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Review This Story || Author: pamela

Simon Says

Part 11

11

Her journey to the basement was slow and painful, since her body was raw and aching from the whipping she had received, but inside she was numb. As Simon had assumed, Toby had gone back to work after his session with her, and was now busily digging out piles of detritus from a corner of the former coal bin. He blinked and grinned when he looked up and spied Elaine's still naked body coming toward him. He continued to blink and grin in his feeble-minded way as she tonelessly said to him what Simon had told her to say. But he got the idea all right. When she finished his grin got wider, and he dropped the shovel he had been using and began to pull off his filthy clothes.

It was a very long night. Toby was not much given to variety or experimentation, being content with simply possessing her in the most straightforward manner, but his strength and endurance seemed endless, as did his primitive lust, and he took her again and again on the grimy cellar floor, scarcely giving her time to rest between bouts, his soiled, sweaty body crushing her beneath him, his fetid breath making her retch as he mashed his panting mouth on hers.

It was only toward dawn that he finally fell asleep. Elaine, although aching and exhausted and more lifeless inside than ever, knew she could not sleep herself. Rolling quietly away from the snoring body sprawled half on top of her, she managed with some difficulty to get to her feet, stumbling a little as she made her way around the still mostly dark basement room. Simon had told her to spend the night, but the night was nearly over. Or was she to stay here until he told her differently? She didn't know, and she couldn't think clearly enough to make a decision.

She had never been down here before. Wandering aimlessly in the musty dimness, she thought she heard faint scurrying sounds, sounds that appeared to be coming from inside the walls or under the floor. Mice? Rats? She should have been frightened, she knew that somewhere in her mind, but she could not feel the fear. She could not feel anything. And then suddenly she was aware that she was crying. Not sobbing, but the tears were running down her face. How strange, she thought, but she could not stop the tears.

She was at the far side of the basement now, a section that was evidently used for storage. There were boxes and an old trunk or two, and several shelves fixed into the wall, on which was a crowded assortment of cans, jars and other containers, most of them dusty and moldering. She was about to turn away when her eye fell on one particular can, whose coating of dust was less thick than the others, and whose brightly colored label shone through. There was a large red skull and crossbones on the label, denoting some kind of hazardous material, and the word "poison." Elaine looked more closely, reaching out to brush some of the dust away with her fingers.

Rat poison.

She looked at it for a long time. Then, slowly, her hand went out and picked up the can. It felt heavy enough to indicate that it was not empty. It had been opened, but the press-on top was tightly sealed back into place. Elaine quickly replaced it on the shelf. She was trembling. What was she thinking?

But she knew.

She stood there shaking and hugging herself, in an agony of indecision. And at that moment she heard Toby's voice, calling for her. Evidently he was ready again. The night was not yet over. Again her hand stretched out to touch the can on the shelf. She stood that way for a long moment; then she turned and made her way back to where Toby was waiting.

.

When he had once again vented his lust upon her battered and filthy body he immediately dropped off to sleep again. Elaine lay as he left her, barely moving for several minutes. Finally she rose again, slowly and painfully. Her body ached worse than ever, but inside she was no longer numb; she felt quiet and at peace. She knew what she was going to do.

She had the can of rat poison with her as she made her way out of the cellar. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, she was shaking again, but her thoughts were clear. She knew what she had known now for a long time. She could not live with Simon, and she could not live without him. This was the only way.

In the upper hallway, she glanced at the closed door of their bedroom, behind which Simon would be sleeping. Even now her heart beat faster at the thought of him, but she did not go in. Instead she went into the master bathroom next door, where, after taking care of her biological needs, she filled the bathtub and took a long, luxurious bath. When she got out she dried herself thoroughly and then, sitting down on the toilet seat, picked up the can which she had deposited carefully on the floor.

The top had been pressed securely back into place, who knew how long ago, and she was unable to pull it off with her fingers. Searching the medicine cabinet she came up with a sturdy nail file with which, with some effort, she was finally able to pry it loose. The can was about half full of a grayish-looking powder. It looked harmless enough, but of course she knew better. She sniffed it cautiously, but could detect no odor. How much would it take? she wondered. She wanted to be sure. She would take as much as she could.

