Posted by Sawney Beane on May 14, 2006 at 02:58:34:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #20
MY FIRST TIME
by Sawney Beane
26 October 1994, 5&7 March 1995
2,834 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 consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is from a very old idea of mine, but the girl is modelled after a picture from the inside front cover of the October 15th, 1992 issue of Rolling Stone magazine (RS 641), which I found very inspirational. The story itself is rather a toned down version of the reluctant diner and his eager dinner motif. The diner is not entirely reluctant since he buys the girl for his meal, but he is having second thoughts and is very nervous. The girl, on the other hand, is basically the same as the women from SB#2 and SB#7, and she has the same motivations.
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"Well, will I do, or do you need me to take my clothes off before you can decide?" She did not try to conceal her impatience.
I stared dumbly at the beautiful woman in my doorway for a moment. Her attitude had taken me quite off guard. I had not expected it to be this way. I finally found my voice, "Yes, yes, you're much better than I expected; come in please." She did so while allowing herself a slight smile.
She was really very beautiful. I had ordered a low-price woman, which was all I could afford even after saving for two whole years. The upper and middle price range women seemed forever beyond my grasp. But, here, the woman delivered to me seemed to be greatly under priced. I began to wonder what was wrong with her.
The girl instructed me to deliver payment for her services to the driver of the delivery car in my driveway. I obeyed wordlessly, signing the receipt of delivery and turning over the better part of my fortune to a gruff man in sunglasses and leather. The sunglasses seemed unnecessary since it was a nearly dark early evening in wintertime. He backed the Camaro out of the driveway after warning me to treat her nicely and informing me that he would be back to pick her up at eight o'clock sharp the next morning and that I was not to keep him waiting. I noticed the sign on the car door which read "Lenz's Feminine Products: purveyors of fine women since 1998 - 30 minute delivery guaranteed!" I returned to the house a poorer man.
She'd situated herself in the middle of my living room floor, disdaining the many chairs and a sofa. There was something divinely beautiful about her then. She sat resting her head on her right hand, while her right elbow was supported by her right knee. She wore faded blue jeans that were a bit frayed about the ankles near surprisingly heavy black leather boots. A black leather jacket slid partly down her left arm, revealing the tanned skin of an incredible shoulder. A thin white tank top was visible under the jacket, and its shoulder strap rested on a nicely prominent collarbone. A small breast was visible through the tank top with a faintly visible dark area exquisitely indicating the location of her nipple. Her long straight dark brown hair framed a face that was both innocent and sophisticated. Large brown eyes stared at me with ambiguous emotion. Her face contained caution, impatience, hostility, contentment, and confidence. A metal cross hung from a black cord around her neck.
She looked very much like a motorcycle gang girlfriend, but she was much too clean for that. In fact, she was scrupulously clean despite her attire. Lenz's was known for that. Even her apparently casual dress seemed purposeful down to the twisted shoulder strap on her tank top. She was definitely no low-price whore. I was apparently the beneficiary of a mistake.
I sat on the floor next to her and tried to figure out what to do next. I'd read the instruction manual published by Lenz's about a million times, but the proper next move eluded me. "Um..would you like a drink?" I asked weakly.
She smiled with a sort of condescending amusement and replied, "Is that what you wanted me here for?"
"Not entirely," I responded with a miserable attempt at a sly smile.
"Could we get down to business then; I'm not much for small talk."
I was a bit startled, but I could never be offended by a girl that beautiful. "OK, well, how do we start? I've never done this before."
Suddenly, her attitude softened. I guess she noticed my confusion and took pity on me. "It's my third time. Maybe I will have that drink. Do you have a Coke?"
"Sure." I smiled and trotted off to the kitchen to get her a Coke and me a vodka. I didn't even notice the strangeness of her statement.
When I returned, she had discarded much of her clothing in a pile in the corner. Gone were the boots, jacket, and tank top. She sat there in jeans and her cross necklace. I saw for the first time a leather anklet next to a perfect bare foot. She was turned halfway away from me, and I could see her spine through the beautiful skin of her back. But one of her small but perfect breasts was visible as well. I've never met a more beautiful woman before or since. She looked over her shoulder with another inscrutable expression.
She accepted the Coke graciously and sat down sideways on the sofa. I sat next to her feet on the opposite end and sipped my drink pensively. It became difficult to decide whether to stare at her breasts or at her gorgeous face. I tried out of politeness to avoid both options.
"My name's Kim, by the way." Her abrupt introduction reminded me that I had failed to introduce myself.
"I'm Tom," I said, "May I ask why you're here?"
