A Gracious Corpse 2 (Homage to SusanCoquin's Suicide Club – French Roulette)

Excitedly over rounds of exchanged cigarettes, the detective and the women talked of their friend's demise, the scenes lead up to the moment where the blade fell, sparing occasional glances at their friend's headless fair corpse while the aides's shutters exploited every angle around it.  

THIS PIECE IS A FAN- MADE SEQUEL: In order to truly appreciate this piece- which is my fan created sequel homage to a chapter of SusanCoquin's Suicide Club– French Roulette, you are explicitly invited to check out her chapter first before you read mine. 

Just like that: she had came earlier that day, in her sandals, casual T shirt and tight jeans,

Flash

and volunteered to die~ as she always wanted: upon the beloved guillotine she had built and sculpted with her own hands in over a decade. Then she stepped out of her jeans and panties. Slithered on her barefeet, she stripped herself  then nimbly climbed up on the guillotine's board with a fierce hunger in her eyes. Locking her neck between the wooden lunette of the instrument and securing herself belly up upon the board.

Flash Flash

The gorgeous would- be suicide then locked eyes with the high poised blade as if it were her lover then she slid her fingers into the itching folds of her sopping sex, moaning greedily as she teased herself as if each handful she fished out from herself contained honey and drugs. She began to twitch like a winded feather. One orgasm, followed by a spindly trail of her pleasure, then another one, more brutal than the last, soaking the wood of the bed boards.

Flash Flash Flash- the cameramen bit their rough lips,

Then- the love drunk body began to twist like a stricken bowling pin. Her naked feet braced the board over and over as if the flat wood was fucking her shaking ass. For the briefest of seconds, her sweaty eyelids cracked open, and checked the steel suspended above her sweaty throat, surprised that the blade was still poised and waiting, desperately, selfishly, her drooling moans became that of a raving whore. 

Lol oh yeah she was having fun, like a little water pistol sprinkler. ...I mean her fun's kind of everywhere...

She cried out in a wail of husky need and her naked legs steepled as if she was coming out the cocoon of her body, moaning at her own death. Finally a third orgasm, it jet from her ass as if she was a shaken soda bottle, its spritz soaking the boards again and again in front of her friends' shocked gaze.

Flash-

There was Flash from the blade, and her her head flew off before she finished a final feathery mid yelp, flying off expertly in a bloody jet like a comet while her body issued all over the boards.

Flash, Flash, Flash

Flash, at her hanging whitened face

Flash, at her still dripping hips,

Flash, at the marinated boards, the cameramen took off their gloves and their rough hands traced over the sticky love slicked wood.

At last, according to the friends in the Suicide Club, they approached the basket which now contained her head, some of them recounted how they were petrified~ on the verge of peeing themselves at approaching the obscured basket, fearful of whatever expression that was scrawled over that familiar now dead face- But the brave leader of the pack approached and they followed.  

Flash

She was not yet dead when they approached her head, her wide eyes still pointed upward, awkwardly at the ceiling, and by extension at them. Her swollen eyeballs still moved, and traced them as they loomed over her. With a frisson of perversion, one of her friend's manicured hand suddenly dove into the basket, and gripped the head by its hair lifted Laviania out of the basket. The head then became a lantern in her hand and the friend gave Laviania's head a full view of her own running ass on the board, still spasming with pleasure and giving birth to sticky silks of love, soaking her dead buried fingers.   

The woman brushed the dying red cheek of Laviania fondly, after all they had been long time friends, hoping the head would feel this measure of comfort. Then she guided the lantern lower to let it appreciate the marvelous quantities of love spilled upon the board, and pressed the leaking head a nose's length to her own heaving bud, which still bristled with excitement still expanded and contrasted feverishly atop the fleshy wishbone of that burning sex.

Flash, Flash, Flash

Then, gingerly her friend turned Laviania's dying head back to face her.

“You did great” she said it gently, “such a slut.” she giggled, likely a joke they once traded. Because Laviania's poor dying eyes became gentle.

Flash Flash

The other friends enjoyed it, after all, seeing death gets them off hard too. Lovingly, they watched as her neck drained. And through their biting lips they watched Laviania's eyes become cloudy, grunted at her leaking head, as if her head was cumming blood just for them.

Flash

The head of the gorgeous suicide dripped as her friend narrated these last lines.

Until finally that face succumbed to the warmth of a fuzzy void, and to the orgasm that was a dream.  

Finally, just as her brain died, as her thoughts melted in her skull her headless legs slowly retracted into Vs like a dead spider's, or a frog's. The women confessed they patiently and dutifully listened to the sound of the Lavianai's tinkling bladder emptied its last with her bruised urethra until the sound was no more. Then they picked up the phone and rang up the cops.

“She had a great O”  

Finally, after having been amply photographed by multiple cameras and used up all of the camera's memory cards, they lifted Laviania's naked body like a dead deer by its four limbs and threw it into a black body bag, then the men slung it on a gurney to be taken into the lab. The metal frame and wheels of the gurney squealed and made it off as some of them then placed the suicide's head gingerly in another container for transport.

By then the detective had finished his notes. By then too he was openly flirting with the dead woman's friends. After all, being a detective he was free to ask all kind of questions and given the circumstances they were obliged to continue in conversation. They would part on good terms, and having been acquainted with each other, each of the girlfriend was rather relieved that- like a coroner on dial, it would be him that one day would end up processing most of their bodies when their day came.

