red and his eyes starting to water. Jack stood for a moment, his trousers slipping towards his knees, then buckled, Donald quickly adjusting a control to raise the harness and hold Jack's crotch slightly above the seat-rim, from which a white mist was rising. Jessica saw his mouth gaping and gasping, starting to drool in a most un-smart way. Donald and Jessica watched intently, Jessica staring at her fiance's groin where the bulge of his penis was showing increasingly through the white cotton, and his fly was starting to open. Sure enough, a wet patch appeared then spread rapidly to the right side and down into the crotch of his boxers. Donald looked at her enquiringly "Do you want him to live or die". She paused only slightly "I want to watch his death" she whispered, feeling almost an orgasm inside her as she knew the decision she had taken. She lookd back at her lover, at the parts of his body that she had touched, licked, felt in their intimacy, and would now watch in their final dying performance. She saw that his penis was erecting inside his piss-wet shorts, her lover's urine now running from the legs of his boxers and down int the basin below. She could just see his thighs contracting inside the shorts, showing a hint of balls and pubic hair. A light had come on under the seat to illuminate the dying man's underside, and as she looked at the from-beneath camera she saw the seat of his boxers move, a pointed bulge followed by a spreading sag. Her eyes and Donald's met briefly, acknowledging that Jack had lost control of his bowels and that his death was sealed. Then she watched his buttocks clench and unclench as he tried to control himself before surrendering to the uncontrollable spasms of defecation that were emptying his body, surrprised at how erotic it was to watch her lover soiling his underwear in agony.
Through his choking agony and panic Jack also felt the gut-spasms, the desperate urge to shit, and the mingled horror and release of his excrement emptying into his underpants. He desperately lifted himself, almost upright for a moment as the cameras showed a wet brown stain spreading across the seat of his shorts, and soft lumps slid from the legs of his boxers into the trousers round his knees. His cock suddenly freed itself from his fly, poking out, spraying another fountain of pee as it jerked to full erectness. Jack's legs gave way and he buckled, slumping down till the harness held him just above the seat, his knees splaying wide to show his full erection sticking out of his fly, parts of his filthy balls and mane showing at the base of the fly and up the legs of his once-white boxers, now sodden yellow-brown and sagging between his legs, a stream of excrement sliding from the legs and dropping into the basin below. His head slumped forward, his drooling mouth and nose dropping saliva and snot onto his chest, and onto the tip of his erect cock at which he seemed to be staring. As the drips hit his straining cockhead it shuddered - the shudders spread to his hips and he convulsed, thrusting into the air as he came again and again, spurting his dying seed onto his face, his tongue, his chest, then as his hips thrust forwards for the last time onto the camera that Jessica was watching intently, so she gasped as if he had cum in her face. Donald was staring equally intently at the rear camera, where Jack's shorts were alternately bulging out and being squeezed into his crack by the convulsions going on inside as his buttocks and bowels shared in the final gut-wrenching orgasm. Then the body went limp and sagged from the harness, filthy and emptied in death, the shorts still dripping their contents.
Jessica and Donald had both cum silently as Jack died, Jessica following every twitch and spurt of her lover's exposed penis, the glimpses up his boxer-legs of his balls retracting and twitching as they emptied, the sensitive tract behind contracting and pulsating in his sexual convulsions - Donald imagining every opening and tightening of the anus inside the boxer shorts. They looked at each other, both knowing but leaving the knowldedge unsaid. Jessica broke the silence. "What happens now?"
"The extractor will clear the gas. When it is safe my men will go in. If you wish, they will remove his trousers and underpants and wash the body". Donald paused, then "The penis will be erect of course. And I think they will find the anus open. The body will be naked."
"No" said Jessica. "Tell them to just pull his trousers up over his boxers and bury him in his filth".
"Of course, madam."
"Guys, I've just added a new story to the blog. It's called Personal Services 2, and it's a sequel to Personal Services 1, which is also on the blog. If you haven't read either one, you may want to read 1 and then read 2. Deaddirty, I think you may really like Personal Services 2! For those of you who haven't read my blog, the address is http://johncoldianistories.blogspot.com . I hope to keep the stories and my friends here cumming.
