Play The Game:

Part Three - Finale

Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes including sex, fantasy violence and hanging.  It is not suitable for the faint of heart, easily offended or those who cannot differentiate between fantasy and reality.  Fair Warning has been given, so to the undaunted I say, “Welcome to the dark side.”

Again he gestures for quiet, “Once the medics have checked them out, we can give the lovely Lucille and little Heather the congratulations they deserve for making it to the final.  “But,” he walks slowly forward, contemplating the stage beneath his feet, “We have another item of business to resolve.  An infraction by one of our sponsors,” he pauses for effect, “Jeannie did not cut the rope when directed.  She goes to the chair.”

A chant starts up in the audience building to a crescendo, “Chair! Chair! Chair! Chair!”  Two stage-hands seize the unfortunate woman by the arms.  She reaches imploringly towards Liza, who raises her hand and backs away smiling apologetically.  Meanwhile Sadie bounds across to stand by the chair smiling broadly at the audience.  She bows theatrically and winks at them.

Jeanie face goes deathly white and her legs tremble.  Her mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.  A stage-hand seize steps behind her and wraps a muscular arm around her throat, the other hand presses against the back of her neck.  Her arms reach imploringly towards Liza, but the tall lesbian shrugs apologetically.  She strolls away to stand beside Lucille as the pretty blonde is starting to recover from her ordeal on the gallows.  Bright spots explode in Jeannie's vision as the burly man expertly chokes her out.  As oblivion claims her, she sees her daughter looking on in horror.

Ignoring, Liza moves to Heather's side and puts a comforting arm around her.  The stage-hand lifts the girls mother in his arms like a baby and carries her to the punishment chair.  Heather cannot tear her eyes from the tableau.  Why does she feel sympathy for the woman who wants her dead?  Granted her mother is the only family she has ever known, but even so...

With efficiency born of familiarity, Sadie busies herself strapping the luckless woman into the chair.  Two straps bind each arm at the elbow and wrist.  There were straps for the ankles too, once upon a time. But the audience love to see the victims kicking as they die so they were removed.  Two broad leather strap fastens across the stomach and under the breasts.  The curvy Goth is fastening these when her victim comes to.  The bound woman starts to buck wildly screaming in terror.

Sighing in irritation, Sadie slams a bunched fist into Jeannie's midriff, knocking the wind out of her.  Gasping in pain the older woman doubles over.  Pinning Jeannie's torso back with an elbow, Sadie deftly fastens the last straps.  Satisfied with he handiwork, she produces a U-shaped steel band from behind the chair with a flourish.  She walks the length of the stage, showing it off like a auctioneer with some rare treasure.

Returning to the chair, she kisses the band theatrically and pinning Jeannie's head against the back of the chair, she slots the ends of the band into the slots either side of the trembling woman's neck.  As it clicks into position, she releases her grip on Heather's mother.  Smiling sweetly, she strokes her victim's face and kisses her trembling lips.  

The other woman begins to cry, deep sobs racking her body, her eyes flooded with tears and her nose running.  Jeannie feels the Goth's soft lips, her hot breath in her ear as she whispers, “I can't tell you how much I'm going to enjoy this,” she whispers her breath husky with passion, “You'll never hurt Heather again.”

As she moves away from her, Jeannie regards the woman with a blend of shock and incomprehension.  As the others look on she begins to look desperately from face to face for pity, for hope, for rescue.  Liza, winks and blows her a kiss, her obvious enjoyment like a knife between the ribs.  Lucille's chubby husband Paul shuffles awkwardly and avoids her gaze.  Mundy is smiling smugly at her, blood-lust in his eyes.  Lucille, with her arm around Jeannie's daughter, looks sadly at her.  Whilst her eyes show pity, they seem to say “you brought this on yourself.”  

Finally she looks into her daughter's eyes.  Peering from under her dark fringe, they are filled with sorrow and fatigue.  She is chewing her lip thoughtfully, as if wrestling with some inner turmoil.  “Heather, baby, I'm your mother.  Help me sweetie?  Tell them you forgive me.” she sobs.

Resolution forms in the troubled teenager's eyes.  She disengages herself from Lucille and she slowly walks to her mother's side.  Jeannie's heart races as the girl's hand reaches out and touches her hand.  She kneels at her mother's side.  Looking her in the eyes she smiles sadly, “I forgive you Mom.”

“Baby...” the mother sobs gratefully.

“Now, Mom?”

