## Archive-name: supergun

On a private secluded desert estate well outside Las Vegas is an extremely private club which caters to the very wealthy and to the very famous. From the highway it appears to be just another of the many private estates, and if one wanders off the highway to get a closer look, which is not easy, it appears to be a private golf and country club, because lavish links and greens are visible from the public road, and there are usually a number of expensive automobiles in the large paved parking lot. Access through the guarded gate is by invitation only, and once inside it is not uncommon to see as many as half a dozen top box office movie stars at any given time in the private casino. It is a retreat for the very wealthy, catering to the more dedicated gamblers, with minimum bet set at one thousand dollars. Often bets as high as fifty thousand dollars are placed several times in a single evening.

This remarkable club, known only to insiders in the world of high roller gambling, is secluded and highly secretive for good reason. It is not just the high stakes that attracts the rich and famous, it is the exclusive and unusual game in the inner casino that draws many of them. This shocking, highly erotic and daring central gambling event has made the totally exclusive gambling resort legendary in the world of jet setters. This spectacular game is so extreme and highly illegal that only those who are insiders to the high rolling gambling world even hear of it.

Normal gambling games, which are widely available throughout the state of Nevada, form only the tip of the iceberg here. The outer salon features the regular card and wheel games at which the patrons amuse and new guests prove themselves before gaining admission to the inner casino. The waitresses, who look like top end call girls, work in heels and a steel collar and matching cuffs. Delicate steel chains swing from their ear to nose rings, and between rings in their pierced nipples and labia. Their pubic hair is severely trimmed, leaving only a heart-shaped patch above their genitalia. These are very erotic creatures, and serve free drinks to the guests as they move with confidence, their collars, cuffs and chains enhancing their nakedness. The hidden gambling room is part of an extensive complex built underground, with no hint of its existence to the outside casual observer. It is here, in the deep underground secret plush casino hidden even from most of the guests, that the lethal specialty game of the house is played.

What attracts the wealthy and famous clients is the extraordinary contest, featuring exhibitionism gone mad. Its participants are only the most beautiful, the most blatantly daring of high class young women. It is a high risk game with life itself at stake. The life of the gambler is not at risk, but instead the life of the female participant, the willing contestant in a deadly and erotic game of chance, a brilliant variation on the game of Russian Roulette, called by its creator, the estate owner and casino operator, "SuperGun".

Here gamblers stay up all night to bet on gorgeous women who remove their panties, struggle erotically to thrust the muzzle of a special double barrelled shotgun with a ten chamber revolver up into their vaginas, spin the revolver, and then pull both the triggers. This is not a game for the faint hearted. These daring young ladies risk their lives with ever spin of the revolver, and each night several of them are blown into the next life for losing at this deadly game of chance. The object of the game, if the participant loses, is TO BLOW THE WOMAN IN HALF!

This is the story of one of these very special young ladies. Read and enjoy, but be prepared for the worst.

Elana had flown in to Las Vegas from Paris just a week ago and already found the constant rounds of the gambling clubs and hotel casinos boring. She was a professional "rabbit's foot", the groupie of the gambling casinos. Her art involved standing behind the big rollers, rubbing her barely concealed breasts against their shoulders to bring them luck, then she would take them up to their rooms to get them drunk, lathered up, bring them to a quick ejaculation, and then quickly depart with most of their winnings.

Only devastatingly beautiful and intelligent women got to play this very dangerous game, and they were tolerated only because of the ambience they lent to the setting, and because of their skill in spotting the big gamblers and in encouraging them to go for the big stakes. They were not permitted to sell sex, and were in no way connected with the gambling establishments. When they had earned the right to work the gamblers by not attracting the law, the casino operators welcomed them, and called them bunnies. Elana was a good bunny, because she always let Johns get their rocks off inside her, seldom slipped them a bad mickey that would leave a hang-over, she never took all their credit cards, and she always left them enough to get out of town. She was also one of the most elegant looking females in whatever casino she worked. Her hair was dark and long, and she kept it coiffed in wispy curls that accented the mature lines of her beautiful young face. She was a strikingly beautiful woman of nineteen, with long shapely legs that looked exceptionally good in the pale tan hose she preferred and the high heels which accentuated the erotic perfection of her posture and movement. She had full upstanding breasts, somewhat large for her build, but she carried them in a provocative manner that was at once innocent and seductive. She had developed a constant awareness of her own posture and projected an aura of aloof self confidence which was becoming a woman of her singular beauty. She was in a word elegant. Elana had three years of valuable experience, and because of her high intelligence and native street smarts was able to do very well at this risky and exciting game. She changed cities and even continents often, because some of the occasional Johns were bad losers, like the prince in Paris last week who had got so rough she had found it necessary to use her little silver knife on his balls. He was a mean customer, and she was sure that even the loss of his gonads was not going to stop him from seeking her out, and he would not likely stop looking until he had killed her.

She should have known better than to play around with that man, because he kept rolling sixes. Six was her unlucky number, and even though she knew better than to make decisions based on superstitions, it had too often proven unlucky for her. She was a gambler, although she was too smart to play the tables, and had a bad feeling about the number six for herself. She also didn't let it rule her life.

What the hell, Elana thought, as she pictured the prince showing up in Vegas, you only live once, and she had no illusions of reaching middle age. She wanted to go out fast and furious, living in the fast lane and running all the lights. That was where the fire was for her, living for that flash of brilliance that set her apart from ordinary women. She was special, and everything for her had to be special, or what was the sense to it?

Elana was bored with Vegas, and had always been so, ever since her first visit here three years ago. She hit the strip three or four times a year, never spending more than two weeks in the gambling salons. It was simply good planning to be out of town before a man stripped of his big winnings might come back to find her. The stay was long enough anyway, because although the picking were very good, the action lacked the thrills she thrived on. America was much too staid for the vivacious young woman.

The big exhilaration she got from life was in the high risk adventures that the jet set of Europe excelled in finding or creating. What she found most alluring were the kind of events in which she was on exhibition, and in which her life was at risk.

The only time she had ever found in Las Vegas the kicks she thrived on was on a trip a year ago when the playboy son of a local casino owner had invited her out to a sky diving party. She had learned sky diving when she was a kid, and knew all of the rules that made it a safe sport. He told her that for this game all of the security of jumping was removed. This was to be a high risk game that flaunted all of the safety rules.

That was the part that had the greatest appeal for her. The risks had to be high or she would not be interested. That was her key, and they had just turned it. She was to be paid ten thousand dollars in advance to make a series of competition jumps naked with the other girls in the deadly sport.

Elana was told that the game consisted of four jumps, and was to be held out in the desert at an abandoned landing strip. As long as it wasn't six jumps, she thought, and immediately realized that if it were six jumps that the last would be the most exciting for her. She wasn't sure if that were because of an unconscious death wish, or if it was simply because she got her biggest thrills in beating death.

The most dangerous rule of this event was that it was "fast pack", in which after the first jump the six naked female contestants had only time to cram their chutes back into their packs rather than properly fold them, and they would be picked up by a jeep so quickly that there would be no time for the proper loading or inspection of the chutes and shrouds. This provided the high risk of failure to open that made the offer to take part so exciting. It was exactly the kind of peril that gave zest to Elana's life.

To top off the prospects for a remarkable adventure, the most exciting news of all was the promise that the last jump of the afternoon was going to be a Turkey Shoot. Elana had heard rumors of such incredible events, but the idea was so shocking she had believed the stories to be fiction, the figment of some deranged person's wild fantasy. She had found the bizarre concept to be so intriguing when she had first heard of it that she had thought of arranging one herself, but had never done it. Now she would get to be in one. The idea of participating in a real Turkey Shoot was so exciting to her she actually peed in her panties when she was told.

It wasn't until she reached the airfield that she discovered that there were six jumpers. Elana made a mental note to sit where she could not to be last out of the plane. Two of the wealthy young men flew the twin engine plane, four others manned the two jeeps as a pick-up crew, three others operated the video cameras to record the exciting nude jumps, and the tenth was in charge, driving his own jeep and communicating with the others by walkie talkie.

The video cameras were equipped with remarkable high power lenses that brought startling close-ups of the girls from the time they left the plane in free fall to the instant they landed. The cameras were positioned both at the landing site and away from it, to give different angles from each camera on the jumps. The co-pilot also had a small portable camera which allowed him to tape the excitement of the girls during the ascent, and to get close shots of their naked forms leaving the aircraft.

The door on the right side of the plane had been removed to facilitate jumping, as had all the seats behind the front two, to make room for the six jumpers. As the craft made its first assent, the half dozen girls sat naked on the floor, and strapped on their chutes as the plane climbed. They were cramped for space, but Elana was sure there would be more space available in later jumps, as some of the girls were certain to die in these extremely dangerous jumps. She was surprised they had found the other five girls, all beautiful and experienced jumpers, willing to take part in this death-defying game. One was a European, one an Australian, the others were Americans.

Elana and the others had carefully packed their own chutes before entering the aircraft. They were all extremely daring, but were not stupid. It would have been very easy for the men to lure these remarkable young women out here to make tapes of them all jumping to their deaths with sabotaged chutes, and if Elana was going to die in this event, it would be because of her own failing, not by the perverse scheme of some degenerate pricks she didn't even know.

She always got a rush out of stepping out into the open sky, and this time was no different. The air was cool seven thousand feet above the desert, and the free-fall took a long time. She felt the air pressing her large firm breasts back against her ribs and to the sides, and enjoyed the feeling of the wind rushing past her bare pussy.

This was the first time she had ever jumped naked, and she discovered quite by accident that by holding her legs apart and adjusting the angle of her pelvis, the wind forced her vagina to slightly open and it whistled! It made her giggle, it was so unexpected. It was just like blowing over the narrow mouth of a partially filled pop bottle. She wondered if the other girls had made the same discovery.

The cold air that hit her as she jumped was a shock, and told her just how high the plane had climbed. She felt the air get appreciably warmer as she descended, and she could feel the heat radiating from the ground before she hit the rip cord. She left activating the 'chute to the very last second. Very soon after deploying her 'chute her feet hit the sand. It was so hot she danced a bizarre dance, and the others did the same as they landed.

After the girls had completed the first jump onto a target, delaying opening their chutes to the last possible second, they hastily crammed the nylon shrouds and cords back into a crude and totally unsafe and illegal bundle, and leaped back onto the pick-up jeeps. The open vehicles had been sitting exposed to the sun during the jump. The metal and leather was as hard on their naked bodies as the sand was on their feet. This was no party for the well paid jumpers. When the plane landed, they all looked at the tapes of the jump from each camera before taking off for the next exciting spectacular jump.

Elana was delightfully surprised at how good she looked on the tapes, posturing and even masturbating as she plummeted through the air in free fall. She had shaved the sides of her pussy and applied lipstick to the edges of both the inner and outer vaginal lips. She was surprised to see how well they showed up on the tape, even during the last half of the free fall. The cameras were so good that if one of the chutes failed to open causing an accident, the video tapes of the accident would be spectacular. She felt a growing knot of excitement in her gut.

The next jump would be much different than the first. Now that the chutes were so loosely and randomly packed, there was a good chance for at least one accident in each of the following jumps. The very thin and high veil of light fish bone cloud gave a special quality to the light, and made for perfect jumping and video taping.

The well tanned bodies of the young naked female jumpers in the lightly veiled desert sun looked delightful. The girls were given a couple of drinks of gin and tonic as coolers. Elana knew that the alcohol would increase the chances of error judgments during the jumps as well. She noted that the generously poured drinks were doubles. These guys really played hard ball with their women, and she loved it.

Elana was first out of the plane on the second jump, and was quickly well below the others. She gave an extra half second delay when she reached the safety limit for free fall, then tugged the rip cord with all her might. The 'chute bound momentarily from the rough treatment, but then the rush of air pulled it out full and it blossomed with her less than a hundred feet above the ground. She was really giving these guys the thrills the were looking for in this event.

Her heart was in her mouth, and she looked up to see how the other naked jumpers were doing. One of the girls had pulled her 'chute very early, and it was hopelessly tangled in the cords, and streamed behind her like a giant red twisted licorice stick. Clearly this young bitch had been chosen for her inexperience, to make the contest more interesting and to separate the chicken hearted out from the real women early. The stupid girl was thrashing her bare legs as she tugged frantically at the twisted cords of the chute, and was screaming as she streaked past Elana and impacted like a water bag on the hard sand less than fifty feet away. The girl belly-flopped onto the sand, bounced high in the air, and landed on flat her back. She had been killed instantly on first impact.

Elana was vomiting with the sudden shock of the instant death of the beautiful young nude girl. It was not that she was sickened, it was just that the kind of shock she liked most hit all of her systems, and caused her to toss her biscuits. The jeep was there as she landed, and she quickly slipped out of her harness and bundled the 'chute and loose shrouds into its sack, cramming the silk and tangle of cord in with her fist. Elana decided she would not use this 'chute again herself, but would help along the contest by her deliberate carelessness in packing the nylon sheet and cord. Whoever picked her 'chute for their next jump was in for a risky landing at best, and maybe another hard hit, like the young bitch who had just cashed in on the last jump. The other four girls landed safely, and they also tossed their biscuits at the sight of the shattered girl, whose pretty nude carcass was left lying on the sand where it had fallen.

A moving van that had been parked by the shack at the landing strip drove over to the accident site, and four young men in coveralls opened it up. Elana thought they were there to remove any corpses after an accident, but the men brought out sheets of plywood and set them out in a large circle around the girl's crumpled body.

The inner circle was only fifteen feet wide, with the dead girl's carcass in the middle. Out of each sheet of plywood stood a dozen four foot long steel stakes, to impale any jumper that landed outside the tiny circle. The ring was made very wide with more than two hundred sheets of plywood spread out around the dead girl's body. God, Elana thought, this is going to be fantastic!

The guys gave the five girls their drinks first, before they got to look at the spectacular accident played back on video. When the tapes were run, three of the girls took refills. The tapes of the accident were just as sensational as Elana had imagined they would be, with excellent tracking in close-up of the girl with the tangled 'chute desperately struggling as she fell. Her impact with the solid ground was spellbinding. It was like re-living the event to watch her land on her belly and tits, and bounce ten feet in the air, then land for the second time on her back, her belly and breasts split open. Her face was hamburger, unrecognizable.

As they watched the tape from the second camera, one of the girls move over to the jeep, opened Elana's 'chute case and ripped a large piece out of the fabric. Then she took a knife from the tool box and used it to cut through a few of the shroud lines. Elana had opened up the contest to the chance of who picked up her chute. This evil cunt was planning to murder her by picking her 'chute to sabotage. This was war.

When the girl returned to the enthraled group watching the tapes, Elana slid over to the jeep and switched chutes, so that the evil girl would wear the 'chute she had sabotaged. The filthy cheating bitch would die by her own deed! Elan found her heart pounding with excitement. She had never deliberately caused someone's death before. She reasoned to herself that it was really self defence, because the cunt was trying to murder her. The feeling was so exciting she lost bladder control, and peed in the hot desert sand. Fortunately she was standing behind the others, and none of them noticed her momentary display of weakness.

A noticeable breeze had come up before they left the plane for the third jump, and it made controlling the decent more manageable, as long as it remained constant. The girl who had tried to kill Elana stared in disbelief when Elana's 'chute opened safely below her. She pulled her own rip cord and as the 'chute billowed out she was suddenly thrown sideways and whipped by the cut cord. Her damaged 'chute had opened and slowed down her decent to some extent, but because of the torn canopy she was falling faster than she was used to, and had little control because of the cut shroud lines.

The other girls watched as she dropped several feet per second faster than they did. She looked like she was on the target, but with the torn shroud she had limited control, and the smallest shift of the wind moved her off the tiny fifteen foot opening, to the broad circle of stakes. She lifted her legs to land at the last instant, and made a clean hit an inch to the left of her anus on the sharp point of a stake. It was so good it was almost as if she had aimed at the stake intentionally. She threw her head back to scream, and the stake completely impaled her, with the point emerging through her mouth. Her calves struck stakes, and her legs were held high as her buttocks came to rest on the plywood sheet. The impaling stake had somehow missed her internal organs as it negotiated its way through her, and remarkably, she remained conscious. None of the others could imagine how her 'chute had become so badly damaged, but it put fear into them as the descended. They would have to pay closer attention to make sure nobody messed with their chutes.