Her hands were shaking badly as she tipped some of the powder into one of them, but she didn't spill any. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she stuck out her tongue and tentatively licked at the stuff. It tasted strange and rather bitter, but not too bad, she thought. Quickly then, before she could stop herself, she pressed her hand to her mouth and gobbled it all down.

More. Again she poured some into her hand, a greater amount this time, and scarfed it up. There was a burning sensation in her throat, but she paid it no mind. More. The stuff was dry and cloggy in her mouth, and was getting harder to swallow. Breathing hard now, she poured a quantity of it into a toothbrush glass and mixed it with water from the sink. She was able to drink the glass down, and she did the same thing again. And then again.

There was more powder left, but she couldn't swallow any more. It had to be enough, it had to. Her chest was burning now along with her throat, but she felt nothing else. She stood up slowly, and suddenly felt a severe cramp in her stomach which made her almost double over. It was working. She stumbled to the bathroom door and out into the hall. All she wanted now was to see Simon before the end came.

In the hallway she was seized with cramps so painful that they brought her to her knees. She had to crawl most of the way to the bedroom door, but once there she was able to pull herself to her feet. She opened the door and half fell into the room.

Simon woke up as she entered. He had been sleeping nude. It was growing light outside, and she could see him all right, although there was a kind of mist before her eyes. He frowned at the sight of her. "Elaine, why are you--" he started to say, but stopped when he took in her condition, her face pale and twisted, her mouth panting hard, almost gasping, her body barely able to hold itself erect. "What is it?" he demanded. "What's the matter? Are you sick? Did Toby--"

"I'm dying, Simon," Elaine rasped out. "I killed myself. I love you, Simon. I--I can't--" Another cramp caught her and she doubled up, clutching the doorknob still in her hand.

"Christ!" Simon cried. "What--how could you--" Then quickly he got control of himself. "I'll call an ambulance," he snapped, moving to the dresser where his cell phone lay.

"No!" Elaine screamed, and with a crazed, convulsive movement she flung herself forward, snatching the phone from his hand and throwing it against the wall so hard that it smashed into pieces. Simon stared at her, stunned for a moment into immobility. Then he moved to the door. Elaine blocked his way.

"No, Simon!" she gasped. "It's too late. I'm dying, Simon. I have to die. It's for you, Simon. It's the only way. Oh god!" Her whole body was seized with agony, and she clutched at him frenziedly. "It hurts, Simon. I'm hurting so much. For you. For you, Simon. You love my pain. Aahhh!" she screamed as the burning cramps seared through her.

"Elaine--let me--" He tried to thrust her away, to get past her to the door, but she clung to him desperately, thrusting herself against his body.

"Love me, Simon. Love my pain, please, Simon, I'm hurting so much and it's yours, Simon, it's for you, Simon, please." Her words were hardly intelligible now, and the room was spinning. She couldn't stand up any more, even holding on to Simon, but she kept her hold, pulling him down with her as she sank to the floor. Pulling him on top of her.

And he was hard. Yes! Yes, he always loved her pain. Her body twisting in agony was exciting to him, even now. Maybe especially now. Her legs spread wide, went around him, clutched him spasmodically. And yes, he was there, he was taking her! Joy mingled with her overwhelming anguish, and her tears were tears of thankfulness as well as pain. Simon was moving now, saying something, she couldn't make it out through the roaring in her ears and the sounds of her own agony-filled screams, but he was taking her, loving her, possessing her tortured body as it writhed and bucked and convulsed and spasmed with the terrible searing horror inside her. Then it was all growing fainter, growing distant, it was all slipping away, but Simon was pounding at her now, she could feel that, she could hear his groans of pleasure, taking her in her pain, about to come into the body which she had sacrificed to him. As one last tongue of fire stabbed through her she frantically blinked away her tears, and the last thing she saw before she died was the twisted, ecstatic face of the man she loved.


Review This Story || Author: pamela
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