7 comments/ 33345 views/ 4 favorites Dead Girl By: Lady Malachite I had been dead three years when I pretended not to notice the man drop a pill into my white wine, but that didn't stop him from trying. It hadn't stopped the other six hundred and sixty five men who were intent on courting me in this bizarre and ungentlemanly manner and it wouldn't stop the next man or the next. My afterlife was an endless cycle of man after man. The same dirty tricks, the same wretched result. It was fascinating how repetitive it all was. There was almost nothing to keep me going anymore. Almost.... Three years ago I had gone to a college party at one of the local frat houses and some bastard killed me by putting something nasty in the wine cooler. I hovered over myself watching helplessly as he ravished my lifeless body. I felt light-headed and only semiconscious, oddly disconnected to what was going on beneath me. I thought at first that the whole experience was some sort of drug-induced hallucination and I felt free to just relax and wait for it to stop. My rapist pumped in and out of me furiously as though desperate or angry, but I couldn't tell for sure whether he was enjoying it or not. It looked so pathetic, like masturbating with an inflatable doll. There was no romance, no passion, no adventure. I remember thinking that if I was going to go through the effort of raping somebody, I would have made it more interesting. As timed passed and the hallucination didn't stop, I began to worry. Three more men raped me before they noticed something wasn't quite right. It was when the fucking stopped that I finally realized that I was dead. The pain was never going to end. I was never going to be able to return to the life I had once had. I would never get to attend my new classes. I would never be able to be part of my family's life again. I was never going to grow old and die. I was already dead. I went to my own funeral. My mother tried to justify my death by telling herself and the other mourners that I had had no business drinking at my age. I was only 18, too young to go to frat parties, too young to be dead. I sat in the back row crying over myself, but I couldn't justify my death the way my mother had. I noticed a really cute guy get up and walk out to go to the bathroom. I thought for half a second about following him and mentally kicked myself. But then I remembered that I was dead and decided, what the hell. So I walked through the wall into the men's bathroom and saw him standing at the urinal peeing. He had a nice cock and I ogled it for a while until I thought to myself: why not touch it? I reached a finger forward and it passed right through it. The guy flinched and nearly missed the urinal. Next, I thought I'd really like to lick it. So I bent forward and touched my tongue to his cock. It of course passed through as well but, it caused him to moan and writhe, and as I continued to lick it, his cock stiffened and he squirted cum into the urinal. I giggled to myself and left the room. After that first adventure, I decided to have more fun. I'd find couples having sex and lick the man's dick so he'd cum too early. Once, I walked into a monastery and accosted the monks in their sleep. I found one fellow who was so cute I decided that I really wanted to fuck him. I took off my party clothes and squatted down over his dick. I pumped up and down for several minutes. He came quickly, shooting his cum through me, but the whole thing didn't do very much for me. No body, no orgasms. Bummer. One day I was in a bar pleasuring a man who was masturbating when I saw a man slip something into his date's drink. I felt the world spin around me. I felt as though I was filled with fire. I hated him. I hated him more than I could ever remember hating anything. I sucked more furiously on the cock I was haunting and the man attached to it began to moan and writhe, but I couldn't focus on him, not when the guy at the bar was trying to make his move on an innocent woman. I couldn't let him have his way. I had to stop him. I wanted to smash his brains in. I wanted to cut off his balls, fry them. I wanted to hurt him so badly he'd never be able to touch another woman again. I promised myself that I would be strong. That I wouldn't just sit under a table fucking someone while there was real evil in the room. The man I was pleasuring gasped and shot cum into my mouth. It tasted good but bitter as a swallowed it. I gasped and choked, the sensation was so unexpected. I hadn't had taste buds in months! The man looked down at me and smiled broadly and I blushed. The other customers were pointing and laughing or making accusations. The man at the bar with the bills slapped his thigh and laughed hysterically. I didn't know what to do. The bartender came over and tried to politely escort me outside, but as he reached out to me I pushed him and he fell flat on his back and I rushed past him to the bar. "Hi, sweetheart," The bastard said as I approached him. "Asshole," I screamed, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him of his bar stool. There was a clash as the other customers tried to scurry out of the bar. "I ought to kill you for what you intended to do to that woman. But since I'm such a nice young lady, I think I'm going to teach you a lesson instead." The man whimpered and I smiled. "Take off your pants." A moment passed, and he didn't move. "Take off your pants." I repeated shaking him by the throat, and he scrambled to take his pants