Coffin Candy

("Coffin Candy" is yet another true episode in the sexual story of my life. I am purging my soul. Telling of my past "sins" is part of my repentance.)

My girlfriends and I attended some wild and crazy parties during our college days. The various fraternities usually put on the best bashes, with plenty of free booze and kinky sex. But the sex eventually got boring. We kind of put the word out on campus something new and exciting would be greatly appreciated, and rewarded accordingly.

One fraternity came up with a concept that struck our fancy; a Halloween party at a funeral home. The boys of Phi Gamma Nu, the business fraternity, seemed to have an original thought, which in itself surprised us, and they suggested we could make some moola, but they declined to tell us details. They insisted all would be explained at the party.

The university I attended, affectionately nicknamed Screw U., took up about a six block square area in the new downtown section of a city of a little over 100,000 population. Araqiel, the president of Phi Gamma Nu, gave us directions to the party, a place about 10 miles from campus. Yes, strange name, Araqiel. I'm still not certain of his nationality, perhaps Egyptian. He looked like a young version of Yassir Arafat.

My girlfriends Angela and Suzanne and I found the place with little difficulty in the old downtown section of the city, which now consisted mostly of vacant buildings. We recognized the party place; a rather famous hotel from way before our time.

Araqiel greeted us at the entrance, along with two other brothers of the fraternity we recognized, Sparky and Jeremy. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be anyone else around.

"Hey, I thought this was a party, where is everyone?" Angela demanded. "And where are your costumes?"

Sparky answered, "Actually the party doesn't really start for another couple hours. There will be hundreds of people here. We invited you girls early so we could give you a tour. Most of our other guests have partied with us before. Hey, nice costumes! We'll put ours on before the fun begins."

All three us were dressed as witches, in black, black leather. We shopped together at a nearby exclusive boutique that catered mostly bikers. Snake, the owner and dude who waited on us, offered us a 10% discount if we let him watch us try on the various items of apparel and accessories. Angela and Suzanne nodded at his proposal. I, of course, also agreed, since I planned on footing the bill, putting it on Daddy’s charge card, and I fretted over how I could possibly pay him back.

I selected the black leather mini-skirts. Angela chose a cool looking chastity belt with 4 mini brass and chrome keyed padlock, nickel plated D rings and rivets. Suzanne chose a chain halter-top which could be worn with or without the bikini bra top underneath, depending on your company. It had leather straps with chrome-plated chain and hardware. A knee length motorcycle duster made the perfect cape. Our thigh high 4” spike heel boots came just about to the bottom of the mini-skirts. The boots had a cute little buckle on the back of each thigh and leather lacing. Spiked leather O-ring collars and D-ring bracelets just about completed the look we sought, except for the witch's hats. We had to go get those at a place that specialized in costumes for Halloween and just about every other occasion. I liked the grass skirts, but those could wait for another party. Angela and Suzanne went nuts over the chicken feet and elephant feet. They put them on and stomped around, making very strange noises.

Araqiel explained the history of the place to us, once known as the Solomon Hotel. “It first opened in 1947 as the tallest building in the state and luxurious accommodations, fine dining, gambling and entertainment under one roof. Many celebrities performed in the lounge and the hotel became a fixture of community life, hosting many parties, proms and meetings. It closed ten years ago, a victim of obsolescence and the fact that the downtown moved to surround our favorite institution of higher learning. The Solomon became a historical landmark and legal battles ensued regarding its possible demolition or resurrection.

“My father purchased the Solomon about a year ago with the condition that he renovate it. Being a historical landmark, the city fathers preferred not to have it demolished. Unloading this eyesore them very happy. As you can see, the renovation of at least the exterior is almost complete.”

Araqiel gave them a tour of the interior. “My father is remodeling this place into a funeral home. Much of the necessary equipment and fixtures are already installed. It is scheduled to open for regular business in a month or so. This will be like no other funeral home you ever saw. It is to have an ancient Egyptian theme. You see, my old man is an archaeologist and leading authority on Egyptian artifacts, particularly those associated with death.”

“This place is giving me the creeps already,” Suzanne shivered.

“Why?” Araqiel asked. “Death is a natural part of life. Funeral practices have been for almost forever, beginning with Cro-Magnon man about 35,000 years ago. The pyramids in Egypt are history’s greatest tombs, even though nobody is buried in the Great Pyramid at Giza.