"I was under the impression that you ordered a Budget-grade petite Caucasian brunette from Lenz's."
"Um...yes, but that's not what I meant. Why is someone as gorgeous as you working for Lenz's?"
"That's not a polite question; didn't you read the instruction booklet before ordering?"
I could have kicked myself. "Yes, I forgot. I'm sorry."
She smiled playfully, "I'll answer it anyway if you want."
"Please, if you don't mind."
"It's not very exciting," she replied with a slight frown, "eight kids, no money, little food, a mother with no other options."
"So you got drafted to raise money to feed your family?"
"No, I volunteered."
"Very altruistic of you."
"Not at all. I did it for selfish reasons."
"Excuse me?"
"I wanted to work for Lenz's."
"Why?" I was more shocked than I should have been.
"Why not? What else am I going to do in this miserable world?"
"You could do lots of things!"
"Nothing I care to waste time on. Why are you trying to talk me out of it anyway? Aren't you the customer I've come to serve? Or are you one of those who doesn't get turned on unless your whore goes kicking and screaming all the way?" I couldn't tell if her irritation was feigned or sincere.
"No, no, I'm sorry. I just don't understand why anyone would want to...you know."
"Can't even say it?" she smiled a patient but mocking smile, "I can't understand why anyone wouldn't want to. Everything else is so awful and dull."
I was speechless for a few moments. She wasn't behaving as I'd expected her to, but then I don't know what I was expecting. I suppose I hadn't thought it out well enough.
"Are they all like you?" I finally asked.
"She laughed slightly. "No, no, most of them are weepy martyr types. Can't bear to look at them most of the time."
She'd finished her Coke by then and crushed the can. After tossing it across the room, she stretched herself out and dropped her feet into my lap. While lazily rubbing her toes across my belly, she said, "So, you ready to go yet? I'd like to get started as soon as we can."
"Uh...yes, OK." I still didn't know what to do. I took one of her feet in my hand and rubbed it gently. It was warm and soft. I wanted to take my time, but she had different ideas. She tolerated my foot rub for a few minutes, perhaps even enjoying it a bit. Then she jumped up and gracefully removed her jeans and cotton panties. I can't even describe my thoughts as I saw this vision fully nude. Heaven couldn't be much better.
"C'mon, stud, where's the bedroom?" She dragged me to bed and ripped my clothes off. And then we did it. It was short, but I enjoyed it immensely. Her eagerness was clearly not a sign of her enjoying sex, however. She seemed to want to get it over with as fast as possible. But that didn't prevent me from enjoying my first sexual intercourse (yes, I admit I was a thirty-two year old virgin). When I was done, I rolled over and tried to have a conversation.
"How does Lenz's manage to deliver in 30 minutes?"
"They've got what they call the Ready Room. All during business hours one representative woman from each of the available types waits there all ready to go when a driver comes by with the right order form. They have an additional girl of each type in her apartment upstairs on call to replace anyone who gets sent out."
"What if you order an unusual type?"
"You didn't read the fine print; under the '30 minute delivery guaranteed!' it says 'on standard selections only'. They'll get you anything you order, but some really whacked out selections take up to a month to find and deliver."
"I see," I replied. After a moment of silence, I changed the subject slightly. "You said this was your third time?"
"Yes, I was returned twice."
"You're kidding!"
"Yes, I was Deluxe-grade the first time. After I was returned, of course, I was demoted to Quality-grade. Fortunately for you, the second guy returned me as well. That's why I'm now Budget-grade."
"What didn't they like about you?"
"Bad attitude; I asked them to skip the sex and get right down to business."
"Really? Why'd you do it with me?"
I'd hoped she'd say it was because she liked me better, but she didn't. "I can't get sent back again, " she said, "I couldn't bear to wait that much longer before my job will be done." She stared into the distance for a moment and added, "I should have put up with it the first time; then I'd be done by now."
I wanted to talk more, but she would have none of it. She dragged me out of bed and made me show her where my $99.95 deluxe preparation and restraint board was. It was in the kitchen.
When she saw it, she was appalled. "God, Tom, you're going to do me with that cheap plastic discount store thing?"
"Sorry, what did you expect?" I was ashamed that I couldn't afford equipment nice enough to do her justice.
She calmed down. "Don't worry, I'm sure it's functional. Let's go."
I acted as if in a dream as she forced me to mount the restraining board with its special clamps on the kitchen table. It was designed to pivot from flat on the table to leaning vertically against it. Then I strapped her into it. I securely immobilized her ankles, wrists, waist, and upper arms with leather straps. I pulled her hair back and secured the cloth strap across her forehead. She took on the impatient demeanour of a child on Christmas morning and urged me constantly to move faster. It was very surreal.