Elana landed next, and she demonstrated total control when her heels hit the split tits of the dead target girl, softening her landing and making a perfect score. Quickly she grabbed the shroud lines and dragged in her chute, but was too late. Part of the shroud billowed and dropped onto the sharp stakes, and as she gathered it in, the part that was hung up was shredded. Her next jump was definitely going to be extremely risky. While she pulled her 'chute off the spikes to retrieve it, she came up with a daring plan that would also help her in the Turkey Shoot. The next two girls landed safely in the circle, and seeing the difficulty Elana had got into, they managed to retrieve their chutes before they were damaged on the stakes.

The last girl to come in tried to avoid hitting the other three already landed in the crowded circle, not to avoid injuring them, but to avoid the risk of fowling her 'chute on the spikes. She made a fatal error in judgment. Her feet landed in the circle, but she had twisted and was drifting at an angle, and her 'chute pulled her off balance onto the large steel spikes. One of them drove into her side just below the rib cage and exited up through her left shoulder. Her head came down onto the other, and it drove up under her chin and exited through her screaming mouth.

She was not fatally injured, but the man supervising the event pulled up quickly in his jeep and told the others that the rules of the game were that if any were injured they could not be helped by the others. The girls backed off, but had only been interested in seeing her dilemma, not in helping her out of it. These incredibly daring young naked ladies knew they were all on their own in this contest, and that was the thrill of it. They were all perfectly clear that this whole insane game was not about helping, and none of them wanted to reduce her own chances by giving comfort to any of the others. Their only response to the extreme misfortune of the others was excitement.

The two skewered bitches were left behind to roast in the desert sun as the others were taken back to the landing strip. Elana was so excited she could feel herself reaching orgasm. This was the kind of high stakes thrill she lived for.

The three remaining girls threw back triple gin and tonics as they watched the replay of the jumps and brutally savage impalements. Their hearts were pounding and their adrenaline flowing. They were, to the men, like prey, and the men had found a very sophisticated way to kill their nude human quarry. After a third replay, they eagerly clamored aboard the plane for the fourth and final jump. This was to be the most dangerous of all. They were quivering with nervous excitement. This was what Elana was waiting for, the "Turkey Shoot".

As the plane took off and climbed to gain the required altitude, each of the three remaining nude girls put on a turkey mask that completely covered her head. Then a thick wooden plug was inserted into their rectum, with a large fan of tail feathers attached to it. Then they pulled on flesh colored soft leather boots with long toes and talons attached, like turkey feet. The three girl contestants were otherwise naked. They looked bizarre. Their flesh had by this time been burned a bright red. These simple but highly realistic mask and tail costumes were absolutely fantastic.

Before they had taken off, the man who had been directing the operations from his jeep showed the three surviving women a high powered rifle equipped with a large long-range scope. He let them know he was a championship marksman, specially trained in the Marines to shoot enemy paratroopers as they descended, and he had absolutely no compunction at shooting at a defenceless naked woman during a contest in which she had willingly agreed to take part. Although they were not now presented with an opportunity to withdraw, he was certain that none of them would now drop out of the contest, having come this far.

He had promised them he would shoot at the dropping turkey girls during the free fall part of their jump, and that he would shoot to kill. Their sporting chance was that with the distance involved and the wind factor, he could be off by as much as six inches. He told them that they would be safe once their 'chute was opened. However, he warned, if any of them opened her 'chute before she was two hundred feet above the ground, she remained a target, and would be easy pickings. Then he showed them the rounds he would be firing. some of them were steel cased, while others had a cross filed deep into the tip. The filed shells were what were called exploding shells, or "dum dums". On impact with flesh these would immediately spread open, so although they made a small entry wound, they would mercilessly rip open the meat they entered, causing incredible destruction. These were capable of taking off a leg, or blasting off a large chunk of buttock or an entire breast. He mixed the shells up and then loaded them into the large clip as the girls watched with horrified fascination. They were going to be the targets.

For all three of them this was the most exciting jump of all. They knew that at first they would be hard to hit, because of the great distance, and that the danger would increase rapidly as they got closer to the ground. "God, this is exciting", Elana thought as the plane leveled out and the navigator told them to get ready.

"Jump!" he yelled. The naked girls in their bizarre turkey costumes and chutes were squatting in line, facing the open door of the plane. They went out of the plane quickly, rolling forward and tumbling into space. Elana jumped last, right behind the other two. She spread her arms and legs in the classic pose, because although she knew it made her a better target, it would also slow her decent as much as possible. This was critical to her plan, with this shredded 'chute she was wearing.

The other two girls either bundled or dropped in a vertical diving position, trying to be as inconspicuous to the marksman as possible. The result was that they dropped much faster, and were soon far below Elana, and closer to the rifle. This was going exactly as Elana planned.

She knew that she looked bizarre with her fan of turkey tail feathers sticking out of her ass, and her big realistic looking turkey mask. She was surprised at how little the hood mask obscured her vision. It had been very well designed and constructed. Once she had established her positioning over the other two, she startled everyone watching by releasing her harness and abandoning her parachute! As she undid the shoulder straps, she felt a sharp sudden pain across the lower outside of her left breast. My god, she thought, stunned at the concept, I've been hit! Fortunately the bullet had just grazed her.

Although the tit had slapped her hard as it recoiled from the hit, she could see that the bullet had just cut a clean path along the outside. Because it had not been a direct hit, it might even have been a dum dum. Half an inch closer and she would have known for certain. Her big tit would have exploded with a direct hit from a dum dum.

When she released it the 'chute fell away above her, because of the extra drag of the fabric and the loose straps. As she spread her arms again she heard a second bullet zing through the air inches from her head. She folded into a ball and summer-salted once, heard a third bullet streak by her, and then opened out her limbs again, like a flying squirrel. She knew that as she got closer to the ground she was a perfect target, but she had to maintain control and position herself perfectly.

She saw one of the girls below her take a direct hit in the abdomen, with a spray of blood announcing the exit wound. In a second she flew through the by now fine mist of the girl's blood, and was splattered with tiny flecks that she knew were also made up of tiny bits of flesh. A second bullet tore through the tumbling girl's large right breast, ripping most of it away. Elana quickly looked more closely at her own hit breast, and felt relief when she saw that the full round mammary had just been grazed so that it would at most retain a light scar. Then she saw the injured turkey girl take a second dum dum shot that ripped through her stomach, and she knew the bitch was dead even as she tumbled through space.

Suddenly the other girl, falling beside the first, panicked and pulled her rip cord. She was much too high, several seconds early, and the naked bitch dangling from her parachute was now a free and easy target. A third bullet zipped between Elana's spread legs as she positioned herself to hit the top of the open chute. This was living!

Her bare feet hit the 'chute dead center, and she spread herself on her back to distribute her weight evenly and to avoid sliding off the slick nylon parachute. They were still very high, more than six hundred feet up, and she knew that if she fell she would face certain death.

In an instant she could feel the recoil jerks of the totally exposed and screaming naked woman below her as she took blast after bloody blast of the lethal slugs from the high powered rifle.

They were now close enough to the ground to hear the report of the high powered rifle a split second after the bullet tore through naked female flesh. The angle was safe, and Elana knew that the slugs ripping through the girl below her were not directed to come through the 'chute and hit her. At this range the sharp shooter was having fun with his living human target, and was clearly avoiding making a full kill of the beautiful screaming bitch until the last possible instant. Elana thrilled with each hit.

She could see nothing of what was happening to the screaming and bucking girl below her, but knew that she was being devastated. Elana could feel the cunt's blood being sprayed up onto the under-side of the 'chute with every hit, and the recoil as the naked bitch bucked in her harness in reaction to each shot. It was incredible, and seemed to go on forever. She counted twenty hits to the luckless cunt before the screaming was finally silenced with the fatal shot, and in an instant what was left of the bitch beneath her hit the ground. Immediately the canopy collapsed, wrapping Elana in it as she fell into it. With real skill she had her feet at the right angle as she hit the ground, and rolled to take up the shock as she had been trained to do for a normal landing when she was at jump school.

Her execution of the difficult move was perfect, and she ended up on her feet. She pulled the still ballooning canopy of the collapsing parachute down and stepped out of it. There on the desert sand in front of her was the head of the girl on who's 'chute she had ridden to a safe landing. It was still wearing the bizarre turkey mask. A direct hit in the neck had been the final shot, and it had ripped the girl's head clean off!

Then Elana saw a human foot sticking out of the sand more than fifty feet away, then near it an upper section of leg, and then she spotted a hand lying on the sand near the leg section. She looked back in shock past the shroud, and to her horror saw that the girl's arms and legs as well as her head had been completely blown away. All that was left strapped into the harness was a torso with five bleeding stumps from the missing arms, legs and head.

The filthy son of a bitch had used only dum dums on her. That was probably all he had ever used. He had just shown them the steel cased bullets to make them think they had a chance. He had plenty of opportunity to reload the clip while they were climbing for their jump, getting rid of the more sporting steel cased shells. Those would just punch a neat hole through you, and might miss vital organs entirely. The vicious slugs with the filed cross on the tips had forced the soft lead to spread on impact and rip her flesh apart. That's why Elana had been sprayed by blood when the first girl was hit. While she had ridden down on the top of the 'chute safely, the girl who wore it was slowly being shot to pieces. With the girl bucking and thrashing the whole time, clearly this was the work of a skilled marksman. She felt pride that she had again associated herself with real professionals.

Elana was somehow stimulated at the appearance of the limbless and headless torso, lying belly up with the fan of feathers spread from the stuffed asshole. She saw the strawberry birth mark on the bottom side of one of the big shot-up breasts, and remembered the beautiful girl. She had been very daring, had been the first to jump to face the bullets, and Elana was surprised that she was the one to panic and pull her rip cord too soon.

The jeep was there in an instant, and she was pulled onto it. "Jesus, that was a hell of a stunt," the driver said. Elana said nothing as she pulled off the bizarre turkey mask and jerked the thick wooden plug out of her colon. She always found the anti-climax the hardest part to take, after taking the big risks that made life so exciting.

She had come out of this with nothing more than a bullet graze on her tit. She was lucky, because if the dum dum had bitten flesh just a half inch closer it would have flattened, tumbled, and torn the whole big tit off her. All she saw was a trickle of blood from the scratch. It was deep enough to leave a scar, she decided, which would always remind her of the biggest kick of her young life.

These guys were rare, and because of her daring, they were not too rough on her as they claimed their own reward and gang-raped her on the fiery floor of the desert. Although they stuffed her cunt and colon with the blazing hot sand, they actually allowed her to take as prize money the total of sixty thousand that all the contestants would have been paid. They would make twenty times that much by selling the tapes they had made on the underground snuff tale market. This action was hotter than anything available anywhere, and would bring as much as several thousand per copy. The men even went so far as to return her clothing, although they locked them in a duffle bag, and didn't let her put them on when they dropped her back in front of her hotel in Las Vegas.

That astounding adventure had been a year ago, and nothing nearly as interesting had happened to her since in this desert city of vice, so she was more than interested when the rich John named William she had glommed onto for the past several hours suggested a trip to the private gambling estate she had heard of but had never had an opportunity to visit. The prick was over fifty, was short, fat and bald, but he was possibly the ticket to a rush experience, so she treated him well. She and her wealthy escort had arrived at the desert estate shortly after three in the afternoon, and she found the estate much like an oasis in the desert. William had suggested she go and relax by the estate's large pool, and with her experience she knew that she must, because he wanted to show off his find like a prize.

There was a shop at pool-side with an unusual array of swim wear. The clerk was a young slender girl who sat behind the counter on a tall stool, wearing a bright print cotton sheet over her shoulders. The girl had naturally blonde long straight hair cut into long bangs in front, that nearly covered her pretty eyes, and hung down her back and over her shoulders. Except for the loose-fitting sheet and her high heeled mules, she appeared to be otherwise naked.

When they entered she hopped down off the stool and hung the sheet over a hook on the wall behind her. Then she came around the counter and they saw that the girl, who appeared to be no older than thirteen or fourteen, was except for her spike-heeled mules indeed stark naked. Elana saw that her straight blonde hair hung down to the base of her spine. If her pubic mound had ever grown any little curls, it had been shaved clean, to give her the appearance of an even younger girl. It appeared to Elana she had yet to grow her own cunni-fuzz. The young girl was strikingly beautiful, and appeared like many juveniles her age to be more than slightly bored with life.

William told the naked young clerk to put Elana's purchases on his tab. Elana loved to show off her charms, and after extensive browsing selected from the collection a single piece swim suit that was more daring and actually flaunted her remarkable figure better than any she had ever worn. There was virtually nothing to it, and its price tag was five hundred dollars. From the Y below her navel the material tapered down from a 1" width to less than half an inch through the crotch. The strand of material, insufficent to hide anything, narrowed to a piece of string by the time it reached her rectum, at which point it divided to gently spread her buttocks. The minimal costume was brilliantly designed, and was exactly what she wanted.

She changed into it behind a screen. The young female attendant assisted her. Elana admired the girl's youthful innocence. Her bare little breasts were no more than gentle little mounds; they had considerable growth ahead of them before they developed to their full size and shape. She also admired the blonde girl's round split pubic mound with its total lack of fuzz, then she looked down at her own. The girl still looked pretty cocky for a little slut that had most of her life and sexual experiences ahead of her. Seeing her up close, Elana reconsidered her age, and wondered if the girl was more than eleven or twelve. She could certainly be legally classified as a child.

Elana had tanned nude on the Mediterranean, and now she was glad of it. The bathing costume did not entirely cover her vulva, and when she moved, it quickly slipped in between her pubes so that it only capped her inner lips, as it was designed to do. The warm yellow color of the fabric and string underlined her dark but fine and glistening patch of pubic hair, fully displayed on either side of it. It also complemented a pair of spike heeled string sandals which she had noticed, with a price tag of three hundred fifty dollars, and she decided to buy them as well. It was his tab, not hers, and she loved to spend other people's money.

Elana stood tall and raised her shoulders, pulling the string tight through her crotch, and squeezing her breasts with the movement. The suit was extremely sensuous to wear. The string that laid over her anus but did not cover it formed a Y so that it spread her firm round buttocks and wrapped around her torso where it connected to rings in the fabric bands which inadequately wrapped the outside of her large breasts. These pressed the gorgeous mammaries together, and gave the beautiful natural flesh-melons the look of highly erotic artificially enlarged boobs. She loved the provocative swimsuit.

There were several other remarkable young women frolicking beside the pool with an over-large beach ball, and she joined them. She knew that the innocent play gave them a younger look, showed off their stunning feminine forms, and provided continuous change of angle views of their highly exposed charms. They were performing for their hosts. The pool was simply a backdrop, and none of the girls went near it. They didn't want to endanger their expensive hair designs.

Elana noticed there was a curious and distinctive pattern of inch-wide steel discs embedded in the tiles every six inches all the way around the pool. It was a beautiful design, although she thought they would be more attractive set back from the edge several more inches.

She noticed men and women who stood in windows of what Elana assumed was a lounge, because they held drinks, and watched the nearly-nude girls at play. As she watched several more joined them. She would be sure to give them a good show.

Elana was glad the girls were on the plush artificial grass carpet rather than on the lawn or the tiles. In these spike heeled shoes she could move better on a hard but not slick surface. She gave them a real treat, leaping after the ball, bending over, twisting and posturing with a constant awareness of the angles she was presenting to the window.

It was extremely hot out here in the desert, although the shade made it bearable. This strong physical activity was causing Elana to warm up. On a sudden impulse she sprung into the air, and in a perfect and apparently effortless dive, long practised, she broke the surface of the pool. She plunged deep, and then swam underwater in a pattern that she knew looked very sexually stimulating to those watching from above. The string sandals were not the best for swimming in, but they lent a bizarre look with their incongruence under the water. She knew how to get and hold the attention of men.

