One Last Sink
One Last Sink (M/F M+/F F/F bond rape anal drown snuff)
By Fixda
One Last Sink
My mouth was dry and my pussy was wet as I watched Dave mix the concrete in the wheelbarrow on the bow of our boat. Even this early in the morning the sun was hot, and he was sweating, his muscles bulging as he had carefully stirred the mix. I swallowed hard when he ladled the first shovel full into the washtub.
It hadn't been easy to find one of the old, galvanized washtubs everyone makes them of plastic these days, it seems. Finally we found one in a building supply place. It was perfect, wide enough I could spread my feet, deep enough that the concrete would come almost to my knees if he filled it to the brim. When he had about two inches covering the bottom, he invited me
to step in.
It was the point of no return. I was trembling as I lifted my foot. His hand was warm and firm in mine, but I gripped the stay to steady myself as well, and eased my foot down on the lumpy mess, giggling from the sudden chill. It felt like - oh, I don't know - maybe thick, heavy tapioca pudding is the best comparison.
It was slimy, and lumpy, of course - we were using a good gravel mix. It was like stepping in mud that had little rocks in it to bruise the bottom of your feet.
My pussy wept at the thought of what was to come. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked me. Oh God! Did I? Did I! I grabbed the starboard stay, spreading my arms as if I were being crucified. "More than anything!" I saw his erection, like a pole - no, more like an eager animal trying to tunnel out of his swim suit to get at me. There was a wet spot at the tip. "And you want it, too, don't you?"
"I don't want to lose you," he said, and his eyes told me he was speaking the truth. But so was his cock, and it wanted something else.
"But you do want to see me die." My chest was tight as I said it.
"Yeah." He squeezed the word out. "Do it!" Oh God I was scared and excited. "Do it NOW, before I lose my nerve."
He shoveled more concrete in around my feet. He was so sweet as he tried to avoid hurting me.
As he shoveled he tried to talk me out of it, but I refused. We'd planned this for months. No, I would not go back on it. I'd had the fantasy since I'd read some trashy crime novel - swimming in concrete boots, they'd called it as the bad guys had prepared to dispose of the girl who was going to rat them out before the Grand Jury. Then there'd been that film, a gangster movie. After raping the female they'd set her feet in concrete and dropped her over the side of a launch, into that dark, cold harbor, and the camera had followed her down, her hair rising above her as if trying to follow the bubbles from her mouth, while she struggled against the weight relentlessly dragging her down. I felt the weight of the concrete as it slowly covered my feet, heavy and thick. David paused and I looked out beyond him at the water, hornier than I think I'd ever been. Soon, soon, I told myself. I was wracked by a mini-orgasm at just the thought of what lay ahead for me.
The concrete was almost up to my ankles now. I wiggled my toes, feeling it slurp around and between them. Soon I wouldn't be able to wiggle them. But I wanted something more. I asked him to tie my hands to the stays. "I told you, I want to be helpless." I watched him get the ropes, making sure he picked the right ones. I'd measured carefully, tried them out, carefully wrapped
the ends in fine cord so they wouldn't fray, just like a sailor would have done it. "Tight," I reminded him. He pulled my arm up tight so my wrist was high up, my arm straight, and then lashed it to the stay. The stainless steel
cable was cold and rough against my wrist. If I struggled I'd probably tear my wrist open on it. Then he put a turn of rope between my skin and the cable and I smiled at him in gratitude. Stretching my other arm out, he repeated the process, drawing me up tight, just as we'd measured and planned. I was "bar tight" as a sailor would say about a line under heavy load. I could barely wriggle, but I had to be careful. My feet weren't buried deeply enough in the concrete to really anchor them yet.
"I'm about to pull out," I warned him. "Better finish the concrete."
His muscles bulged, those muscles I so loved to run my hands over. I'd probably never get to do that again, I realized with a shock, the reality of what was coming suddenly hitting me. The thought made me shiver as he tilted the wheelbarrow, a thick wave of concrete slopping into the tub. If I hadn't been anchored to the stays I might have been knocked off balance by the sudden weight. As it was it felt as if some heavy load had pushed against my shins, pressed down on my feet.
I felt it compact more around my toes as he smoothed the cement down in the tub, then stepped back.
I was hot. The sweat running down my body tickled. I hoped the others would be here soon so we could get underway. Once we got moving the breeze of our motion would cool me off.