“The evidence seems conclusive that embalming took place in the mummification process in the necropolis of Alexandria. Natron, a natural salt compound consisting mainly of sodium carbonate and bicarbonate, was the most important substance used to absorb moisture from the corpse. Preserving internal organs was of utmost concern. The heart remained in place in the chest of the dearly departed but more perishable organs such as the lungs, stomach, intestines and liver were removed and placed in what are known as Canopic Jars.” Araqiel pointed to the jars that were enclosed in a glass exhibit.

“Hey, sort of like Jeffrey Dahmer putting the penis in the lobster pot, ‘eh?” Angela joked.

“Speaking or nourishment, since you mentioned it,” Araqiel continued, “offerings of drink and food were left in the tomb for the spirits of the dead. But the coffin was the most important item, intended both to protect the mummy within, and by means of its form, decorations and inscriptions, to spiritually ensure the deceased’s transfiguration.” He pointed to the anthropoid coffin. “That’s a facsimile, of course, not an original. The British Museum has perhaps the best collection of the real thing, which traces the evolution of Egyptian coffins over a period of 3000 years.”

Araqiel fascinated us with his dissertation on the subject of death in ancient Egypt for over an hour. Then the discussion drifted to “The Egyptian Book of the Dead.”

“According to this book,” Araqiel began, “and I’m referring to the most famous translation by Sir E. A. Wallis Burge in 1895, once a person dies, he appears before the god, Osiris, to confess all his sins in the form of 400 statements he did not do. The deceased specifies the demi-gods and the ancient cities those gods governed. For example, ‘Nefertem, who comes from Memphis, I have not done any wrong, I have witnessed no crime.’ Osiris is the god of the underworld.

“Then we have the legend of Osiris, and his wife and sister, Isis. They had an evil brother Seth who was married to his other sister, Nephthys. Seth plotted to murder Osiris because he wanted to be king. Seth persuaded Osiris to enter a gold coffin, slapped the lid shut and disposed of the coffin in the Nile. Isis retrieved the body but Seth tore it into 14 pieces and threw them back into the river. Whenever Isis found a part, she had a temple built in memory of her late husband. After collecting all the parts, Isis flapped her wings and breathed the life back into Osiris. You will notice that many of these Egyptian coffins display the wings of Isis surrounding the coffin, so that they may breathe life into the souls of the dead.”

“Hey, that sounds like some blowjob to me, if she brought him back to life,” Suzanne quipped.

“Sounds like a whole lot of incest going on to me, reminds me of the Bible,” Angela added.

“What in the world is this stuff?” I asked as we entered another large room.

“These are medieval torture devices. My father is a collector, as was his father and grandfather. Most of these are originals that date back to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Some of these instruments have been loaned to various exhibitions, going back to 1908-09, and the exhibition entitled ‘Die Heilige Inquisition: Wesen, Method and Wirkung – The Holy Inquisition: Its Essence, Methods and Effects’ that drew hundreds of thousands of visitors.

“This one is called the Iron Maiden of Nuremburg. You can see that it is a tomb-sized container in the form of a woman with folding doors. Notice the spikes on the inside of the door. They are not designed to kill instantaneously, but rather to slowly torture to the point of death. Andrei Codrescu aptly described this bad girl in his ‘The Blood Countess.’ You should read it; very scary shit.

“Here we have the Judas Cradle. Notice the tripod pyramid shape coming to a sharp point. Guess what goes on the point. Right, the anus or vagina. The victim is hoisted up and lowered according to the pleasure of the victimizer, rocking or bobbing the poor boob. I understand this apparatus is still used by a few Latin American despots.

“Don’t need much of an imagination to understand the concept of this one, The Saw. It was utilized mainly in France on witches who allegedly got knocked up by Satan. I’m sure you can visualize how they hung upside down to be sawn in half, beginning between the legs.”

“This makes me want to change my costume,” Suzanne commented. “Anybody got any Barbie outfits?”

“Knocked up by Satan?” Angela wondered aloud. “Reminds me of some stories I’ve been hearing lately about the Nephilim, the fallen angels, impregnating human women."

“Hey, I know what this one is,” I observed, pointing to the next torture device, “that’s a chastity belt. We should know, we are wearing them. Show him girls!” We lifted our mini-skirts and gave them a flash; eyes bulged and jaws dropped.

