Posted by Sawney Beane on October 09, 2006 at 23:19:28:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #80
LAST RIGHTS
by Sawney Beane
21 October 2001
2,167 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 mutilation, snuff, and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one's a bit crudely written and all too gory but a decent concept.
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"Have you ever done this before?" She sounded a bit nervous, but that was understandable.
He smiled and replied, "No, this is my first time."
"Mine too," she said meekly.
He politely ignored the obviousness of her statement. "We can lose our virginity together."
"Yes." She sounded a bit disappointed.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No, it's just that a girl sometimes wants a guy with some... you know... experience."
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
"I know, but you only get one chance. What if you make a mistake."
"I won't. You'll be great."
She smiled, but it was only half-hearted.
"Are you thinking of backing out?"
"No, I still want to go through with it." She tried to smile reassuringly. The fact that she tried said a lot.
"Good, because I have invited so many people to this little party, and they're looking forward to the best evening of their lives."
"And of mine."
"Definitely." He finished what he was doing at the counter and turned to look her over. "You'd better get your clothes off," he instructed her. "We're on a tight schedule."
She nodded and began to undress, methodically removing each piece of clothing and folding it in a pile on one of the kitchen chairs.
He admired her as she revealed more and more of her delicious body. She was quite the catch, he thought. She was twenty-three with golden blonde hair, big blue eyes, nice round breasts and a trim belly. She made his mouth water just looking at her.
A few minutes later, she stood nude in the kitchen standing unashamedly with her arms at her sides awaiting further instructions. He was in heaven.
"Why don't you climb up on the counter, and we'll get started?"
She complied, reclining comfortably on her back on the large peninsula. Fortunately, there were no cabinets above this stretch of counter in his kitchen, so she had plenty of room.
He was ready with a plastic bucket and a cutting board. He slid the latter under her neck and placed the former within easy reach. Then he retrieved a large chopping knife from the other counter and approached her.
She looked very alarmed. That wasn't good. "What are you doing?"
"I'm getting you ready for dinner." He wasn't really surprised that she was having cold feet. He would have been more surprised had she gone through with the whole thing.
"But...."
"If you're going to be the main course this evening, we have to get your head off." He intentionally used a matter-of-fact tone.
"I know, but...it's...so...sudden!"
"Yes," he replied. "Don't worry, I was going to make a very nice table decoration from your head." As if this were a selling point.
"I would like that very much, but could you maybe not take off my head first?"
"When would you like me to take it off?"
"Last."
"But I've got to remove you arms and legs and gut you and stuff you and get you into the oven."
"Yes, that's exactly why I want to keep my head," she replied, the nervousness seemingly replaced with a strange morbid excitement. "I wouldn't want to miss all of that!"
"But that will hurt like hell!" he replied. "I don't have any anaesthetics that I could give you."
"I know, but it won't last that long. This is why I agreed to be your meal in the first place."
"I think you'll regret it. I strongly advise against this."
"Don't worry, if I do, I'll just have you lop off my head and end all the pain."
"OK, have it your way." He sighed but was secretly relieved that she was still on board with the main agenda.
He slid the cutting board under her left shoulder and stretched her arm out as far as it would reach. Then he raised the meat cleaver and aimed at a point in her upper arm about two inches from her armpit. He glanced at her face and saw abject terror.
"Wait!" She almost screamed it.
"What now?" She was backing out. Oh, well, it was fun while it lasted.
"If you do that, I'll bleed to death!"
"So?" What else could he say?
"So that's not so good. Get something to tie my arm off so it won't bleed."
The main course was suddenly getting very bossy. He complied with her whim, however, and found some good string, which he tied tightly around her upper arm. Again he raised the cleaver. Again he glanced at her face. No terror this time, only anticipation. No turning back now. Almost without his willing it, the cleaver sang through the air and landed a solid blow near the intended mark.
She yelped but otherwise did not struggle as he dislodged the cleaver and with a second blow completed the task. He put down the cleaver and picked up the severed arm. She was sobbing gently, and blood was spilling across the counter. However, the blood from her shoulder was a mere trickle. The majority of the mess came from the arm itself.
He stared in utter disbelief at what he had done. It was horrible and terrific at the same time. Now there was no out. No matter what, she was going to be on the menu that evening.
"You're right; it hurts," she managed to concede through the tears.
"Do you want me to snuff you now?" he offered. Under the circumstances, it sounded like a tender gesture.
"No, keep going. It probably won't get much worse," she replied. "Let me see that." She reached out with her remaining hand and grasped her detached arm by the wrist. She moved it around in front of her face, studying it in utter fascination. "This is great," she said almost to herself.
He took the severed arm and placed it on the far counter. "Ready to do the other one?"
"Go for it."
He again tied a tight tourniquet and lopped off her right arm near the shoulder. He did it in one pass of the cleaver this time and was proud of himself for the effort. Her attitude didn't change significantly. Perhaps she had been right insofar as one severed limb hurt just as much as two. He placed the second arm with its former comrade and watched her reaction.