I could see the love and desire in his eyes as he studied me. He touched my cheek and I leaned my face against his caress, thrilling to his touch. He toyed with my ear and my horniness blazed up. He stroked the side of my neck.
Oh how I loved him, that he'd do this for me! I saw him cry for me. Before he turned away I saw his eyes brim with tears of love and loss. But not even that could change my mind.
He knelt at my feet, and I looked down along my straining body as he drew a heart in the concrete, put our initials in it, an arrow through it, and dated it. Tears leaked down my own cheeks at the sight of it.
"Wait!" I pleaded as Dave raised the black silk blindfold toward my eyes.
"It's what you wanted," he reminded me. My heart was racing. "I know, and I do. Just give me a minute."
I feasted my eyes on him. I could see the pain in his eyes. That he loved me enough to do this for me only made my love for him greater. He was kind, and handsome and thoughtful.
I looked around, too, beyond him, trying to store up the memories. Our house on the water, the beauty of the hot summer days, the sky, the sandy beaches with their palm trees and the blue, blue water. These memories would have to sustain me, since this would be the last time I saw my darling husband, and all the rest.
"All right," I said softly. I closed my eyes as he brought the black band over them. I felt him tying it at the back of my head, adjusting the front to cut off the last sliver of light so I could see nothing.
I shivered, tugging against the ropes binding my wrists to the stays. I could barely wiggle my legs in the slowly hardening concrete. Dave must have knelt then, because I felt him carefully pressing the concrete firmly against my calves. I must have opened a gap with my testing, and I promised myself I'd not do it again.
He sprayed the concrete then, so it would harden better he'd told me. The water from the hose was cold on my naked legs. Then we shared a few private moments in each other's arms.
"How many?" I asked when he told me the others would be arriving soon. Thank God, I thought, we'd finally be getting underway. I shivered when he answered "six." So many. But enough.
"Any females?"
Six males, one date and one wife? There'd be females here to see, to watch. Would they understand?
Would any of them follow my example someday in the future? Or perhaps they'd use a different means, with the same end in mind.
"I'm sure I'll be right here when you get back," I answered him when he jokingly asked me to wait there while he went to greet them.
"I love you!" I said desperately at the last moment.
He came back, touched me gently. "I love you, too."
He knew that was the last time I'd speak, unless I wanted to call this off. One word more and I'd be saved, that's all it would take. I knew it wouldn't happen.
The weight of the concrete around my feet was all too real now, too solid.
I felt the boat surge forward under me as it accelerated, felt it lift. There was only a slight pitch on the gentle seas. The wind dried the sweat on me as I stood, helplessly spread on the foredeck.
I knew Dave could see me from the flying bridge where he piloted. What must I look like to him - a pagan sacrifice perhaps? Was that what I was? A sacrifice to my wanton lusts? I thought of what was to come next, and shivered. In moments I'd be naked and helpless, totally vulnerable, aboard a boat with six - no, seven males - and presumably some females, but females who would, at best, leave me to my fate, but were more likely to join in my torment and final extinction.
Two days more, I thought, only two days. I concentrated on the sensations - the sun and wind on my body, the sound and vibration of the boat, the smell of the sea.
I heard them coming, talking and laughing nervously as they made their way past the cabin to the foredeck. They saw me and the conversation faded. I felt them duck under my arms as they surrounded me.
"My God, she's really going to do it," one of the females commented.
"Yeah, but she's over dressed," one of the males noted. Someone pinched me and I flinched, as much as my bindings allowed, but didn't complain. I was a spy, caught by the enemy.
I'd never talk.
Someone untied the strap holding my bikini top up and I felt the cups loosen. The tie around my back went next, and I heard someone gasp admiringly as my tits felt the sun strike them, the breeze drying the sweat as my nipples stiffened even more.
I couldn't help shift my head, listening, wandering what would be next.
Someone untied the bottom of my bikini and pulled it off. It stuck to my wet pussy, and then only my bare fur remained, I was naked to the wind and the sun, their eyes, the eyes of any passing boats - were there any passing boats? I had no way of knowing, but I was on display to the whole world.
"She won't need this again," a male said, and I knew he was talking about my bikini, that he'd jettisoned it overboard. Oily hands touched me, stroked me - first one pair, then more, until I was being massaged from neck to toe.