“Yes, Hon?”

The sad smile fades, “Take your medicine,”  the teen gets to her feet and turns to Sadie.  Taking the Goth girl's hand, she kisses her briefly on her black painted lips, “do it.”

“Noooo!” Jeannie emits a wail of desperation and starts to struggle in vain against her bonds.  Her daughter walks slowly back to the others without a backward glance.  The doomed woman slumps, weeping in defeat.

Sadie strolls, gazing seductively at the audience as she walks around to the back of the chair.  She slowly raises a leg as she grasps the windlass.  Lowering her leg, she braces herself in an exaggerated fashion.  “Are you ready to die, sweetie?” she asks.

Jeannie shakes her head, “No,” she says in a small voice.

“What was that?”

“J-just get it over with,” she sniffs through the snot and tears

“Sorry, I can't hear you.  Are you ready to die?”

“Yes you sick fucking bitch!” the woman screams hysterically, “Get it over with you fucking weirdo!”

“Please,” Sadie mocks, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”  She rotates the windlass, which clicks as it draws the steel bank tight into Jeannie's neck.  Any retort the other woman had is chocked off into a gargling croak.  

Jeannie feels the steel band dig into the flesh of her throat.  The pressure on her larynx is intense. She fights for breath.  She can just about draw a thin stream of air into her straining lungs.  She braces her legs as her body fights against her restraints once more.

Sadie walks around the chair and draping a leg over one arm of the chair, she grinds her sexy round bottom against the choking woman's lap.  “Easy, Honey,” she purrs, clearly enjoying herself, “it isn't a race.  Take your time.  I mean it.  Let's make it last, Lover.  Put on a really good show for the boys and girls.”

Somehow, Jeannie musters the strength to spit at her tormentor.  The spit falls short and hangs in a string from her chin.

Amused the other woman lifts the string with a delicate finger, raises it to her lips and inserts the finger suggestively between them, winking sexily at the distraught Jeannie, “You little tease,” she giggles.

Despair rises within Jeannie once more and she struggles to beg “Please,” she tries to say, but only succeeds in blowing spit bubbles.

Sliding sensuously from her victim's lap and slowly lowers herself onto her haunches in front of her.  Jeannie finds her self entranced by her executioner's cleavage.  Sadie, runs her hands down over the dying woman's stocking clad legs and back up again.  Reaching beneath her skirt seeking the moist treasure within.  Dear God, thinks Jeannie, I'm choking to death, but I've never been so turned on in my life.

Springing to her feet. Sadie skips merrily round to the back of the chair and with an exaggerated flourish turns the windlass again.  Jeannie feels her laryngeal cartilage crack under the pressure.  She tries to scream in pain, but her vocal cord are crushed beyond use.  Her body spasms violently and her shapely, nylon encased legs kick frantically.  The audience erupts in applause.

“Now that's what I'm talking about! Work it, Baby, work it!” laughs Sadie.  She gives the garotte another twist, cutting off the last tiny supply of air to the woman's tortured lungs.

Out of the corner of her blurring vision, Jeannie sees her daughter walking slowly towards her.  Confused, Jeannie, wonders if she is coming to apologise. To offer comfort to her dying mother.  The teenager's brow is furrowed in thought.  As Jeannie's body thrashes wildly in the deadly chair, her daughter takes hold of her spasming hand.  He leans in and kisses her mother twitching head.  She smiles at her mother.  Her mother is not comforted by the timbre of that smile.

Jeannie wants to speak but her ruined throat can only rattle impotently.  She has never been so scared and her scornful words to her daughter echo in her ears.  She wonders how she could  have been so cruel.  She hears the metallic click of the mechanism again and the band digs tighter still.  She is aware of a sticky warm sensation at her throat and a metallic taste in her mouth.  Her vision is dimming and tinged with red.  

Her last clear vision is of Sadie draping herself over Heather. One hand is disappearing into the back of the teenager's knickers the other cradling her head as her tongue probes the girl's lips in a deep kiss.  My Baby, I'm so sorry, she thinks as the pain subsides and she fades away into a deep black pool.

Locked in Sadie's passionate embrace, Heather turns to watch her mother's convulsing body.  She rests her head on the other girls breast as she considers the grisly tableau. She is empty, she feels nothing for the dying woman.  No love, no hate, nothing. All passion purged by the intensity of the days events.  She giggles as the glass bucket under the chair fills with golden liquid.  Her mother's last function complete, she realises the woman is dead.  My turn next, I guess, she thinks.  She is still afraid but no longer, overcome.

