Greta's journey

The next morning, Greta texted back the number Anastasia gave to her.
“I’m interested. Am I still on time?”
The night had gone and she had not slept a single minute. While she was washing the cum away in Victor and Anastasia’s bathroom (or was it just Victor’s? Anastasia was already dead) the body disposal people had entered the room, removed Anastasia’s body, and took it away in the casket. The only thing left was the plastic wrapping, left on the floor, and the noose dangling. She was gone forever.
Greta kept thinking about the joke Victor and Mike exchanged before leaving:
“Please don’t divorce her”. They spoke about the divorce for sure.
“You are safe. For now”, Mike had replied. He had told that to Victor, meaning he was safe from the fact he was going to keep having free access to Greta’s holes.
For now.

Until someone younger, sluttier, would come along. Any moment now.
“There’s still a spot. 11:00 am” the number replied, and shortly after that message a GPS location followed up. The place where she would be terminated.

Greta opened her closet, looking at all her clothes. She did not care about being sexy to her death; it was not in front of an audience. She took out jeans and a t-shirt. She wore a non matching bra and panties.
In her mind, she did not have to undress. She would just show up, be terminated, and disposed of.
In the back of her mind, there was another option: just not go there. Keep being alive a little more; try to enjoy the time left.
That would mean submitting to Mike entirely. He would choose how and when. What if she had to die while he was fucking someone else? What if he would not have friends over, just like Victor chose for Anastasia? What if she panicked, and tried to resist? Then she would be a great dishonor to everybody. Linda and Anatasia were so brave and she felt she wouldn’t be as good as them.
Driving to the location didn’t mean dying. She could just take a brief look. And so she left home.

While driving she got lost in her mind again. She did not think about being outside for the last time, or seeing the sky. She just mindlessly followed her sat nav instructions. She was surprised when, all of a sudden, her destination was just across the street. It was a cheap hotel with an underground parking lot. Greta drove underneath the building, parking her car. Her phone couldn’t get a signal, so she climbed back up the ramp, pausing in front of the location.
She took a look at the front of the hotel. Nothing special. But it looked like it was in operation, and it felt weird that an illegal activity could take place there. People were coming in and out, and she could see the reception at work to welcome guests.
She texted the number just to see how things would pan out. She was inches away from dying in the next hour or so. She texted the number, just to see what was going to happen.
“I am at the location, what do I do?”
“306. If you come in, you won’t come out.”
Greta decided to enter the hotel’s hall. They couldn’t do anything to her if she ever wanted to get out. The minute she walked past the glass doors, her heart started beating faster and faster, her head felt lighter. She felt weak at the idea that those were her last steps, and that she would leave that building as a dead corpse.

She reached out in her purse, holding her car keys between her fingers. Nothing was forcing her to go up to the third floor. She could just drive away.
Greta felt like she was not in control of her body anymore. She walked towards the elevators like she was not aware of the consequences.
“Only a brief look at the hallway” she said to herself, as she joined an elevator with other people.
At the third floor, a man walked off the elevator with her. She realized she did not have a room key, and she would look like a prostitute going to meet a client.
The man walked closely behind her, as she followed the arrows pointing at the group of rooms 301-319. The man followed along as room 306 approached. Greta stopped in front of the door, letting the man walk past her. He entered 308, a couple of doors in front of her, giving her a last, long look. Was he just checking her out? Was he a member of the organization? Greta couldn’t tell; she went back and looked at the door of room 306. A simple knock and she would be brought in, and killed.
Her phone rang. She totally forgot about putting it on silent. How could she remember doing it with Adam and not now, outside the door of the hotel room where she could be killed?
She fumbled in her purse, and pulled out her phone: the screen said “suspect spam call”.
Door 306 opened slightly, a female voice said “come in, quick”. A hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in. Greta was in.

The room was very dark. All the curtains were pulled, and just a few room lights were on. As Greta adjusted her vision, the woman who opened the door shook her hand, introducing herself.
“Hi, I’m Deb. And you are?”

“I… I’m Greta”
“Greta! Nice to meet you. Why don’t you sit on the couch and we get to you as soon as possible”.
Get to me to kill me.
As Greta took place on the couch, she noticed something on the ground: the bodies of three other women were lying on the floor, their pants pulled down to expose their pussies, shirts pulled up and bras cutted down the middle to show their tits. In a corner, a pile of the dead women's shoes and socks was just joined by a fresh pair of heels, brought by a man that briefly left the room toilet, going immediately back in. Greta had the feeling someone else was inside, but couldn’t see past the door.

Greta realized she would be joining the bodies on the floor soon. Those were the women and she was brought in a “spot” that was available.
She heard noises coming from the toilet. A man and a woman, almost struggling. Or having sex. That would be weird; why fuck someone that is about to kill you? But also, what was in this for the people running the operation? They didn’t ask for any money, and yet they were taking a huge risk by terminating women without a divorce paper.

Deb got closer to Greta, smiling. She was holding a professional camera, equipped with a flash on top.
“Just a few minutes, Greta. Get comfortable in the meantime”.
Get comfortable. With three dead bodies on the ground, something weird happening in the toilet, and her death just minutes away.
Deb started taking pictures of the dead body closer to Greta. She took full body pictures, together with some very detailed ones, getting really close: the face, the neck, her tits, her pussy, her feet. All from different angles.
“Would you… is it ok if I ask for help?” Deb said to Greta.
The noises in the toilet had stopped.
“I guess it’s ok,” Greta said. She felt like in a bad dream.
“Would you help me turn her over so I can take a picture of her ass?”
Greta felt someone had hit her in the head. She felt the room spinning around her.
She stood up, and grabbed the ankles of the dead woman, as Deb pulled her from one of the arms. The body flipped over, making a terrible noise when it hit the ground.
“That’s good, thank you so much”, Deb said. She took some pictures of the dead woman's ass, and then took off one of her leg from her panties to better spread her legs apart, and to get a better picture of her open asshole and pussy. The leg hit the other woman lying beside her.