Before leaving, one of the friends produced an envelop of paperworks from a shelf in the warehouse. They were wills, bills, and even sealed letters addressed to distant pen pals. All of them meticulously written by none other than the corpse herself.

“And this is for you”

The detective's eyes widened. A pink letter in a pink unopened envelop, for none other than him...Well, addressed to whomever that was entrusted to handle and dispose of Laviania's remains.

Me...

An intense thrill wracked him.

His tough fingers felt the note, the note that was for his eyes only.

His manhood pitched again in his already ruined, cardboard-like bulge fabric.

Though he had been all but flirting with her friends, the smiling corpse's words alone brought all of his needs back to her and only her that instant.  

“...Medical debts, and even more student debts.”

He listened as he watched them attach a registration card stock to her painted toe: Laviania. Along with the current date.

“...Hefty chunk of French history, some socio- political, most are books on executed women. The corners of many pages were dirty and...crinkled in a tea color. Oh, ...and carpentry, so little surprise.”

“Like...literally coming back to build this thing for a decade. Like an annual religious idol.”

“Believe it or not once was a kindergarten teacher too, and instructed Yoga.”

“...A grandfather recently died of cancer. They were extremely close. Friends even. Protected her from her stepfather.”  

“...Last week left pets to shelters to care.”

“These samples were from her apartment...” The aide produced a sealed bag which contained a thin card stock sample, browned on one end. “From her toilet..., the bowl's edges were still wet, so she emptied her bowels in full before she drove to her guillotine.”

“The landlady cried when she heard. They used to do weekly outings.”

“Oh” The aide coughed to himself, looking around, “...and shared joints together.” he lowered his voice, “I had to assure her we don't really care about drug related crimes before she loosened up.”

“and the smell- “ the aide's voice trailed off

The detective's knowing eyes turned to the aide. The smell only had to be mentioned because it was copiously coated inside the nubile anus. Which had turned all of the sticky coating of her exertions a pleasant, sugary smell.  

“The smell is actually a combination of honey lip balm, and eggnog scented oil”

“Quite different from her toilet,” The aide assured.

“So she applied it between relieving herself and driving to her death.”

“Through a bag” The man then clarified that they now have it in the evidence locker.

“Hmmm,” the detective muttered unintelligibly, his eyes were still downcast on the supple corpse splayed upon the metal coroner's bed. An enema perfume. For her last hour and...for him. A most considerate enema~ for no doubt, like an apology in advance. Like a hostess prepping a house before new auctioneers arrive to thoroughly scrutinize it. Very thorough and punctual, in keeping of the type who long plan their own suicides.  

“And the semen”

The aide produced 3 small see through lab cups, which were sealed with 3 different colored lids and each marked with a beige colored sticky note.  

“Fresh, so we got a lot on them.” Then he pointed to each item as if each had a name: “So far the lab confirmed at least 3 separate samples, 3 guys. But there might return 2 more, so lets wait until they confirm from the Lab. The first from a thin scab stuck between several hair, which she failed to wash. She never really had dandruffs so definitely from 2 nights ago.”  

“We found the 2^nd guy kind of everywhere.” He gestured to the 2^nd cup, as if it had been particularly wicked, “He was in her hair too, on her lashes, the rest were gathered from the stool samples on the toilet bowl.” He then pointed to the opening of the woman. “Everywhere there too, very deep, so didn't even came out”

“The 3^rd guy we found on her molars and the gums tucked in her cheeks. ...and her vocal cords.”

“But we found 2 more samples inside her underwear, and ears”

“Shit. Liz told me that, she almost definitely let them fucked her brains out several times.” The aide finished, checking the clock which showed late night was approaching. “So we'd probably find more inside her stomach tomorrow when we- “  

“Yup”

“...the full autopsy”

“Yup”

“Hmmm” The aide finished. Quite done with his reports for today.

By then, it was just him and the Detective, and the splayed, undressed corpse on that slab of metal. Although neither of them made another sound it became awkward. Inevitably, both of their attention returned to the gorgeous corpse. “At least she died happy, right? ”

“Oh yes,” The Detective shrugged without turning to acknowledge the papers, “Good for her”

The Detective could tell what his aide wanted, knowing full well that only the Detective alone- per the procedure here would be the last one to leave this lab on most nights. He could tell that the younger man envied him from the distance of several years, several ranks of promotions, and the one distinct privileged of staying with these two superb pieces of her.

“Well, I'll be going now.” The aide broke in. “If you need me just ring me up.”

“Will do” For once, the Detective turned to his aide and gave an assuring smile.

“Good night”

“Night!”

...at least he's still stocked with a few gigabyte that will make him happy tonight...

And with a few steps, the younger man swung open the heavy door of the lab while the lab's cold air conditioned air escaped in a wild gust into the dark hallways. Then the booming of the lab's doors. Leaving the Detective alone with the pieces of the late Laviania.

The man smiled to himself, the Aide's not a bad guy. Probably was thinking that he would immediately put it in her after he left the building or something like that. Who knows? Maybe he will. But he was more glad of something in abstraction. That in fact, there was such a woman like her out there, in the flesh. That after he had lived so long, so unhappily, he was privileged to get to know someone like her, even before time and nature lay their claim on her. He returned his attention back to the still- supple corpse.  It's women like her that makes it all worthwhile, made continuing worthwhile.

From his pocket, he produced her note addressed to him and his eyes raced to its last line. 

[ Happy Valentines Day, Friend ]

[ Have Fun ♡ ]