Snuff-Faire 1; House cat POV Hanging (Teen Snuff)
Snuff-Faire 1: House cat POV Hanging
The teen gazed upwards from the base of the gallows scaffolding, watching his noose be prepared ever so casually by the demoness executioner. Sunset slowly sank past the crowds on the other end, waiting to watch him hang just for their fun. The young male no longer referred to by name, just the cat whose turn it was to be executed during this event of the Snuff Faire. He wondered if his friends would be watching. Or how many would be waiting their places in lines for other methods perhaps. house cats do have all those extra lives to burn through after all.
The air grew colder on his skin, the feline shivering as he watched the nude little demoness perform the final touches on his noose. Shi did not seem bothered with hir fennec heritage, but shi at least had some fur. His Sphynx Cat heritage left him with a peach fuzz hide, although striped like a tiger in his even more exotic case. But soon his pink and black striped butt would be dangling limp on display. Another shiver rushing up the cat's spine as he whined softly, biting a lip with a fang as the winged fennec hopped down the stairs towards him.
"Oh hi, I'm Ar'iat, your executioner for the evening!" Shi bubbled, quite cheery for what was still quite scary, even if the house-cat had volunteered. "Did you have any last requests before your dance?" Hir red eyes glittered int he dim light, a fanged smile peeking from lips that seemed as predatory as it was friendly.
"Er, no, I, suppose I'll be fine, well, as fine as one can be hanging by their neck..." he stammered out, blushing more as he felt his erection slip from a sheath. Of course Ar'iat didn't mind, hir pink little canine arousal bobbing about with no shyness there.
"Well, lets get ya up there before it gets colder, we don't want you to freeze to death. They're doing that in another event later tonight, and that's not what you signed up for!" Ar'iat giggled out, making the boy groan at hir bad attempt at humor. But it did help burn some of the weight of anxiety from his heart, even as it pounded when his foot touched the first step. His lewd fantasies and masturbation dreams turning to reality as his second pink pad kissed the next step. And all he could do is stare at the noose, swaying in the cheerful Autumn breeze.
Of course the snuff faires proclaimed you'd be rezzed. They'd have run out of volunteers otherwise. But the fear of death is deep routed, and even having a fair knowledge of what was to happen, the teen cat felt that weight of fear settling on his heart. Though it battled with lust in his mind, making the steps to the top feel like an awkward dream. The sun sinking behind the stands to reveal hints of the crowd, waiting patiently. The cat was perhaps a bit proud then too, he got the stands almost full. But 'virgin' shows always attracted the most, the first death always bringing the most struggles to even the most daring volunteer.
But his pride soon lead him to stand in front of the noose, framing the stands for him in simple silk rope. The slimmer rope designed with his lighter weight in mind. The little demoness soon guiding his hands back with soft whispers of encouragement, while he shook with fear and cold. A strange glimmer of knowledge, that soon he'd be as cold as the autumn night made the boy moan with a whine of fear. A drop of pre glittering in the light of torches being lit for his show, as cold metal claimed his wrists, tugging and holding them firmly to his back. The ice kisses on his back making him arch and mewl, to the crowd's cheers.
Ar'iat's hot breath soon kissed his ear, "Say goodnight to the crowd dear."
The boy gulped, suspecting what was coming. It took him a try, the first attempt lost in his throat, before he could gather enough air to speak, "Good...night everyone!" He finally got out.
Then blackness engulfed him. Heavy leather wrapping over his ears and pushing them down. The stink of sweat thick upon it, male, female, species of all deaths hinted at their final, dying motions in the mingling smell. He whined loudly, mewling muffled as he was given a push forward one step. Then that sleek rope he so desired and lusted for was dragged around his hooded throat. Soon jerked tight enough to make him gasp. His lithe chest rising and falling powerfully as he was forced to stand as tall as his digitigrade legs could get him.
His head pounded at just the faint constriction, as his arousal felt like it might burst then and there. This was it. Bound, blind, just an anonymous cat boy soon to kick his striped feet until they stopped. He could feel his barbs flare, as pre dripped, hot from the tip to cool to ice at the sheath base. His balls as tense with lust as his feet were in waiting for the trapdoor to drop. His arms jerked at the bindings, caught between instinctive fear of his imminent death and the lewd desire to become a toy. But of course, he did not have a choice...
The muffled cheers faded to nothingness. Just the pounding of his ears all he could hear, his labored breaths, the muffled heat of the hood contrasting with the Fall cold air for the rest of his bare form. His tail lashed as he heard but could not make out Ar'iat's announcement for his death, but he knew what it meant. His knees shaking as he waited for the noose's loving hold to arrive.
It didn't take long. He knew Ar'iat hated for new volunteers to faint away on the trapdoor. With a smooth clatter he felt his sweaty pawpads slip down. He gave a shrill mewl out of shock, then the noose cut it off. A gurgling sound his last noise as he settled. His feet lashed out, his arms jerked, and he started to fight within moments. So much for his fantasy of languidly strangling to put a graceful show of his body on display. His tail whipping his legs as they felt for ground, and felt nothing but the cool air upon them. All the while the knot pulled tighter and tighter upon his throat, strangling the young boy in a slow, steady display of the power of a simple knot.
He already saw little stars in the blackness of his world. His head pounded, he could hear nothing now but that steady, racing throb, his heart struggling to keep him alive. His head felt swollen as his tongue kissed the leather hood. The other major sensation aside from the cold air on his legs and body as he twisted in the breeze was his arousal. It felt just as heavy and swollen, his balls taut and trembling with that lust so close to release. The bitter fight of lust and fear in his body as wondrous as it was painful. And he knew the pain would fade, but sadly, with it the pleasure.
Sharp stabbing cramps up his body signalled it's growing demise with the lack of air he could get. His mouth opening and closing in the hood uselessly. His head starting to slump, like when he'd nod off in science class. But he knew he wouldn't awake from this sleep. And that strange, morbid thought brought forth an image of his lean form, limp, lewd, dead for the crowd. And with that he got a lurid bit of second wind. By the sudden pulsing pleasure in his loins as pleasure won the fight with fear in his body. For now at least, the noose would always win. But for now he arched, kicked, and triumphantly came to his most deadly fantasy. He was just a toy, and he knew toys were there to entertain.
But of course, like most toys, they usually end with being broken. And this house cat knew he was no exception. His body slumped with the last dribble of seed, somewhere to the ground so far below. He was amused he could feel his vision tunnel and fade away, even while already gazing at black. His body stopped responding, growing limp as his lashing limbs finally relaxed. He would have plenty of time to rest, soon, oh so soon. But he clung to his fading consciousness, wanting to feel every last moment he could. The pain fading with the pleasure. But soon it was all for naught, as that cold blackness claimed him. Luring him off with whispers of no pain, no worries, just sweet sleep.... and he followed willingly.