Rough, sharp claws were on my breasts one moment, then it was smaller, feminine paws massaging my breasts. Someone was cupping my ass, fingers probing into the crack even as my lust soared.
A paw slid down my stomach, fingers combing through my pubic fur, curling under to explore the sodden folds of my pussy and I tried to rise on my toes to get away from the invasion.
But of course I couldn't. I was locked into the concrete now, my feet, ankles, shins and calves encased in it.
I whimpered as a finger probed my cunt and someone pinched my
nipples, first one then the other.
"I've got as good a body as she does," one of the females grumbled, and a male - her mate? - dared her to prove it, and there was a rustle of cloth. I knew the girl was getting naked. A male grumbled about the heat and there were bumpings and jostlings - were they all getting naked? Someone pressed his body against me - a male, he was hard and hairy. I knew they'd find a way, even with me locked in the tub of concrete. I'd kept my feet apart so they could. A cock found my cunt and I moaned as it was driven up into me, filling me.
There was no thought of my pleasure, of course, but I hadn't expected it. Hadn't wanted it. He was rough, and harsh, ramming up into me. Before I could come I felt him shooting his cum into me, jerking his cock up into me hard with every pulse. I almost screamed with frustration. I was so close, so close, but I didn't orgasm and I felt him pulling out, felt his semen ooze from my pussy. I wanted to beg for another cock, but held my tongue.
I didn't need to beg. Another male took me and I shuddered as he rammed up into my sodden cunt. I heard moans and squeals and realized that the females - were there two of them? â€" were satisfying some of the males while the others used me.
I began to cum as the second male unloaded into me, grunting harshly, finally drawing a shuddering breath as he withdrew. Then there was another, and another, and all I could do was stand there and take it. My arms and shoulders ached as they raped me, one after another, on the next to last day of my life.
When they were done I was left limp and exhausted, practically hanging from my wrists as their cum drooled out of my battered pussy.
"Oh, dussum's have an ouchy?" one of the females asked. I flinched as she fingered my bruised pussy. "Would'ums like me to kiss it and make it better.
I shuddered. I'd never had a female make love to me, even touch me down there, but I was at her mercy.
"Lucky for you," the female went on, "I like sloppy seconds. I loved watching my mate fuck you, and now I'm going to suck his cum out of you, and I just bet you'll like it, you filthy slut."
I shook my head in denial, even as my body responded to the way she was exploring my sodden twat. I was a cum slut, getting what I deserved, and eventually I'd get my final reward.
But not before I'd suffered every degradation they could inflict on me.
I whimpered as her tongue touched my steaming flesh. Her lips closed on my pussy and she sucked on me, her jaw working as she mouthed my swollen twat. She dug in deep, scooping the cum out of me even as my cunt released wave after wave of my own juices to mix with all the semen pouring from me. I wailed as yet another orgasm blazed through me. Then they left me hanging weakly from the stays, laughing and joking, as the concrete slowly finished setting, gripping my legs and feet tighter and tighter as afternoon wore on to evening.
By the time we anchored I was totally drained, physically and emotionally and carnally, the cum having dribbled down my thighs and dried to an itchy crust. After a day in the sun and wind, I was parched, so I roused when Dave brought me water.
I knew he was going to try to break my silence. But that would have been sign that I didn't want to go through with this. He should have known better than to even try. I made sucking motions with my dry lips and he sighed and brought the water bottle to my mouth so I could suck from its nipple.
Then he squirted my cunt and thighs down with the rest, making me squirm, reminding me again of my helpless exposure, the stream of water stimulating my tender pussy. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs in an effort to get the cum off.
I loved his touch. He massaged my pussy, too, trying to get some of the rest of the cum off of it, before walking away.
I knew he'd be back. I knew they'd all be back. I shivered, thinking of what they might do to me next.
I was hungry, of course, but it didn't matter. I could go a couple of days without food, and after that I'd never be hungry again.
Later I heard them coming back of course, at dusk, their chatter and laughter echoing over the silence of the ocean before Dave shushed them. I steeled myself for the next ordeal, whatever it was to be.
There was no script. I was theirs to do with as they wished, of course. For the first and last time of my life I was yielding control totally to others. From being a control freak I had gone to being a toy, a slave, a victim to be used and discarded.