She made a remarkable sight, drawing everyone's attention as she swam under water in the crystal clear pool, doing a stroke that spread her legs and displayed her back from neck to her slender ankles. She loved being the center of attention, and she was very good at it. Elana was a true exhibitionist, with a flare for timing and for erotic display of her remarkable body and its beautiful assets.

She broke up through the surface, then dived like a dolphin, making sure her legs were spread when the peak of her buttocks were in full view, so that her nearly exposed and barely covered vulva would be properly displayed. As she went under, she noticed that the pool was much deeper than it appeared from the surface. This was really a large pool, and at the deepest end, it was darker than appeared from standing at pool-side.

She spotted a dark movement, below her and to the left, and then it was gone. A shiver ran through her, and she thought for a moment she might have just imagined it. The far end was really quite dark, and her mind could easily be playing tricks. Human eyes were not intended to work well under water, and things were somewhat blurred in the darker, deep end of the pool. Then suddenly there was a large dark form which took shape in the water in front of her and moving upward: she immediately recognized the sinister shape of a barracuda!

In an instant she surfaced, and saw the dark dorsal above the water turning. Frantically she sprinted to the edge of the pool, and in four expert strokes was there. Without a break in pace she burst out of the water, and the large carnivorous fish flashed by, narrowly missing her foot. It was a full-grown adult barracuda, more than six feet long! The other girls were screaming, and Elana was panting in horror at her close escape. What in hell was that huge killer fish doing in the swimming pool?

A pair of smartly suited attendants who looked more like body guards quickly appeared and escorted the shaken Elana and the other girls out of the courtyard and into the air conditioned building. It was a relief to be inside, and as they joined the others Elana got a delightful surprise. The extremely skimpy cotton swimsuit she wore had not been designed for water, or perhaps it was, but it was shrinking substantially as it dried on her. The result was to accentuate the effects it already had, digging into her sides and her sex organs, making them look even more well defined. The narrow center strip that went between her legs was now so tiny it parted rather than covered her inner lips, so that they blossomed on either side of it. She felt incredibly sexy, and the fright of the moment in the pool with the barracuda passed.

Drinks were served to the girls who had just come in from pool-side. Some husky boys, wearing only revealing loin cloths, were wrestling, for the amusement of the wealthy women in the crowd. Elana noticed that all of the boys were wearing studded leather collars around their necks, complete with a steel ring in the center of the throat. The men, while admiring the girls in their skimpy swim costumes, were staying near the full wall windows facing the inner court yard with the pool, as if they wanted to be sure not to miss something.

They were facing West, and the sun was glistening brightly off the surface of the pool. As everyone gathered at the window powerful lights were turned on under water, making the entire pool very bright.

Now the two men who had escorted the girls inside appeared again by the pool. At this point everybody moved to the windows. From the mood in the room, Elana guessed something was about to happen. The two men crossed over to the bathing shop where Elana had bought her swim suit, and they disappeared into it. A woman in a long black but very revealing evening gown welcomed the guests, and told them they were about to see the pre-dinner entertainment. It was to be a disciplinary action. One of the staff had been caught stealing money from the concession in which she worked.

"It may whet your appetite, because we have both fish and rare venison on the menu for this evening," she said, and there was excited murmuring from the gathered audience.

In less than a minute the two men in the tightly fitting suits re-appeared, dragging between them the young naked girl who had helped Elana with her swimsuit. The screaming and struggling young girl, wearing only her high heeled shoes, looked much more erotic than Elana remembered. It was the vitality inspired by raw fear and the desperate struggling that made her look so appealing, Elana decided.

The men bent her over backwards, spread her slender legs, and one of them thrust three of his strong fingers deep into her exposed vagina. Elana had admired the youngster's pretty organ, and now she had a new perspecive on it. The man twisted and tugged at the tight little cunt, causing the girl great discomfort. When he finally pulled his fingers out of her, three tightly-rolled and moist fifty dollar bills emerged from her tortured twat. She was indeed a thief.

"A single thief can ruin things for everybody," the woman in the sexy black gown said. "In the large window across the courtyard you can see the other young girls who work in our facility and concessions. They have been brought to that window so that they can witness the thief's punishment. It will be severe, so that they will all learn a valuable lesson. Theft will absolutely not be permitted."

The guilty girl was taken to pool-side and thrown high in the air. The slender fair skinned girl belly-flopped into the water, causing a great splash. Quickly Elana saw the value of the underwater lights. The beautiful naked female form in the water was much more easily visible than if it were only back-lit by the sun. The great killer fish that had appeared as a dark form to Elana earlier was now revealing its silvery sides as it twisted and maneuvered for position, carefully stalking its splashing naked human prey.

In her travels with the jet set Elana had witnessed some bizarre entertainments, including a live snuff show in The Hague, Holland. It had been at a private gambling club, and had been intended to make an example to the club's employees. The hostess had been caught with her hand in the till, and the owner of the club had decided to make the most of her discipline, entertaining the guests while making the point to the other employees. In that bizarre diversion a man had forced the unsuspecting hostess to strip off her gown, then he sat the naked woman on his knees and drove his large penis up into her colon.

She squealed and squirmed uncomfortably, putting on a great show with her discomfort and extreme embarrassment, because although wanton sexual displays such as this were common in that private club, and she had actively procured young women to be raped on stage, she had never stooped to participating in them. While the man was butt fucking her he had taken a knife and plunged it into her belly, ripping her open and eviscerating the screaming woman alive in front of the select audience and horrified staff. Then, to the horror of the staff and the delight of the audience, he had actually decapitated the beautiful woman. That was the only such demonstration Elana had ever seen, but it had left a profound impression on the young woman. Elana had been only eighteen at the time, and although the display of total control over the staff shocked her, it also reinforced her views of life and justice.

Even that grotesque amusement and extreme discipline display had not been adequate preparation for this bestial form of discipline. As Elana watched, the small stainless steel discs that lined the edge of the pool began to rise, being elevated by a hidden motor, and she realized why those rings were so close to the edge of the pool: they were the tops of inch-thick bars to keep the swimmer in the water!

The beautiful young girl twisted frantically as the fish hit her for the first time, and because of her sudden movement, its teeth ripped into her side rather than her stomach. Blood gushed out of the wound as the six foot long fish tore off a small piece from her side, baring several ribs. This was inhuman punishment, and for that very reason Elana found it enormously exciting. The extreme punishment also made a profound statement about her host: to the owner of this posh establishment, the young girl's life was not worth one hundred fifty dollars!

Elana then saw another good reason for the lights. The blood now gushing from the girl's torn side was diluting and becoming quite translucent in the water, so that everything could be seen clearly, with only the immediate area of the wound being thick with dark red blood. Without the strong lights the red cloud would obscure the action more and more as it evolved. My God, she thought, that's what this pool was designed for, vicious blood sports! This is not the first time this kind of thing has happened here! She found that realization increased the thrill of watching the violent blood-sport in the specially designed pool.

As the girl twisted and rotated to keep facing the killer fish, her spread thrashing legs revealed an excellent view of her hairless crotch with her pert little cunnie and her clean starfish anus in the ridged sloped valley of her spread buttocks. The struggling naked victim really was a pretty young thing. The fish dove, twisted, and came up underneath her, this time getting tender belly muscle in its powerful jaws. With both the girl and the barracuda thrashing, there was lots of action for the spectators. Suddenly the girl in the pool and the big killer fish jerked apart, and a large blob of crimson slowly spread through the water from her abdomen. She had been dealt a vicious blow.

The deadly killer fish was eating the succulent chunk of girl-meat it had ripped from her belly, and the child was struggling to get to the edge of the pool. As she swam, twin curls of her pink intestine appeared in the gaping hole in her belly, and the loops extended more than three feet long as the tangle of her slender pink guts washed below her in the water. When she reached the pools edge she saw the bars for the first time, and screamed in horror. She grabbed at them, then flipped onto he back, facing the big fish with her belly up. At least she had her feet to protect herself.

The barracuda moved toward her again, and she kicked out at it, then retracted her legs to get them out of range of the terrifying jaws. The experienced fish struck between the raised legs. Elana thought it would clamp its jaws firmly onto her naked pubes, but instead it hit the tender meat of her inner thigh. It thrashed horrendously, and along with the girl's desperate if futile kicking, there was a fearsome whipping and churning of the water.

The audience inside the lounge was cheering the killer fish on as it suddenly succeeded in ripping out a chunk of the thieving girl's succulent meat, tearing the large piece of delicate female thigh-flesh cleanly off her. Three of the young women who had been playing so carelessly beside the pool moments earlier vomited, but did not look away from the violent action. Even while their stomachs reacted from sensation overload, their minds were racing with the thrill of the forbidden form of extreme punishment they were witnessing.

Elana slipped over beside her wealthy John, and opened and slid her hand into the fly of his tuxedo. As she expected, she found his penis erect and pulsing as he watched the debauched show of the large carnivorous fish feeding on the helpless live human bait.

The fish gulped down the succulent female meat quickly, and Elana stroked the man's surprisingly large penis as the horrific feeding continued. The water was now a light hue of pink instead of blue. William slid a hand over Elana's buttocks, moved aside the slender strand of the bathing suit, and easily slid a finger up into her anus. Knowing that the time was right, and that the show in the pool was not designed for her enjoyment, as soon as he removed his fingers she slid to her knees on the plush carpet in front of him and pulled his erection out of his pants.

She heard the party gasp at a further development in the pool as she slid her mouth over the man's stout flesh shaft, and increased the tempo of her suctioning on the firm prick. Each time she heard a reaction to the violence in the pool she gave more of herself to her task. From the corner of her eyes she could see that several of the other girls had taken her lead and were servicing their hosts in various ways.

She also noticed that the boys with the loin cloths had been called to their wealthy mistresses, and were all now wearing leashes clipped to their collars, and were on all fours, squatting on their haunches, waiting for their mistresses to announce their pleasure.

Elana knew that the girl in the pool feeding the barracuda was near death when William grabbed her head and thrust his penis deep into her throat. Her man was almost ready. She had little to do to prepare him; the sight of the slaughter in the pool was keeping him on the brink of orgasm. This was a jaded audience, intent on seeing the most shocking things imaginable, and it was clear that was what was in store for them this weekend. All she had to do was gage when her escort wanted to blow his load down into her stomach, and give him the pleasure of ingesting his seed.

She continued pumping her mouth and throat on the pulsing penis as she heard three more major reactions to the blood sport in the pool, then she felt the thickening of the organ deep in her throat that was the universal signal. She tripled her tempo on the flesh rod. As she felt the first thick warm spurt in her gullet she swallowed it, then pulled off him, and closed her eyes to take the remaining gobs of his spunk on her face. This was the most degrading thing she could imagine, and she revealed just enough of her humiliation to let him know how she felt. It always made her clients happy to know they were degrading her, and that she was humiliated. It was professional touches like this that made her so special, and separated her from common cock-sucking call-girls.

When William was through he thrust the head of his prick against her lips and she licked it clean, then he tucked it in, and was gone. As he left he told her to clean up, buy a dress, something slinky, and join him in the dining room, he was famished. Elana wiped his sticky spunk out of her eyes and looked around. A matronly woman had lifted her skirts and was urinating onto the face of the boy kneeling in front of her with his slender little erection. Another woman was walking her boy like a dog, while another was licking clean the gobs of cum from the full breasts of one of the other girls.

In the pool the barracuda was circling, obviously satisfied with its meal and instinctively guarding the stripped carcass of its kill. Since she had last looked, the water had turned from pink to a distinct shade of red. Yards of pink and white viscera floated on the surface of the pool, and a severed arm had sunk to the bottom near the shallow end. The slain and gutted girl floated face down, her round buttocks licked by the tiny waves. Elana felt a familiar churning in her gut, a feeling of growing excitement. These people were for real, and this place was even more incredible than she had heard. She felt a lust for this kind of excitement, and this had just been the pre-dinner show!

Elana found a dress shop, and outfitted herself in the perfect dress. It was a white and red print, oriental, tight, with the back cut down to the belt, which sat below the split of her buttocks. There was a slit in the back right up to the low-slung belt, with less than a three inch overlap, so that as she walked the rest of her buttock cleavage was in clear view as well. She bought her favorite hose, the self supporting kind, because there was nowhere to put a garter belt, and a pair of red shoes that complemented the dress perfectly. Her hair had dried to its natural look, which was better than most of the bunnies could have done during hours at the best hair salons.

She hadn't liked any of the shoes she had seen at first, and had asked the clerk if he had anything spectacularly different. He did. He had left her for more than ten minutes, but the wait was well worth while. He produced in her size an incredible pair of red high heeled shoes. The spiked heels were ten inches high, and what made this incredible height possible was that when she wore them her toes pointed straight down, like a ballerina's. She knew well the erotic effect that high heels had on the shape of her leg and her posture. These shoes tripled that effect.

She found them difficult to walk in, partly because they were tiny, and enclosed only her large toe and the next two, which had to support most of her weight, with very little being taken on her extremely elevated heel.

Elana felt as if she were naked and daring as she walked in them, with her beautiful foot arched severely forward. They would take getting used to, in order for her to look not only comfortable, but also poised, as she wore them. She would be fine standing still in them, but she wouldn't want to have to walk too far.

This prick William was going to be glad he'd brought her here. She would fulfil his wildest fantasies, out of gratitude for having brought her to this fantastic place. She was sure she was going to see what was reputed around the world as the most exotic gambling game ever devised. She had no idea how closely she would be involved in it, but she knew this was the place she had heard all the incredible rumors about. Apparently it was even better than the infamous gambling islands in the Far East. It was on one of the privately owned Malaysian gambling islands off Singapore that young Malaysian men sat across a table from each other, each pointing a gun at the other, and simultaneously pulled the trigger. Each gun would have only two bullets in its five chambers, and the betting was on whether or not a gun would go off, which man would be killed, or whether both guns would discharge, killing them both. That cold blooded compassionless game played on that notorious island was highly popular, attracting the Jet Set seeking new thrills, as well international gamblers, but this event was reputed to be better. There was only one place in the world to see the epitome of high-handed, profane, obscene and debasing games. This was it, she was sure, and she was here.

This was such a special occasion that she returned to the hotel room and put on her six special gold rings. When she had her ears pierce, back when she was fifteen, she went the whole way, and also had the septum in her nose, her nipples and her clitoris pierced, and then bought a special set of six gold rings which she used only for select events, because they made her feel rare and special. She had bought them from a dealer in Egypt. They were more than three thousand years old, a set of slave rings retrieved from a slave buried alive with a nobleman in his tomb in Aswan. These were the rings of a very select slave, and it thrilled Elana to wear them.

This was definitely such an occasion. The dress she had chosen was worn without a bra, and the outline of the nipple rings through the thin material was clear to anyone who looked directly at her breasts. She felt extremely sensuous when she wore her rings, and knew the stunning impact they had on the men who saw her in them.

William was already seated when she arrived at the dining room, and he had ordered wine. He was delighted to see her nose ring that matched her earrings. He inspected her closely, and noted that under the thin material of her dress she also wore the rings on her full erect nipples.

Elana was not surprised to find naked young girls serving them in the dining room. None were older that the girl from the swim shop who had been killed in the swimming pool, and several were younger. She quivered as she thought again of that defenceless nude teenager caged in the pool with the killer fish, and of the stark contrast between how she had appeared in the shop and as a floating carcass in the pool. The girl's punishment was so cruel, so final, so exciting!

Elana guessed the young girls serving them in the diningroom to range from thirteen to sixteen years old. None of them were physically mature, but they all had that juvenile roundness to their bodies that made silly school girls so sexually attractive. The only difference between these waitresses and the girl she had watched being so terminally disciplined was that these girls appeared to be menstruating. The sight was highly arousing, and demonstrated clearly the power that the estate owner and casino operator had in acquiring exactly the girls he wanted. It also made a statement about his awesome power to flaunt the law, using these minor girls to sexually stimulate his guests in this fashion.

These youngsters carried their trays on their heads, and wore tiny grass skirts that were so short they did not cover their hips, let alone their genitals. They were very well trained, and moved about the room providing first rate service, while being noticed only by those with a particular disposition toward tender young pussy.