The toilet door opened, and the man from before came out. He was carrying a dead woman, still dressed, in his arms.
“Oh good,” said Deb, “put her here, there’s only one more left”.
Greta realized that the one more was her.
“Why… why are you taking pictures?” She asked Deb. The man hadn’t spoken since she entered the room.
“That’s where the money comes from. People pay a lot of money for these kinds of pictures. And you don’t get to be embarrassed, because the first time people see you like that, you will no longer be alive, right?”
Greta felt a shiver down her spine. She was about to be exposed not in front of a crowd of friends, but in front of perverts willing to pay money to see detailed pictures of her spread, dead pussy. Anastasia was wrong: she told her to call the number to be terminated and not sexualized in death by their partners; but she would be ultimately turned into a body, displayed naked for other people to… enjoy.

To masturbate to.
Anastasia didn’t know. She died naked, as Greta did was she was told to do; they were both sexual objects. And she was about to be turned into a real object, to be flipped over for a better shot at her pussy. She remembered the horrifying noise the body of the other woman did when flipped over. How cold her skin was. She was about to do the same noise, on the same floor, as Deb took pictures of her.

Was she perfectly shaved? Would she be sexy enough or someone else of the women on the floor would make the organization more money than her?

She realized she wore panties and a bra that did not match and blushed. Why was she obsessed with being the best one of the lot? She was about to die, violently. What did it matter if she was not the one everyone wanted to look at?
“I just wished I knew,” Greta said to Deb.
“You know now, just in time!” Deb joked.
Meanwhile, the man in the room had given the new victim the same treatment as the others: shirt pulled up, bra severed in half with a knife, pants and slips pulled down to the ankles. The woman had her eyes partially open, and one was rolled back. That would be her in a few minutes, Greta said to herself.
“Ok! Time to go, Greta! Follow him to the toilet and I will wait here. You will look beautiful in my pictures!”
When I’m dead.
Greta followed the man inside the room’s toilet. A chair in the middle of the room gave her the chills: was she about to hang? There was no noose dangling from the floor.
“Take off your shoes please”, the man said. It was the first time Greta heard his voice. The voice of the man that was about to kill her.
Greta took off her shoes and socks. Her mind went to her home, where plenty of sexy shoes were never going to be worn again. She placed every sock in the respective shoe, before handing them to the man.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, “you can take off your clothes or not. Please use the toilet in the meantime”.
Greta elected to not take off her clothes. She used the toilet as instructed.

She had just pulled back her pants when the man entered the toilet again.
“Let’s step into the bathtub, please”.
Greta obeyed. The man joined her, then layed down.
“Lay down on top of me, facing the ceiling” he instructed Greta.
“How are you going to do it?” Greta asked.
“I will break your neck. Clean and easy. You won’t feel a thing”.
“I am a little bit scared,” Greta confessed.
Linda had died in a beautiful location. Sure, she had to kneel and wait for her head to be cut off; she was surrounded by friends, and everyone looked as she was literally cut out of her existence. That was maybe still a better death than looking at the ceiling in a cheap hotel room, an unknown man about to break the bones in her neck, her spinal fluids free to wander around her body, paralyzing her forever.
Anastasia took the step herself. She did not wait for Victor, as Victor was being sucked off by Greta herself. She felt proud she managed to fuck such a beautiful man at least once in her life. Adam was good, but not comparable. Mike was forgettable….and the divorce was coming, Greta was sure.
The man took a strong hold on her neck, forcing her head on one side with a hand firmly gripping her chin.
Then, with a rapid motion, he rotated Greta’s head violently in the opposite direction.
Greta was still thinking. She tried to speak, and was freaked out by the sound of her own voice.
“What… what happened?”
“I’m sorry” the man said, “let me try again”.
The man forced her again in the same position as before. Greta was tense and rigid like a stone.
The rapid movement of her head made her a bit nauseated. She was still alive.
“Try to relax,” the man said.
“Yes, I’m sorry” , Greta responded.
The man forced Greta’s neck and head in the same position a third time. An intense pain exploded at the base of Greta’s neck.
“I think you will get it this time,” she said, wanting to reassure the man that was trying to kill her. She did not want to hurt his ego; what was wrong with her?

The man turned her head violently a third time. A loud noise resonated in the walls of the toilet.
Greta was still able to think, but quickly realized her body was completely paralyzed.
She was horrified.
Her neck was now broken. She was now just an object. She felt cold and alone.
Death was still escaping her. The man pulled up her body and got out of the bathtub, leaving her to fall down inside again.

She heard the bump of her head, but felt no pain. Then the ceiling became darker and closer, as Greta was unable to move her eyes and look around. 

She slowly lost her train of thoughts. She did not know where she was. Was her head still attached to her body? Were they about to take a picture of her naked? She wouldn’t be as sexy with her head cut off. Was she really dying? What will Mike think of her? And Victor?

Nothing mattered anymore.

As the man started to lift her body to make her join the others in the other room, Greta faded away, her journey coming to an end.