Their talk faded out to a few murmurs, then nothing. They surrounded me silently, their feet shuffling on the deck.
For a long time there was nothing. I could hear their breathing, smell the liquor on their breath. How drunk were they? Drunk enough to abandon all inhibitions? The thought gave me chills.
I was desperately horny, breathing hard. I wanted to squirm my thighs against each other, but couldn't, of course. I hungered for a sound from them, a touch, anything, my tension building until I was ready to scream.
The first gentle touch was to my cheek, and I knew it was Dave. Then his mouth closed over mine and I responded with a rush. He drew back, though, controlling the kiss, only slowly responding to my own desperate hunger, until finally we were feasting on each other.
Then, even as his one paw cupped the side of my head, his other hand touched my naked side, slid up to cup my breast, his thumb stroking the stiff, eager nubbin of my nipple. He pinched it and I gasped through the kiss, our breaths mingling.
Then I felt other paws on me, stroking teasing, patting. Someone captured my other breast, hands stroked my ass, a finger exploring the crack, another hand stroking my throbbing pussy.
I was hardly aware of it when they began to unfasten my wrists. But they didn't free me, only released the ropes, keeping a grip on my arms as they lowered my arms.
I whimpered at the pain in my shoulders as my arms were lowered. I felt them turning me, and then let them draw my arms forward, making me bend at the waist. I was afraid for a moment I'd fall until I realized there was no way I could, the way my feet were locked into the solid block of cement. They lashed my hands to the rail, ending my few, brief moments of something resembling freedom. I was bent forward, presenting my ass to them.
Oh God, not that! I'd never been - sodomized! It was the one thing I'd never let Dave do to me. Oh God! Someone was playing with my tailhole! A finger slipped in and I realized whoever it was, was oiling me up, lubricating my ass so he could drive his cock into me.
A second finger penetrated me, stinging, stretching and I couldn't avoid moaning. But it wasn't pain. Oh God, I was such a whore! It felt good as he prepared to sodomize me - him and how many of the others? Would Dave finally take me back there?
A third finger stretched me further and they twisted in me before withdrawing.
There was a long, nerve wracking pause, and I felt something else nuzzle my butt. The pressure grew, wedging my sphincter open. It was painful until I learned to relax and push to open myself.
It felt good. Oh, God forgive me, but it did feel good. Someone began to fondle my breasts, and someone else my clit and my lust soared once again and I tried to get him deeper, harder and faster.
They were all watching me, of course, watching my humiliating degradation. I was naked on the bow of the boat, being buggered while everyone watched and played with me.
The male drove into me and I felt him cumming in my bowels and whined as my own orgasm hovered just out of reach. My innards spasmed, driving his swiftly shrinking penis out, leaving me empty and ravenous for more. And someone else quickly took his place, taking advantage of my slack sphincter to drive full depth into me with one brutal thrust. He was bigger than the first male, stretching me more, driving deeper, too.
I bawled, as much from pain as from pleasure. Then there was another one, and another and I wept for my last lost innocence, almost lost in a haze of lust, until I was emptied, and then filled back there once again, only there was something different about this one - a gentleness even as he violated my most
intimate opening.
Somehow I knew it was Dave, and new tears stung my blindfolded eyes as his cock filled my bottom for the first and the last time. I yielded to him with every fiber of my being.
I felt him lean over me. His hand captured my dangling breast and hugged to close to my chest, pinched and teased my aching nipple. He found my pussy, his fingers tickling my clit to new heights of pleasure, probing my sodden cunt. I was bathed in his love as he pleasured me in the one way I had always denied him.
He began to cum and my own orgasm soared through me. I wept this time for denying him - us - this pleasure until now. Then he was done, easing out of me, backing away, and I was left empty with a final, gentle caress of my butt.
Then someone was untying my wrists again, standing me up, turning me back to face the bow, and tying me once again to the stays, a wave of cum draining from my ass as my abused sphincter tried to close after being so strained.
I felt everyone leave, and resigned myself to a long, cold, lonely night, only to be surprised by someone's return a few moments later, and the soothing touch of a warm, soapy sponge on my arms, my face, my neck, moving down my body. I knew it had to be Dave.
He bathed me as if I were a cub, carefully washing away all the evidence of my debauchery, front and back. Warm water spilled down over me, warm sweet water, not salt, as he rinsed me off. He finished by giving me a kiss as soft as a feather before disappearing to leave me with my thoughts. And thoughts I had, but not of breaking my silence. No, I was committed and would not change my path.
