Prologue

Ralph was excited, and very nervous, too. Today was his first time hosting the monthly meeting of the S^3 Society, and he wanted everything to go perfectly. He had spent weeks organising the entertainment, and now he just wanted to know that everyone enjoyed it. He knew that if he blew his chance tonight, he might be asked to leave the Society, and he couldn't risk that.

Chapter 01 - In the beginning

He remembered how it all got started. He was just another horny geek out there, surfing for porn. Of course, his tastes were a bit different. Most folks were surfing for "cocksucking latinas" or "cum crazed teens" or the like. Not Ralph. Ralph had always been kinky, looking for pictures of women in bondage, or fucking large and strange toys, or being used as furniture. He read a lot of kinky stories, followed some newsgroups, and joined a few BBSes (back in the days before the soi-disant "World Wide Web"). One day, on a BBS in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Ralph found some strange and strangely arousing artwork.

Artwork had never appealed to him like pictures with live models. It just wasn't the same. You could do anything in a picture, so it didn't have that same feeling of reality that a picture did. But then he found some artwork by an artist called Dolcett. Apparently what Ralph had felt was a limitation of BDSM artwork, Dolcett saw as an advantage. He was able to draw scenes that (as far as Ralph could tell) never were, and would never be. He saw women being tortured, roasted, sold for meat or spare parts. He was fascinated.

He had never really heard of "snuff" before. Oh, sure, there were the media scares about "snuff films" but everybody knew that such things just weren't real. He remembered hearing about the whole "Jake Baker" case, but had never read the man's work, and it had never appealed to him. Suddenly, he was curious. No, he was intrigued. He sought out more of the same.

Of course, back in those days, snuff porn was hard to find. Maybe a BBS would have a few "extreme" pictures (usually the same dozen Dolcett drawings), and one or two extreme stories (usually Sunder and something by Dante). But that was about it.

Fast forward about five or six years. Suddenly, the Internet exploded. Web sites popped all over the place. And Usenet! Newsgroups such as alt.torture and alt.sex.snuff.cannibalism became extremely cool places. Reading Perro Loco's adaptations of Dolcett's Roasting Grotto and Club X was enlightening. Other people got into this crazy stuff. And liked to write and fantasize about it.

But of course, Ralph knew that it was all faked. Trick photography, or Adobe Photoshop, could produce any image you could imagine, and of course, you could write fiction about any damn thing you wanted. But nobody was actually doing it. Ralph got in on the act, writing some stuff, posting it, corresponding with a few folks. It was all good fun.

You know the sort of thing: "So now you have cut off my left nipple, Ralph, what would you do next?" And Ralph was having a good old time, until . The Day. The Day he first got an email from someone who signed himself only as "The Chairman". It said,

Ralph, I know that you are interested in torture and snuff, and I also know that you are not a cop. I have been checking you out, and would like to offer you a chance to participate in some real torture, and snuff. If you are interested, give me a call at: 555-555-5555.

The Chairman

Ralph, of course, figured that someone was either trying to scare him or scam him. "I have been checking you out" indeed. Then he realised something. The Chairman had called him "Ralph". Not "Yelliw John", which was the name he always used when posting to newsgroups.

Maybe there was something to all this. What the hell. Ralph went out to a pay phone (in case), and called the number. A woman answered, "S Cubed Society, may I help you?"

"May I speak to The Chairman?"

"Whom may I say is calling?"

"Ralph."

"Ah, Mr Winston, The Chairman has been expecting your call. One moment, please."

"Hello, Ralph. It's nice to speak with you." The man who answered had a pleasant voice. He didn't sound like a crazy or a weirdo.

"Wait a minute. How the FUCK do you know my name? What the fuck is going on here? I'm gonna"

"Hold on a minute, Ralph. Let me explain. I first noticed you when you posted some stories to alt.torture. When you joined our website, I noticed that you avoided all the 'fuck-and-suck' porn we keep out front for the losers. You went straight to the good stuff. Your comments to other members on our message boards led me to believe that you were 'our kind of guy'. So I had some people I know investigate you. I found that you were not a cop, just a fellow traveller who liked to see women in pain. Am I right, Ralph?"

