Posted by hisdinner on June 19, 2002 at 08:26:56:
Winter Fire
by hisdinner
The snow swept up against the cabin and choked off the light. I spent the morning sitting in the gloom, wondering how much meat he'd bring when he returned. He'd taken the jeep, and wet snow already filled its tracks. I was sure that he'd gone hunting girls. I pictured him, shaking off snow, stomping into the resort tavern. He'd take a seat close to the skiers clustered around the huge central fireplace. He'd seduce the girls who pleased his palate. He'd bring them here, he'd fuck them, and then we'd roast them. I smiled and thought, Good then. I'm freezing. The oven's heat will take the chill off this big room.
I shook my head, listening to myself, feeling a little surprised. What about their screams, before the fire quenched them? How could I so casually accept the idea that we would soon be butchering girls for meat? So jaded now, wasn't I? No, not at all, I mused, shivering a bit, belting my sweater tighter around me. Just thinking prosaically, and pouting. After all, I had been left behind. He'd left me out.
I waited for him and the girls I knew he'd bring. I polished the outside of an enormous chimneyed hotpot, burnishing the brass. It glowed in the low light. I looked out into the white swirl of snow and wind. I wanted to be with him for the hunt. I understood what compelled him, but not why he'd left me here. I was his bird dog. It had been my job to smile and flirt and draw them in, to bring him the most delicate, or the most ripe, or the least touched, or the hardest used. I'd given him so many girls. He had savored each girl's distinct flavor. He'd sent me out a dozen times, to tempt them, to secure them, to put their warm, yielding bodies into his hands. I'd caressed them as he killed them. I'd muffled their screams with kisses as he pierced their bellies. I'd lapped and licked their honeyed pussies while he skewered their breasts. But always, always, since he took possession of me, I was the one who found them. I was his huntress. He had trained me to satisfy his appetites in girlflesh. But not today. It disturbed me that he chose to hunt alone.
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Two years ago he'd stalked and snared me. Two years ago, he'd waited on a back road for me to run past as I did each night. He was sleek and polished and dark, and he looked dangerous. He stood next to a low slung car, arms folded, eyes burning into mine as if to say, "You're late!" I stared, and lost my pace and stopped. I could not look away from him, even before he spoke. And all he said, was, "Girl. Come to me." What stunned me most was that I went so willingly. He mesmerized me. As I blurted out something juvenile, he ran his hands over my body, assessing it, testing, prodding. I stood there, sputtering, flabbergasted and amazed. I feigned outrage, but I felt heat inside me. When I struggled, he gripped my wrists and jerked me once, roughly, as if training his dog to stop fussing and obey. One sharp look, one stinging hand across my cheek, and I was his. He possessed me.
He ripped down my running shorts and fucked me hard, bent over on the hood of his car. He threw me inside, drove to his house, then bound me, spread eagled on the wall, aching from his thick cock, and dripping his hot seed. I whimpered, but inside I tingled. I was terrified. He thrilled me. And it was all the same, all mixed together, all bliss, and pain, and fear. He gagged me, and buckled my neck into a high leather collar so tight I couldn't turn my head. I panted around the hard rubber ball and tried to think. I couldn't. Later, I decided that he was like some new exotic drug. They say the moment you take your first hit, you're addicted. Well, this was it, I thought to myself. He owns me.
He finished buckling my ankles into leather restraints and then he left the room. A moment later, he returned with a shapely little kicking, screaming blond. Raging jealousy flooded me. I started to thrash against my restraints, I couldn't bear this. No! not her! It should be only me, me, me, I shouted through the gag. The tears that should have accompanied my rape burst forth now. I sobbed as I watched him lay her down on a strange, grooved table. She twitched and shrieked against the rough twine that encircled her wrists and ankles. He lifted and turned her over, her round firm ass now exposed, her huge breasts flattening against the table's surface. Her head was turned sideways, and she stared at me, tears streaming down her face. She wailed around a tight cotton gag, soaked with her saliva. She screamed, "Help me!" but I couldn't believe she meant it. I hated her in that instant. His hands were on her body. She didn't deserve this, I did. She wriggled , hands bound tight behind her. She was naked, her body sleek with sweat. He strapped her upper body to the table. He strapped her ankles down so tightly, the leather bonds bit into her flesh. He paused, and looked toward me, as if to make sure I was watching. I burned. I was embarrassed to be exposed, to be on display before this little bimbo; I was humiliated to be forced to watch him fuck her. I was frantic, furious, and I couldn't move an inch. I howled.
