The Decapitation Party

[Published in Nasty Piece of Work #7]

Cedric just wasn't the same after being decapitated. He sat in the armchair, headless and immobile, with warm blood bubbling from the gaping point of separation. I had never known him to be so silent, and I recall thinking to myself; I ought to have beheaded my husband a long time ago.
Samantha was the first to arrive. I wasn't really surprised, for I always regarded her as the most inquisitive of my close friends. Cedric remained in the chair, as I didn't have the heart to remove his lifeless form, and what's more I didn't possess the strength to do so.
"Where is he then?" Samantha enquired with a sinister enthusiasm, rushing past me through the hallway and heading directly for the lounge.
I had placed the head on the coffee table beside the armchair, after I had composed myself of course, as immediately after I had committed the foul deed I found that my body was shaking violently. A claret pool spread across the formica, and I conjectured that an abnormal amount of cleaning would be eventually required. I watched Samantha intently, curious as to how she would react upon discovering Cedric in his headless state.
"Oh, my God!" she screamed, and I was almost forced to laugh facetiously, for her facial expression was both incredulous and fantastic.
"You didn't believe me, did you?" I said.
She shook her head, apparently horror-stricken and unable to speak, standing stark still mere feet from the deceased body slumped in the chair. His blood trickled over his neck and on to his shirt, dark red and as thick as treacle.
"What made you do it, Lucy?" she asked with a trembling voice, obviously having regained her speaking abilities.
I recreated the events in my mind, before beginning to relate the freak occurrence to my friend. It began like this; Cedric disturbingly preferred the television to my company. Indeed he was in the act of watching some inane trash when the argument started. We seemed to quarrel more and more as the weeks passed, but I never expected our verbal combat to reach such a delirious conclusion.
"But surely that's no reason to slice off his head," debated Samantha.
"Perhaps not; but let me finish my story."
Most times our contentious exchange of views resorted to sex. I don't mean we ended up wrapped in each other's arms and overcome with a morbid passion, as I regard that as both foolhardy and unexciting. No, my meaning is that we began to argue on that subject, and that was when things got distressingly chaotic. Cedric revealed some frightful and sickening home truths concerning our shared intimacies, and I found myself buried beneath an avalanche of emotion.
"So what happened?" asked Samantha.
I then knew she was back to her usual prying self, as she was practically begging with her eyes for me to relinquish the gory details. However, before I was able to describe the bloodshed that took place in the lounge I heard the doorbell sound a second time. This caused us both to literally jump in fright, and I sort of half-expected Cedric to do the same, but then I realized how silly was that particular notion.
It was my other friend Rachel, and I beckoned her inside, taking the bottle of wine she presented to me. I was shocked to receive such an offering, but then it dawned on me that the gathering I had arranged following the gruesome slaying, the get-together procured by way of a series of surreptitious telephone calls, could indeed be classed as an unholy celebration of my newly-discovered freedom.
"Jesus!" cried Rachel upon viewing Cedric's corpse, and she collapsed on to the settee. "I think I need a drink."
I obliged; as a matter of fact I hadn't realized until then that I too required a shot of some alcohol-based beverage.
"Put some music on," Samantha urged me.
I found the proceedings most macabre at that point, as I selected Lionel Richie from my extensive compact disc collection. The wine, the music, the brandy that Rachel and I began to share; it was turning into a party, an unnatural celebration of my husband's savage death.
I continued the devilish tale I was recounting to Samantha just prior to Rachel's arrival. It was one of those long-handled axes that Cedric kept in the garage for some unknown reason I could never understand, as he never seemed to use the implement. Because of that the hefty tool was quite sharp, but even then it took some minutes before the head was severed completely. Although my heart was pounding inside my chest I committed the act with great ease and abandon, with little thought of the
agonising consequences, both for myself and for Cedric. It was only after I placed his dripping head upon the table that I came to my senses, and I dashed to the bathroom to vomit horrendously.
"So what happens now?" said Samantha.
"God knows. I just feel so confused."
Rachel was silently demolishing the brandy, eyeing Cedric's cold features as she drank her way to oblivion. She was certainly the quiet type, and I didn't expect any hysterics from her. In fact I reckoned the both of them were taking the whole thing rather calmly. I wondered how my third friend would react to facing the decapitated Cedric.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," explained Melinda as she crossed the threshold with a bottle of pinot noir in her hand, "Glenn insisted on giving me a good rogering before I left. You know what he's like!"
Melinda was bubbly and energetic, and completely gorgeous. I'd lost count of how many men she had been involved with, but every one of them was a nefarious character in one way or another. She always dressed in as little clothing as she could get away with, and underwear was entirely out of the question as far as she was concerned.
"Let's see then; is it true?" she remarked as she made her way along the hallway. "Oh, Lucy. I don't believe it!"
It was all rather weird. Lionel Richie was singing, Samantha was observing Cedric with a terrible awe, Rachel was guzzling the spirit, and Melinda was standing in front of my unfortunate partner. My trio of friends, all sharing my horrible grief. At that moment I felt most relieved to have such faithful companions.
"You well and truly did it then, didn't you, Lucy?" said Melinda. "Come on, get that booze out. Let's have a party!"
She was insatiable, dressed in her little white dress, her high heels, and nothing much else. From that moment onwards we began to really let our hair down. I put on more raucous music, Rachel organised the spirits and the wine, and Samantha remained with Cedric, reluctant to leave him for some unspeakable reason, bearing a strange fascination for his bleeding head and the stump of his neck.
"It must have taken a lot of guts to do such a thing," said Samantha, her eyes still fixed on Cedric's decapitated head.
