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The Death Room
by Navakantam (navakantam1958@yahoo.com)

***

A story of a man so depressed by his wife's brutal 
murder, that he decides to end his own life in a 
similar manner to join her. (M-solo, drugs, v, tor, 
suicide)

***

Ever since my wife died last year, I have been on a 
desperate search for a suitable method of death to join 
her in the afterlife. She was raped and murdered while 
I was away on a business trip. Her death was violent, 
bloody and horrible from the evidence and as told by 
the assailant. She must have suffered in agony for many 
hours and wondered why I wasn't there to protect her. I 
have blamed myself ever since and now I must find my 
peace in the only way I know how. 

I decided to take my own life, but this would not be a 
quick or painless bullet to the head or sleeping pills. 
I wanted to experience the pain, horror and wonder that 
my lovely wife must have felt during her death. I 
wanted to experience as many types of torture for one 
body to endure over a length of time similar to the 
death of the woman I so loved.

Her murderer enjoyed her agony, from his rape of her 
soul to the final desecration of her body. In a way, 
she was lucky in that a professional ended her life 
rather than a disease or old age at the hands of 
ahlzheimers. As much as I missed her, I also envied 
her. I would not have a professional, but I would 
become a quick study and learn the ways of torture and 
mutilation. 

I would use my unfinished attic to build a dungeon of 
horrors or a Death Room. It would be the place, when 
finished, where I would die. There would be every tool 
of death available to me. When the time came, I would 
be able to use and or chose several methods to destroy, 
mutilate and, finally, to kill my body and release my 
soul to join my wife.

I began to search the Internet for stories and pictures 
of murder, mutilation and violence. The real 
breakthrough came when I discovered snuff. These people 
were driven by the idea and planning of their own death 
by violent means or the death of others. There was an 
erotic twist to the whole deal that I would soon 
discover. 

To aid my mental processes and to get my mind in the 
direction needed to be totally at ease planning my own 
death, I began to write stories about it in graphic 
detail. I took pictures of my body in all manner of 
violent scenes and doctored them to look as real as 
possible. I was always naked in both story and picture. 

Sex and death had become intertwined. I had to be so 
comfortable with what lay ahead as to have it become 
real in my mind. When the day would dawn that I would 
end my life, I wanted it to be as if I was opening a 
door to another reality and triumphantly stepping 
through to the new beyond. Knowing that I would join my 
wife made it easy to imagine. I hoped that I would be 
strong and able to withstand the pain and agony of 
destroying my bodily vessel. The body is merely a 
carrier of our soul and what makes us who we are. 

I began to chose the implements, devices that I would 
use. I got the plans for a guillotine off the net. 
Don't get the wrong idea. It would only be used as a 
final method to end my life. I would surely suffer 
great agony and pain prior to the finish. I also found 
a design for a gallows type beam structure for a slow 
hang. 

My final choice for the ending was a contraption of my 
own dark mind. It would have a double barrel sawed off 
shotgun enclosed in a headrest at the back of a 
comfortable chair. I would control the triggers with a 
lever. The placement of the back of my head against the 
barrels would be such that my head would be completely 
blown off above the neck. These three devices were for 
me to chose from at the desired time after inflicting 
unspeakable damage to my body over many hours.

The actual death would be easy. Now I had to decide on 
how to slowly commit self torture and mutilation to 
resemble my dead wife.

I needed to see and feel the damage inflicted on my 
body, but not lose too much blood and not black out too 
often from the pain. I was going to be taking some 
Percoset and Ecstasy in a combination that would leave 
me totally lucid, but take the edge off the pain. 

I got on the net and began to order various implements 
and knives. One place asked if my order was correct for 
the 15 Gerber combat daggers. They thought I'd made an 
error. I said no, that I was a reseller so they gave me 
a discount. Wow. I also bought a large sheet of 
stainless steel to make my guillotine blade. I had some 
plain razor blades, a few surgical scalpels and 
finally, two large fighting Bowie knives. 

I prayed that I would be able to use most, if not all, 
of them. I found a wide mouth sawed off shotgun also 
for one of my death choices. The spread pattern would 
easily blow my head off and leave only a bloody stump 
pumping blood until my heart finally stopped.

Slow Instant Death (A few minutes of agony)
 
I went to a home store to get my lumber, nuts and bolts 
and other hardware for both the guillotine and the 
gallows. The gallows would really be just a solid beam 
with a hook for a nice thick smooth rope. There would 
be stairs leading up to it. 