"Great story, and his reference to the changing room door sealing shut inspired me to rewrite it with a different twist - thanks Hangtime for agreeing to this.
So here it is - starts halfway through his Personal Services 2, first modifying his text then goig off in a totally different direction.
“Excellent, Jack. And Jessica, I want to thank you for emailing me both yours and Jack’s measurements. It will save considerable time with the fittings. Speaking of which, Jack, please follow me. I’ve spent the morning preparing tuxedos for you to try on. I found three styles for you to choose from. I need you to go in the fitting room and try them on. Once you’ve done that, you can tell me which one you prefer.”
“Sure, Donald. Let’s get this done.” Jack then followed Donald to a large fitting room, with three tuxedos hanging at the ready for him to try on. Jack noticed that the fitting room was mirrored wall-to-wall. There was one seat - more a stool with thin splayed legs, and rudimentary backrest above it suspended from the ceiling just below shoulder level.
“Hey, Donald. Why all the mirrors?”
“Ah, that is a specialty of our firm. It allows you to see yourself from all angles as you try on your tuxedo. And similarly with the seat - with the mirrors, it allows you to see yourself sitting from all angles. Though we have a more stylish design on order ”
“Yes, that is smart. Good thinking, Donald.”
“Well, I’ll leave you now, Jack. I need to go back to my office and get Jessica ready for her bridal gown fitting.” Donald left the room, and closed the door. Jack didn’t notice, but as he closed the door it locked shut. Donald went back to his office and pulled out his laptop.
“Jessica, I thought you might want to watch our execution of Jack. He doesn’t know it, but the mirrors hide secret cameras to record the entire room. Also, the door not only locked, it sealed itself as it locked. There is no possibility of escape.”
“But how will you execute him. I mean I can see that he can’t get out, but how will your men get in?”
"They will not need to. The air conditioning will deliver a low concentration of anaesthetic that will make him want to sit down. There is a basin of weak acid under the seat, and this lever will tip a more than adequate amont of cyanide into it when the moment comes. And of course the basin will receive any. um, waste products that Jack may eject during the process".
"You mean he may - disgrace himself?"
"I am afraid so - that often happens. Does the thought distress you?"
"Um, no, I guess he deserves it". Actually Jessica was suddenly turned on by the thought - something about Jack hasd always been a bit too clean and smart, and just once she had fantisised about slipping someting into his cocktail and lying with him, fucking in his final convulsions, a dirty dying animal.
"By the way, some clients do change their minds when they actually see it happening to their 'beloved'. That is awkward as we do charge a substantial fee, but it can be done in the first few seconds until he starts to lose control of his body. I will turn to you when we see the first signs of urine, and if you want him to live you will have to decide very quickly - once his bowels start to empty it will be too late".
"Thank you".
"You will notice that Jack’s stripping off his suit now. I will start the process". He turned a dial on the air conditioner.
Jack removed his jacket, then his tie, then his shirt, and Jessica noticed how he admired his torso in the mirrors, the white of his boxers just showing above his trousers and accentuating his smooth lightly-tanned skin. As he unzipped the trousers she saw him fondle himself inside and realised he was turned on by his own body. His movements were becoming slightly slow and sleepy as he pushed his smart truusers down round his thighs and admired himself in his crisply-laundered white poplin boxer shorts, perfectly fitting and just loose enough at the legs for the eye to travel up inside. Jessica saw that he had unbuttoned the fly. Donald watched intently.
Sure enough, Jack swayed slightly and suddenly sat down the stool, his torso flopping back slightly against the backrest. Immediately Donald pressed a button, and the ends of the backrest swung forwards under Jack's armpits, a belt quickly passing over his chest and fastening before the backrest retracted and lifted to the ceiling leaving the belt as a harness suspended from the ceiling round Jack's torso, while the seat opened under Jack leaving just a frame. Donald whispered to Jessica "that will hold him upright during the agonies to come", and pulled the cyanide lever.