There was a small stage in the dining room, and during the meal a voluptuous woman danced a remarkable strip tease. When she was at last nude she was raped by a succession of young men, with their naked bodies well oiled. The well muscled young studs all withdrew their runting penises from her cunt, her colon or her throat at the moment of ejaculation, and jetted their spunk all over her gleaming nakedness.

As a climax to the extraordinary act, which lasted nearly two hours, the woman, who by now had become not only a willing participant in the debauchery, but had also picked up a sheen to her tan from aggressively rubbing her sperm-covered nakedness against her oiled sex partners, showed her prowess by masturbating three men to simultaneous ejaculation, to the delight of the diners.

She had accomplished this remarkable feat with two of the muscular males lying on their backs on either side of her, with their erections within easy reach of her fists, and with the third lying with his crotch at her feet. As she jerked the two penises with her fists, she manipulated the other between the soles of her feet at the same tempo. What was remarkable was that all three of the handsome young studs had spurted their loads earlier in the highly erotic diner entertainment. Elana enjoyed the sexual diversion, but her mind was rushing ahead to the gambling casino and the delicious mystery of what was at stake. She was feeling on a high tonight, and she craved action.

The outer casino with the traditional games was nearly full, and the action Elana was used to was in full swing. As she had expected, there were several of the crowd who she recognized as stars of television and of films. Four of them were very big names. The only differences between this casino and those in Las Vegas was that here there were no tourists, and that the genitals of the busty girls serving the free cocktails were exposed and featured by their minuscule costumes. Less obvious was the fact that the minimum bet here was one hundred dollars. Elana had been in many such establishments in Europe, and had seen gaming on the most unusual events.

In her three years in the gambling world, she had been exposed most of the special betting games, and she was aware of just how bizarre they could be. She had seen desperate men in high stakes private games gamble away their businesses, their homes, their personal possessions, even their daughters and their young wives. She had seen a man in Morocco lose everything, apologize to the host, then put a pistol into his mouth and blow off the back of his head. She had filled her panties when she had seen that. The game in this American desert club was supposed to be more spectacular.

In a private gambling den in Paris she had seen the wagering over how many blows to the cunt a large Egyptian woman could take from a bull whip before she passed out. She was strapped naked upside down to a pair of tall stout posts six feet apart, with her legs spread wide. The brutal lashes were paced ten seconds apart, six per minute, and Elana had been amazed that the at first screaming and later babbling bitch had taken three hundred and thirty vicious blows, all to her cunt, in an event lasting nearly an hour. Her sex organ and the area around it were purple and horribly swollen, and rivulets of her blood trickled from the broken flesh. Because her body reacted to the whip even when she was limp, the whipping had continued more than ten minutes past the point that Elana was certain the unfortunate woman had lost consciousness. She was in such bad shape that when she didn't return to consciousness after half an hour they cut her down, took her to a dark corner, and quietly slashed her throat, then stuffed her into a large laundry bag for later disposal in the Sein. The game in this Nevada desert club was reputed to be even more spectacular.

In a private cellar gambling den on a dingy back street in Stockholm Elana had witnessed a competition between a matched pair of beautiful tiny Vietnamese women. They sat naked, facing each other on the edge of short stools which had been placed on top of the bar. On a third stool was a shoe box filled with pointed ivory chopsticks. They took turns pushing a chopstick into the other's womb. As the number increased their small organs were slowly stretched. Each new smooth ivory shaft was placed into the center of the growing bundle, so that the effect of an insertion was to push the boundaries out evenly against the restraining vagina muscle. Each woman had to say yes to the other before she took another chopstick. When the organs were drawn tight the final bets were placed, based on which of the petite Oriental bitches would say no first, and after one had given up, how many more chopsticks the winner could push into her own twat. To make it interesting, neither was permitted to say no until her vagina muscle had ruptured. Elana had been amazed that the winner, a slender woman only four and a half feet tall, took into her twat a bundle of chopsticks more than eight inches in diameter! Her organ muscle had ruptured at four inches, but she had tripled the number of chopsticks in it after that, and had only stopped when she passed out. The spectacular gambling sport here at this desert estate was reputed to be more devastating.

Elana had watched cock fights, dog fights, and in Morocco had even seen gambling on a boxing match between two naked black girls who wore tight leather gloves with sharp metal studs. They had sliced each other up everywhere, with particular attention to the exposed genitals, before the fight turned mean. This had been the first fight to the death she had ever witnessed between humans. She was startled at how one person could inflict such damage on another without good reason, particularly once one of the girls had been blinded and could not get in a good punch. These pretty young girls had been brought out of the jungle, from a village that was barely out of the stone age. The other naked black girl got her sightless opponent down by punching her in the back of the head and then tripping her, then sat on her and battered her lethally armed fists into the helpless girl's face. The most erotic thing Elana could remember was the thrashing legs and the spray of hot piss from the cuntlet of the girl on the bottom. She thrashed wildly at first, but the assault on her face was kept up until it was battered beyond recognition, long after the legs had ceased to kick, and there were only spasms of the beaten girl's death throes. The unmistakable announcement of her death was when her tight anus relaxed, and her colon unloaded its steaming burden. The central game in this desert club was by reputation even more spectacular.

In a private casino in Luxembourg Elana had seen three pregnant teen-aged girls giving birth by themselves without help, standing side by side, with their arms chained to hooks in the low ceiling. The customers bet on which girl would produce her baby first, and on the sex of the infants, or on which of three white girls would produce a black baby.

At that same club three months earlier Elana was in the crowd when a mature pregnant woman was battered to delivery by a boxer. His blows were delivered to her whole body at first, then he narrowed his targets to her milk-swollen breasts, and finally delivered the majority of blows to her big belly to initiate labor. The betting was fast and furious as to whether or not her infant would survive. It did. The brutal boxer continued to batter the strung up woman until the infant dropped to a pillow between her legs. From what Elana had heard, the main attraction at this private desert club was much more spectacular. A special casino on a back street in Rome had a house rule that the man who lost everything had not really lost everything until he gave up his family jewels. The place was surprisingly popular, considering the stakes that the gambler himself would face. Elana had heard that at least once a month there was a castration in the establishment.

She had sought out a rich and inveterate gambler, and took him there to test his luck. As she knew he would, the wealthy man bet heavily all night long, and lost steadily. With her encouragement, the man took the final wager and lost. All other activity in the house came to a halt for that fateful and ruinous roll of the loaded dice, and when they came up snake eyes, he went without hesitation to the blood stained ceremonial block, and removed his trousers.

It was nearly dawn. The madam of the establishment brought forth a large, sharp double edged knife. A teenage prostitute was brought into the room, still in her nightgown. She had been awakened from her bed to perform her ceremonial duties. After the girl had sucked up the man's penis to full erection, she stood back. The mistress held the sex-bloated ejaculating organ in her fist, and with a single stroke, she deftly sliced off the screaming man's testicles! That was a powerful moment. If the main attraction at this desert club was not more spectacular, Elana would kill herself.

Elana had heard that this desert casino had the best game in the world, and she was dying to see it. It turned out to be better than she had imagined possible. A man in top hat and tails wandered among the guests in the outer casino, instructing those who were permitted to visit the inner sanctum to move to the brass doors. There they were admitted by a gorgeous matched pair of the near-naked hostesses. The heavy doors opened to a short hallway, at the other end of which there were a similar set of heavy brass doors. Elana quickly realized that the extra separation was to provide sound-proofing.

Through the second set of doors was a plush stairway leading down what Elana realized was at least three stories. There were three landings along the way, and they were necessary, particularly for those wearing incredibly high heels such as Elana wore. Through these heavy lower set of doors was a large gambling room with ample space and a high ceiling.

This inner gambling casino featured only one game. There were six curved tables where the patrons could place their bets. These were placed on a brilliant white carpet. Against the far wall was a fully complemented and complimentary bar. The focal point of the room was extraordinary. A curious concrete shell shaped booth, brightly painted and lit, was set against the long wall opposite the doors. This remarkable device completely dominated the large room. The floor surrounding it was polished white marble, and it emphasized the starkness of the strange booth.

At the top of the booth was a kind of large clock, but it had only a sweep second hand, and it was divided into only thirty units. On the opposite wall above the brass doors was a similar clock, and Elana guessed that they were facing so that people outside and inside the booth could both see the time. She guessed rightly that the time of thirty seconds figured prominently in the unusual game that was to be played. Mounted on the front ledge of this huge shell-shaped booth was a small platform. It was no more than three feet square. The curious booth was so large that this ledge was seven feet off the floor. A narrow carpeted stairway lead up to the tiny platform from the audience area.

The guests were served drinks by a dozen tray-bearing waitresses, tall, stunning full breasted young women wearing a revealing costume even more daring and erotic than those worn by the girls in the outer casino. Their faces, breasts and organs were painted, and the extremely brief costumes featured rather than concealed their raw charms.

Assisting them, in serving and in cleaning ashtrays and spills on the floor, were half a dozen beautiful teenage girls, who appeared to be about sixteen years old. They had perfectly matched figures, all being slender and petite. Their sex organs were shaved clean, to make them appear to be even younger than they were. It appeared that the owner of this establishment had very specific tastes. These teenage girls represented several races. This was not by accident. They also served as interpreters, as each was fluent in both English and another language. These younger girls had no costumes at all, but were completely naked. They carried their trays on top of their heads, accentuating their lithe figures.

When all guests were in place, the man in the top hat and tails welcomed them, and explained the game for those who were new to it. He was wearing a tiny lapel microphone with a transmitter in his pocket, and everyone could hear him clearly; the house sound system was excellent.

"Welcome to SuperGun, the most unique game of chance in the entire world," he began, speaking with the tones of a seasoned orator. "Like all high stakes gambling, this rare and dazzling game is uncomplicated. It features this specially designed booth, and a unique, distinctive customized large-bore sawed off double barrelled shotgun."

One of the near-nude serving girls carried out a huge velvet cushion. On it lay the remarkable nickel plated shotgun. It somewhat resembled an over sized old fashioned tommy-gun, because of an unusual round revolving chamber. "As you can this see, this remarkable weapon has been specially adapted. Instead of rolling dice, there is a large ten chamber revolver, which is key to the game. If you are familiar with Russian Roulette, you will appreciate this fine weapon. Ladies and gentlemen, for your gambling pleasure, the SuperGun!"

The gorgeous showgirl elevated the cushion and walked among the guests, displaying her marvellous breasts and the heinous weapon. It had an ornately carved maple stock, and the barrels were of such large bore that it looked capable of killing an elephant. "The chambers are loaded with three shells," the host continued as she completed her rounds. "Seven of the ten chambers are empty, two of them will contain shells loaded with rock salt with a very light to medium powder charge, giving a variety of interesting effects, while the shell in the tenth chamber will have a high explosive charge which drives large balls of pock marked shot, with devastating power. The shot from this shell will flatten on impact with a cube of Jell-O."

Another of the magnificent serving girls carried a silver tray with a cover on it over to the shell shaped booth. She placed the tray on the platform and removed the cover. Revealed was a one foot cube of bright red colored gelatin. She stepped aside as the host picked up the vicious looking SuperGun. Its bright nickel-plated barrels were no more than sixteen inches long, and as the host had described, it was equipped with a large silvered revolving chamber, capped in front with shiny nickel plated steel, so that from the muzzle side it was impossible to see which chambers were loaded.

He thrust the muzzle against the large cube of Jell-O, then shoved it in a couple of inches. "Imagine, if you will, the barrels of the gun being thrust deep into the vagina of one of these ravishing young women among us," he said. He gave that startling thought a moment to sink in, then he pulled the trigger. There was the sound of the hammer hitting an empty chamber. "Just fooling," he said. "That is what happens when there is no shell in the chamber, which is most of the time."

He pulled the other trigger and the gelatin expanded grotesquely, and was splattered all over the thick concrete wall of the large special booth. Now the reason for the broad back of the shell was apparent. It caught the jello, which would otherwise have been splattered over the room. The sound of the explosion followed by the sound of the shot striking the cement was deafening. That was the reason for the extremely thick walls of the subterranean room and the double heavy doors which separated them so well from the outer casino.

"Now you see why the shape of the booth," the host said. "You can see what that would do if the muzzle of the gun had been thrust into a young lady's cunt at the time!" He hit a lever at the side of the booth and the whole area was washed with a spray of water, cleaning it quickly, just like the flushing of a toilet. The curved concrete at the back of the booth had easily absorbed the flattened lead shot, and the saucer sized pieces of lead that resulted could be seen on the floor of the booth.

"That was the SuperShot shell," he said. "I am sure you can picture what this would do to human flesh." An appreciative murmur went through the audience. He placed the horrendous weapon on the front counter of the concrete booth beside the small platform where everyone could see it and marvel at its enormously fiendish destructive power.

"Of course," he went on, "should someone be so unfortunate as to take the SuperShot," he paused for effect, and picked up a large piece of flattened lead from the floor of the booth. Then he continued, "Each ball of lead shot would immediately flare out into this shape inside her on impact with her inner flesh, and she would be ripped immediately in two at the waist. It would all be quite painless, although enormously entertaining. As you can imagine, she would not know what hit her."

The hostesses escorted three stunning young women in beautiful if brief evening dresses, which suited the Nevada climate and the sexual tastes of most of the guests, to the front of the booth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host continued, "let me introduce these breath-takingly beautiful and very daring young ladies, all of them beauty queens, our first three contestants. They will not only begin the contest, but they have committed to rotate with other volunteers, taking turns until the evening's gambling has been completed.

"The platinum blonde is Mandy-Mae, from Memphis," he continued. She stepped forward and curtsied. She had very pale milk-like skin. The audience gave her a round of applause as they examined her very ample cleavage as she purposefully bowed deeply forward. "The strawberry blonde is Elaine, from Des Moines." She also gave them a look into her full cleavage and was rewarded with applause. "And the brunette is Suzette from St. Louis." Suzette had the biggest boobs of all, which threatened to bounce out of her flimsy evening dress as she bowed forward more deeply than the other two, and for her performance she drew the biggest round of applause.

Elana listened keenly as the host explained the game. "As I have suggested, there will indeed be the possibility a SuperShell will do the kind of damage I referred to a moment ago. One by one each of these daring young women will remove her panties, sit up on the small platform at the front of the booth, and spread her knees, revealing for your pleasure her lovely vagina. Then she will defile her honor and desecrate her virtue by pressing the stubby double muzzle of the SuperGun deep into her luscious sex organ. When all bets are placed, there will be a start signal. The woman with this novel shotgun in her twat will lean forward, spin the chambers, then she will pull one of the two triggers.

"She has thirty seconds in which to pull the trigger after she has spun the revolver. The stakes are high, but seven times out of ten you'll just hear a click, and nothing will happen. It is really quite safe." This gross overstatement brought general laughter.

"There is a slight chance, one in five, that one or more of the young ladies will take a load of rock salt into her womb. As I mentioned, the charge may be light, in which case the thick meat of her uterus will absorb the material. If there is a medium charge, and we have varied the powder in each shell, she may not be so lucky, because it could have enough power to blow off her ovaries and drive her uterus up between her lungs."

The young women throughout the room were not laughing, but their eyes sparkled in eager anticipation. It was the severity of the risk that appealed to them, and what had brought them into this dreadful arena.

Elana recognized many of the other alluring young women in attendance as glamour girls who frequented the gambling salons of Las Vegas, and like herself, were brought out by the wealthy men to taste the high of all-or-nothing gambling. She knew that they, like she, were here only because of their insatiable lust for danger and thrills.

All of the beautiful young women in the room were here because they were sexually aroused by facing acute danger, while on exhibition. The more degrading the task, and the more catastrophic the results, the more they were turned on. This game of chance satisfied the most wanton lusts of these exotic creatures, and indulged the basest instincts of the high rolling gamblers.

As Elana examined the gun from less than six feet away a shiver of excitement ran up her spine. She could imagine the cold steel barrels, much too wide to fit comfortably into her vagina, sliding deep into her womb. She noticed that the silvered cap to prevent her from seeing which chambers held shells would provide an excellent mirror so that she would be able to watch the heinous weapon entering as she thrust it into herself.