If that ended up being my final chosen method of death, 
I will simply climb the stairs, bloodied and already 
dying and put the noose around my neck. I would not 
drop, but merely step off and hang until dead. I would 
gasp for air for a few moments until losing 
consciousness. My body would shake and tremble. I would 
urinate involuntarily and then die. Maybe I would be 
lucky enough to orgasm during that time.

Medium Instant Death (Maybe a few seconds of pain)

The guillotine was a challenge to build. The high point 
of the device reached up into the center of my loft. I 
got truly hard building it and worked in the nude. I 
carefully cut, shaped and sharpened the blade before 
installing it into it's holder. There were rubber 
bumpers where it would hit. Not enough to cause a 
bounce, but enough to let it rest easily as it sliced 
through my neck. 

I also installed three padded sides to hold my head in 
place and a pad under my neck just back from where the 
blade would slice. Two feet above where my head would 
lay there was a two foot by two foot mirror. The pads 
were there and designed to keep my head from moving at 
all as I was being decapitated. I would be face up 
looking at the blade the whole time and see it all. 

I would control the lever for release. If legends hold 
and guesses about anatomy too, I would be able to see 
my face during and for a few seconds after the blade 
separated my head from my body. My blood pressure in my 
head would quickly drop and I would lose consciousness. 
I would be the only one in history to view himself 
after decapitation. It was so hot to think about the 
possibilities.

Instant Death (Split Second with no chance for pain)

If I did decide to use the shotgun, that would be an 
even more instantaneous death than the guillotine. 
After laying back in the chair and positioning my neck 
at just the right spot, I would hold a picture of my 
wife in my left hand and the triggering lever for the 
gun in my right. I would look down at my bleeding body 
one more time to survey my work, look at the picture 
and then pull the two triggers. Within a millisecond, 
my head would be splattered all over the room into a 
wash of blood, brains and skull fragments. There would 
be no pain. My heart would continue to pump blood out 
of the stump spilling over my body for a few seconds 
and then my blood pressure would drop to zero.

***

After building the devices and testing them thoroughly, 
I was ready to decide on a day. Since I retired early, 
there was no job to worry about and I had virtually no 
family left. I wanted to do this at night, starting at 
around 6pm and finishing around midnight. For Phase I, 
the torture and mutilation of my body, I had bought and 
installed a large floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. 
It was 8 ft wide. The former loft, now the Death Room, 
was very well lit with large windows at both ends. For 
both Phase I and II, I would be able to see everything 
in a mirror. 

I wanted my body to be in tip top shape. I have always 
been close to my ideal, but I decided to spend another 
month or so honing my physique to a time and place in 
my youth of years past. I went on a strict diet of 
fruit and vegetables. I ran and lifted continuously. I 
went to the death room daily and posed in front of the 
mirror. I tried the noose on for size often and laid 
down on the guillotine table, even falling asleep there 
on occasion. Just looking at the blade tempted me to 
just go ahead. But I was on a mission and had a plan.

After about 6 weeks of training, I was in the best 
shape of my life and nicely tan. My wife would have 
approved. The human body is beautiful when sculpted 
carefully. I would be at my most hansom in death, slice 
open and soaked with blood. My body would be a tribute 
to my dead wife and to the poor soul who finds it after 
I am dead. The view of my body, both during and after 
my death will be glorious. 

I really wanted to join my wife and could wait no 
longer. Everything was now ready. My body, mind, the 
room and all of it's contents. 

Today is now Friday and tomorrow I will die. I feel 
good saying it. I get an erection thinking about it. As 
I strip off my clothes this evening, I gaze into the 
mirror seeing a whole healthy body. There is a tinge of 
fear, but fuck that feeling. I am ready.

I barely sleep this evening and soon the warm sun 
shines into my eyes. It is now Saturday. By midnight, I 
will be dead. 

I did not eat last night and will only drink water 
today. I have some anti-nausea pills and will take my 
percs and ecstasy at around 5pm. I spent the day 
looking at videos of my wife and going over my plans. 
The day whirls past as if to spare me time to come to 
my senses. I fully admit that my mind is warped and the 
darkness of my wife's death has blurred all manner of 
reality. If during the process, I feel even the hint of 
backing out, I will have to remind myself that there is 
no other way.

