I woke in a good mood that day. Got up to get the newspaper to discover a dead bird and dead flowers at my doorstep. A note simply said, “whores don’t deserve pretty things.” I tried to erase the image of dead things from my mind with a morning jog through a nearby cemetery. As I was running, I felt something hit the back of my head. I fell to the ground, landed on a bed of decaying flowers on an old grave. Before I could get up and access my damage, a group of men scooped me up and tossed me in to a old creepy mausoleum.
It felt like I was in there for days. I am claustrophobic, so being enclosed with a dead body made hours seem like an eternity. My attackers came back at nightfall. “We’ve been watching you Blair,” said the ringleader. “You give up your pussy and ass to anyone. That makes you a whore. No one misses whores.” They started ripping my clothes off, slapping me around, treating me like a street corner junkie hooker. They forced me down on their cocks. Spit in my face as they skull fucked me. Pissed down my throat as they came. Shoved dead flower petals in my mouth to force me to drink their cum. Gagging, convulsing, blood trickling down my face from a cut on my head…I had to look awful, but that didn’t matter to them. I was simply their fuck pig. They even made me squeal like one to prove that I was nothing but a dirty animal.
One guy tied me up and bent me over the cold stone coffin, while his buddies took turns sodomizing my ass and fisting my cunt. Spiders and other creepy crawlies were covering my flesh as they violated all my fuck holes. They were laughing and drinking as I was crying and puking. At least 8 of them, so for hours upon hours they force fucked me in an abandoned mausoleum. I begged to be let go. Promised I wouldn’t tell a soul. “Of course you won’t Blair because dead whores tell no tales,” said the guy in charge right before he punched me unconscious.
I woke up in the coffin. The dead flowers covering my body were the least of my worries. I was nestled in between two decaying bodies of women who likely were victims of the same group of men as me. I went into a panic attack. I could hear muffled laughter as I felt my chest constrict to the point I could barely breathe. When I would imagine the most horrible death, it pretty much looked like this. Enclosed in a small space, naked, violated, with decaying flesh and a host of creepy insects.
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