He shook his head a tiny bit, and then he turned back to the table. He crossed to stand behind her struggling form. He reached out and grasped her pale golden hair, coiling it in a tight band around his hand. His other hand held up a small short blade on a tubular mount. He brought it down into her line of sight, and teased her nostril with it. A scalpel? My heart raced, and her screams turned raw and guttural. And then, he slit her throat. She squealed and burbled as bright red jets of blood splashed. He adjusted the cant of the table, tilting her ankles high, and let her blood flow into the groove which fed a tall urn on the floor below her head. Her body jittered and spasmed against the bonds. Her young strong legs slapped against the table.
He stared at me. My tears were gone, and I felt bedazzled, as if I'd had a sort of stroke. This was a show. I saw it, now. I tried to nod my head, to show I understood. He'd given her to me. I knew it. I smothered down that part of me that was sickened, the part that wanted to run away, the part that felt ashamed for being enthralled by the death of this beautiful girl. He'd just let me into a new world, his world, and I was electrified. There was no moment here of conscious decision. I just stepped off the edge of the abyss, and there he was. He smirked when he saw the stiffness of my nipples. He drew his fingertips through her blood and crossed the floor and stood before me, slowly and carefully daubing a spot of blood on each of my nipples. He lifted up my chin and smeared my lips with the little blonde's blood, then kissed me hard, working the metallic taste into my mouth with his probing tongue.
I shivered, touching my finger to my lips, remembering. That --That had been our first kiss. So fitting. I laughed out loud as I stood and stretched, and carried several more logs to fireplace. Two years, and twelve girls, I counted, since that first bloodletting. That first night, he'd taken me down from my bonds, and we'd used her cooling body as a cushion. He had spread me out on top of her, kissing my thighs, draping her limp arm over me, her fingers brushing my breast. He nestled my head between her breasts and then he fucked me, slowly and gently. He suckled her blood from my breasts where he had daubed it. He nibbled and chewed me. The tips of my hair were tinged with her blood. Her body rocked with mine as he thrust inside me, and her wispy blond bush tickled my ass. I came hard, in tremendous wrenching pangs, arching high above her. And then I collapsed. He exploded deep inside me, and lay on her too, one arm casually draped across her thighs. We rested, and then he gave me my first lesson in roasting girl. And he promised me that one day, I would be his meat.
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I must have dozed, curled on a cushion close to the stone hearth. I hadn't heard him come in. What woke me was the crackling pop of a sappy log bursting into flame. A bit of burning sap escaped the fire and fell on my thigh, and I cried out, flicking it away. From just behind me came a low rumbling chuckle. I sat up, stupid with sleep, off kilter, trying to feign awareness. I smiled and looked back over my shoulder, and found him in the dim light. He stood with his arms folded, and when I saw him in that pose, I flashed back to our first moments together on that dark road. His gaze trapped me as surely now as it had then. He didn't speak, he just stood there, looking at me. Then he slowly came to me and offered his hand. He pulled me up, and I rose to kiss him, but he held me out before him, assessing, staring at my face, my body. He turned me away from him, then brought one arm up and around my shoulders, his thick forearm resting against my throat, and drew me close to him. His other hand encircled my waist. I felt his heat, and shivered as tiny droplets of melted snow touched the nape of my neck, falling from his beard. His breath moved my hair as he said, "We have company."
I felt a little pang of jealousy; I always did, and this time, I found it hard to make myself look up. These were girls he'd taken without my help. I didn't want him to be more satisfied hunting alone. I didn't want things to change, I wanted to be the one. I wanted to find something wrong with these girls, I wanted to find some flaw that proved my value as his hunter. I 'd squeezed my eyes shut, and now, I slowly opened them. And what I saw before me was a man.
"This is Daniel," he said as he gripped me tighter, his face still buried in my hair. The strange man didn't move out of the dim light in the doorway. He barely nodded, and he stood stock-still. He acted as if I were some wild animal that he didn't want to frighten away.