Rather, I was contemplating what tomorrow, the last day of my life, would bring. I was looking forward to the final act, the incredible coda I had composed for my existence. I hoped Dave would be able to forgive me for putting him through this.
The night had seemed endless, but at last I felt the boat coming to life around me. There were sounds in the head. The smell of breakfast cooking made my mouth water, though I knew there'd again be no food for me.
The sun rose above the horizon - I felt its warmth on my naked flesh. The motors coughed to life, and someone came forward, slipped past me to raise the anchor. I felt the boat swing to port and pick up speed, resuming its course toward my final resting place, now only a few hours away. I felt the boat rise, felt the engines' vibration as they drove us forward through the water. I was more intensely aware than ever of every sensation - the wind of our passage on my naked skin, rustling the hair on my head, and at my crotch.
I was grateful they left me alone as we sped along, as I contemplated what was to come. I wondered what was going to kill me? I supposed that depended on how fast I sank. I knew I could hold my breath for almost ten minutes. Dave had timed me as I'd clung to the bottom of the ladder in the swimming pool.
If I sank slowly, I'd drown when I could no longer go without breathing. I knew the biology of the system, how the build up of carbon dioxide would trigger a stronger and stronger urge to breathe even though I was far below the surface.
I could fight that. One of the dangers to free divers, who descended without any breathing apparatus, was passing out from lack of oxygen because they'd fought the breathing reflex too successfully.
I didn't want that. I wanted to be conscious when I died, to feel death close in on me. I shivered, thinking how hard it would be for me to not fight the reflex, to willingly take in that deep, fatal draught of the ocean.
How deep would I be in three minutes, though? Would it be deep enough for the pressure to take me away? What would that be like, to be squeezed in the ocean's embrace until it crushed the life out of me.
I shivered as I thought of how it might feel - not the first time I'd fantasized about it, but perhaps the last before I finally experienced it for real. I'd feel it pressing in on me on all sides, a cold, cruel embrace that squeezed my torso, my limbs, my head, seeking a weak point.
Would it seep into my pussy? Would I feel its cold fingers slipping up into me, penetrating my cunt, my womb.
Would the ocean rape me? My pussy softened and moistened at the thought. Or what about my anus? After last night it had to be weakened.
Would the sea pry its way into my gut, an icy seeping filling my bowels? Perhaps the pressure would simply seal those openings tighter. Or would it sneak in through both orifices, filling my abdomen, squeezing and compacting my guts?
Or would it simply crush me like a fist squeezing an egg, shattering my bones, my ribs puncturing my lungs to let the air escape in a gush of bloody bubbles.
How long would it be before I found out? I turned my head, smelling the salt air, as if somehow I would be able to tell where we were in relation to that unmarked spot off the coast that would be my grave.
Finally I let my mind relax and just felt and listened and smelled and tasted, soaking up the sensation of being alive, and nude, bound on the foredeck of a powerboat speeding me to my death.
I felt Dave cut to half speed, then less, the cruiser settling quickly. My inertia carried me forward against the bindings holding my wrists.
Oh God! I realized we were almost there. My cunt gushed at the thought, and I wished I hadn't had so much water to drink, ashamed that I might pee myself at the last minute.
I tested the ropes yet again, though why I didn't know. I didn't want to be released from this, did I? Was it just some atavistic survival instinct that made me test my bondage? What good would it do, with my feet locked in concrete.
For the thousandth time I wished I could scratch the itch on my right ankle. I was breathing hard, I knew - quick, shuddering breaths. My heart was almost fluttering, as if trying to flee this body I was so soon going to discard.
The engine sound dropped more, and I could almost visualize what Dave was doing up there on the flying bridge. His strong hands would guide the wheel with ease as he watched the GPS until our dot merged with the X that marked the spot we'd chosen.
Not that I'd ever know, but I hoped we'd hit just that spot, that deep, deep water that would be my grave. I didn't want some casual SCUBA diver coming across me. I wanted to be down there in the dark.
Oh God! I had so little time left!
The boat rolled ever so gently, and I began to sweat in the tropical heat.
Dave throttled back to an idle, and I knew it was time. There was a moment of giddiness and I realized we'd turned to port, probably into the current, since there was no wind.