The now armless beauty was moving her torso back and forth on the counter, apparently getting used to her new state. She seemed fascinated with her truncated body. He touched her belly tenderly and kissed her left nipple. She giggled playfully as if nothing were wrong. This was too bizarre.
Now it would get interesting. He slid the cutting board down to her thigh and tied another tourniquet around her delicious ham. This girl's legs were truly delectable. He'd noticed them immediately when they'd met, and he'd longed to devour them ever since. Now he had to detach them from her body, and the task seemed daunting. In a way it seemed a shame, but then he knew that a chef had to destroy in order to create a memorable meal. This evening would definitely be memorable.
"Ready?"
"Yes." She seemed dreamy now. He knew she couldn't really comprehend what was happening to her. Her fantasies were coming true, and the reality was more than one could rationalize. Still, she seemed to lack regrets, which was a good thing.
It took four tries to sever the meaty thigh. She seemed to get impatient after the second, probably because it was hurting her. She seemed relieved and calm after the final blow, however.
He looked at the limb and saw the perfect meat he'd uncovered. She wanted to examine her leg before he placed it in the pile with her arms, so he held it before her face and moved it around as she instructed. She seemed to enjoy this new perspective, seeing her body in a way no one ever does.
The right leg took only three blows. The situation was thus incredibly surreal. Four perfect limbs sat in a pile on the far counter. He stood with a bloody knife in a blood-spattered kitchen staring down at the bloody torso of a limbless woman. She was obviously in some extreme pain, but she also seemed entranced by her new body. She smiled through her tears and stared up at him with something resembling gratitude.
"Now what?" she asked.
"Um...now I have to gut you."
"I've got an idea."
"What's that?"
"Well, more than half of my meat is in my arms and legs, right?"
"Yes."
"What if we cooked them tonight instead of the rest of me?"
"You can't possibly stay alive for very long the way you are." Was she trying to back out now?
"I know, but I wanted to meet your guests. I want to tell them how much I enjoyed being eaten by them."
"I'm sure they'd like that, but they're expecting a torso roast; I couldn't disappoint them."
"We could have a second party tomorrow night, and they could eat the rest of me then."
"No, most of them can only come today. They'd miss your big finale."
"Come on, you could fuck me while we roast my arms and legs."
"We did that a couple of hours ago."
"Yes, but I'm a new woman now. Don't you want to know what it's like to fuck a woman with no arms and legs?"
"It's tempting, but I'd just knock off one of your strings, and you'd bleed to death before the guests got here."
"Maybe they'd like to do me?"
"Yes, they might, but they'd rather eat you."
She seemed disappointed, but not too much so. He absent-mindedly slid a hand across her genitals and noticed that they were moist. Her reaction to his touch was so sensual that he took a break from his destruction and continued to slide his finger into the deepest recesses of her doomed pussy. The stumps of her limbs flailed about in her passion. He followed his fingers with his tongue, partaking of an appropriate foretaste. He had always liked that she was not shy about vocalizing her orgasms. Today she was, if anything, even less restrained. He finished by licking some of the blood from the stumps of her thighs. She was tasty.
Afterwards, she was out of breath, seeming suddenly exhausted. He could see that she was getting herself ready for the end. She picked up the conversation almost as if there had been no interruption. "What will you do with my arms and legs?"
"Don't worry about that; I'm keeping them all to myself, and I'll be feasting on your limbs and also you head and internal organs long after the party is over."
She smiled weakly. "I hope you enjoy me."
"I definitely will."
"What if I don't taste good?"
"You will."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
She smiled and relaxed. Her body went limp and she said, "Guess it's time to gut me now." It was clear and final. It was complete surrender and her last coherent words. She closed her eyes and waited for the end to come.
He picked up a small knife and rapidly split her open from the tip of her breastbone down to her waist, narrowly missing her exquisite navel. With two hands, he pulled her sides apart and scooped handfuls of her intestines into the bucket he had ready. Soon, other organs appeared, and he emptied her as quickly as he could. She whimpered softly but did not open her eyes. Her heart had stopped beating long before he ripped it from her chest. Before the end, she'd had time to restore the smile to her face, ensuring that the table ornament would be as wonderful as the meal itself.
He paused before putting the roast in the oven. With the body cavity packed with stuffing and sewn up crudely with twine, she looked a bit plumper than she had been in life. The tourniquets had been removed from her arms and legs, so most of the blood had seeped out of her before he removed her head. Now headless and limbless, the pale white skin of this most wonderful of all roasts was ready for the oven. He couldn't help but caress the breasts and still-moist genitals. Shortly this white skin would be golden brown. The roast slid into the oven, fitting perfectly. He converted her limbs into steaks while she cooked and wrapped each for his refrigerator. He sorted and cleaned her internal organs and stored them in the refrigerator as well.
This would certainly be the greatest party ever. All of the guests had dreamed about this meal for years, and they'd probably never have such a fantastic dish ever again. He knew no one would fail to comment on the quality of the food. The blonde table ornament smiled at him from across the room, and he smiled back.