"Yes.Wait a minute, you got my info when I joined your website? What website? I never joined the S^3 Society. I would have remembered."

"No, Ralph, we operate a number of, shall we say, fronts. Websites that keep the Society at one remove from our customers. We watch who joins. When we find one who looks like a candidate, we check him out. If he (and it will always be he, for reasons which will become apparent if you join) looks promising, and is not a cop, or a crazy, I send him the same email I sent you. Most don't call. They think this is a hoax, or a scam. But a few, a special few, do call. A few like you, Ralph."

"Fine, so I am special, because I called. So what!"

"Well, Ralph, we want to invite you to join the S^3 Society. We think that you have what it takes. We are on the lookout for people who have that certain quality, and I think you have it, Ralph."

"What quality? And WHAT THE FUCK is the S^3 Society?"

"Calm down, Ralph, and let me tell you. The Society is a secret brotherhood who believe that women exist for one purpose: To please men. We further believe that they can please men in only three ways, which we call the Three 'S'es: Sex, Screams, and Snuff. Our members get together once each month, at an undisclosed location. Each month, one member, who is the designated host, arranges the evening's pleasure. We keep the membership fairly limited, of course, but one of our members just passed away, and we have an opening. Are you interested?"

"If you are serious, OF COURSE I am interested. So what do I do? And how do I know that you aren't gonna just snuff ME, instead?"

"Perfectly natural questions, Ralph. First, if you are interested, go home and visit the following website," and here he told Ralph the URL. "Go there, and for the user name, enter Ralph, and for the password, enter 'showme'. You can see some highlights from past meetings of the Society. Hopefully, this will convince you of our bona fides. After that, if you want to attend a meeting, just be waiting at home this Saturday night, at 7PM. Somebody will call for you."

Ralph hung up. 'This is too fucking weird,' he thought. But what the hell. Obviously, these people already knew who he was, and where he lived. So why not check out their website. If it was bullshit, he would just go out on Saturday. Fuck 'em!

When he got home, Ralph logged on to the website. He was impressed. He saw men in hooded black and red robes, fucking and torturing beautiful women. There were some video clips he could download. He did. These women were really screaming. It was music to his ears. He decided that he would at least give them a shot on Saturday.

Of course, he still didn't fully trust The Chairman. He wrote a letter explaining where he was going (as best he knew), and mailed it to himself, figuring that if anything untoward happened to him, the cops would be interested in why he was writing to himself, and probably open the letter. It wasn't much of a precaution, but it was the best he could think of.

So Saturday night came. He was showered, and dressed. He'd decided in the absence of instructions to the contrary to go with the whole business casual look. Dockers, polo shirt, and loafers.

At precisely 7PM, there was a knock at the door. Ralph looked through the peephole, and was stunned. Standing outside his door was a woman who was a complete knockout. She was a 10/10 on anybody's scale. Long brown hair, large but tight tits, a well-rounded ass, and legs that seemed to go for miles. She was wearing a little chauffeur's uniform. A black cap. A white blouse (tight and strained to the point of bursting by her tits). A black jacket, unbuttoned and loose. A black skirt so short that he was sure he could see her cunt lips peeking out the bottom, just a bit.

He opened the door, and picked up his jaw. "Hi, I'm"

"You must be Ralph. I'm Marlene. I'm to escort you to tonight's little gathering. You don't mind, do you, Ralph?"

"No, not at all."

"Good, then let's go." And with that, she led him down to a black limousine, opened the rear door for him, and after he entered, closed it behind him. Ralph noticed that the tinted windows prevented him from seeing out, as well as preventing others from seeing in. More security. He only hoped he wasn't setting himself up.

He felt the limo lurch into motion. What the hell, he was on his way.