"Missed the Tour (hanging, cons, implied necro)" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/fZZ5Tqqt Created on: Sunday 24th of January 2016 06:32:45 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:41:22 AM UTC Missed the Tour (hanging, cons, implied necro) Feeling another sneeze coming, Claire frantically “held” her hand out towards her father, who pulled a tissue from the box and handed it with not even a second to spare. Still holding it under her nose, yet never diverting her eyes from the screen, she mentally cursed her sickness once again. Mom had come home ill nearly a week ago now, and in no time the bug had spread to the whole family. And right at the wrong time, too: Claire’s class had a trip planned, and she was prevented to join. And to add insult to injury, the refund wasn’t even full. At least her best friend had promised to bring back pictures. However, what she got was instead a DVD freshly burned by her brother. Her parents had promptly suggested watching it together after supper, so here they were, all three on the couch… and a waning tissue box. Claire dropped the tissue in a small pile on the floor to her left, still staring unblinking at the picture. At least the constant nasal noises helped lessen the awkwardness a bit. She certainly would have found some excuse to watch the disk quietly at her computer… if only she had known it depicted her friends dancing and dying naked at the end of ropes. Unfortunately, constantly having to blow her nose wasn’t enough to completely suppress her arousal. She was feeling a growing tension in her loins, and could do nothing about it due to her parents being in the room. She was far too uncomfortable with trying anything in their presence. On the other hand, as the video switched to another of her classmates, she snuck a glance to her right; it was clear her parents had the same problem. She asked them for a new tissue just in time to avoid covering herself in snot. In the end, it was Mom who broke the silence, by asking her daughter if she was still bitter about missing the trip. This was like a signal for Claire to let out her frustration and vent, and she answered by the affirmative. Indeed she was still bitter, both from missing out on the ultimate thrill and from failing to give her classmates a real, heart-felt goodbye. She should be with them, adding her voice to the choir of rasps and gurgles, and her legs to the dance. After further prodding from Mom, she added that she definitely wished she had been there with her class, and she would have done it; not merely to do as the others, but because it was hot as – oh crap, another tissue please. She jolted in surprise as Dad cleared his throat, having been mostly silent throughout the evening. Slowly, as if choosing his words with utmost care, he asked Claire if she would settle for a cozy private hanging, here at home. Claire couldn’t believe her ears. But once she was finally certain that he had, indeed, said that, she pounced on her father and hugged him tight. Mom was taken aback by such enthusiasm, but kept quiet. She knew well that nothing would change her mind, so she simply joined in the hug. Breaking the silence again, Dad explained to Claire that he wanted her all clean for the hanging: She would use the toilet, take a quick shower and he would set things up in the meantime. She countered by asking why he wouldn’t come with her in the shower; he immediately blushed at the question. It was not to be however: Dad politely but firmly refused, told his daughter it would be criminal, and added that she should feel bad for having such ideas. But before she got up, he stopped her and brought his face to hers, whispering directly in her ear that her corpse was another story: he could do to it anything her will said. On these words, he sent her on her way and headed for the toolbox. Claire made a detour through the kitchen, retrieving a suppository from the fridge’s med compartment, before leaving the room. Having reached the bathroom, she turned on the heater first and foremost, before unceremoniously shoving the sup up her butt and washing her hand. Leaving the bathroom to warm up, she headed to her bedroom so she could comfortably lie on her belly while waiting for the effects. Noticing her schoolbag nearby, Claire reached for it and pulled a notebook and pen, and began writing her list of Things To Do When She’s Dead. The first item was a heartfelt call to lay with her body, in capital letters and underlined twice. In the second item, she decided to leave all her possessions to her cousin. Then she added that the list contained exceptions to that, and willed that her CD collection be donated to someone who actually appreciates good music. She was adding the final touches when her body told her to go to the restroom immediately, so she cut things short and lay down her pen. Five minutes later, Claire had moved on to the shower. Enjoying the relaxing feeling of warm water, her hand set between her legs, she silently daydreamed. Closing her eyes, she saw her classmates again, picturing herself in their place as her fingers worked. And then, Dad would gently set her down, covering her body in kisses, without removing the noose that would stay wrapped tightly around her neck. He would carry her to the bed, lay her delicately on it, and behold her nude, still body before positioning himself above it and WHOA— Another sneeze caught her to lose balance and slip, steadying herself just in time to avoid falling headfirst into the tap. Wary of more problems, Claire slowly lowered herself onto her knees before getting back to work. Stupid bug. It really wouldn’t do if she died suddenly in such an undignified way, minutes from her planned death. At least, thanks to the meds she took during supper, the fever was gone. For now. Letting her mind wander again, she was back with her father. Only this time, he hadn’t bothered cutting her down; she was at just the right height for his pleasure anyway. And, why not still alive? Dad was now loving her as she was dying, his feet firmly planted on the floor while hers couldn’t reach it. She desperately worked to wrap her legs around him, at first to try and prop herself up for a quick gasp of air, but eventually just to hug him and squeeze him and push him deeper into her, as she neared a mind-shattering orgasm… That’s when the real orgasm hit her. Claire arched her body, thrusting her crotch forward as pleasure ran through her, bringing life to her fantasy. Thankfully, not a scream had escaped her lips: she had learned to masturbate in silence long ago. She was