What the host did not point out about the gun was the carefully placed tiny metal burrs on the under side of each barrel right at the muzzle. These were designed to slide into the pussy cleanly, but to scratch the inner flesh as the barrels were being extracted, to add some bright crimson color to the violated pussies of girls who were lucky enough to hit blank chambers on both cylinders. It was a nice little added effect, designed to increase the enjoyment of these rich and famous gamblers.

"Now to make it interesting and to avoid confusion with the wagering," the host continued, "once a participant is committed to this deadly game of chance, there is no opportunity for her to back down. There will be considerable pressure on her to over-come hesitation and to meet the thirty second deadline, because a burly referee with a long sharp machete will stand beside her to decapitate her instantly if she goes past the set deadline."

There was an "Ooohh!" from the audience in appreciation of his point as the young body builder in a striped referee's t shirt and jeans climbed over the front wall of the booth to stand on a platform inside it. The platform made him visible from just above the knees, and put him at an ideal height form which to swing his machete at the neck of a hesitant contestant. He carried the long dangerous looking machete for everyone to see. To drive the point home, the host continued with his graphic description. "Often the gorgeous and daring young women who play this deadly game will waver, and press the deadline to the limit. Every night at least one lovely lass loses her beautiful head! You should expect to see this extraordinary event one or more times this evening. However, let me remind you, this is a humane game, and both the SuperShot and the machete are so fast, the girl who receives them will experience no pain."

The audience began to fully appreciate the true depth and seriousness of this extraordinary game. The host continued, "Should the gun's hammer hit an empty chamber, the timing clock will immediately start the count again from zero, and she must pull the second trigger within the next thirty seconds, this time without spinning the revolver. Again, if she fails to pull the second trigger within the appointed time limit, the referee will swing his machete. Because his judgment and action is instantaneous, there is of course no possible appeal of the referee's decision. It is final."

Elana could imagine the swing of the big blade, coming in from behind so that the first that a contestant would know of it would be the last thing she would ever know. She wondered if a woman being decapitated experienced much of the actual event. From the finality of the horror show in the swimming pool this afternoon, she knew that these people were for real, and she was certain the blade would swing the instant the thirty second time limit had elapsed.

"The hooks along the back of the ceiling of the booth are specially placed to hold the heads and upper bodies of the women who will not be completing the contest," the host continued. "As soon as one of these delightful ladies' body is split, or a head rolls, the woman's hair is wrapped onto one of the hooks for display throughout the rest of the evening. For that reason we call this booth our trophy case. In fact, the attraction for some of these lovely ladies with us tonight, I suspect, is the opportunity to sit up there and take a chance on becoming one of our trophies!"

The audience loved his sense of humor, but the three gorgeous beauty queens were now looking very pale. They knew that they would have to prove themselves in this game if they were to get a chance to meet some of the famous and the powerful people here tonight; such a meeting could make all the difference in the development of their careers. It was just that they had no idea it was all going to be so scary.

"The house wins if there is a click or if there is a small bang, causing the woman to double over and roll in agony, her uterus filled with rock salt. Now don't be alarmed. Although we have varied the charge in the rock salt shells to add interest, taking the rock salt load is seldom fatal, and the girls who experience it almost always recover, and usually return to play our game."

A man standing beside William was a doctor, and he explained to him what really happens. "The salt shot driven by the light charge of powder does extensive localized damage to the internal sex organ, causing excruciating pain, depending on the amount of powder in the shell. The salt also limits the bleeding by causing constriction of any blood vessels it ruptures. I don't know if you've ever had salt rubbed into a wound, but it serves two purposes here very well. It is excruciatingly painful, and it limits the internal bleeding.

"Although the girls who take the medium salt charges are in severe agony for several hours, they often survive. Some of them require little medical attention, and they all receive none. If they are not able to continue, they are given no more than a week to recover in dormitories here, and if they make it, they are taken off to a Los Angeles pornography studio owned by our host, to develop a new career in show business."

He continued, "As you can see, the girls who take a load of rock salt into their wombs and survive become from that time on really nothing more than sex slaves, and, I might add, become completely expendable. These people really know how to make the most of their women!"

"To say the least," William observed. "I was invited out here by a chap who wasn't able to make it this trip, but he told me not to come without a woman who was part of the gambling world, and who I could identify as a real risk taker. I did know that she might not return to Vegas with me."

"You chose well," the doctor said, admiring Elana's remarkable figure. "Some of the girls who are taken into the pornography end of the business even get to star in their own snuff films. Their only escape from the porno world is to return here to the gambling estate to once again participate in this deadly game of chance, SuperGun. It is really quite a fantastic system this fellow has set in place. I come out here from Chicago three or four times a year to enjoy it."

"What about the girls who don't recover?" William asked, and then realized the qualification in his question answered itself. The doctor smiled as he saw William had guessed the answer. "In fact, their parts are cut up beyond recognition, along with the carcasses created by this game, and they are sold as food to the mink farms. The irony is that they help to produce the lovely glossy pelts that will rest on the shoulders of women much like themselves. This is, after all, a risky game, and the finest specimens of the fair sex for some inexplicable reason do enter into it willingly." he said.

The hubbub was dying down, and after a pause to let what he had described sink in, the host continued to explain the game to the attentive crowd of high rolling gamblers. Most of them knew what he was saying by heart, but it was part of the game to explain the rules at the beginning of each day. They were new to the young ladies, and as the risks became evident, it turned on the ladies who were to participate.

"These three very attractive young women will begin the game. They are winners of a free trip to the estate, who are willing to partake in the competition just for the chance to rub elbows with real movie stars. Lets give them all a big hand for agreeing to take part, and for being such good sports!" The audience responded enthusiastically.

"These three lovely creatures provide the opening stock," he explained, "and will rotate. However, once the competition begins, fresh entrants from the ranks of our guests may line up to get in on this highly dangerous and if I might say highly erotic action. If any of you gorgeous young ladies believe you can beat the odds, and crave the thrill of the bizarre risk, you are welcome to take a turn at this marvelous game of chance!" He then continued explaining the payoff. "The house pays four to one if there is an explosion and the woman's torso is blown in two at the waist with a SuperShot. The pitted shot loaded into the SuperShot shell is specially designed and very consistent in its effect. There are twelve large lead pellets in each SuperShell, carefully pitted to ensure distortion on impact with the little lady's inner flesh.

"Each pellet flattens immediately on exiting the muzzle and striking live female flesh, and they spread in a very wide pattern in the woman's abdomen, and effectively slice her in half at the waist." The audience gasped. He continued, "The power of the charge is so great it drives her across the booth and against the back of the concrete stall. She is dead before her upper half hits the hard surface. In fact, any of the young women who will be entertaining us with their daring who have the misfortune to take a SuperShell will feel nothing. As I mentioned, this really is a humane game, with no pain involved, of course other than from a hit with the rock salt."

The three gorgeous girls standing beside him were looking shocked at this graphic description of the possible fate that awaited them. They were not used to the world of high rolling gambling, with such incredible stakes. They had been lured here to be in the company of famous people, and were now going to have to pay the price. "Just kidding, girls, the salt charge really just puffs you up a bit, like you were pregnant, and that bulging of the belly only lasts for a second!" This brought another laugh from the audience.

"Seriously though, folks," he went on, "When a SuperShell is fired, splitting the girl in two, almost always the dress remains with the lower half, which is tossed into the bottom of the booth, and the special wash you saw, which is similar to the flushing of a toilet, removes the blood and gore from the trophy case before the next contestant climbs up to take her place. The severed nude upper half of any woman killed in this delightfully diabolic game, or the severed head of anyone decapitated for refusing to pull, is hung by the hair at the back of the trophy case as a backdrop to the action."

The three young beauty queens were now visibly paled at the vivid description of their possible fate. "Hey now," he said, "The odds are you'll climb off the platform with just a bit of pussy moisture left on the barrel of the gun. Better than three to one nothing will happen."

"You said we had to pull both triggers. You didn't say anything about a double barrel shotgun. There's ten possible combinations of cylinders, if we don't spin the revolver between trys, and that means that six out of the ten times we will be shot! That makes the odds sixty per cent we'll take a hit," Suzette said. She was clearly the bright one in the group.

"That's technical odds," the master of ceremonies explained. "Each time you pull a trigger, there's the same number of barrels, and the same number of shells, so its still three to one. Honest."

These girls had been carefully selected for their beauty, not their intelligence, and his illogical argument swayed them. To complete the coupe, he continued, "Hell, do you think we'd be in business if it were that risky?" The audience laughed, and the tension for the girls was broken.

"Minimum bet for this game is one hundred dollars, and there is no maximum set!" he said. The lovely young women were now very impressed.

The doctor standing beside William explained "and the greatest thrill for the gamblers is in watching these fantastic young women waiting their turn, or delaying the pull of the trigger, knowing the machete is poised and ready for instant action." He saw himself as the local expert, and expanded, "All of the women who take part in the competition enter it willingly, believing they know the odds exactly, and they think that there is a seventy per cent chance they will emerge unscathed. That girl was right, of course, with two barrels she has a sixty per cent chance of taking a shell. What they also don't realize is that they will surely be lured into remaining in the set throughout the long evening, until she does take a shell or has survived at least four nerve shattering turns on the elevated bench. The odds against her survival then become something to indeed worry about" The doctor was having as much fun explaining the event as was the master of ceremonies.

"It is common in the later rounds for a woman who has somehow not taken a shell to break down entirely into sobbing hysterics," the doctor continued, "and then she will be unable to pull the trigger. A third of the gorgeous bitches who get up for the fourth time leave their heads decorating the back of the stall." Elana was intrigued, and William was fascinated.

"If a daring young lady enters the game at the beginning, her chances of surviving all the rounds unscathed are only one in ten. Because of the gambling, the game progresses slowly, and the triggers are pulled every half hour. If no other girls volunteer to get in on the game, the soonest a girl will have to get back up there is every ninety minutes."

"What about when a shell goes off?" William asked the doctor. "That should improve the odds for the rest."

"When a woman takes a shell in her womb," the doctor explained, "the chambers are re-loaded in a random placement of shells, keeping the odds the same for each contestant. When a contestant survives her turn, she may not replace her panties, but instead goes into a rotation, behind the new entrants."

"Jesus, this is some sport," William said.

"Also, to add some variety, the odds are changed from time to time, and the girl who is up may have only one chance in ten of coming down alive. None of the girls is told when it happens, although once the revolver is spun, everyone in the audience can see. That's really spectacular. I remember once that the host loaded all of the chambers, as a joke on the marvelous girl, who couldn't stand waiting her turn. Needless to say, there was no betting on that game!

"The game is so popular it is run from eight PM to six AM Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays throughout the year. It is very expensive to put on, with no account taken of the value of the girls' lives. An evening will have twenty events in ten hours. In that time on average ten of the young women are permanently neutered by rock salt, five are decapitated, and three women are blown in half at the waist with a SuperShot. Needless to say, no matter what the outcome, none of the lovely young females who participate will remain on the jet set circuit. You are in for a fine evening of outstanding entertainment. Good luck with your wagers."

"Thanks," said William. "Holy shit, if your figures are right, then twenty women, not just a few, are going to take part in this spectacle!"

"That's right, and only two are likely to walk away, so to speak. That's why there are so many who brought risk-taking young women with them." He looked at Elana, and liked what he saw. "Isn't that why you brought this lovely creature?"

"Well, that's right," said William, "but I'm surprised there will be so many maimed or killed."

"That's what makes it interesting," the doctor explained, "it is a remarkable phenomenon. Once these girls get going and decide they want to take the big gamble, they are willing to fight for the right. Its incredible to see them line up to take a chance on getting their gonads blown to hell! I don't understand women, but I'll fight to the death for their right to entertain us!"

"I think I've got me a winner in Elana here," William said proudly. "Show the doctor your scar, Elana." This was not a request. Without hesitation, she pulled her left breast out of the dress and showed the doctor the bullet wound. It was really just a light scar that didn't tan. The doctor displayed more interest in the exposed breast than in the scar.

"Tell him how you got it, sweetheart."

"I was in a Turkey Shoot," she began, but to her relief the first girl had lifted the short skirt of her mini-dress, had slipping out of her panties and was now climbing up the narrow stairs. God she has beautiful legs, Elana thought to herself as she watched the young woman in the sleek gown and dark hose sit and position herself on the small platform, assisted by the host. It was show time!

The girl was truly a deserving beauty queen. Her perfect face was the epitome of grace, with an innocence of the girl-next-door in her every expression. She had a very well define figure, and looked to be no more than seventeen years old. At the same time, she had the poise and fluidity of movement of a New York model. From the rear as she had climbed the narrow stairs she had reminded Elana of a beautiful delicate doe.

"Only three chances in ten she'll find a shell in the first chamber," the host said, "and the same odds with the second." That was to re-assure the beautiful Mandy-Mae. Her skin was pale and she was now openly perspiring. The betting was picking up pace as she spread her award-winning legs and revealed her open and naked crotch. Her pubic hair had been trimmed back to the edges of her vagina, leaving only a blonde puff at the top of the bare organ.

The host loaded the chambers in the horrendous weapon with his back turned to her, so that she could not see the sequence of the shells. Then he spun the chamber around rapidly and handed the heavy SuperGun to her.

"Its always more sporting to let her prime her own pussy," he said, as she nervously turned the gun around and hesitantly pressed the cold steel against her twat.

"Let's get the bets down, ladies and gentlemen. It will take her a few minutes to get this large double barrelled weapon into her pretty not-so-private." Mandy-Mae was struggling to get the weapon started, as it was pinching the loose flesh of her inner labia into the barrels rather than around them. She was trembling as she used a finger to pull the beautiful pink organ lips around the large barrels.

"Don't think it doesn't take spunk to sit up there and diddle yourself in public with the barrel of a gun, let alone two of them side by side," the host joked as she struggled. Any young lady who can take two of them at once might well be mistaken for a loose woman!" The audience laughed, and the wagers continued to mount, as the girl finally managed to mount the big gun into her tight organ.

"That will never do, my dear, it must go much deeper. I know it must, I designed it myself." She leaned back, and pressed on the gun, and it slowly but steadily slid deeper and deeper into her, until the twin round muzzles reached her cervix.

"Good girl," the host said, "I think you're ready to play our little game." Mandy-Mae looked around at the admiring crowd, and saw that the betting was completed. The muscular young man behind Mandy-Mae raised the long sharp machete to the ready position, and fixed his eyes on the clock across the hall. The audience eyed the clock above the trophy case.

"Spin the revolver, Mandy-Mae, and the clock will start. As a tip, my dear, get your finger ready near the trigger first." She stretched forward, and found the first trigger. The audience fell to expectant silence. She needed the other hand to support herself on the elevated platform, so she moved her hand from the trigger to the revolving barrel and spun it.

Immediately the twin clocks began their count-down. She moved her hand back to the trigger, and settled it in place. She glanced at the clock, and was amazed at how fast it seemed to be moving. She had already used twelve seconds. There was no sense in delaying. She closed her eyes, anticipating the loud explosion of the SuperShot shell, pressed the trigger, and heard a click.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and missed the immediate recycle and start of the clocks. The audience did not miss this nuance. She straightened her shoulders, and was about to pull the big gun out of the grip of her vagina.

"There is one more barrel," the host reminded her. With a start she looked up and saw the machete poised and ready to swing at her slender neck. Her eyes darted to the clock and saw that twenty-two seconds had passed. It seemed as if the clock had been cheated ahead, but she realized that with this extreme pressure, her sense of time was going crazy. She grasped for the second trigger, her fingers thrusting in frenzied terror. This delayed finding it, but by accident she tripped it and there was an immediate click. She had found a second empty chamber beside the first.

She at once both cried and laughed in desperate relief. She quickly pulled the double barrels from her womb, and the metal burrs scratched the length of her vagina and snagged on the tender ring at the external end of the tubular muscle, the throat of her cunt, bringing trickles of crimson blood to the lovely moist pink cunt lips.