“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, what a performance?”  Mundy, who had been quiet throughout, allowing Sadie her moment in the spotlight.  To be honest, he thoroughly enjoyed the pretty Goth's performances.  “Well, she might not have been the nicest person I've ever met, but you've got to give it to Jeannie, she died magnificently.  That'll be one for the DVD, no doubt about it!”  The crowd cheer in agreement.

“Well now,” he lowers his voice whilst injecting a sense of gravity and urgency, “At last we come to it.  The final game.  Sudden death as it were.” He smiles and winks at the audience, “Let's face it, you don't get much more sudden than Madame Guillotine, do you folks?”

Mundy beckons the surviving contestants over and puts an arm around each of them.  Neither of looks particularly thrilled by this,  “Okay, Ladies.  Are you ready for the grand finale?” he asks.

“Sh-shouldn't somebody take Mandy away?” asks Lucille nervously.

“No, she's fine where she is.  Very decorative don't you agree?”

The blonde swallows but doesn't reply.

“I know you girls have been through a lot today.  You've been great sports and I can sense a real bond between you.  So.  Either of you want to be a pal and volunteer?” he asks cheerfully.

The girls stare nervously at their feet and shift awkwardly in the brief silence.

“No?” laughs Mundy, “Well then it'll be down to a good old fashioned coin toss,” he steps away from the girls and pulls a silver dollar from his waistcoat.  Standing between them he looks at each of them in turn, “Ready?”

They nod nervously.

“Heather, you can call.”

“Erm, Tails?”

Mundy flips the coin. It spins in a high arc and falls.  He deftly catches it on the back of his hand and covers it with the other.

“You sure?” he ask.

The girl nods.

He moves his hand away and reveals Liberty, holding her torch aloft, “Heads, you lose.” he grins, “Well, head you lose anyway,” he quips as he puts a hand on her shoulder and winks at the audience.  “ A big hand for tonight's winner Lucille St. Jordan!”  The audience applaud.

The blonde woman puts her arms around the sobbing teenager, “I'm sorry, I don't wanna die, but I really wish you didn't have to.  You are so young and you deserve so much better.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please show your appreciation for the lovely young Heather as she mounts the scaffold,” Mundy urges the crowd.

As Sadie moves to escort the luckless teenager, Lucille steps in the way and whispers into her ear.  The Goth pauses at this.  She looks at Heather, then Mundy.  She looks back at Lucille and nods.  She squeezes the blonde girls hand gratefully.

“Gerry, can I just say something, please?” Lucille says.

“Oh um, sure, but lets hear it at the end of the show, eh?”

“It can't wait really,” she objects, “I, erm, I've only known Heather a little while, but she is a wonderful girl.  She's only a kid and she's been through absolute hell.  I want to give her a chance of happiness, so I'm going to take her place.”

Paul staggers as if struck and chokes back an involuntary cry of despair.  

Mundy looks bewildered.

The crowd go wild.

Heather grabs the other girls arm, “Please, Luce, no you don't have to...”

“Shush, its okay.  I've made my decision,” she glances surreptitiously at Sadie, “Its a favour for a favour.  When I'm gone, Sadie will explain.  Just, just be ready okay?”

Heather looks from one girl to the other, puzzled, but nods her assent.  “I'll never forget this, I'll never forget you.  I wish I could have known you longer.”

Lucille regards the teenager sadly, “You wouldn't have liked me very much.  I have never been half the woman I am today.  Better to leave the world like this, than go back to what I was.”

Mundy recovers his composure and claps loudly, “What a gal!  Lets here it from Lucille, the first person ever to concede on The Elimination Game!”

With Sadie at her side, Lucille mounts the scaffold on trembling legs.  Sadie grips her arm firmly, more to support her than restrain her.  The blonde clutches the Goth's shoulder suddenly, “Thank you.  For this and for, you know, later.”

“S'okay,” mutters the other girl.

“You will do as I asked?”

The Goth smiles, “It'll be my pleasure, believe me.”

The blond shudders at the passion in the other's voice. “Lets get this over with.” she starts to cry, “I'm sorry, I'm so scared.”

“Shush, of course you are,” She turn the blonde around and secures her wrists with a length of rope.

“Will it hurt?” She eyes the vicious blade fearfully.