breathing heavily though, not much she could do about that. Well, tonight there was one thing, she thought: what she was about to do would permanently solve this problem. As she calmed down, Claire dried herself and donned her Mom’s bathrobe before making her way back to the living room. Stopping in her bedroom, she grabbed the list. Dad had worked fast: The suspension was now lying on the kitchen table, freeing the ring on the ceiling. As Dad explained, that ring has been solidly set into the ceiling back when it was built in the first place, and would easily hold her weight. To it he had already tied one end of the rope, which he passed through a free ring, and then the ceiling ring again. Mom had cut a length of rope, and fashioned it into a noose, which she was now attaching to the moving ring. That way, she explained, the force on the other end of the rope would be lessened. Making it possible to tie it off to— The words died in her mouth when she saw Dad wheeling in the washing machine. He brought it in front of the couch and disengaged the wheels, setting it firmly in place. Then he finally answered his wife and daughter’s silent question: He’d tie the free end of the rope to the couch’s foot, and the heavy, concrete-laden appliance would make sure it doesn’t move. All that was missing was the camera and tripod; hearing this, as Mom went to fetch them, Claire made note on her list to send a copy to her best friend’s brother, returning him the favor. Dad put the finishing touches by placing a stool below the noose, and a pillow behind it. Claire started walking towards her doom, but looking at the finished work, she stopped in her tracks. She was beholding the rope that would kill her, and despite knowing that she wanted it, it was scary. Yet she took another step. And another, keeping her eyes on the noose. Eventually she reached the stool, and climbed on it. She turned to face her parents, steeled herself, and passed the noose around her neck. Soon after, they were at her side. Dad gently tapped her wrist, silently asking her to put her hands behind her back. He bound them tightly, the rope cutting off the flow of blood in her hands. Meanwhile Mom was adjusting the noose, occasionally looking at a reference picture on her smartphone. Thanks to the guide she had found, Claire would be immediately unable to breathe, but her blood and spine unmolested. She would last as long as her friends did. As Mom held the noose in place, Dad removed all the slack and tied the rope. Claire was already breathing deeply as Mom gave her a last hug and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. Dad soon followed, but to his daughter’s surprise, went for her lips, giving her a full-fledged French kiss. She could hardly believe it. She was there, bound, helpless, receiving her first – and last – kiss from her own father. If not for what she knew was next, she would have wanted this kiss to never end. Dad broke the kiss as delicately as he had started it, and dramatically propped his foot against the stool. Claire breathed out, closed her eyes, and breathed in as much as she could, before feeling the stool toppling under her. The next thing she felt was the sharp pain in her neck, just under her chin. But also, the strangeness of having nothing under her feet. She wasn’t even in panic yet, and her feet were already moving, feeling for a ground that was no longer there. Claire savored this moment of calm before the storm, conscious that she would soon try to breathe and panic. As she moved her legs, she was starting to feel a budding heat in her loins, which she promptly set out to cultivate. She couldn’t reach her sensitive spots with her bound hands, but she could rub her thighs together… slowly, in a swimming motion, she danced the prelude to her last performance. Then she opened her eyes, wanting to see her parents one last time before going crazy… well, crazier maybe. What she saw precipitated her descent, however: Her parents had quickly tossed aside their clothes and united their bodies, Dad taking Mom from behind like their own lives depended on it. And they both kept her eyes trained on her, unblinking, with the same hungry look she had as she watched her friends die, only amplified a hundredfold. Her parents, her own Mom and Dad, were getting off on her last dance! She gasped at the sight, or tried to, only to be blocked by the noose, and panic set in. Not alone, though: It came with an intense arousal at the thought of her parents enjoying her death so thoroughly. She was now moving her entire body, writhing in rhythm with her attempts to breathe, attempting to find purchase on thin air, punctuated with gagging sounds that only intensified their sexual frenzy. This in turn fed into her arousal. The heat between her legs rose to match the pain in her chest, and with time her kicking motions turned into humping the air, her feet joined together as she thrust her crotch forward. Her parents’ moans soon sent her over the edge, and pleasure spread through her like lightning, not replacing the pain but sublimating it. Claire arched her back completely, throwing her head back, folding her legs, curling her toes, closing her eyes again to let nothing distract her from the sensation. As her orgasm faded, she wanted nothing more than to catch her breath. But as she was still strangled by the noose, all she could do was panic some more. Her movements were more subdued this time, as she was running out of stamina, but more erratic too, as it was becoming harder and harder to think. The incessant ringing in her ears didn’t help matters. Yet there was still some fire in Claire, and as she got closer to death her arousal flared up again, this strange yet obsessive desire to experience just one more moment of pure ecstasy before dying. She managed to force her thighs together, trying to rub herself to pleasure despite the pounding headache. She had already lost consciousness when her body was shaken by a second orgasm, but that doesn’t mean it was wasted, for the sight sent her parents into their own climax, screaming their love to each other, their voice contrasting with their daughter’s silence. When they could think clearly again, Claire had stopped moving. With great effort Mom managed to rise to her feet, mainly by leaning on Dad, and staggered towards her daughter. Putting her ear to her chest, she heard nothing. The couple waited a good ten minutes before lowering her to the floor, cutting the noose from the rest of the rope. Dad grabbed Claire’s dead body tenderly in his arms, and followed Mom into the master bedroom.