"Get the knife," she demanded.
I obeyed slower than she would have liked. I also found the instruction manual and tried to figure out how to do the unspeakable.
When I returned to her, she smiled sweetly. "Tom, can I ask you a big favour?"
"Anything," I replied.
"Cut my throat first."
"You'll die!" I was shocked by her directness.
She rolled her big dark eyes before replying. "That's the general idea."
"But the book says I'm supposed to remove your breasts first while you're vertical. Then I'm supposed to move the board to a horizontal position before I cut open your belly and do all sorts of things in there." I said while reading the instructions. That seemed odd. I hadn't remembered it that way.
"That book was written by an evil person; do you have any idea how painful that would be? You can follow the directions after I go to sleep."
"Aren't you afraid of death at all?"
"No, that doesn't bother me. I'm terrified of pain though. That's why I want you to slit my throat right away."
"I'd think you'd want to live if you're so afraid of pain."
"Are you kidding? What's the pain of a slit jugular compared to the pain of living?"
I reluctantly brushed her long brown hair out of the way and placed the blade against her smooth white throat. "At least you'll be going to Heaven," I remarked noticing her crucifix once again.
"God, I hope not," she murmured.
I pulled the knife back and exclaimed, "What!"
She understood and said, "The cross is just an ornament. They gave it to me at Lenz's."
"But how could you desire death unless you want to go to Heaven?"
"You don't understand. I don't want to do anything. I want to sleep forever. I hope there's no God, no Heaven, no Hell, nothing. I want to cease to exist."
I was shocked by this, but I maintained enough sense to realize that she would not appreciate me trying to convert her.
"Please, just do it now," she said wearily, "It's really what I want."
I placed the knife against her throat again, and she closed her eyes with an expectant sigh. Five minutes later, she opened them again. I just couldn't do it. Not only was it a horrible destruction of beauty, but it was killing an unsaved person.
She looked at me with big brown pleading eyes. "Why won't you do it?"
"I can't destroy such beauty!"
"I can't help being beautiful. Is it fair that I should be forced to live a life I don't enjoy just because you think I'm beautiful?"
"No, but I just can't."
"You must. Please. If I've given you any pleasure at all, please, please do me this favour. It is really the most merciful thing you can do for me."
I placed the knife to her throat for the last time, and both of us closed our eyes. I moved my hand slightly, while trying not to think about it and felt the splash of a warm liquid against my chest. She relaxed immediately with a sigh that wordlessly conveyed her eternal gratitude. The knife fell to the floor with a horrible clatter, and time stretched out interminably. I pressed my lips to her leaking neck and tasted the liquid life flowing out of her in horrid spurts. The instruction book had told me to do that.
I drank and drank. I thought she would never run out of blood. By the time the flow stopped, she'd been unconscious for a long time. When I released her neck from my jaws, her pale body slumped forward slightly against the leather straps binding her to the preparation board. Sadness overwhelmed me.
I spent most of the night with a knife in my hand and the instruction book in front of my face. It took that long to get all of the flesh off of her bones. I wrapped each piece carefully and put it in the freezer. According to the rules of Lenz's, I get to keep all of the meat as well as her hair and skull. But I have to return the rest of her bones and her clothing. I didn't want to piss off the burly deliveryman who was coming to get these things. I've never had a sadder night.
On the positive side, her flesh is the tenderest, tastiest thing I've ever eaten. Quite a bit of her is still in my freezer. I think I'll have a bit of her thigh for dinner tonight. But it's almost too horrible to think about what I destroyed to get this manna.
She was sincere in her desire to die, however. It's what she wanted. What was I to do? I don't know why I'm being such a baby about all of this. I should have thought about it beforehand. After all, I did buy her primarily for the purpose of killing and eating her. I'd fantasized about it for years before I had my opportunity. But it wasn't until I actually had to do it that I realized how horrible it really is. Fantasy and reality are two very different things.
It's strange though. Her willingness unnerved me. On the other hand, I would have been even more troubled by snuffing the life of an unwilling victim. I'm not sure how I was expecting her to behave.
I'm not saving my money for a second Lenz's woman. I'll never kill anyone ever again. I just can't do it. I wish I'd never done it the first time. And for anyone thinking about buying a girl for this purpose, please, please, think very hard about what you're doing. Think about what it means to kill a woman, even if she wants you to do it. Don't be fooled by the flashy advertisements.
And, Kim, I hope your rest is as fulfilling as you'd hoped it would be.