Posted by romantic on October 21, 2000 at 15:48:40:
Jenny was a dancer. One evening, she waited for the last of her company to leave the studio, then sat before the full-length mirrors and undid her toe shoes. Pulling them off, she stood up and felt the ssothing coolness of the wood floor on her bare feet. She stood looking at herself in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, undoing her blonde hair and letting it fall around her shoulders. She slipped the leotard over her shoulders and rolled it down, running her hands over her small but perfectly formed breasts. She rolled down her tights, and finally stood naked before the mirror. Her timong was good. Just then, the door slowly opened and her lover entered the room. The rendezvous had been planned. They had decided they'd like to watch their passionate games in the mirrors. Jenny's lover undressed. Her gaze was fixed in the mirror as he approached behind her. She saw the pearl-handled dagger in his hand. This was her fetish -- the threat of death and mock-death. She had died a hundred times for him; she loved his hands around her throat or the feel of a cold steel next to her bare skin. He loved to indulge her. His fetish was her dancer's feet. He said a dead woman in her bare feet was the most beautiful thing he could imagine and often as she lay dead for him, he would just lay beside her with his tongue between her toes, or rub his penis between her soles till he came on them.
Jenny closed her eyes. Her lover's timing was perfect as she felt simultaneously the cold. flat blade of his dagger against her nipple and the hot round shaft of his cock between her buttocks. His left hand massaged her clit as his right moved the dagger from breast to breast and down toward her belly. He put his tongue in her ear: "Jennifer," he sighed, "I want your dead body, but I want you to come first..." stroking harder between her legs, slowly rubbing his cock between her cheeks, tickling her navel with the tip of the dagger. She bent forward and felt the dagger press harder on her belly. A rivulet of blood began to flow. She put her hands on the floor. He understood -- entering her from behind and fucking her till she moaned in orgasm. He began to come too, and as he did, he thrust the dagger harder -- into her belly. Both of their convulsion were wild now and the dagger ripped in Jenny's belly and up toward her chest. Their love-game had become real, but they were wildly out of control. He had no more conscious control of the knife than he did of his penis, madly driving into Jenny. When the waves of orgasm passed, he pulled her to a standing postion. Jenny looked in the mirror to see her belly ripped open, her viscera visible. Her lover reached his hand inside the wound, as if he could stop the inevitable. He wished he could hold her heart and feel it slow to a stop.. Jenny's mouth moved and all she could utter was "More..." Her lover knew he had already killed her, so he acceded to her last request. He couldn't bear to damage her perfect tits, but he drove the knife up under them and into her heart. Her mouth opened wide. Her last sensation was his cock once again hardening against her ass. " F-f-fuck me dead..." she begged, and slumped in his arms. He lowered her to the floor and surveyed the fullextent of the damage he had inflicted on her precious body. He had killed the most beautiful woman in the world as she had watched her own orgasm and death in the mirror. He was overcome with grief and knelt over her. He plunged the dagger into his own belly and ripped. He let his blood flood down and pour into Jenny's wounds. He lay flat, mingling their blood as much as he could. As he felt himself dying, he crawled forward. There in front of him lay Jenny's beautiful dead feet, toes pointing heavenward. He wrapped his hand around her left foot, caressing the sole and took the toes of her right foot in his mouth. He lay dead, the taste of her toes his last earthly sensation