Sadako

Kim-Yong gripped the arm of his seat nervously, the cheap wooden make penetrating his arm with splinters.
He knew he should be scared, his friends having bound him to a chair, the rope being tied round unprofesionally, yet tightly, dissapointing to the standards Kim was expectant of.
He'd hoped to be bound in hogtie, hung from the bondage pole he'd screwed to the ceiling, specially for those parties...

It was a party, seven days previous that had led to his current position. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a few... friends from work, the more adventerous friends, those who enjoyed their bleeding. The party was a long one, dragging into mid morning the next day, another sleepless night for those in the flat opposite Kim's. Kim had commented a personal fatigue towards Japaneese tortoise shell bondage, one his boyfriend had a particular fetish for, something that had caused minor suprise amongst those present, with the exception of the tortoise shell fetishist, Siguri, who, somewhat hurt at his friends lack of enthusiasm, went to his car, muttering darkly about something more "exciting".

The reasoning as to Kim being bound to the chair was laid out to him by Siguri; easier acess to those with limited movement. Kim had been stripped naked, his vast fat deposits oozing between the tightly strung rope, his movements burning into his fleshes. Unevenly shaved body hair sprouted across his body, the consistency of the fat making it a hard journey to smoothen his appearence, and a clumsilly welden shaving blade (and perhaps blades held by friends) had left a network of scarring across his body.
Kim looked towards the clock in his room, his cock twitching in excitement...

The others had gathered behind the television, thrust sharply in Kim's direction. They looked on as he watched, intrigue and paranoia dancing across his features. The tape was a series of images, ranging from the disturbing to the obscure, the sort of thing Kim's present company revelled in.
"Seven Days", they had said. "Seven Days, she'll come for you." None of them had tried it yet, but they knew what would happen; the viewer would die, no apparent cause of death, save for the occasional eyewitness accounts of a sodden girl looking out of the window near the time of the death...
So he'd die, they thought about it afterward. But then, wasn't that the ultimate in sadomasochism? To impose death upon someone, to entice them into a bondage whilst they suffer it?

It was ten past midnight that the ghostly call had arrived the week previous, and the clocks hands were edging ever closer to the twelve o'clock mark... Cars outside in the city street drove past, their travelling lights casting shadows across the room, creating sillohets of women on the walls, a premonition to what would come.
Waiting, the hands travelling ever closer. Kim tried to shift his bulk, the binding too tight, simply sending ripples of fat across his stomach. Then, suddenly, there it was; the television thrust in front of him lit up, causing his prick to spring to life. White noise engulfed the room, causing waves of uncertanty to shower Kim, only arousing him further.

But Kim wasn't just interested in pain, he was going to die, yes, and he'd enjoy the pain that came with it... however Kim was more interested in carnal persuits, his fleshparties always needing a change of sheets.
It was a genius idea of Siguri's... this girl, this... woman, stuck in her well for god knows how long. She'd be sex starved, and Kim would "offer himself" to her, to enjoy this fucking, the borderline necrophilia that would ensue.
And they'd film it, to pleasure themselves in their own little hovels, their office cubicles, their bathrooms...

The noise would be unbearable to the normal people of the city, but for Kim it only served to pump blood in to his throbbing member. Then it began.
The series of images and scenes, flashing over the screen. Then a woman, walking past a field. Sharply turning. Walking towards Kim, looking at him. Her breathing heavy.
She neared the screen, Kim wondering what would happen... then her arm, her head, started to emerge from it. Kim's eagerness predated him, his cock glistening at his new found mental pain...
A flicker, like a badly dubbed VHS. She was close to him now, learing over him. Lifting up her dress as she mounted his bloated form.
He felt her as she drove him into her. It wasn't just the coldness of a corpse, the coldness Kim was used to. This absorbed heat, draining the life from Kim's groin...