GETTING THE POINT
 snuff/  stabbing  impalement 

    One pole and a stake waited for her body. Standing tall and dangerous next to the scaffold,  they were designed to kill. Slowly, painfully, and without mercy they would kill her just as they had killed others before her. Both were smooth and stained. Smooth because they had been carefully made that way. Stained by the body fluids of those that had died on them. She was placed in their care by strong hands. Her arms and legs were tied so that she was hugging the pole with her arms and legs wrapped around it. The stake was in place at the entrance to her womanhood. Only the course rope under her armpits protected her from the sharpened point waiting to enter her body. Then she was given to the stake. Her screams lasted for hours as her body slowly allowed the point deeper and deeper. Maybe tomorrow she would find release.

    There was nothing she could do except watch as the black obsidian blade came down. The impact as it struck her bare chest drove the breath from her slender body. The priest had missed by only a half an inch but it was enough to shatter the glass where it hit her breastbone. Shards of the black glass cut his hand. But her belly was also opened. Her stomach contents filled her, the acid burned her insides. While a new knife was found and the hand crudely bandaged she waited with her guts burning. Finally she felt the new blade sawing through her diaphragm. Sharp pains in her chest signaled the removal of her still beating heart. She watched her heart beating in the bloody hand holding it as the night closed in to claim her as its own

    I could feel the power building. I was as hard as a rock and as big  as a tree as I entered her helpless body. She was beautiful as she lay on the alter. Her red hair was haloed around her face. Her slim body was naked to my eyes. She was perhaps younger that most but virgins are getting so hard to come by these days. Still she was old enough  to bare children so all was fine. Her maidenhead ruptured as I forcefully took her. Gentleness was not to be found here. Ignoring her piteous whimpers and cries I rammed into her body again and again. Then I felt the climax coming. Just as I started to spray my seed into her belly I jammed the knife into that slim body. It entered just below her navel. A simple flick of my wrist opened her up all way to her breastbone. An extension of my arm sent the point up into her heart. I was spurting wildly into her as the edge opened the bottom of her heart. Power exploded over me as I completed my orgasm and she died. Satan was pleased. 

    Ever since she was born I knew my daughter was blessed and today proved it. She was chosen over all the other girls in the tribe to become a messenger. I was so proud as she stood there while the shaman undressed her. Of course she passed the examination, she was both virgin and comely. She laid down willingly and spread her legs without a quiver. The only sound she made as the shaman took her was her soft singing of the songs she had been taught. I was the second man to enter her body. As I finished I kissed her and told her of my love and pride.  She returned my words with a promise to stay strong and carry the messages well. Every man in the tribe shared her body. She was still singing for the last one. Somehow she stood and walked to the post by herself. So strong. The cords bound her to the post in preparation for the last part of the ceremony. She was looking at me when the knife opened her slim belly and allowed her insides to fall out into a pile at her feet. Only then did her song falter but she overcame her pain and continued. It took several minutes before the shaman was able to read the message in the was her insides  were piled but when he stood he was smiling. The gods were pleased and the next year would be a good one. All that was left was to send my daughter home to them. It took only seconds to remove her brave heart. She was gone to the gods. The tribe will prosper, she will live with the gods, I will be honored highly, and her name will be remembered always. So why am I crying

    She was tied to the alter, her head drooping back off the edge. Her arms and legs tied to the corners. Her young body was a wreck. Cuts, burns, bruises, and broken bones showed how much she had endured during the night. But she was still alive and still virgin. As the first rays of the rising sun struck her body I gave the sign. The other priest rammed the spear deep into her virgin slit, a death blow to be sure but it didn’t kill her. For at the same time I pushed my knife upward through her tender throat and into the bottom of her skull. Her body shuddered in death as her sprit flew to the god. 

    Her life was being measured by how long she could hold on. A bar suspended over a field of sharp points was her savior if she could hold on. To slip meant death. A death that might be either quick and easy or slow and lingering  depending on what the points pierced in her body. If she could last until sunset she might live but the sun was still high in the sky. She kept changing her support. She had hung by her knees, elbows, armpits, and hands. Changing her grip whenever she needed to. Each change was fraught with peril and more that once she had almost slipped. Her strength was failing. She was so thirsty. So tired. Perhaps it would be easier just to give up and drop. After all there was no guarantee that she would not face something worse tomorrow. The urge to live was too strong however for her to just give up so the fight went on. There were hours of daylight remaining. Her resources were failing. Would she live for the night or would she feel those deadly points ram into her body and kill her. All she could do was to keep trying. Sunset was coming but so was the end of her strength. And the points were waiting, they had all day.