off. "Bartender. Heat me up some bread sticks," I said, turning to stop the man from grabbing me from behind. "Yes, Ma'am," He said quickly rushing behind the counter. The man I was holding began to gasp and struggle. Oxygen, right, I'd almost forgotten. I threw him to the floor and held him down with the spiked heel of my shoe. "Bartender!" I yelled over my shoulder. "I'm not getting any younger over here!" I snickered to myself. The bartender rushed forward with a basket of hot bread sticks. They were the cheap hard kind they always sell in bars, and I grabbed a handful. They were so hot they burnt my hand, but the pain felt good after the hollowness of oblivion. With a quick motion I thrust the handful into the ass of my victim, enjoying the sound of him crying out as his flesh was penetrated. I maneuvered the food inside of him. "How do you like being raped?" I asked, but off course he didn't answer. "If I ever so much as see you look at a woman the wrong way again, I'll have your balls for breakfast." I kicked him and then I ran. Something in me had diminished when I stepped away from him and I felt like a little girl hiding from the boogieman. The man I came in with was sitting at the table still and looked at me lovingly and rubbing his cock as I flew past him. I guess he has a fetish for S&M. That night, I grabbed the nearest man, took him to a motel room and fucked him fast and furiously. I had orgasm after orgasm as I rode him, pumping as though I'd never get the chance again. And heaven knows, I might not have. From that time on, I became obsessed with catching rapists. I robbed an S&M shop and obtained a set of kinky costumes, handcuffs, and an arsenal of dildos. I walked the streets at night hoping to be accosted then I'd have my way with the bastard, tie him and flog him, and when I've had enough, I'd stick a dildo up his ass and leave him in front of a police station. My real passion, though, was the date rapist. The subtle bastard like the one who killed me. They were surprisingly abundant, and I always had prey to hunt. ...I slowly brought my drink to my lips as man number 666 watched intently. He ought not to look, it might seem suspicious. But he's obviously still inexperienced. I slowly drinking the wine down to the last drop and let him lead me upstairs to one of the bedrooms. I watch as he undresses me. I fell like a rag doll. Lifeless. But when the moment comes, I pounce. I throw myself over him, covering his mouth with one hand and pinning his throat down with my elbow. "Lick my pussy!" I command him. And he does... Dead Girls Don't Say No Hi. I'm a tour guide. No... Well, that's my part-time job. My main job involves taking well-dressed stiffs on their last ride before they end up 6 under. It's like taxi driving; only difference is the customer doesn't complain about your driving. Too bad they don't tip though. You see, thanks to my job I get to see cemeteries a lot. So, to make a buck when the dirty old men aren't dying of Viagra overdoses, I give tourists tours of the final resting places of the rich and famous. Oh, it's a fun job. You get to see the silly people photographing gravestones like they were stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Once in a while one of them gets a ghost in the photo. Well, they think they did... Of course, that's not the whole truth yet. You see, this might be a rich neighbourhood I work in, but it's not exactly a great tourist trap. And no thanks to modern medical science, I don't quite get enough passengers in my backseat to pay my bills. So... for a suitable fee, I give special tours to those with special "needs"... Wherever rich kids with more money and time than sense are to be found, you can be sure there's a few of them with a fantasy that's not quite normal. Well, it's fine by me; everything's just a business. Not that I personally enjoy digging up the dead, but hey - if it pays the bills. Anyway, on to the real story. You see, this kid got wind from some unscrupulous ex-customer of mine that I know the graveyard real well. So he kind of made me a proposition; I had to tell him when a cute chick is riding with my black car. I assume he'd done every living female under 30 in the area and was getting bored, so he wanted to try his hand at a real cold bitch. You can't say I didn't try to talk him out of it though... "You sure you want this?" "Hell, it's cool, right?" "Mmm... you've never seen a corpse after the rigor mortis has set in son?" "Dude, I don't drive dead people around like you do." "Shush, I went to med school... just never finished it. Dead girls... well, they're cold, and they're all tensed up, and generally they smell worse than your prick after anal sex." "That's why you're gonna find me a fresh one, man!" I sensed at that point there was no talking the guy out of it. "I can show you one... no promises, since I don't know when one's gonna kick the bucket... but you're gonna dig her up buddy." "Heh, you'll at least help out right? I *am* paying you big money for this." "Oh well, sure. I'll drop you a line sometime." And so some time passed, and I did my usual rounds of driving 90-year old millionaires and Japanese tourists around the stone garden. Ah, but then where would the fun be if I didn't have to make the phone call? "Yo." "It's you, old dude! I thought you might've joined some of your passengers, man! You didn't call..." "Well, I don't think you'd have been interested in some of my recent passengers... those old guys look like dried-up