I moved my body closer to the man who owned me and I said, "I don't understand, I thought you-"
"You thought I'd bring a girl," he said.
I nodded, shifting, wanting to twist around, but he wouldn't let me turn to face him, He wouldn't let me see his eyes. I needed to know what his eyes would tell me. He wouldn't show them. His body felt as tense as mine. I felt a deep tremor in his arms as they pressed and kept me.
The stranger spoke. "Where should I set my things?" This man was tall and sturdy, with dark eyes hooded under thick brows. He carried himself with ease and deliberation. I thought to myself, "His things? Is he going to supply the girls now?"
"Here, in front of the fire. Yes, thank you, Daniel," my master said. He pulled me closer and I couldn't breathe. I felt his face moving back and forth, burrowing through my hair until his lips found my neck. My body shuddered against his as he kissed me. His teeth sank into my neck. I stifled a yelp and tried to get free of him. I had to know. His grip was absolute, he held me fast. I couldn't move.
"What is he going to do?" I asked. This man hadn't any girls with him. If they'd been left outside, they'd be half frozen now. Daniel was about to unpack a long, slim case made of black leather, gleaming in the firelight. The interior of the case was red plush with a dozen depressions sunk in deep. A knife nestled in each cleft, each flashing blade held in place with a leather strap. A recessed channel held at least a dozen thin, pointed skewers. I tried to back away as I saw the knives revealed. Something squeezed my heart, and I turned cold. I tried to wrench around, and caught a glimpse through the window. Moonlight glittered on a bank of snow impossibly deep. If I walked outside right now, I'd sink in past my neck. My legs shook as he gripped me tighter.
"Daniel is here to help me take you," he said. He absorbed the shuddering tremors that passed through me. I got very still. We watched Daniel spread a black cloth on the sideboard. He ran his hands over the cloth and smoothed it, then placed several of the knives and skewers upon it, taking care as he set each in its spot. He paused to close the case and then he strode out into the night. A rush of frigid air assaulted me.
"To --take me," I said. I couldn't get enough breath to raise my voice above a quavering whisper. "Take me? Now?" I twisted around. I had to see it in his eyes.
"Tonight," he said. He let go of my shoulders and held my face in his two hands. "Yes. Now."
I reached out and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, and searched his face. Oh, those eyes. There was no trace of whimsy, no smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. His gaze was steady, and it burned through me. His hands left my face and ran down my shoulders to grip my upper arms He said, "I've got to have you." His fingers dug into my arms.
I felt some hard thing inside me crack wide open. I shook, I crumpled and sagged against him, sobbing. "But you do. You do have me," I said. My chest caught and jerked, and I couldn't get a breath.
His fingertips traced deep lines down my arms, and up my back, pushing under my sweater to makes furrows in my bare skin. His hands caressed and stroked my breasts and belly. He was resolute, and my weeping changed nothing. "Daniel is here to help me butcher you," he said, glancing at the door. Daniel had returned, pushing the slab table forward on snow-laden wheels. My man looked down at me and said, "Understand me. I want you done exactly right."
He picked me up and carried me to the couch and held me cradled in his arms like an orphan lamb. I sobbed into his chest. He stroked my body; he soothed and petted me. No matter what he said, I knew he couldn't kill me. He couldn't bring himself to take my life. Then I realized why Daniel was here, and it stunned me.
"You'll sit and watch him butcher me?" I asked, taken aback. "His hands on me, his knife slicing into my flesh?" Adrenaline coursed through me, I shook in rage and shrieked, "No! I am yours!"
He smiled and said, "You're meat." And then he held one hand to my throat, and another to my mouth and nose, and watched me struggle, his face impassive, until I blacked out.
I woke and found myself mounted on the stone table. I came to as my wrists were being tied to either side of the deep grooved channel that ran around the perimeter of the table's surface. Each wrist was bound roughly parallel to my shoulders. My knees were bent and my legs were splayed wide, and my pussy thrust out to the edge of the table. My man stood at my side, caressing me, touching the purpling bruise on my neck. I winced and turned away as tears slipped out of my eyes and betrayed me. He didn't stop. He kissed my bruise and worked his way down, pressing his lips to my neck. I felt my pulse against his mouth.