As I swallow my pills, I feel so at ease and committed 
to this unspeakable plan. I can feel the percs taking 
hold and the ecstasy gives me the euphoric false 
courage that I will need to end my life. I walk up the 
stairs to the Death Room and my penis is fully erect. 
It is unbelievable that at the moment of death, the 
body strives to fulfill it's one true reason for being, 
that is to create life. I will not be creating life at 
all, but will be taking one in a truly horrible yet 
erotic and purposeful manner.

The room is dark. As I turn on the lights, my chamber 
of horrors looks so fucking inviting. I walk over to 
the stainless steel table where my torture tools await. 
I can't wait to work on my body like a sadistic 
surgeon. My goal is to make many small cuts of my skin 
from head to toe. None will be lethal, but each will 
help turn my body into an unrecognizable bloody form 
out of the best of the cult slasher movies.

I did some cutting as a youth with a razor blade and it 
got me hot. Now I would do it for real. I picked up a 
raw blade and examined it. They are so fucking sharp. I 
looked at a picture of my wife and thought about how 
she looked when the police found her. I wanted to look 
the same. I turned and faced the full length mirror. My 
naked body looked great. I looked down at the blade and 
decided where to make the first cut. 

I'll admit to being afraid, but there was no going 
back. I held the blade to my chest and dragged it 
slowly and deliberately down to my nipple. It stung and 
the shiny edge sunk almost a quarter inch into the 
skin. I had opened a 6 inch gash. It barely bled at 
first, only slowly, with beads of warm red blood 
forming at the edges. I just looked at the growing 
beads as they combined to form a trickle which ran the 
length of the wound and dripped down and off my left 
nipple.

The room was so fucking highly charged now. The blood 
dripped onto my cock. I wanted to masturbate, but that 
would destroy my libido and I couldn't afford to come 
down off my incredible high. With this first incredible 
cut, I had started my incredible journey into the 
unknown and dark world. I knew not where it would truly 
take me. 

I looked at my body in the mirror and chose another 
place to cut. I pushed the razor against my side and 
dragged it across my oblique or love handle area. 
Again, the blood beaded up and filled the cut. It did 
hurt, but the sharp blade kept the pain to a minimum. I 
was enlivened by the sight of my blood and this 
successful start to my eventual death.

I just began to wing the blade against my body with 
little thought to aim or area and cut a dozen gashes 
into my skin from my legs to my neck. I rubbed my hand 
over my body feeling the blood. It was warm and thick. 
I licked my fingers. The taste was salty and exciting. 
I fisted my cock with my blood soaked hand just a 
little. I was in a murderous heaven now and on my way 
to my wife. I was experiencing some of what she felt 
and saw albeit without the fear and terror. 

I made a dozen more cuts until my body resembled a 
horrible bloody human swiss-cheese. It was now time for 
my Gerber knives. Each was identical with a 3 inch 
blade. These were not for cutting or slicing, but were 
built for plunging into someone. These were fighting 
knives meant to stab. I chose the length to prevent any 
real injury or the chance on spoiling my final act. 

I picked up the first
of my combat daggers. I held it high and proud and 
looked at my bleeding body in the mirror and reveled in 
my glory. I was on my way to my ultimate reward. I 
needed all the strength I could muster to begin the 2nd 
part of Phase I. I wasn't sure where to stab my body. 

I held the knife out in front of me facing in and 
counted in a whisper. 1, 2, 3 and plunged the blade 
into my belly above the naval. I quickly let go and 
looked down. It was to the handle and just embedded in 
my body. I felt only mild pain. The rest of my body was 
burning from the dozens of cuts. My cock was still very 
hard and covered in blood. There was no blood coming 
from around the knife. My skin had closed tightly 
around the blade. If I were to pull it out, I would 
definitely bleed. 

I walked back and forth looking into the mirror 
admiring my work and thinking about the rest of the 
knives. I still felt as if this were a dream and could 
not believe that I had just stabbed myself and was 
about to do it again and again. This was so fucking 
easy. Was it the percs or ecstasy that had taken the 
edge off the pain? I was waiting for any signs of 
shock, but I felt clear headed and ready for more.

I picked up another dagger and again held it away out 
and ready to strike. Whack came my hand slamming the 
blade into my right side. I yelped at the pain and 
looked at my beautiful body. Two knives sunk deep into 
my torso was only the beginning. I had 13 more to go. 