Mandy-Mae slid down off the platform, covering her womanhood as the short skirt of her dress fell back down into place. The other two girls waiting at the foot of the stairs embraced her, and the three of them stood sobbing and laughing for several minutes. The bizarre contest had just begun, but for now Mandy-Mae was a survivor. She felt highly elated, and for the moment at least, invulnerable.

Elaine was next. The half hour between events dragged by much too slowly, because, elated by Mandy-Mae's success, she was now anxious to prove her daring and beat that horrific shotgun. With ten minutes still left to go she lost her patience and removed her panties. She was now committed, and the white lace panties were confiscated.

As she climbed the stairs and slid up onto the small platform, two of the women from the audience stepped forward to take their turns and partake in the game. One of the hostesses took their names and told them they would be numbers four and five. The host greeted Elaine, and she raised her skirt and spread her knees to reveal her pert little pussy with its strawberry blonde puff of pubic hair. He stared at it and told her to smile. As he kidded with her to provide time for the betting, he ran his fingers over her thin pussy lips and then inserted one right inside her.

"My god, that's a tight hole," he said, putting on a stereotype western accent. You're going to need help with that little bitty thing of yours, getting it around them big mean barrels. I'm just gonna help you out real good."

She leaned back, enormously embarrassed, and he worked two fingers into her tight hole, and with a continuous twisting and pulling motion the effort paid off. He was able to work in four fingers, and as her arousal increased from the sexual attention and constant motion, he was able to work in his thumb, then in minutes she took in his knuckles, then whole hand.

"Now that's a whole sight better," he said, rapidly fist fucking her to the delight of the crowd. Finally he removed his large hand from her stretched sex organ. He turned his back to her and moved one of the shells to another chamber, spun the revolver and then he handed her the SuperGun.

Elaine felt a sudden knot high in her gut, and she fought it back, feeling she was about to puke. Fighting off the sense of panic that she knew had brought in the nausea, she awkwardly turned the big gun around and placed the end of the barrels against her warmed up twat.

She noticed that the short stout metal tubes were still slick with the vaginal juices of Mandy-Mae, and wondered if it could give her AIDS. At a moment like this that should be my last worry, she thought. Besides, Mandy-Mae's a beauty queen like me, not some dirty whore.

With surprising ease she was able to insert the double barrels deep into her lusciously relaxed sex cavity. She wished that she were somehow more relaxed. This was incredible. There were some of her favorite TV and movie stars standing right there, watching her perform! This could lead to a movie contract, if there's a good agent here. Maybe the stars will tell their agents about this beautiful beauty queen who is so daring to take this incredible risk. If she'll do this, she'll do anything for a chance to become famous!

She suddenly realized she was daydreaming, and snapped out of it when the man in the tails and top hat tweaked her nose. "Are you with us, dear?" the host said sarcastically. "Spin the revolver, and let's get on with the show!"

She awkwardly spun the revolver. The time clocks started. Her arms felt like lead, and she realized suddenly that she was not just daydreaming, she was in shock. She had to pull out of it. The revolver stopped its spinning, and now she had to find the trigger. It was down underneath, where she couldn't see it. Oh my God, she thought, there are two triggers under there, which one am I supposed to pull first?

She looked at the host, but he, like everyone else in the room, was just staring at her, a gorgeous young woman sitting there with the short skirt of her gown hiked up, her panties off, and a great big monstrous gun thrust deep into her eager vagina, ready to risk blowing herself to hell! God, she thought to herself, if Mom and Dad saw me sitting here now like this in front of all these rich people they'd be so ashamed of me I'd just die. God, that's what might happen if I don't pull that trigger.

Her finger moved one of the triggers at the twenty nine second mark, and the audience heard a click. My God, Elaine thought, it was an empty chamber! If the other one isn't I might die too. That's three empty chambers in a row. What are the odds of four in a row? Nothing. The next one has a shell in it, and its going to blow me apart. Look at those people watching, waiting. They don't want to see me survive. My God, the only reason they're here is to watch one of us being blown in two. I won't do it!

She removed her hand from the trigger area, looking defiantly at the rich movie stars, at the other women who she knew would just love a chance to be up here, and she looked rebelliously into the face of the man beside her. He was holding that big blade high, ready to swing it at her neck. He was not looking at her, his attention was across the room, at the big brass doors.

She looked to see what he was looking at, and suddenly her eyes widened in horror as she saw the clock. Time suddenly froze as she saw the single hand click over to thirty. Maybe it was over, maybe it was broken, maybe he was waiting for it to start. She turned her head back to look into his eyes for an answer, and her eyes filled with stars, she felt a bang against her neck, and then there was nothing.

Elaine's head rolled onto the white marble, leaving a trail of crimson on the gleaming whiteness as it came to a stop at Elana's feet. She bent over, dug her hands into the strawberry blonde hair and lifted the grotesque but beautiful trophy up to the host, who took it from her. The body with its big beautiful breasts had fallen backward, jetting triple streams of blood from the neck stump into the trophy case.

The host handed the severed head with the bulging eyes and frozen scream to the youth inside the booth, and he hung it high from a hook near the back, so that it faced the audience. Now Mandy-Mae and Suzette, and all the other girls who were thinking of getting involved, all of them knew by this that the game was deadly serious.

My God, this is exciting, Elana thought, staring at the head of the exquisite young woman with that scream frozen on the alluring face. She felt her anxiety rise in eager anticipation, knowing that she had to climb that staircase and get up on that small platform with the big gun. She knew it was too early, that the rush would be best for her up on that platform when the audience could see a severed female carcass as well as the head dangling behind her in the trophy case, and even better if there were more trophies. This was a game with an extreme risk over which she had absolutely no control. This was the action she craved.

The host drew the SuperGun out of the lovely vagina of the headless carcass, and the sharp metal burrs on the under side of the barrels ripped the tender cunt lips so that they spurted blood. He aimed the weapon into the booth and pulled the trigger. The room filled with the boom of a SuperShot shell.

He ripped off the dead girl's dress, leaving the shapely carcass naked, and heaved it and the dress over the edge into the trophy case. Mandy-Mae and Suzette were in hysterics, grasping each other and jumping up and down in horror at what had just happened to their new friend.

"Now there's a fine example of what is in store for any of you fine young ladies that want to delay the progress of the evening," the host said, drawing a laugh from the delighted crowd. As the host reloaded the gun, the doctor explained to William, "A decapitation is treated as an empty shell, with no payoff, increasing the take of the house. Because there was a SuperShell in the chamber, that little delay earned for the house seventy thousand dollars, worth many times the price of a young girl's head, and it provided the audience of gamblers with fine entertainment as well."

Elan had a different thought. With one of the original three out of the rotation, if she were to get into the game, it would take less time for her turn to come!"

Suzette was given a stiff drink, and was taken by the host through the crowd, where she was introduced to the gamblers, who all offered her encouragement and admiration at her daring. This bolstered her spirits, and gave her back her self confidence. She was a normally introverted girl, and radically switched gears for public exhibition of her charms and daring.

Suzette was ready to get up on the platform, and as she slipped off her panties she said to Mandy-Mae, "No bastard's going to cut my head off. I'd rather blast my guts out myself than to give him the satisfaction. Look at that referee prick grin!"

She climbed up onto the platform, spread her stockinged knees, and said to the host, "Give me the shotgun!"

"Well well now, doesn't she have spunk!" he said. He reloaded the chambers, and handed her the monstrous weapon. She pulled her nether-lips apart with her fingers, and thrust the big weapon against the tender meat. Her face showed her agony as it scraped her vagina, but she thrust it deep into herself. Then she had to sit and wait. There were ten minutes remaining before the next attempt with the SuperGun was due.

The wagering went quickly, but not for Suzette. The delay was dissolving her resolve, and she was trembling as she sat alone and largely ignored, her legs spread and the huge gun jammed up into her exposed sex organ. She felt hot and cold flushes, and was certain that she was due for a blast of either salt or deadly shot. This was really bizarre.

When they had explained it to her it at first it was like a big dare, with a terrific payoff. She would get to see close up all of these big stars, and would be at a big party with them. The guy who had explained it said there would be some gambling, and that she would have to sit up and show these rich and famous people her pussy, but that they would really like her, and there was this special game she would take part in, that was the part about the dare. It was dangerous, but no more dangerous than running across a freeway. Suzette liked to take dares, and was thrilled by risky escapades.

Now, as the girl she had competed with in the Miss USA contest lay dead in this big tank, with her head hanging at the top of the terrifying thing with that God awful scream frozen on her face, the reality of the risk was sinking in. She was not going to back down, but she'd be glad if she walked away from this one. The host told her it was time, and everyone was quiet as she rotated the revolver. Immediately she grabbed at the triggers and pulled one. It clicked. She reached for the revolver to spin it again and the host slapped her face so hard it jolted her face back.

She screamed, and then remembered she was not to rotate it again. She reached for the trigger and pulled. Nothing happened. It would not move, it was stuck! She looked up frantically at the clock, and it was at fifteen seconds. She grasped at the trigger, distraught at the horrible thing's refusal to budge. She pulled and pushed at it, watching the seconds ticking down relentlessly.

The clock was at twenty-five seconds and moving. Suzette was frantic. Desperately she squeezed the whole thing, and heard a blast. In an instant her body gave her the feedback she was dreading: she had hit a live shell. Because she was not dead she knew that she had taken a load of rock salt into her uterus. The delayed but sudden surge of pain hit her like an unbelievable wave that knocked her over, legs wide spread, the large brutal shotgun jutting from her exposed cunt.

She screamed in both pain and relief. She laughed hysterically and sobbed hysterically. She had been pulling the wrong trigger, it was the one she had pulled the first time! She wasn't going to lose her head! She heaved and bucked in agony, twisting and grinding as the waves of pain hit her, giving the people in the audience a terrific show. This was the kind of action they loved to see.

What surprised her was that the waves became bearable, although the agony was intense. At last she lay back, her hands over her head, the SuperGun still jutting from her vagina, and almost fell back into the trophy case with the carcass of Elaine, the sexy minx who had been beheaded. She had come so very dangerously close to joining her!

Elana watched excitedly as the host jerk the gun out of the dark haired girl's twat. "That was our light load of powder," he said. As Elana expected, twin flecks of crimson appeared near the lower edges of her pussy as the double muzzles were withdrawn. The girl recoiled as if the action had hurt her, but she was too overtaken with her agony and relief to attribute the cause of the quick shot of pain.

Elana had been sure she had seen something when the gun had come out of the other two, and now she was certain of it. It was a neat touch. What was incredible was that this Southern Belle bitch was probably going to be able to take her turn on the platform again tonight! That was either a very light charge in that shell or this was one tough bitch of a woman.

As the SuperGun was laid on the narrow counter Elana edged her way over toward it, noticing again how erotic she felt in the extremely high heeled shoes. What she saw explained what was happening. Tiny bits of pink and red flesh from the girls' vaginas were caught on the sharp, treacherous hooks.

"May I look at the beautiful gun?" she asked the host.

He smiled at her, admiring her incredible beauty. "Will you be taking part in our game this evening?" he asked.

"Must I, to inspect this beautiful weapon?" she asked.

"Of course not, my dear, but you look like the kind of woman who is not timid. I'm sure our distinguished guests would be delighted to see you exhibit your daring in our perilous little diversion."

"What do I gain if I do it?" she asked, sounding as bored and disinterested as possible.

"Nothing but the elation of beating the odds, if you only climb up there once for the thrill of it," he said. "But if you want to be a serious competitor, now that you've had a chance to see first hand just how electrifying it is to be up there, and you stick it out until the gambling ends, at around six tomorrow morning, then I'll pay you fifty thousand cash if you can hit all blanks."

Jesus, she thought, this guy plays hard ball. The odds are only one in ten I'll make it. What a challenge! "I'm in," she said, knowing that from the moment she had seen how the horrific game worked she was hooked.

"Fine, you'll follow the other two volunteers. You'll be number six."

It was as if someone had just hit her with a bare fist in the stomach. Six! One chance in ten, and she was going in as number six! For only the second time in her life, she was so excited that she urinated in her panties where she stood.

The host watched the amber sprinkle from under her short skirt, dampening her stockings and forming a puddle in the carpet between her bizarre spike heeled shoes. He knew what was going on for her, he had seen it in the eyes of so many eager young women who were clawing for glory and supremacy so hard that nothing else in the world mattered. It was this instinct which he did not understand but which he knew so well that made this incredible game possible.

Very few females had it, but it was girls like her that made him millions every month in his private casino, and millions more in his extremely lucrative pornography business. He had learned to spot this rare quality in girls as young as eight years old, and by devising the best procurement system ever used, he had an abundant supply of prime bitch meat to assure his continued financial success.

This was one of the better class cunts he had seen in his five years of operations, and this game alone had utilized more than three thousand top breed women each year. Only the finest cut of prime cunt on the hoof was permitted into this first class establishment, comprising many of the world's most beautiful women, and this on had it all.

"Oh, you are excited, aren't you?" he said. "Your dress looks fine. Let Lou-Ella here help you find some fresh panties and stockings. You have plenty of time, the first volunteer won't be up for another twenty minutes." Elana was relieved at his generosity, knowing well how uncomfortable and smelly the stockings would become as her pee cooled.

One of the pretty little clean-up girls brought a pail of perfumed cleaner and a wet/dry carpet vacuum. She had to do this several times a night, and found it amusing that adult women could not hold their bladders when they got excited. The master of ceremonies gave instructions to one of the remarkable serving girls, and the extraordinary live mannequin escorted Elana to a service door. It entered into a short hallway to another door, the kind of arrangement that prevented both doors being opened at once, so that the activity in one area would not interrupt the activity in the other. The second door was much less decorous than the first, and it led to a kitchen area.

The kitchen was as busy as any she had ever seen, with a large salad area with two cooks, and a sauces area with several pots being attended by three apprentices and a master chef. There were several different dishes being prepared in the meat section, and as she got closer Elana suddenly saw the most bizarre sight she had ever seen.

Standing by one of the stainless steel counters was a very fat woman, full bodied but not flabby, and she was stark naked, except for a pair of heels. She wore an artificial sow's snout over her nose, expertly matched to her face. Elana saw she was very pretty, and if she were slender, she would have been a classic beauty. The woman looked like she might weigh as much as two hundred fifty pounds. A real pig's tail had been somehow attached to the ample flesh at the base of her spine, and her body was badly sunburned. She had obviously been left out in the sun for several hours to make her now appear like she had just come out of the oven. "I'm going to the party as Miss Piggy!" she said, "Somebody stuff an apple into my mouth!"

At the directions of one of the chefs, she kicked off her shoes climbed onto a huge silver platter on top of a wheeled serving cart. She kneeled on it, then bent forward so that her large breasts were squeezed out at her sides. Large U bolts were placed over her wrists and ankles and through holes appropriately drilled through both the platter and the top of the cart. An assistant got underneath the cart and tightened big wing nuts onto them, permanently holding her in place. As this was being done, the chef forced her mouth wide open, as she had requested, and wedged an apple into it.

"The pig-woman weighed only 110 pounds when she came here a couple of months ago, and now she's at least 260," the waitress said. "She's not in bad shape for such a pig, is she? And all because she lost a bet!" Elana realized the consequences of losing a bet here were substantial. That kind of risk made the sport so much more exciting.

As they watched, honey was basted onto the fattened model's body, to give the appearance of dripping fat, and her toes and fingers were spread and covered with black plastic cloven hooves. She squirmed uncomfortably as four assistants began pressing sharp pointed cloves into the flesh of her hams, her back and sides, and into the exposed sides of her breasts. They were clearly enjoying their work. Another assistant was using a large needle with heavy thread to sew her vagina closed.

Elana watched the needle work with fascination. Although the pig-woman was squealing with each puncture of her body with the cloves and her genitalia by the needle, she was not fighting the process. Elana noticed the pig-woman's round anus was left open and fully exposed. "What in the world are they preparing her for," Elana asked the serving girl.

"One of our regulars, a rich industrialist, is having a wedding banquet," she replied. "He saw an attractive little girl doing a Saturday morning doll commercial on TV, and he arranged for the owner of the casino, the man who asked me to help you, to buy her for him. The client and the little girl are getting married this evening, here at the desert casino, and this woman will be the center piece at the banquet."

