Posted by Megaton on October 04, 2000 at 22:36:56:
I was sitting in front of the computer, typing again, while Slayer played on loudly. Their music drove my imagination to
ever deeper depravities, to ever more violent dreams of pain and blood, of pleadings and cryings, of dominance and love
and sex. Fantasies unnumbered. I had written many such stories, often about people I knew. I knew they would never
see them at the sites where I posted, and that those who did see them would get as much enjoyment from them as I did. I
had killed my manager once, fancying myself holding her as her heart stopped beneath my hand; I had slain a pretty
athlete I used to know in high school; once I had even imagined myself getting it on with Gary, and then killing him as he
slept. Though under a different name, of course.
I had a lot of fantasies.
And now I was writing another. For some reason, the readers hardly ever commented on stories about females killing
males, even though many of my fantasies revolved around that very idea. They seemed to like m/f or f/f better. I
couldn’t bring myself to write m/f, but f/f came easy. Since I was little more than 10 years old I sometimes had necro
fantasies about some of my girl friends, as well as the boys I met. Now I was 20 years old, but the fantasies still came,
thick and fast.
I began thinking about Angie, the new girl at work. Blonde, boyish-faced, voluptuous, she fit the profile of my lesbian
fantasies completely. Not that I would ever actually _do_ anything necro or lesbian. I was happy with Gary’s
lovemaking; the thoughts of _really_ getting it on with another woman frightened me as much as they appealed to me.
But fantasies can go anywhere, do anything.
Gary didn’t seem to realize that. Recently he had become annoyed with the amount of time I was putting into these
stories. To say nothing of the content. He wasn’t a prude, by any means, but he didn’t understand the strong attraction
necro fantasies had for me. He was willing to accept it, but he couldn’t share in it. He and I had been lovers for a long
time, almost a year. He was the one who freed me from the confines of the house I had grown up in, the farmhouse
where Mom and Dad and Amber lived. Amber would be leaving soon, too...but she would be leaving on good terms
with our parents. Not like me. But I didn’t care. I had Gary and I had my freedom and I was happy.
My long fingers danced over the keyboard; Angie’s death began to take form on the monitor. I thought I would kill her
as she got in her car, whipping the rope around her soft neck just as she took a draw on a cigarette, trapping the smoke
inside her burning lungs. Ha! This would be a good one. I could just feel it. I didn’t smoke, but I knew Angie did, and I
wanted to bring that into the fantasy somehow.
I was deep into killing Angie when the room lights came on. I always typed in the dark, with only the monitor screen as
illumination. I also always typed naked. It was just something about me. The sudden light dazzled and startled me, but I
knew it was only Gary coming home from work.
“Jeez. Are you writing another story?” He sounded more angry than usual.
“It’s just a short one. I’ll be done in just a minute.” I kept typing. Angie was twisting and turning in the front seat,
pounding the horn button to no avail, as I pulled hard on the rope, drawing her further and further into death. I could
feel myself beginning to get hot and wet, and knew that Gary and I would have a good time in bed very shortly.
“No dinner?”
“I’m sorry, I got started on this. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge and tomato soup on the shelf.” I had to finish this
story now. Had to finish Angie. I kept typing, my breathing becoming faster, my heart beating faster, as I wrote down
the details of this newest, latest murderous fancy. Gary walked into the room, stood behind me.
“Turn the light off, will you, hon? It helps me write...OH!”
Without warning he grabbed my long brown hair, pulled back hard. I threw my head back, arching my long neck,
grabbing at his hand. I saw his other arm come around in front of me, something bright and sharp in his hand.
Then I felt the cold steel go deep into the left side of my neck. I screamed and grabbed his arm, unable to stop him as he
pulled the blade through the soft yielding flesh of my throat, cutting through the hardness of my trachea, my epiglottis,
yanking the ensanguined blade free from the other side of my neck. I sat there, shivering, my hands groping at my throat,
my legs kicking aimlessly, wildly, beneath the desk. My head still thrown back. Horror boiled in my stomach as I
realized my groping, clutching fingers were _inside_ my neck, inside the deep, gushing wound Gary had carved in my
throat.
My lover, my friend, my liberator Gary was killing me, had killed me. I was dying, there in the chair, with the almost
finished story flickering on the screen. The main body of the computer was on the floor, beside the desk; Gary kicked it
over and the monitor flashed and went black.
I heard him yelling, as if through cotton. “How do you like it, you crazy bitch? How do you like it? No dinner, no
greeting, nothing but these damn stories. It’s all you think about, now how do you like it?” Over and over. Like a
maniac. I tried to answer him, tried to beg for help, but all that came out was a bubbling, a gurgling, not from my
silently moving mouth, but from within the bloody gash in my throat.
I pulled my hands away, looked at them, covered in dripping red blood. Looked down at my chest, at my small, firm
tits, nipples hard, drenched in freely flowing crimson. My head drooped down; I couldn’t muster the strength to raise it.
My arms fell to my sides, moving randomly, slightly; my kicking had become weak and listless. Somehow he had missed
the big veins and arteries in my neck, but there was enough blood spilling down my breasts to make it clear I would be
dead in minutes. My fingers, sticky and wet, twitched, flinging droplets of blood.
I didn’t want to die. I was scared, terrified, fighting it with all my remaining strength. Gary pushed the chair over; I fell
to the floor. He pulled down his work pants, his boxers; dimly I saw him standing there with that gigantic erection. Saw
him pick up the knife again.
He drove it into my abdomen, between my navel and my dark pubic patch. I choked out a noise, feeling the cold steel in
me, the burning agony that made my dying body writhe. He yanked it out, threw it across the room.
Then he was on top of me; his hard, callused hands grabbed my head, his lips found mine in a painful, bruising kiss. He
pushed his tongue into my mouth. I wanted to bite it off, but I was just too weak, too sick. All I could do was submit
to his violence.
In my chest my heart beat faster and faster and faster, trying to supply my dying body with blood, killing me faster with
every moment. Gary turned my head to one side, kissed my cheek, kissed my neck. I felt him licking away the blood.
Then, suddenly, I felt my legs parted; he thrust himself into me, hard, raping me as I finished dying, raping me viciously.
I could feel him pounding away at me, but it was as if I was somehow disconnected from my body; there was no pain,
not even any sexual urge; just coldness spreading through me.
My heart seized up; it was like a sudden vacuum in my chest. No heartbeat where one had always been. I couldn’t feel
Gary in me any longer, couldn’t feel my arms or legs. I was getting numb and cold, and my blood was everywhere, and I
just wanted to die now. All the fighting was gone, and I laid there broken. I silently begged death to take me, and it
began to oblige.
They say hearing is the last thing to go. It was. I didn’t know that Gary had stopped his savage assault on my body; I
didn’t know that he was holding me tenderly, that he was weeping as he brushed my hair from my eyes. But I heard him
say “Meg, I love you...I’m sorry...I’m sorry, please forgive me...I just lost it, I lost my mind, please, O God, please
forgive me.”
And my final thought was one of forgiveness. Forgiveness, and a deep sadness. I realized that this was my first m/f snuff
story...but I would never be able to write it. Never able to share it with anyone. It was mine alone.
And with that, oblivion swept over me, forever.