“But this is the real thing we have here,” Araqiel explained, “it was utilized to ensure fidelity, not to entice poor boys like us. This particular belt could not be worn, however, for more than a couple days at a time. Not only did abrasions and lacerations result from the rubbing of the iron, but sepsis occurred from exposure to toxic accumulations.

“Moving on, this one is the Heretic Fork. Two of the sharp points of the fork are stuck into the throat and the other two are poked into the sternum bone. As you can see the fork is held in place by a ‘necklace.’ The forkee could only move his or her head and mumble. They were supposed to mumble ‘abiuro’ which means ‘I recant’ and, as you will notice, is engraved on one side of the fork. If they didn't recant with that word, at least in the case of the Spanish Inquisition, they were declared an ‘impenitent heretic,’ dressed in the appropriate attire and led to the stake to be burned. Those overseeing the Roman Inquisition didn’t bother with the costume.

“Anybody into fruit? This is The Pear. It could be used orally, rectally or vaginally. Inserting the instrument in the appropriate orifice, the screw was expanded, mutilating the inside of the cavity in question. Homosexual males got the Pear up the ass and women who consorted with Satan and his minions got it vaginally.”

“Holy shit!” Angela squealed, “I thought Big Bob was bad, but this is really, really bad.”

“What is Big Bob?” Araqiel inquired innocently.

“It’s a 13 inch double-dong dildo,” Angela replied coyly.

Araqiel ignored the comment and continued. “Let’s talk about The Boots, also known as ‘bootikens’ or in Scotland, as ‘cashielans.’ The wedges fit the legs from the ankles to the knees. A large, heavy hammer is used to pound the wedges and drive them closer together. Each time the hammer is struck, a question is asked. The wedges obviously cut through the skin with little difficulty and then crush the bone, until the marrow oozes out.”

“Hey, I heard of those,” I interrupted. “The most famous and well documented use of The Boots was that of Urbain Grandier. When he cried out to God, they said he was calling Satan. Father Grandier, a priest in France, was accused of witchcraft by a bunch of penguins, ‘er I mean Ursuline nuns. The good priest had engaged in numerous sexual liasons and really pissed off Cardinal Richelieu. The penguins did their fake orgasm routine and claimed Grandier sent the demons to possess them. The exorcist, one Father Mignon, as in filet, encouraged the nuns to get wild and crazy.”

“You are quite right,” Araqiel agreed. I can recall a passage from a book on the subject, ‘The History of the Devils of Loudon,’ which stated, ‘The nuns struck their chests and backs with their heads, as if they had their necks broken, and with inconceivable rapidity. They twisted their arms at the joints of the shoulder, the elbow, or the wrist, two or three times around. Lying on their stomachs, they joined the palms of their hands to the soles of their feet; their tongues issued suddenly from their mouths, horribly swollen, black, hard, and covered with pimples, and yet while in this state they spoke distinctly. They threw themselves back till their heads touched their feet, and walked in this position with wonderful rapidity, and for a long time. They …’ What?” Angela had raised her hand, requesting to speak.

“Hey,” Angela blurted tongue-in-cheek, “this sounds just like the routine I did on the Benny Hinn show. But not to worry, he healed me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Angela!” I demanded. “I want to hear the rest of this.”

“My pleasure,” Araqiel responded, “to please you more. ‘They uttered cries so horrible and so loud that nothing like it was ever heard before. They made use of expressions so indecent as to shame the most debauched of men, while their acts, both in exposing themselves and inviting lewd behavior from those present would have astonished the inmates of the lowest brothels in the country.’ You’ll never guess what happened to Grandier because of this testimony.”

“The Pear?” I guessed.

“Nope. Grandier was eventually burned without the usual mercy of being strangled first. This debacle offered proof of demonic possession to the gullible.”

Araqiel then led us into a large room that contained coffins. He began to advertise the selection. “This is the Smyrna. As you can see it is dove white, constructed with 18 guage permaslealer. It is a half couch eterna-rest adjustable bedding system. The top is accented with a golden hand brushed finish and gilt highlights. The uniquely designed interior centers on an illuminated grotto, displaying the Madonna, offset by richly tailored pearl white crepe in a classic Normandy design.

“This one is the Ephesus. I really like this slate blue finish with black and gold accent tints. Notice the hand cast antique silver-tone psalm cornices and silver/gold swing bar handles. Here we have the Pergamos and its classic brushed silver finish. The interior is decorated with an embroidered veteran’s memorial wreath head panel, set off by red, white and blue accent bunting.”