"He bought a child actress, and he's going to marry her?" Elana asked incredulously.

The girl showed her into a small rest area for the female staff. She gave her a cloth and ran warm water onto it for Elana to clean herself. "Well, we call it a wedding. It's really more a consummation ceremony and feast."

Elana understood. "He will consummate the marriage at the ceremony. He just wants to fuck a kid in front of his friends!"

"Exactly. He didn't exactly buy her, but rather is renting her. He will fuck her brains out, then let his friends have their turn with her. When its over, he'll call her unfaithful and divorce her, right on the spot. He doesn't want to keep her, he just thought the precocious little girl would make a fun mate to rape and then beat. I think the client wants to beat her before its over. Anyway, when its all over she is returned to Los Angeles, a good deal wealthier. If the party gets too rough, an accident has been arranged on the freeway just outside LA, as a cover in case the girl is killed.

"It is nice and neat, and there are no problems afterward. If the girl survives, she has no idea that she was outside of LA, let alone in another state, and can point no fingers. The experience will mark her, of course, but these cunts brought here by guests are not worth worrying about!" Suddenly the serving girl remembered who she was talking to. "I'm sorry, honestly, I didn't mean . . ."

"Its okay," Elana said. "Girls like me are a dime a dozen. We line up to get into places like this, and he provides us with all the thrills we could want."

"That's right, he has a terrific operation." She became more secretive. "Do you know, for instance, what they are going to do with the center piece bitch at the banquet?"

"You mean that fat pig-woman?" Elana asked.

"That's right. I heard the chef's laughing about it. After the wedding, while the guests are fucking the precocious little "bride", they are going to drive a long iron shaft up into her asshole, and push it right through her, until it comes out through that apple in her mouth!"

"They're going to impale her!" Elana said, feeling she was about to piss herself again.

"That's right. That's why they've bolted her to the cart like that. When she's properly mounted on the shaft, she will be moved onto a spit, where she will be roasted over a huge bed of glowing coals."

It was all Elana could do to contain her bladder as she imagined the exciting event.

"Best of all, the pig lady is a willing participant. Just a couple of months ago, she was a sleek model who was a guest at a special event here. She took on dare after dare, then lost a bet that she could fill a brandy snifter with her piss within ten minutes. She couldn't know that nobody's bladder is big enough to do that. Ever since she has been here living up to her part of the bargain, gorging her body with food and working out so she would not get too sloppy-looking. She has been here ever since, living in a pen and getting ready for today and her roasting." Elana was breathless.

"And that's nothing, you should see the videos they make. God, what some women will do, and do willingly! You should see the incredible video he had made last year out on the desert. He and his son and some friends took these women to a remote abandoned airstrip and dropped the young bitches out of a plane naked, with turkey helmets on their heads and tail feathers sticking out of their ass-holes! He flew the plane, and his son was on the ground shooting at them with a rifle, while the others ran the cameras! I heard he killed two of the stupid cunts!"

"That's called a Turkey Shoot, isn't it?" Elana said, a flush of mixed embarrassment and anger crossing her face. The son-of-a- bitch who shot her and then left her naked in front of her hotel was her host! This whole thing was getting really bizarre. "It sounds like it could be quite exciting. Can we get back now?"

The first volunteer from the audience was perched on the small platform with her panties off and her short skirt raised, and had the monster gun firmly implanted in her tight vagina. The girl was so excited that she appeared to be hyper-ventilating. Elana knew of the dangers associated with that. This was really going to be interesting. She was babbling on in her keyed up state as if she were on speed, and was clearly so excited she was not capable of much rational thought.

She looked up at the young man in the striped t shirt holding the machete poised to swing at her neck. She smiled at him. "Are you ready, big fella?" she said, and the audience laughed. This bitch was fully primed.

At last the host gave her the signal, and she spun the revolver so hard that it rotated at least eight times. As the revolver slowed, the audience could clearly see a shell go into the space behind the barrels, but they could not tell which barrel it was in, nor could they tell which trigger she would pull first.

The beautiful young girl was so hyper that she counted the seconds down out loud, and made mistakes as she did. "Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, seven, I mean eight, seven, no, that's six, five four, three, two, BLAM!!

It was the SuperShell, and as advertised, first her belly swelled, and in an instant her upper portion from the top of the hips on upward was blown out of the evening dress. Surprisingly, there was not much recoil, and the big shotgun remained firmly planted in the royally fucked vagina. The back wall of the trophy case was sprayed liberally with blood and gore, and her upper body struck it hard, causing the big and now exposed breasts to bob momentarily out of shape. The host let the gamblers enjoy the sight of the mess she had made before flushing the whole assembly like a huge toilet.

The lad with the machete put down his blade and grasping the hair of the beautiful expired volunteer, then picked up the naked upper half and held it high for everyone to view. Then he hung it by the hair to a ceiling hook inside the trophy case, and after extracting the SuperGun from the grip of the split woman's womb, heaved the lower half of the gorgeous bitch onto the floor of the booth, where it lay across the headless carcass, for now out of sight.

The whole cleanup took no more than two minutes, and except for the blood dripping trophies hanging by their hair, the trophy case was spotlessly clean and was ready for more action. Jesus, thought Elana, only four cunts up, and already there are two trophies on display! She was ready to step forward to await her turn to take the large steel muzzles into her cunt.

The second volunteer was visibly shaking with eager anticipation. She climbed up onto the narrow platform and turned, facing the audience. She sat down and raised her gorgeous legs, inched her skirt up, and with a wiggle of her ass, slid her panties off her hips. Her level of excitement was clear by the damp stain on the front of the thin undergarment. Then with her elevated legs together, she provocatively slipped the white lace panties over her knees and then over her slender ankles. With a kick she flung them out over the audience, where a tall handsome man caught them in his teeth.

Now she parted her remarkable legs, and revealed to the audience her most private part, and the audience gasped when they saw that it was not at all as private as one would suspect. Her lovely vagina was pierced with a thick gold ring that clearly permanently prevented any entry of her sex organ by anything larger than a pencil. Her anus had been ruptured, and now bore a thick white rubber plug which allowed her control of her colon! This girl was clearly a sex slave of her host, and was presenting herself in the impossible, terminal contest at his bidding. She squatted on the small platform so that her bare buttocks protruded over the edge, and then she removed the plug, letting go a string of fat dark steaming turds, which dropped to the bottom of the huge trophy case. The young man in the referee's shirt immediately flushed the shell, removing her excrement before its unpleasant aroma drifted into the casino to the audience. Now she took hold of the SuperGun and placed it's cold steel barrels against her loose rectum. She was going to do a back door entry! Even with her slack anus ring, the task appeared to be nearly impossible. The audience was so turned on by the sight of her that they began betting more heavily than they had for the earlier participants in the bizarre deadly sport. They were sure that even a light blast of rock salt into her guts would kill this beautiful wanton bitch.

Her owner handed her a strip of thick clear plastic. She handed the SuperGun to the referee, and then bent the plastic into a rough funnel shape, and inserted the narrow end into her loose pink anus. Now she took the gun again and pressed the steel muzzles into the funnel.

The referee helped her, thrusting with all his might, and together they managed finally to force the gun barrels up into her colon. When it finally entered her it popped in, and the plastic strip was carried into her with it! God, Elana thought, if that thick plastic strip doesn't damage her as it comes out, that is if she's lucky enough to hit two consecutive blanks, then the burrs on the muzzles will likely rip her delicate colon. This should be some event.

When the gambling was completed, the host directed the girl with the twin barrels thrust up her amazing ass to spin the cylinder. As she did as she was instructed, she was so excited that a stream of warm and rich yellow colored urine arched into the air from her pierced and ringed cunt, splashing like a fountain onto the narrow staircase in front of her.

"Now that's what I call an eager beaver!" the host joked. His comment brought a laugh from the audience of seasoned gamblers. The clock was running, and the machete was poised. The spray slowly diminished, and at the last instant she finished her impromptu piss and the girl pulled the trigger. It was a miss. She coolly reached forward and spun the revolver again. "Oh, you wanted a trial run, did you?" the host said. "You are not supposed to spin the revolver between try's, so this will be number one again!"

"That's not fair," the girl said, but to no avail. The referee cocked the hammer on the chamber she had fired. As he raised the machete again, she suddenly noticed that the clock was running, and had been running since she had pulled the first trigger. Quickly she pulled the trigger again, hit another empty chamber, and without thinking, spun the revolver again.

"My God," she shouted as the referee again cocked the trigger.

"Only two trial chances, my dear," the host said in mock anger, "the next two try's will count, and if you spin the chamber again after the next attempt, the referee is going to hang you up by the hair as a trophy just as you are, and then he will swing the machete."

This information proved to be academic. Sweating profusely, she quickly pulled the trigger again, and took a charge of rock salt into her guts. The rapid but temporary bulge of her waist let everyone know that although she had again lucked onto a rock-salt shell, this one was loaded with the heavier load of gun powder. Her shit sausage did not have the stopping power of the thick fleshy uterus, and with the extra load of powder, the salt blew easily through her inner tangle of intestines, although none of it emerged from her.

She lived no more than fifteen minutes, entertaining the audience for that time with her writhing and screaming on the small elevated platform, with the outrageous gun thrusting out of her anus, between her beautifully spread heaving buttocks. The guests were surprised that there was no payoff. This was a case of misunderstanding the rules. The payoff was not for the kill, but for a SuperShell. The host stepped in, and explained that to avoid bad feelings, and because there was so much profit made on the past several events of the evening, the chamber would be randomly filled with three SuperShot shells and three salt shells for the remaining events.

This change in the rules meant that on any one pull of the trigger, there was a sixty percent chance of a hit, and with the two consecutive pulls, a sixty percent chance of hitting a SuperShot payoff. That also meant the chances of a girl coming down off the platform unhurt from a single trip up was now reduced to one chance in ten. As Elana realized this she lost control with excitement, and shit her panties. Holy shit, she thought, this gambling game is really incredible! I've never been so excited in my life! God, that's a monster gun! She slipped her soiled and loaded panties off, using the unstained front to wipe herself clean, and threw them into the concrete shell. The referee picked up the dead girl and hung her by her hair in the trophy case, then with an incredible swing of the big machete he sliced cleanly through her slender neck, and her body dropped away into the heap with the others, leaving the gorgeous head hanging as a bizarre trophy. Then he flushed the shell, and Elana's crap-filled panties were history.

She could hardly stand the strain, but before she could take her turn it was Mandy-Mae's turn again, and she would be followed by Suzette. The stunning platinum blonde from Memphis had taken several drinks during the rotation, stiffening her resolve and courage as she watched from the bar the havoc and devastation the SuperGun was wrecking on the willing female participants in the bloody contest.

Mandy-Mae appeared to be much more mellow than she had been on her first turn up on the platform. Elana marveled at the girl's perfect legs as she again watched her climb the narrow stairway, and take her place on the high platform. The beauty queen's luscious thighs spread. Twin spots of blood still marked the nicks made in her delicately folded foreskins by the sharp burrs on the SuperGun.

The referee reached forward, rubbed his hand on Mandy-Mae's bare back and ribs, then he thrust his hand under the loose top of her low cut gown and fondled her large milky breasts. She slapped his face with all her might, and he quickly withdrew his hand, and picked up the stained machete.

"Temper, Temper," said the host. "Just a little lovers' quarrel, folks. Place your bets on the lovely and vivacious Mandy-Mae. The odds are much better for you from now on. She has three chances on a SuperShot shell, three chances on a load of rock salt, and four chances on an empty chamber! How will the little lady make out? Remember, she gets two tries in sixty seconds. You have just ten minutes to place your bets while she loads herself with the weapon, and takes careful aim on her ovaries!" This incredibly accurate description brought another laugh from the audience, and the action picked up at the betting tables. Mandy-Mae took the outrageous gun from the host once the six shells had been loaded, and everyone watched with renewed interest as she again placed the twin muzzles against the pink moist lips of her vagina.

She was so excited that she was squatting on her haunches rather than sitting. With calm determination she worked the wide gun muzzles into the tight neck of her grasping cunt, then pushed the bright metal barrels deep into her womb until the cold steel of the open ends of the twin muzzles pressed firmly against her uterus. She looked up at the raised blade of the machete and then at the timing clock across the room. The stage was set, and she was ready.

Everyone was silent as the host gave the signal and she spun the revolving chamber. She took three deep breaths, braced herself and pulled the trigger. She was lucky. The clock instantly re-started, and she let go her breath. The audience was ready for a devastating blast, and braced themselves as she took another three deep breaths, locked her diaphragm, and pulled the second trigger. Incredibly, her luck held.

With a burst of relief she screamed her delight, and with real elation jerked the large double barrels from the grasp of her sex meat. She bounded down the stairs, screaming and laughing, "I did it, I did it!" She flew into Suzette's arms, and they hugged each other, both girls near hysteria. In fact, all of the girls in the bizarre gambling casino were screaming in their excitement.

This was the kind of action that the gamblers loved, with high stakes and high risk for the participants. This was truly a gambler's paradise. Sex and excitement with high risk were the best ingredients possible in a game with life itself at stake. Watching willing young ladies putting their lives on the line for the thrill of it, with such high risk, was the most satisfying kind of event these gamblers had ever had on which to place their wagers. This was what life was all about for the hardened gamblers.

Elana was agonizing over how slowly the clock was moving. She couldn't mount the platform and press those loving barrels into her vagina to risk the monster-fuck until Suzette had taken a second turn. Then she would have to wait another half hour for the betting to be completed before she could squeeze those fabulous triggers, and get the ultimate sexual rush. She was sure she would orgasm half a dozen times before they let her pull the triggers. If that shell Suzette had taken the first time had been fully loaded, the bitch would still be tied in knots in her agony, and Elana would be climbing to the platform now.

When permission came at last, the apparently very healthy Suzette was up on the high platform quickly, and Elana imagined seeing herself sitting up there instead, framed by those insane hanging trophies, the two heads and the upper half of a woman, ominously dripping blood in the background. She watched the gorgeous and determined brunette, even in her apparent agony, riding on a high of unfounded confidence after Mandy-Mae's mindless lucky performance.

The beautiful bitch with the damaged uterus was easily working the twin barrels deep into her vagina which had been so desperately tight the first time she had sat on the small platform. This time she didn't require a fist fuck from the host to get the bloodied barrels securely pressed against her now painfully damaged uterus. The horrific demonstrations of sheer guts, by her friends and the other two girls, even with the devastating consequences for two of them, had clearly stirred her to sexual arousal.

Elana could feel her cunt juices dribbling down the inside of her thighs and dampening her stockings as she watched the gutsy Southern Belle adjusting the large weapon stuffing her womb. Elana knew she was now at the peak of her own motivation, and would require no encouragement to get up on that platform, no matter what happened to the gorgeous bitch now holding the audience's full attention. Soon it would be her turn, and they would all be breathless watching her do her thing. She was truly a knock-out, and in any other setting would reek of innocence, but in this evil place, sitting up there in front of everyone with the monstrous shotgun driven into her twat, the contrast was just too great to imagine.

Suzette was a willing participant, and was now driven by both greed and lust. At the beginning she had come into this event willingly, and although she had experienced severe second thoughts when the first accident occurred, she was now fully caught up in the passion of the erotic savagery of the cold-blooded, inhuman event. Perhaps partly because she had relatively easily survived a direct hit, Suzette was now fatally hooked on the death-sport.

The host gave the signal, and Suzette began to turn the revolving cylinder slowly, trying to feel the difference between loaded and empty chambers as they fell into place behind the twin barrels. What she did not notice was that the time clock started to count down the seconds at the instant she started to turn the revolver. She was concentrating on cheating so fully that when she finally looked up her face filled with horror. There were only three seconds left on the time clock.

Desperately she grabbed at the trigger assembly, struggling to get her fingers into the protective loop. Unwittingly she grabbed both triggers at once, giving herself a double, and with a sudden sharp report she again blasted her uterus full of rock salt.

Her hips gyrated suddenly outward, thrusting the gun forward like a huge backward cock, wagging the maple stock at the audience as she struggled for control. Her screams filled the casino, and the audience, although denied a payoff, were well entertained by the beautiful young bitch's cavorting as she struggled for the second time this evening with the extensive pain in her lower torso.