I drew a deep breath. Another. I sensed them coming for me - their bare feet making the deck creak, the boat heeling slightly with their weight as they passed the cabin on the starboard side. Then they were around me. There were sounds of things being moved. Someone began to untie my wrists, removing the ropes for the last time. I tried to let my arms fall and it felt like someone was driving daggers into my shoulders. Gentle hands gripped my arms and helped ease them down until I was embracing smooth shoulders - the females, judging by their small frames.
Someone was working around the tub, and I wobbled as they shifted it, and me. For a flickering instant I was distracted from what was to come, but then it came back full force. This was it! I felt them wheel me toward my doom.
Then Dave's hands cupped my cheeks tenderly and I leaned into one of them, savoring the warmth of his steadying grip on the pulse in the side of my neck.
Again he reminded me that all I had to do was say one word, any word and this would stop. Oh God, for a moment I was tempted, but I closed my mouth. His lips touched mine and we shared a final, tender kiss.
Releasing my face, he curled one strong arm around my naked ribs, and I felt them lifting and shoving to get the tub bearing me on to the ramp.
I heard someone ask Dave which way I should be facing, and almost answered, almost broke my silence, but bit it back at the last moment. The sea, I thought, as if they could hear me. I want to be looking toward the sea.
"Out," Dave answered, and I could hear the tension in his voice. "Outboard."
The females eased out from under my arms, and I let my paws drop to my sides, my fingers touching my bare hips. I was moved forward some more. In my imagination I could see the open sea ahead of me, a deep, dark blue.
There was a vibration at my feet - Dave hooking up the tether, a sense of shifting balances.
I breathed deeply as little tremors ran through me, and my pussy wept in anticipation. I was terrified, and unbelievably aroused. There was a long pregnant silence. I could still speak, still stop this.
But I wasn't going to. I'd dreamed of this moment for too long. We'd planned and schemed, figured all the details. A boating trip, a tragic accident. Friends who were sworn to secrecy, friends we knew we could trust had been invited to help.
I tried to brace myself, wondering what was taking so long. For a moment I thought I'd faint. Then I felt a faint tremor. There was another tremor, and my fingers curled as if I wanted to grab for something.
There was another long pause. Then I heard Dave count, slowly.
"One."
I breathed deeply.
"Two."
Again. Already hyperventilated, I stoked my bloodstream with still more oxygen.
"Three." I sucked in my last breath, held it and, to my final shame, unable to hold out any longer, my bladder released a flood of pee just before the bottom dropped from under me and I was falling.
Hitting the water jolted me from my knees to my neck. The water closed over me with a slap, tearing the blindfold away. Desperately I looked up, into the sudden glare, and saw my darling Dave looking down at me through the rippling waters.
There may have been others there, but he was the only one I saw, and my heart went out to him.
"I love you," I mouthed, and then he disappeared behind a swirl of bubbles as the concrete sucked me downward, the keel of the boat vanishing above me.
The water swirled around me, tugging at my hair, insolently stroking my body. It was colder than I expected, and destined to get even colder as I fell deeper.
The light faded swiftly, first to a deep blue, then darker. How fast was I falling? How long had it been? I still had no urge to breathe.
Time slowed to a crawl. My pulse hammered in my ears, and I felt the pressure growing, squeezing me tighter and tighter. My ears hurt and I swallowed what little saliva I had, but it did no good. It was almost black now, the last of the light almost swallowed up. I looked up and could see only a faint lightening of the gloom.
Then I did feel the first faint need to breathe, and fought it.
It grew inexorably stronger. My lungs began to burn, and still I resisted, even as the pressure against my body grew greater and greater, pressing against my breasts, my belly, my ribs, squeezing me tighter and tighter.
Chill threads of cold ocean water penetrated my cunt, my anus. Just as I'd dreamed, the sea was raping me, ravishing me. Reaching down, I fingered myself, setting my clit ablaze in the icy darkness as I fell and fell, stroking myself toward one final, glorious cumming.
I held out as long as I could, against my orgasm, the pressure, against the need to breathe, and then, finally yielded, abandoning myself to my lust and to death, opening my mouth in a final, climactic carnal scream, a burst of bubbles saluting the ocean's inevitable victory, my soul soaring upwards to the light, while my body sank into eternal darkness.