Suzanne interrupted, “Obviously these coffins are named after the seven churches of Revelation, chapters 2 and 3.”

“Yes, indeed they are. This one is the Thyatira. The planked hand rubbed oak in a richly grained honey finish is quite beautiful. The Sardis is a solid 32 ounce bronze permasealer construction brushed in natural finish. This one, the Philadelphia, also is bronze, tuscan to be exact, with detailed scrollwork accents. The Laodicea is premium stainless steel permasealer in a stately brushed natural finish with subtle silver hued highlights. Notice the rounded Grecian corners.”

“Why don’t you hop in one of coffins and check it out?” Sparky suggested.

“What the fuck?” Angela screamed. “That sounds rather morbid. What, do you think we are vampires?”

Sparky joked, “Didn’t you girls ever get stiffed in coffins? Don’t knock it unless you have tried it. Let me sing you a little song, entitled ‘Necrophilia Dominae.’ Goes like this …

Something’s rotten deep inside Need some more formaldehyde Eyes are turning much too blue Don’t know what’s come over you

Necrophilia dominae Spiritus sanctus A-OK Necrophilia dominae

Skin’s a lovely shade of gray Rigor mortis here to stay You’re the only stiff for me Can’t wait for the autopsy

Necrophilia dominae Spiritus sanctus A-OK Necrophilia dominae

Get too loose I’ll sew it shut Get my kicks from your dead butt You are one hot worm bitch How I love postmortem twitch

Necrophilia dominae Spiritus sanctus A-OK Necrophilia dominae Spiritus sanctus A-OK Necrophilia dominae”

“That song is sooo disgusting,” Suzanne whined, “you are sick, sick, sick. That’s probably the only way you can get a woman, pick her up at the morgue.”

“Yeah, really,” Sparky chuckled. “Reminds me of the movie ‘Night Shift’ where Michael Keaton and Fonzie pimp out of a morgue.”

“Hey,” Angela chimed in, “that’s the flick where Shelley long plays a good-hearted hooker. Doh!”

“Necrophilia is big fucking business these days you know,” Araqiel stated solemnly.

Jeremy had disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a large pitcher of a reddish liquid and six highball glasses.

“What is this?” Angela asked as she took a sip.

“It’s Angeldew,” Araqiel responded, “an aphrodisiac consisting of blood, hashish and Nephilim semen.”

“Tastes like a Strawberry Quick to me,” offered Suzanne. “I believe the ingredients are strawberry schnapps, Irish cream, grenadine and milk.”

“Actually,” I observed, “I would prefer the hashish in mine. I don’t know about the other stuff, the blood and Nephilim semen. Just give me a little Cannabis Sativa, the product of which is hashish. In most places it is better known by its Mexican name, marijuana; the same product that only a few decades ago induced millions of women to engage in free love. It is going to happen again. If you thought crazed, naked, sex-starved women were happening then, just wait until the Nephilim bring this new brew Angeldew around.”

“Yes indeed,” Angela said, picking up where I left off, “there are many documented reports over the past several thousand years of hashish being utilized as an aphrodisiac, often in combination with other substances. Technology has permitted Tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC, the psychoactive component, to be extracted and used to dramatically intensify the effect. What the Nephilim were able to accomplish, down there in their brewery in the abyss, is quite phenomenal. Their new and improved Angeldew will be coming to you soon in bottles, cans, cartons and popsicles in the frozen form.”

Angela, Suzanne and I became extremely groggy. “I have to lie down,” Suzanne whispered wearily. Angela and I nodded in agreement.

“There is no place to lie down, except for the coffins,” Araqiel advised.

“Oh, what the hell,” Suzanne sighed, and climbed in one of the coffins. Angela and I each selected a coffin and followed her lead.

Jeremy winked at Araqiel and Sparky. He had slipped a Rohynol tablet in each of our drinks. Rohynol, a brand name for flunitrazepam, similar to valium but many times stronger, and better known as Roofies, Rib or Rope; the date rape drug of choice.

Angela, Suzanne and I were way beyond yawning and slumber as Araqiel, Sparky and Jeremy repeatedly violated us, vaginally, orally and anally as we lay unconscious in the coffins.

When we finally came to around noon the next morning, Araqiel, Sparky and Jeremy were no where to be found. Suzanne seemed extremely uncomfortable and in pain.

“I don’t think they used lube,” Angela offered, “but who can remember? My ass doesn’t feel all that great either.”