The girl's inner sex organ had absorbed the entire load of salt for the second time, and for the second time she had lucked into a light load shell, so that once more the beautiful bitch survived her rode on the SuperGun. The blast really did little apparent damage to her because of the toughness of her uterus. This time her bizarre and highly erotic dance of agony went on for more than twenty minutes, robbing Elana of the thrill of sitting up there for the full time, feeling the gun in her, grasping it with her well developed fuck muscle.

She felt cheated, but her eagerness to participate in the wild event was in no way diminished. At last Suzette got herself under control, and she actually removed the big shotgun herself, and climbed down the narrow stairs painfully, but without any assistance. This Suzette was truly a game broad. She leaned against the back wall, clearly in real internal agony, but not ready to admit defeat. It appeared as if she was going to be able to take her turn with the vicious gun once again tonight. Elana stepped up the stairway with all the control and dignity she could muster, not wanting to reveal her eagerness to play the deadly game. Her zeal was unmistakable as she sat, spread her knees, and reached for the gun, and pointed the menacing muzzles at her steaming twat. The host snatched the SuperGun from her grasp; it had yet to be re-loaded. She had already raised her skirt and spread her knees, and now she had to sit in front of everyone with her sex organ on display for five long minutes while the host re-loaded the savage shotgun. This break gave the audience time to marvel at the six matching gold rings, now all fully revealed.

This was Elana's first big moment of the evening. She was committed to stay in the exhilarating game to the end of the evening, unless she was going to take a powerful catastrophic blast from a SuperShot shell. God, what if it happens the first time up, she thought. That would mean missing all the other chances. The thing she feared most was being debilitated by a blast of rock salt. What if it left her unable to continue? That would be disastrous, more than she could take.

The host raised the SuperGun over his head to get everyone's attention. "It appears that the charge in the rock salt shells was on the light side, because one blast should put a girl out of commission for several days, and two, such as Suzette here has endured, should have blown her ovaries off and bit into some of her other organs.

"Since that is clearly not the case," he continued, "I have selected an alternate shell. We have prepared all of the shells used tonight ourselves, this new version carries double the charge, and the rock salt used has been treated with a special corrosive acid which will burn the flesh around it, greatly enhancing the intimate experience of the young lady who takes such a discharge from the SuperGun. It is our opinion that she will provide a more stimulating and entertaining performance in the period following such a hit. We hope this small variation will meet with your approval."

The audience roared in delight, and the referee handed the SuperGun up to Elana. She was shocked that the salt charge was now sure to be completely debilitating, but she was so high, wired by the excitement of her turn arriving at long last, that she readily accepted the atrocious weapon from him and literally jammed it up into her cunt, scraping and bruising the inner muscle of her vagina with the urgency of her action. The gold ring through her clit clinked against the hard metal of the barrels.

Her all-consuming craving for the adventure of extreme peril was her central driving force, and she now waited impatiently for the signal for her to begin the deadly countdown. At last it came, and she spun the big revolver so hard that she almost knocked the large double barrels out of her cunt! She thrust it straight and deep, and without any hesitation pulled the first trigger. She was startled that the clock snapped back as she heard the click, and as a reflex she immediately pulled the second trigger. "Well, well," the host said as the second hammer hit at a void chamber, "This lucky lady is definitely intent on self-destruction." The audience laughed, and Elana could not believe it was over so fast. There had been nothing to it, it was as if she had been cheated of her turn. She cocked one of the hammers, spun the revolver and pulled the trigger. Again she hit an empty chamber. The host grabbed the gun an jerked it out of her before she could attempt to cheat again.

"Wow!" he said, "You've got to wait your turn. Don't you realize that's dangerous? We can't waste a lovely lady like you without the ladies and gentlemen gamblers having a chance to lay a wager." Elana got to her feet, and as her dress fell to temporarily provide her with a modicum of modesty, she returned precariously down the steps in her extremely high heeled shoes to rejoin the audience. She felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. It was the feeling she had half expected to get from the gun in the instant of a SuperShell explosion. With that brief insight came the startling realization that she in fact had a real death-wish.

Her knees were shaky, and she leaned on William, pressing her breasts against his sides. She was now certain that she would not have a sexual encounter with him, as she had planned, because she would not give up this insane game until she lost. She understood now that she was a truly addicted gambler. The rush was not in surviving, and the high she felt in the risk was only the precursor to the ultimate euphoria of losing!

Time seemed now to zoom by, and she watched Mandy-Mae eagerly climb onto the platform, lift her skirt and load her luscious cunt with the gun, bend forward, revealing most of her big boobs and her deep, eye-catching cleavage, and spin the monster gun's revolver. Bolder now, as soon as the clock started she pulled the trigger, taking two turns in quick succession. She again hit two consecutive empty chambers.

"This is too easy," the host said, "let's improve the odds of a hit. From now on I'll load the shells in pairs, with one space between each pair, so that there is only one place in the revolver with two consecutive empty chambers. I will always put a SuperShell on the left, and set the triggers so that the left one must be pulled first. If the contestant has a SuperShell in the chambers it will not be preceded by a salt shot, giving her a painful but real reprieve.

"What this means is that if she takes a blank, the only other possibilities are either a SuperShell or another blank space. The odds are now therefore six in ten that each girl will take a SuperShell! That is, if she has the guts to pull the trigger! Isn't this exciting?"

Once more, warm urine trickled down the inside of Elana's legs and formed a puddle on the floor. She saw two busy maids mopping up yellow puddles near the feet of several other girls, and watched in amazement as four more young gorgeous young women stepped up to volunteer to play the maniacal game. The enormously extended odds presented a fatal attraction to these lovely creatures.

Suzette staggered up the narrow stairs, knowing she was trapped in this ordeal and now resigned to her fate. She turned and sat on the platform, spread her gorgeous legs, took the big gun into herself, and with a pained but resigned expression she awaited the signal. When at long last it came, she moved the chamber just one position, and pulled the trigger. She hit a blank. Now the odds were three to one that she would take a SuperShell. She did. Her chin was drive down between her big bare tits as her naked upper half hit the back wall, but she knew nothing of that.

Tears of wild excitement streamed down Elana's face as the horrendous trophy case/shooting gallery was flushed of the blood and bits of gut and flesh, and the beautiful brunette's soaking wet upper half was hung high by the hair as a beautifully bizarre new trophy.

The big gun was roughly jerked out of the dead cunt and re-loaded, and one of the new volunteers was allowed to climb the stairs. The betting on the new girl's chances was completed as she got the barrels into her womb with entertaining difficulty. The girl looked behind herself at the hanging trophies, and knew that the odds were now stacked against her, so that she was likely to join them. She then looked down into the booth behind her and saw the stacked carcasses of the split and beheaded bitches who had preceded her. Without warning, she vomited down into the booth, and accidentally squeezed the first trigger. She hit a blank.

"No more extra turns, girls," the host said, and she saw that the clock was running. She reached for the other trigger, and began trembling uncontrollably. She was shaking so badly that she was unable to squeeze the trigger; her arms and hands were numb with fear.

Time disappeared, the bloodied blade swung, and her beautiful screaming head rolled. When the freshly cut trophy was hung and the booth flushed, another of the gorgeous fresh volunteers climbed the platform. Elana was impressed at how smoothly the incredible game of chance was rolling along. The new cunt on the platform was a girl Elana recognized, and who she knew had been banned for life from several major casinos for cheating.

The girl was a stunning beauty, and had come escorted by a very famous movie star. When she spread her lovely legs the audience was impressed that she had skilfully applied make-up to her vagina, outlining both her inner and outer pussy lips as Elana had done a year ago for the parachute contest. This vagina was highly erotic, with small rings piercing the outer labia and small chains running tightly around her waist pulling it wide open so that the inner flesh was revealed in all its gleaming beauty.

Her well developed inner cunt lips were parted, and had been treated with rubber cement to keep them folded outward, fan shaped, giving everyone a clear view into the inch wide slot of her vagina, with its dark mysterious hole and the moist gleaming pink inner sex meat. She was the most erotic bitch to take part in the game so far.

The SuperGun was handed to her, and she was very careful as she loaded the dual barrels into her womb. God, this is exciting to watch, Elana thought to herself, if I were a man I'd be shooting my load in my pants right now. She glanced around at the mounds pressing outward in the pants of several of the men, and noticed damp spots growing on almost all of the dark trousers.

When the host gave the signal the girl spun the revolver slowly, and as she reached for the trigger, her fingers on the other hand found their way over the edge of the revolver, so that she could feel for the pair of empty chambers. She found them, and as she began to edge them around to the barrel positions, the machete swung through the air, and her beautiful cleanly severed head was placed in the case as another trophy.

"We can't tolerate cheating," the host explained. "She arrived late, and missed the example in the swimming pool. I'm afraid she has learned nothing from this lesson, but I hope the rest of the girls will take it to heart." Without removing the gun from her decorated vagina, he spun the revolver and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang, and the headless torso bucked into the air erotically as a charge of salt was blown into her abdomen.

Now it was again Elana's turn. She quickly climbed the stairs before the erotic headless carcass could be removed, and she sat on the tight stomach of the still-warm body, with her cunt poised above the one that still contained the SuperGun. The host roughly wrenched the big shotgun out of the dead girl's womb and re-loaded it.

"Do you like salt?" he asked Elana.

"Not in my guts," she giggled in her childish elation. This was not only her mood, but she realized that it was the kind of seductive manoeuvre that might manipulate him into increasing, perhaps even maximizing the risk.

"Then let's use the big guys instead of salt, Okay?"

"Terrific," she said. Holy shit, he was going to use SuperShells only, none of the mickey mouse salt bullshit. "Let's make this round really interesting," she said, her voice filled with excitement," and just leave the two side by side chambers empty! Then we can put SuperShells in all the others! That'll maximize the risk! Won't that be fun!"

She could hardly believe it was her who had said that. She was on an incredible high, just from the incredible risk she was taking in this all-or-nothing game. There was a gasp from the audience. This kind of bitch was one in several thousand. She was going to give them all the thrill of her short lifetime. Nine out of ten chances she was going to blow herself to hell! She had never done anything as exciting as this.

He loaded the gun, and held it up for everybody to see. "With the two chambers empty, we'll bypass the second spin. After you survive the first attempt, you can have thirty seconds to pull the second, and we'll let you pull them in either order."

There were eight SuperShells in the revolver, and he had left empty two cylinders, but to everyone's amazement, there was a SuperShell between them! The empties were not side by side. The game was fixed. Without a second spin, she had no chance! No matter how she spun the revolving chamber, this incredible masochistic bitch was going to take the big bang in her gorgeous cunt.

There was no need for wagering on this round, because everyone but Elana knew that it was a sure thing. She was so excited that she did not notice there was nobody at the betting tables, and there was no time taken up waiting for the half hour to elapse. This game was a special, a common event at about half time every evening of gambling. They would resume normal betting once this remarkable cunt had been given a chance to show her all. Elana felt the warmth and softness of the lower belly of the girl she was sitting on.

It seemed to Elana that the heat had been turned up in the casino, or the air conditioning turned off, which was strange in the middle of the desert. She was aware that she was sweating, and that there was no sound in the room. Everyone in the room was staring at her expectantly. She ripped the sides of her dress, and pulled the ruined garment off. Now she was naked except for her hose, heels, and rings, and she felt much more comfortable because of it.

Elana saw that the muscular young referee was ready, his sharp blood stained blade poised. He is wasting his time, she thought, because he won't get to use that huge fucking knife on me. She shifted her attention to the clock. The large single hand on its face was at zero. The host was ready to commence the game, and he stood with his arm raised. Elana loved the feel of the double barrelled steel barrels in the grip of her cunt. The gut was hers, and she had complete control over it. She nodded to her host, indicating that she was ready to play the depraved, lethal game, and his arm dropped, signaling the start. Elana spun the big revolver, and the clock started.

Elana startled everyone with a completely unorthodox and unexpected move. She took both her hands from the gun, which was gripped firmly in place by her vagina. She stroked her breasts, giving the expectant audience a seductive erotic show for their money. The large evenly tanned twin orbs were firm and full, their nipples firm and erect, openly displaying her lust and excitement. She found that her dark nipples were now enlarged and more erect than ever, revealing the extent of her sexual excitement. Their full erection allowed the gold rings piercing them to swing freely.

Her eyes roamed over the sea of expectant faces, knowing that they were expecting the worst, but her attention was never long away from the relentless, unremitting clock. With less than five seconds remaining, she leisurely bent forward, reached down and pulled the first trigger.

Incredibly, she had hit an empty chamber. A wave of heat flashed through her, as she reminded herself that she now had one chance in ten of hitting another blank. The audience could see the other blank chamber, and so they knew that a SuperShell lay in the second barrel. The clock was instantly recycled and read five seconds. She again sat back, and this time she stroked her pussy as it clung desperately to the bloodied shining steel barrels.

Her fingers explored all around the intimate contact of her sex flesh and the steel, and she was more excited than she had ever been. She held her protruding sex mound in both hands and squeezed, then with only three seconds left reached for the second trigger. There was no time to think. She thrust the big gun into her depths with all her might as she squeezed the sprung lever of the trigger.

She felt the barrels inside her turn hot, and there was a strange pressure against her cervix as gasses were forced right up into her uterus and out through her tubes into her abdomen. The pressure was mounting, and there was a sudden feeling of tearing in her womb, as if something much too big was slowly being forced up into her. It was unrelenting, and gradually spread upward into her belly, with a growing, inflating feeling. She felt like a balloon, with her sides and back giving way to the increasing pressure, swelling, stretching as if she were pregnant except that the growing didn't stop.

When her body could no longer take the constantly building pressure, the muscles began to tear, ripping open in painfully slow motion, tearing all around, splitting her open, and then it was as if she were kicked, not in the crotch, but higher, in the gut, and she was starting to fly, backwards, and in shock she saw that she was leaving half of herself, the half with that marvelous monstrous gun, behind on the ledge.

Thick sausages of her guts were strung out in mid air, floating with her, then suddenly her head hit something very hard, slowly, but she seemed to keep moving into it, and it hurt the back of her head and then her shoulders. She felt like rubber, flattening into it, the cold hardness, flattening against it, then she started to slide, and slowly floated downward, her head aching, toward a pile that she remembered from sometime long ago, a heap of the sexy looking parts of women that they no longer needed.

She floated down onto them, and landed with her aching head sinking into the soft naked buttocks of one of those women. She was facing upward, and saw now a curious low angle view of the most magnificent trophies she could imagine. Above her were the beautiful heads and upper bodies of very gorgeous women, whose unnecessary parts were now supporting her.

A hand reached down, a burly man she recognized was reaching into her hair, getting hold of it, just as a rush of water covered her. It was cool and cleansing. Now she was being lifted by her hair, and was floating upward. He caught her hair on a hook, and twisted it several times into a good firm knot so that she would not fall again. She could not move her eyes, but she knew that she was now one of the marvelous trophies, and would get to watch the fantastic bloodsport in this secret gambling casino.

She watched the bloodied gun being pulled out of a remnant lower half of a woman, the torso torn off at the waist, and then saw a man in a striped shirt shove the half carcass off the small ledge so that it fell onto the pile of female bodies inside the booth.

The body's gorgeous legs swung up as it fell and she had a glimpse of the remarkable red shoes on its feet. They were spike heeled ballet shoes, with the toes pointing downward and the heels ten inches long. Those shoes made fabulous changes to the way the lithe legs looked. She had worn shoes like that herself.

A chill hit her. Those were her shoes. Those were her legs. That was her gaping bleeding cunt! That was her lower half! Everything she could ever hope for had come true. The most debauched bloodsport ever conceived by man was taking place right before her eyes. She had experienced it, and now would see it all, right where it was happening, and would miss nothing.

She had the perfect positioning to observe the ultimate destruction of most of the gorgeous women in the room. The sport was likely to last all night, and she could observe even the minutest detail as slowly and with as much languor as she wished. She had truly died and gone to heaven!

The End

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Last modified (12/24/96 16:11:27) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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