"That's right," said Melinda, "I wouldn't mind doing the same to Glenn, although it wouldn't affect his brain that much."
As I admired the subtlety of her fiendish joke I found myself recalling yet again the gross misdeed I had performed earlier; it was difficult to erase such a wrongdoing from my mind. I pictured an image of myself swinging the bloodied axe time after time, connecting with Cedric's opened neck, the awful gurgling sounds that emanated from the back of his throat. Then my thoughts were interrupted by Samantha.
"Oh, my God!" she cried. "His eyes moved!"
We all turned abruptly to face Cedric's head. At first I thought it was the drink causing her eyes to play tricks on her, but the events that followed proved my supposition to be incorrect.
"That's impossible," said Melinda. "There's no way his eyes could move."
"You're imagining things," I pointed out to her.
"Look!" Rachel suddenly screamed, pointing to my deceased husband's groin area.
Our attentions were then turned in that direction, and I was horrified to observe the unique protuberance at the front of his trousers.
"Christ, he's got a hard-on!" said Melinda.
"He can't have," I protested, "I've never heard of that happening before, have you? It's so weird."
Trust Melinda to be the one to investigate, as she knelt before Cedric and began to unzip him. I cringed at her outlandish behaviour, blaming the demon drink for her apparent waywardness. Then I gasped, for there before the four of us was Cedric's abnormal blue veiner!
"I've heard of rigor mortis but this is ridiculous," joked Melinda, as she held the hardness in her hand. Then I spotted a certain mischief in her eyes. "How about if I give him one last hand job?"
Samantha shrieked with morbid laughter. "I bet you wouldn't."
Melinda was true to her word as she started to masturbate Cedric's posthumous erection, her hand gripping him and moving up and down rapidly. I myself was thunderstruck at such a forbidding act, and I viewed the freakish goings-on with disbelief.
"I dare you to suck it," said Samantha.
Melinda was such a capricious person I wasn't sure whether she would adhere to the suggestion, but she must have surely been in a party mood that night because she indeed became tempted to absorb the deathly penis within her hungry mouth. However, that was not the end of the night's proceedings, not by a long distance, for further chilling incidents awaited the four of us, incidents that would prove to change the course of our lives in a hellish manner.
I myself was naturally astounded when I witnessed Cedric's arms miraculously return to life, his hands clasping Melinda's head to shove her face further into his groin. Needless to say I was unable to comprehend the horror of the situation at that point in time. The three of us appeared to cry out in unison, obviously shocked at such a fascinating occurrence. What happened next only intensified the weirdness of the situation.
"Look at his face," yelled Rachel, who was still brandishing the bottle of brandy, "his eyes are moving, and so is his mouth."
She was correct; his face had also magically assumed a living countenance, the twitching of the eyebrows and the protrusion of his tongue upon his lips unmistakeable. I began to consider what other sinister happenings would take place during the remainder of the evening.
As for Melinda, she started to assume the identity of some wicked vixen, for I was astonished when she ceased her oral pleasures and clambered upon Cedric's lap, hoisting her short dress to reveal no briefs, and incredibly lowering herself on to his erection to take part in a sickening act of necrophilic intercourse. Strangely I found her actions to be most erotic, as I watched with a confused interest.
With loud rock music now playing and Rachel emptying the brandy bottle with a thirsty relish, Samantha suddenly decided to join in the satanic sexual gratification. She sprang from her sitting position in the opposite armchair and snatched Cedric's head from the coffee table, then in one swift movement removed her briefs and began to use the decapitated object as some form of grotesque dildo, grinding his face between her splayed thighs. I shall never forget the inhuman expression she displayed, and I truly thought that I was trapped inside a weird nightmare. At first I refused to believe that he was actually delivering cunnilingual delights to Samantha, but when she adjusted her position slightly I spotted Cedric's tongue endeavouring to reach out for her gleaming vulva, and I shuddered at the macabre sight.
At the same time Melinda was still riding him, with his hands holding her at each side, steadying her position upon his lap. Yes; his arms were alive, and so was his head. I was naturally spellbound, imagining I had been secretly transported to some monstrous hell. My friends didn't appear to realize the haunting implications of what was happening in that room, as if a strange voodoo spell had been cast upon the three of them.
Soon it was Rachel's turn to be overcome by the carnal magic which seemed to be present that night. Melinda climbed from off Cedric's knees, apparently suffering from a form of cramp, but before she was able to resume her enjoyment Rachel left the settee to take over, grabbing the still-hard penis and beginning to suck and slurp with a savage abandon, taking the whole six inches into her mouth. She was sucking him in a deeply frenzied manner; well they do say the quiet ones are the worst.
Before long he ejaculated, but still Rachel kept his erection inside her mouth, not allowing him to withdraw until she was satisfied completely. Samantha too seemed to have finished receiving pleasure from the head, returning it to the table and pulling her briefs back on. All manner of eroticism came to a close, and a peaceful air pervaded; even the compact disc had reached its conclusion. There was no more movement from Cedric, not ever in fact, his arms resting by his sides once more, his face as cold and unnerving as before, and his penis enclosed within his trousers, limp and still, and never again did he demonstrate any sign of life. The terrifying delirium my friends had experienced had ceased, and I for one was vastly relieved.
I suppose I could have been tempted to join in the sexual reverie, to welcome a series of immensely enjoyable orgasms the like of which I had not experienced before, but such things only seem to occur in story books; or so I believed at the time. Little did I realize that in the near future I would partake in similar examples of astounding behaviour; for yes, I was destined to attend three additional decapitation parties during the weeks that followed.