mummies... But yeah, back to the point, there's a nice one coming in tomorrow morning. Supposed to be a sweet young thing... died of a heart attack for some reason, so she's still all pretty and everything. You wanna do it?" "Ooh, sounds like a good deal old man. You gonna meet me tomorrow night at the gate?" "Yeah, and bring a spade. And put on some perfume. You don't want to go home smelling like a dead guy." He turned up on time, dressed rather inconspicuously for a rich kid. I guess he wasn't all teenage maniac; the guy had sense to put on some clothes that would make him hard to recognise. And he looked pretty strong. I drove him to a newly covered grave, the soil still damper than the rest around it. We spent around 2 hours digging up the coffin. The soft earth certainly helped. We opened the coffin carefully, and wow, my young companion was impressed. The girl certainly hadn't been dead for more than two days, and her skin shone like a pearl in the moonlight. I led the way to an empty catacomb nearby as the young necrophiliac wannabe carried her over his shoulder. "Dude, you sure she's dead? She looks better than most of the girls I've slept with!" "Err... I don't know whether to doubt your nose or your taste, young man..." "Oh well, my good luck. You weren't lying, she's one looker. She's still all nice and soft too... what happened to that rigor stuff you were talking about?" I muttered something about looking out for the gravestones and opened the door to the little stone room. Conveniently, there was a stone pedestal in the middle of it that looked like some other perverts might've attempted some demonic rituals on it, but it would serve well for our purposes. My young friend lay down his cargo and started examining her. She looked young, like a college freshman, and she had the kind of womanly curves better appreciated during the impressionist times. The young guy seemed to like her though; he was touching her gently, drawing his smooth young hands over her limp body. "You sure treat her with a lot of respect. I'm impressed." "Heh, I'll have you know I'd never mistreat a woman, dead or alive... Brr... she *is* cold. That part you got right." "Heh, I wouldn't really recommend that you do her naked, given how cold it is..." "Good point. Anyway, are you going to watch or what?" "Well... if you're shy, I can go outside..." "Heh, no problem dude... it's not like she minds either." I leaned back against a wall and nodded, my head seemingly pointing at the floor, but yeah, I was watching alright. Call it morbid curiosity. Must be one of the bad habits I picked up from all the time I spent in the morgue during med school. The guy was caressing the corpse like she was a real girl, tenderly massaging her somehow still-firm breasts. Eventually, he seemed to have enough though, and he pulled his fly open. "Want a condom?" "Hmm... not really. It's not like she's gonna end up pregnant, y'know..." "Well, I can tell you she's not wet and it might hurt... and I'm pretty sure you don't want to get embalming fluid on your cock..." The young guy bent down and sniffed her between the legs. "Embalming fluid don't smell like this, dude... weird... but yeah, thanks but no thanks." I leaned back onto my spot on the wall and looked on. The guy didn't look all that impressive, but from all the technique I'd seen so far, it was clear that if he was a ladies' man, it was because the ladies enjoyed him greatly. He put it in and started pumping against her, slowly. There was little light, coming mostly from a lantern I had brought along, but I could see he was enjoying himself... not really in the perverted way I had imagined, but like he would with any other girl. Maybe the guy really was just curious. I looked on; and drank in the details. Her body was moving in unison with his, rocking on the cold stone, and there was sweat on her. Wait... that doesn't look like his sweat. And she seems to be moving a little too in time with him. The pieces of the puzzle clicked in my mind, but the first thought that came up was "Oh damn, I'm gonna be too late..." I braced myself as the guy started moaning. "OH YES BABY GIVE IT TO ME!" The poor guy must've gotten a real shock, because he was making some weird noise, as if he couldn't make up if he was trying to scream or trying to moan in pleasure. The girl's arms were around his back, and she was pumping her hips right back at him. It was too late though, the guy fell backwards, consumed by his orgasm, and presumably fainted. "Damn you Jen, do you *always* have to do that? It's hard enough to find guys who want to do this, let alone one as nice as this." Jen was pouting sexily at me. "You know, when a woman's feeling that way when a man makes her feel good, her brain stops working for a while..." I saw that look in her eyes... that naughty naughty look. "Come here baby... he made me all horny and now I just need more..." "You're paying double the usual price. Hopefully I won't have to dig TWO holes tonight." "Aww... well, anything for my nice Frank. Now get over here and stick it in me." "What I wouldn't give to die rich and end up like you, Jen." "Flattery will get you everywhere," she cooed as she dragged me over, put me on the pedestal, and proceeded to make sweet love to me. You couldn't exactly say I resisted. She might be "dead", but hell, she's a lot nicer than most living women I work with. You know, what they say isn't the whole truth. Dead girls don't say no. They say, "Give it to me baby!"