“Yes, but not for very long.  Believe it or not, this is pretty much the quickest, most humane way to kill somebody.  Now, here, kneel here the pad.”

Lucille does as she is directed, Sadie supporting her as she lowers herself to her knees.  The cold leatherette cushion sticks to her legs.  Sadie pushes her gently forward.  She rests her neck on the wooden stock.  It is surprisingly comfortable.  Sadie lowers the upper stock into place, securing her  beneath the blade.  She cannot help but notice the basket beneath her head.  It is lined with a fluffy white towel.

Heather is seated in a comfortable leather chair three feet in front of the guillotine.  There is a large lever beside the chair.  Lucille notices that the teenager has stopped crying.  Her eyes are bright and determined.  “I love you,” she mouths silently.

“Thank you,” replies Lucille, though she cannot for the life of her think why she says it.

“Quiet please Ladies and Gentlemen, for Lucille's swan-song.” Mundy gestures towards the bound woman.  “Any final words?”

She shakes her head sadly

“Then let us proceed, Drum roll, Maestro...”

Sadie moves to Heather's side and puts a hand on her shoulder.  The teenager looks at her and smiles.  The sound of a drum roll comes over the PA. “When it stops, pull the lever,”  The drum roll seems to last an eternity.  Especially to the sobbing Lucille.  Every second is precious too her now as she reviews her like an old movie.

A moment of silence.  The loud crack of the mechanism.  A short metallic sound.  A wet thud.  Lucille is falling, she doesn't understand why.  She is held in place, surely?  The world spins and she can feel her head resting on soft linen.  She opens her mouth to speak but blood runs out.  Darkness descends.

* * * * *

Heather grips the lever and pulls.  She barely sees the blade as it falls, severing the blonde's head.  As the head tumbles away from the poor woman's body, Heather sees not pain or fear, but surprise etched on the woman's face.  A gout of hot liquid hits the teenager in the face.  Blood shoots out from Lucille's severed arteries covering Heather's face and chest.  Her face twists in disgust as she chokes on the warm sticky fluid.  It tastes salty and metallic.  She has to swallow or choke.  Her stomach rebels briefly.  

Slowly, however, her expression changes.  She smiles at the taste of the warm sticky blood.  She licks her lips in search of more.  She turns to Sadie and smiles at her, lust in her eyes.  Sadie, gives her a knowing smile and winks.  She surreptitiously hands the girl a compact automatic pistol and says one word, “Mundy,”

Heather nods back.

The unsuspecting host is applauding warmly as he approaches the two girls.

“Hey, Gerry,” smiles Sadie seductively.

Heather rises turning in place and Gerry at last sees the pistol in her hands.  She aims with a single fluid motion and fires.  He feels the impact and clutches his ruined groin.  He has never felt pain like this before.  He sinks to his knees, wheezing and foaming at the mouth.  

Sadie skips behind him and grabs his forehead.  Gazing down at him she smiles sweetly.  “Three little words Ger,” she teases, resting the blade of her knife against his throat. “Under.  New.  Management.” with this she slices deep into his throat and releases him.  Ecstatic at this new bloody spectacle the audience jeer and clap at the man's misfortune.

He clutches his throat, as if he can somehow stop the bleeding.  Convulsing he feels a booted foot in the middle of his back.  Sadie contemptuously pushes him onto his belly.  Beckoning to Sadie, she rolls the dying man onto his back.  

She extends a booted leg and squats over his bloody crotch.  Heather also straddles the man, facing Sadie, her arse over his face.  The Goth raises her eyebrow in a silent question.  Heather giggles her agreement and rolls her tights and knickers to her knees.  Sadie, lifts her skirt and pulls her sheer black knickers to one side.  Exchanging glances, they release the contents of their bladders over the dying man.  Unsurprisingly, Heather doesn't last long as Sadie.  The Goth's hot jet of golden piss continues for several minutes.  In fact, by the time she finishes, Gerry Mundy has been dead for a full minute.

“Well Ladies and Gentlemen,” laughs Sadie as she straightens her knickers, “ Hope you enjoyed the show.  Join us next time, when I'll be joined by my lovely assistant Heather.”

As the girls walk off hand in hand, Heather turns to Sadie and asks, “Can we invite Liza back, tonight?”

“Sure, Honey, why?”

“I think she'll be a pretty good lay.” replies the teen, “and then we can spend tomorrow killing her.”

“Well, that was what I promised Lucille,” laughs Sadie.

Finis.