A wild thought. My eyes flew open and I craned my neck to search the outer walls of the room. Part of me expected to find another girl, bound to the wall and watching, waiting for her turn to come. No one was there. My head sank down and I sighed. My wind came out in choppy half-breaths. I felt that hard thing in my core break apart still further. I was wrenched to bits in slow degrees.
He was at my belly now, caressing me and gently spreading my labia with his fingers, his other hand pressing on my tummy. He felt my wetness, and then, he stepped up close and entered me one last time, so gently. He grasped my hips and pulled me onto him and he thrust slow and deep, all the while describing what a fine roast I would be, how my thighs would taste, how juicy my cunt would be, melting in his mouth. He groaned and rutted in me and raked his hands over my breasts and belly, telling me what fine rich stock they'd make, what excellent pan drippings he'd use to baste me. He promised me he'd savor every succulent bite. I closed my eyes and imagined him slicing into my rump steak, ripping a mouthful away with his teeth. He plowed deep inside me and moaned as he spent his seed. I cried and took all that he'd give me.
He left me, and nodded to Daniel. I cried silent tears, my belly muscles rippling as I tried to stop, but I had too much pressure in me. I felt I would explode. I watched as my master gave me away to the butcher. They stood together, low voices conferring, and then my man remained apart as Daniel approached me with several glimmering skewers. Daniel ran his hands up and down my right arm where it bent, testing the resiliency of my flesh, I thought. Then he selected a spot high on my upper arm and pierced it through, with one incredible push. I cried out, but he was not through. He took the point that emerged and pressed it into my forearm where the two halves of my arm were closest. It burned and jolted me, I shook. When the point emerged, he capped it with a wooden washer. He rounded the table and repeated the process, fixing my left arm in the same way. I keened and whimpered, I felt bereft. Then, there he was. He stood at my head, above me, stroking my hair, murmuring again what wonderful meat I was. As Daniel turned to the sideboard to fetch new tools, my master remained there, telling me how skewering would help me roast more evenly. I shuddered and I couldn't speak. Inside me, that hard thing had smashed to tiny glittering bits, like snowflakes, disappearing in my agony. The lump in my throat remained, and I couldn't stop my tears. They streamed onto my face. He tasted them.
"We'll bind her thighs and calves together with cooking twine," Daniel said, "If that's fine with you. Now, it's time to prepare her for the stuffing."
This was the end, I knew it. I felt my master's grip tighten on my face as Daniel walked forward with a polished knife. He seemed to consider where to stand to get the best angle for my gutting. He put down the blade and brought out a stiff cushion. He lifted up my midsection and shoved the cushion beneath me. My belly stretched taut, and I began to moan and plead, wordless fear and agony, blubbering. Daniel stepped to my left side and ran his hand down my midline. He seemed satisfied, and nodded. He picked up the knife. I cried out, "Not this!"
Daniel paused in his downward motion, the blade poised at my breastbone. He looked to my master. I could not see what transpired between them, but Daniel nodded slowly, and then, he withdrew. I was stunned. All this, this far, and then, my man decides to keep me? My spirit soared! I cried out, joyous incoherent laughter when I saw the butcher back away. He told the butcher to stop! He wanted to keep me, after all this, he'd changed his mind. I beamed. I wanted to dance, to hug the world. I'd hunt for him again, I'd fill his every need. He wanted to keep me.
I rocked from side to side, even the skewering ignored now, I felt elated and I longed to kiss him. He'd moved from my head, though. I couldn't see him. I rattled on, I laughed and fussed about my bindings and whimpered for him to hurry up and free me.
And so he did. He stepped between my splayed thighs and he bent down and kissed my belly. He looked up into my eyes for a moment that ate up years. My laughter died. I smiled once more, and shook my head. And then he reached up, and using both hands on the knife, he drew a deep slit from my breastbone to my pubis. My vision turned red; it matched the glistening pool of blood that quickly overflowed my belly and spilled into the channel below me. His face streamed with moisture, tears or sweat, I don't know. I slipped away as they gently cleaned and stuffed me. The last thing I heard, before this nothingness, was how beautiful my belly looked, all stuffed so full, and sewn shut, round and taut and ready to turn a glistening golden brown. It was not enough.
by hisdinner