Jack heard the splash of crystals into liquid under his seat and felt the belt suddenly holding him round the chest. He realised someting was very wrong, snapping awake and trying to stand up. But already a mist of vapour was rising from beneath him. He coughed slightly as the first fumes reached his nose, then breathed in and took a lungful. Suddenly he was coughing and choking, trying frantically to stand up and run, his face going red and his eyes starting to water. Jack stood for a moment, his trousers slipping towards his knees, then buckled, Donald quickly adjusting a control to raise the harness and hold Jack's crotch slightly above the seat-rim, from which a white mist was rising. Jessica saw his mouth gaping and gasping, starting to drool in a most un-smart way. Donald and Jessica watched intently, Jessica staring at her fiance's groin where the bulge of his penis was showing increasingly through the white cotton, and his fly was starting to open. Sure enough, a wet patch appeared then spread rapidly to the right side and down into the crotch of his boxers. Donald looked at her enquiringly "Do you want him to live or die". She paused only slightly "I want to watch his death" she whispered, feeling almost an orgasm inside her as she knew the decision she had taken. She lookd back at her lover, at the parts of his body that she had touched, licked, felt in their intimacy, and would now watch in their final dying performance. She saw that his penis was erecting inside his piss-wet shorts, her lover's urine now running from the legs of his boxers and down int the basin below. She could just see his thighs contracting inside the shorts, showing a hint of balls and pubic hair. A light had come on under the seat to illuminate the dying man's underside, and as she looked at the from-beneath camera she saw the seat of his boxers move, a pointed bulge followed by a spreading sag. Her eyes and Donald's met briefly, acknowledging that Jack had lost control of his bowels and that his death was sealed. Then she watched his buttocks clench and unclench as he tried to control himself before surrendering to the uncontrollable spasms of defecation that were emptying his body, surrprised at how erotic it was to watch her lover soiling his underwear in agony.
Through his choking agony and panic Jack also felt the gut-spasms, the desperate urge to shit, and the mingled horror and release of his excrement emptying into his underpants. He desperately lifted himself, almost upright for a moment as the cameras showed a wet brown stain spreading across the seat of his shorts, and soft lumps slid from the legs of his boxers into the trousers round his knees. His cock suddenly freed itself from his fly, poking out, spraying another fountain of pee as it jerked to full erectness. Jack's legs gave way and he buckled, slumping down till the harness held him just above the seat, his knees splaying wide to show his full erection sticking out of his fly, parts of his filthy balls and mane showing at the base of the fly and up the legs of his once-white boxers, now sodden yellow-brown and sagging between his legs, a stream of excrement sliding from the legs and dropping into the basin below. His head slumped forward, his drooling mouth and nose dropping saliva and snot onto his chest, and onto the tip of his erect cock at which he seemed to be staring. As the drips hit his straining cockhead it shuddered - the shudders spread to his hips and he convulsed, thrusting into the air as he came again and again, spurting his dying seed onto his face, his tongue, his chest, then as his hips thrust forwards for the last time onto the camera that Jessica was watching intently, so she gasped as if he had cum in her face. Donald was staring equally intently at the rear camera, where Jack's shorts were alternately bulging out and being squeezed into his crack by the convulsions going on inside as his buttocks and bowels shared in the final gut-wrenching orgasm. Then the body went limp and sagged from the harness, filthy and emptied in death, the shorts still dripping their contents.
Jessica and Donald had both cum silently as Jack died, Jessica following every twitch and spurt of her lover's exposed penis, the glimpses up his boxer-legs of his balls retracting and twitching as they emptied, the sensitive tract behind contracting and pulsating in his sexual convulsions - Donald imagining every opening and tightening of the anus inside the boxer shorts. They looked at each other, both knowing but leaving the knowldedge unsaid. Jessica broke the silence. "What happens now?"
"The extractor will clear the gas. When it is safe my men will go in. If you wish, they will remove his trousers and underpants and wash the body". Donald paused, then "The penis will be erect of course. And I think they will find the anus open. The body will be naked."
"No" said Jessica. "Tell them to just pull his trousers up over his boxers and bury him in his filth".
"Of course, madam."
