Posted by Sawney Beane on February 13, 2007 at 21:49:09:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #95
DIE ANOTHER DAY
by Sawney Beane
8 December 2002
1,275 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 includes descriptions of snuff and consensual gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a quicky. A scene and a theme. Think it turned out nice.
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He could tell by the way that she sluggishly pushed her breakfast around the plate with the end of her fork without eating much that she had something on her mind. He continued reading his newspaper, waiting for her to open the discussion when she was ready. He didn't have to wait long.
"Darling?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, dearest?" he replied, not yet abandoning his paper.
"What will it be like when you...um...you know...." Her question trailed off into a whisper.
"When I what?" he asked, but by now he was folding his paper and setting it aside. He knew what she wanted to discuss, and he knew from experience that when a woman wanted to discuss this topic, it is best to give her your undivided attention.
"I mean...well...when we make dinner...um...out of me." She could not meet his eyes and spoke softly.
He smiled indulgently. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, how will you do it?"
"In the oven, of course," he smiled and glanced at the inordinately large stainless steel oven dominating the kitchen.
"Yes, but what will it feel like?"
"You won't feel a thing, darling, you'll be dead before I start cooking you."
She winced at this matter-of-fact assertion. "How will you...um..."
"Snuff you?"
"Yes," soft, almost inaudible.
He looked her over thoughtfully. She seemed so childlike sometimes. Small and helpless, not like the strength and confidence she often displayed. He admired the contours of her long legs through the white terrycloth bathrobe that covered her delicious body. Yes, she would be delicious, and, despite her nervousness, she would accept whatever he gave her. She was dedicated to him to the end. He loved her for it, much as he had loved those before her.
He looked over her shoulder into the living room and glanced at the row of five human skulls lined up on the mantelpiece. He had loved each of the donors of these trophies. Each had a special place in his heart, and he remembered every detail of their personalities and brief lives with him. His present companion would be a worthy addition to his collection.
Then he smiled. It was a confident, slightly threatening grin, and she recoiled slightly. "You know," he said, "the Albertsons are coming over for dinner this evening."
Her eyes opened widely at the realization of the doom she had inadvertently brought upon herself, but she remained silent.
"Get undressed," he ordered firmly but gently.
She stood uncomplainingly, abandoning her breakfast. She slipped the bathrobe off her shoulders, and he smiled as he saw the full extent of her lovely body. She was completely nude now, and the soft white skin seemed perfect. Her shapely body was not overly thin but not fat, excellent meat in her from her long muscular legs to her taut belly to her breasts, firm and round but not too large. He watched her hawklike as she folded the robe carefully and draped it across the kitchen chair. When she was done, she stood unembarrassed waiting for further instructions.
"Why don't you just hop up on the counter there, darling?" It wasn't really a question.
She climbed onto the long kitchen counter, which thrust itself far out into the centre of the large room. She sat on the end of it with her knees hanging over the edge. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently directed her to recline on her back on the counter. She stared up at the ceiling, knowing that her end was near. The flood of emotions showed in her glossy eyes, but she kept the rest of her body calm.
He removed the sandals from her shapely feet and placed them on the chair next to the bathrobe. Then he held her wrists together gently and wrapped them in a thick soft rope, which immobilized her hands. He then pulled her arms above her head and, sliding her body so that her feet extended just to the edge of the counter, tied the rope holding her hands to a discretely placed brass ring in the opposite end of the counter. With her arms restrained and stretched over her head, he could gaze down on his defenceless beauty, in the position that made her breasts and shoulders look so tantalizing. She was gorgeous and terrified but calm.
He tied her ankles to the corners of the counter, attaching them to two more discretely located brass rings. This left her legs spread invitingly. He looked down on her now, his delicious living meat. She would be his.
He examined the knife rack and selected the perfect instrument, a knife small but razor sharp. He placed this instrument beside her head, and the emotions in her intensified. He blindfolded her then, and she knew she would never see daylight ever again. There was terror and resignation in her mind, and there was also a large dose of arousal.
She was happy when she felt him climbing onto the counter with her. She felt his weight on her chest, and his kisses dotting her tense body. His kisses reached her trembling lips, and she felt his tongue and penis enter her at the same time. Neither met with resistance. The sensations shot through her like electricity as he began to move his hips with hers. She let her passion run free, and her body writhed under his. He was, as always, gentle but firm, and her perfect pleasure was broken only by a slight pain in her ankles as the pressure of his thrusts pulled at her bonds.
It took her only a short time to reach the mental explosion she loved so much. This was it for her, and she abandoned her normal restraint, and screamed in ecstasy as he pushed her over the edge and into the oblivion of pleasure. She was just past the peak of orgasm, barely regaining her senses, when she felt him reach out and pick up something beside her head.
It was the knife. She suddenly remembered the gravity of her situation, but this could not shake her from the ecstasy that still tore through her. Her mind was split between awareness and unthinking pleasure when she felt the cold touch of steel on her neck. He dragged the knife across he throat, and she knew it was all but over for her. Strangely, there was no pain, none at all. He slid his mouth down to her neck to drink the life spilling from her wound. She felt as if she would faint, the stress of dying and orgasm too much to be taken simultaneously.
Gradually, the passion of her last orgasm died away, and she became somewhat more aware of her surroundings. Oddly, the blood loss did not seem yet to be affecting her, and the faint feeling had drifted away. He held his lips still to her delicate neck, but the licking and sucking sensation had died away. She felt remarkably alive for one lying at death's door.
When he lifted his head, she saw no blood on his lips. She realized then that he had used the blunt edge of the knife on her. She was not dying.
"You're not going to kill me?" she asked softly.
"Yes, darling, I am," he said simply without a trace of a smile.
"But not today?" she asked, unsure of his meaning.
"Well, you're really too much for the Albertson's and me," he said reflectively. "I think I'll save you until I have a larger party."
"When will that be?" she asked, a sense of dread and relief flooding her simultaneously.
"Soon, darling, soon."