Story: SB150 Curiosity


Posted by Sawney Beane on September 12, 2007 at 23:24:21:

The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #150

CURIOSITY

by Sawney Beane

11 August 2007

1,250 words

DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.

WARNING: This story contains scenes of non-consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do! Something of a stream of consciousness story that came out very quickly.
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It wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it. It was curiosity that did it.

Katrina and I had wild sex. We always did. As usual, I drifted off to sleep exhaustedly next to her. And I must have tired her out as well because she also fell asleep. When I woke up, she was there beside me. Naked and beautiful on her back, arms outstretched as if she were trying to hug the world. I just watched her.

And I was fascinated. I thought about her. I really began to think about her. She was truly a beautiful woman. Soft smooth gently tanned skin covering a long lithe body, her hair a long lustrous black mane, and another tiny well-groomed patch of black hair lower down. The hypnotic dark eyes were closed, but I was still mesmerized by her.

And then I looked closer. Her navel, so tasty, so delicate, was distinct dimple on the smoother expanse of her well-toned belly. I could see the outline of her ribs under her skin. I saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest and shapely breasts.

And then the curiosity began to take over. They say beauty comes from the inside. How could the inside be more beautiful than this perfect exterior? I wondered what lay beneath that flawless skin. What was the soul of my love really like?

At this point I didn't know what I was doing. But I had to do it. I had to see the true Katrina. I had to see beyond the beautiful exterior. I had to see! There was a sharp knife in the kitchen. She was too sound asleep to wake up when I slipped out of bed and ran to get it.

And then I came back with my prize, the curiosity burning in my mind more fiercely than ever. I placed the tip of the knife just below her navel. She stirred briefly but went back to sleep as the steel touched her vulnerable flesh. But she woke up for real when the tip of the blade slid effortlessly into her yielding belly. Just a few millimetres, but it was enough to bring her to full consciousness and alarm.

"Jesus, what the fuck are you doing!" she began, but it became an incomprehensible scream as the blade slid in another centimetre or so. This was interfering with my investigation, and I was not so out of control as to imagine that her incessant screaming wouldn't wake the neighbourhood. I reflexively grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the bedside table and whacked her in the forehead with it. It was brutal, but she got the message and slumped back into her peaceful slumber.

I wanted to resume my investigation, and I knew that the effects of the blow would not last, so I decided she needed to be restrained. I tied her wrists to the headboard and her ankles to the footplate. Now she really was spread-eagled on the bed, and the image was amazing. I wanted to fuck her again, but it was somehow not an appropriate time. I knew she would wake up and begin her howling again, so I found some stockings and gagged her securely with them. Now she could scream all she wanted, and it wouldn't interfere with my mission.

I found the knife again and resumed my incision. She woke up more gradually this time, and in some ways she was more subdued, struggling somewhat against her bonds but helpless. I almost felt sorry for her, but she did have to respect my needs.

The middle of her belly slid open effortlessly. The navel presented a small obstacle, but it was duly bisected, and I ran the incision on up to the base of her breastbone. Then I reached into her to find what I was looking for. Blood was covering her and me already, of course. Somehow it only fuelled my desire to see more of her true self.

The first thing I found were her intestines. Coil after coil of surprisingly slimy pinkish grey hoses slithered out of her like wet snakes entangling my limbs. I smiled at my discovery. She just gurgled into her stockings and rolled her eyes; she never did think much of my intellectual exploits. I found stomach, liver, kidneys and all sorts of unimaginable treasures in her belly.

Then I turned my attention her breasts. Every man is fascinated with breasts. Her large delicious ones turned me on and fuelled my desire. Now, with the taste of blood on my lips, I wanted to taste her nipples. And I got a bit carried away when my cruel teeth bit down on the delicate flesh. I chewed the raw thing hungrily and knew that she was as delicious as she was beautiful. The tip of my knife sliced into one of her globes and found gooey fatty tissue, which tasted sweet and silky. I licked at her grievous wound for a while and then desired to see what was behind and sliced the other breast entirely off close to her chest.

She gurgled more fiercely, but the fire was dying in her eyes. I think she was getting the hang of this science. Anyway, I returned to her belly and dug out her uterus, at least I think that's what it was. She always wanted kids, but I couldn't imagine being a father. Seemed a silly trifling bit of plumbing to keep inside her. I looked at the bloody abdomen and wondered again about the legs.

I slid the knife into the skin of one long meaty thigh. I peeled back the skin from the incision and looked at the muscles beneath. She tried to kick with the bound leg, and I watched the muscles flex amazingly in one direction and then in the opposite direction. How kind of her to help me in my investigations.

By this time, even my curiosity could not over power the sexual desire that was building up in me. I pierced her again but without the knife this time. Her womanhood was wet but in truth I knew not whether it was from arousal or just blood that had flowed into her slit. In any case, I was furious in my lovemaking. I think she appreciated it. It's hard to fake groans and moans like that.

Then, my curiosity and my passion sated, I hugged her body and fell asleep beside her. I woke up soon afterwards to find the bed covered in blood. And her intestines had entwined my body disgustingly, but I did not move. Instead I stared at her.

She was silent. Her chest continued to rise and fall slowly, but somehow the motion was less smooth than before. Her whole body twitched slightly every so often. The silence was broken by a soft gurgling in the back of her throat. She's no longer struggling, but I didn't untie her.

Instead I stared at her body. It was different now. And like humpty dumpty, I could not put her back together again. The perfect exterior would never be restored; it had to be sacrificed to satisfy my curiosity.

I know it has killed her. I know I will be blamed. I don't know if it was worth it, but what choice did I have? I had to see. I had to know the true Kat. My tears turn red as they drip onto the blood stained bed and my dying lover.