I had no idea at what point in this process that I 
would decide to go Phase II. It would depend on my body 
and if I thought I was about to go into shock or to 
pass out. If I felt at all like the end was near, I 
would make that final choice and take my position at 
the appropriate device.

I grabbed another dagger and quickly jammed it into my 
left side. I took one more and stabbed my gut just 
under the sternum. Over the next half hour, I took them 
one by one and found an ever decreasing clear target to 
stab. I was sweating profusely and bleeding from my 
neck to my calves. There were only two knives left and 
I looked like a human pincushion. 

I still felt totally aware and strong, but a bit hazy. 
I had to be careful not to drop dead where I stood or 
in route to my final choice. I picked up both knives 
and jammed the left one into my far left side. I 
carefully chose a spot up on my right chest between two 
ribs and, with both hands, pushed the dagger home. The 
pain was fierce and I fell to my knees. I looked at 
myself in the mirror and felt like I would faint. 

My body was horribly and savagely injured now. I had 
some smelling salts on the table and quickly grabbed 
one ampule. I jumped at the smell, but it revived me. I 
was losing blood and decided to take a drink of water. 
As I drank about half a glass and felt better. I was 
parched. I just stood there looking into the mirror 
wondering if I could take the next step and plunge a 
full size 10 in blade into my gut. The floor was 
covered and speckled with blood all around me. It was 
shockingly beautiful and brought home the reality of my 
work. This was now a horrific crime scene with the 
victim and murderer being one in the same.

I realized weeks ago that I might not have the strength 
to commit such an act at this point after sustaining so 
many wounds. I had taken the blade off the bowie knife 
and embedded the back end into a beam in the center of 
the room. I had also attached two handles on either 
side of the beam. I would either ram myself into the 
blade or get into position holding the handles and 
force my body onto the it. The scene would be a 
glorious medieval semi final act before the end.

On the front of the beam was a mirror so that I could 
see every inch of my body and see my face before, 
during and after impaling my body onto the blade. I 
walked over to the beam and realized the Gerber daggers 
would interfere with Bowie knife. I carefully pulled 
out 6 knives. My skin closed up around the steel as 
each slipped out. I now had a clear path to force the 
Bowie blade into my body and give the beam a death hug.

The tip of the Bowie was centered above my naval. I 
knew the pain would be horrific and I took a strong 
grip on the handles. The knife was just piercing my gut 
when I dug deep for all of my remaining strength and 
forced my body savagely onto the blade. It made a 
squishing sound as it entered me. The sound was 
breathtaking and I felt as if my insides had be ripped 
from my body. I screamed and held on so as not to fall. 
My knees buckled. 

I awoke on the floor with a horrible burning 
excruciating pain in the center of my body. I looked up 
at the bloody Bowie blade and realized I had fallen. 
The blade had ripped me apart. No man could stand that 
pain. I looked at my gut to see it laid open. The wound 
was horrific and I was bleeding at a good clip now. I 
again felt faint. I crawled across the floor to get to 
the smelling salts. I pulled the table over and broke 
another ampule under my nose. I could barely move. I 
had to get to one of my devices. The pain was 
unbearable and I was bleeding a lot. The shotgun was 
closest and I could rest in the chair.

I made my way to the death chair with my fully loaded 
shotgun in place and climbed up. A trail of blood 
followed me and streamed out of my torso. I quickly 
positioned the back of my head and neck in the proper 
spot. I did not want to be found with half a face. This 
had to be done right. I felt so at ease now that it was 
time and held up the picture of my wife in my left 
hand. She was beautiful and I would join her soon. I 
found the lever with my right hand and made sure I was 
still. I was just looking at her and felt for the 
tension on the triggers.

I was close to death anyway and smiled as I looked at 
the picture of my wife and at my mutilated body in the 
mirror. In a moment my head would be splattered on the 
mirror and I would be dead. I grabbed the lever and 
pulled, hearing only a click...

I heard the gun go off and as if watching my body in a 
dreamlike state and felt the world spinning. When I 
came to rest, my wife called out to me and held out her 
hand. She was smiling reminiscent of the scene in Brave 
heart where Mel Gibbon's dead wife watched him from the 
crowd as he was gutted and beheaded. How fitting and 
wonderful. As I looked back at the scene, it was truly 
a macabre and horrible scene with my body, headless and 
covered in blood and no sign of my head, but the 
splatter everywhere.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 42