Posted by Sawney Beane on August 21, 2007 at 01:36:20:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #138
CONSUMED
by Sawney Beane
4 November 2006; 13 February 2007
986 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 discussion of consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A stream of consciousness love story. Does it work?
------------------------
From the first moment I saw you, I knew that you would consume me...in every possible sense of the word. First it would be my mind, then my soul, and finally my body. I don't know how I knew. There was something obvious in the intensity of your gaze. Something in your eyes told me that I would not escape your attraction. There was something very unusual in your eyes, a soft sensual but altogether deadly something. The only way to describe it is as a hunger. You hungered for me then as you do now.
When I went to the club, I wasn't looking for what I found. Dressed in my black velvet stiletto fuckme boots and the little black dress that was very precise in what it covered and what it revealed, I was obviously looking for something. But that wasn't it. I wasn't looking for a relationship, let alone a funeral. A one-night stand would have suited me well at that moment, but sometimes you find life gives you what you need more often than it gives you what you want.
That's not to say I have any regrets. I was trapped by your very genuine love for me from the start. Every other thought fled from my mind the moment I saw you. You were my future, my love, my fate. There is love at first sight. Call it intuition.
And you didn't let me forget it. Not for a minute. In all the time I have known you, you never spoke much. (I make it sound like a long time, don't I? Well, it may only be three weeks, but it seems like forever.) In any case, you communicated. Every nuance was clearly conveyed by your bearing and those eyes of yours. I come back once again to your eyes, those shining blue beacons that bore into my deepest soul and see right through my scanty clothing and my skin. And inside me you see the tiny hidden desires that even I don't realize exist. I know now, of course, but I didn't see until you showed me.
Your very touch sends me into a frenzy of excitement and fear. I can't deny the fear. You make me feel it so intensely. There is no question you are dangerous. There is no question that you will not be satisfied devouring my mind and soul as you have. My body will have to be surrendered; there is no question. And I can't explain why I don't object. You make me tremble with terror, but underlying it all is the thrill.
Not the thrill of risking my life, not the roller coaster thrill of simulated danger. There is no risk, no uncertainty. There is only lethal certainty. The thrill is surrender and ultimate connection. You and I will be one in the only way we can be. You will consume me. And I will allow it, welcome it even.
And your touch is so tender. It amazes me how gently you make love to me. There is a quiet consideration in your lovemaking that no man has shown me before. Though the unspoken fact of my imminent destruction hangs over us always, you kiss and lick me as the most timid of lovers. And yes, I will be destroyed. That I know. It doesn't hinder my appreciation of what we will become. I know it is necessary for me to be joined with you in the way that you make me yearn to be joined. Our lovemaking is amazing, but every time I lust for more. And every time you have given me more. But eventually, we must come to the next phase. There will be no more to give, and the only way to satisfy our mutual lust is to go further. On to the irreversible fate that we embraced the moment we met.
And now that moment has come. I kneel naked next to the bed. You are naked also, your body pressing against my back. I can't help but tremble; I feel so small beside you. And you have grown more powerful in my eyes. Your warm chest heats me and counteracts the chilling terror inside me. It is my body resisting. I know it is our glorious destiny, but a foolish body cannot be expected to appreciate something as vast as we are about to create.
It will be done with steel and blood, shiny glittering silver and wet gushing red. I have seen your knife many times. Every time I saw it, I had the urge to place my fingers against the blade, cutting into my tender flesh, prematurely spilling my blood. Every time I saw your knife abandoned on a table, I pulled my fingers defensively to my chest and held them safely away from the danger of my imagination. It is so sharp that even the thought of touching the blade seems as if it can draw blood. And now it will.
But not my fingers; that would not accomplish anything. It will be something more vital, more worthwhile. You cannot consume me as you must with just a bloodied finger. The blade is approaching my pale throat. My body squirms a bit to my annoyance before I calm it. You press the side of the blade ever so gently against my neck. You are asking permission. I am giving it, but you are behind me, so you cannot see the assent in my eyes. Yet you know it is there. I can feel your eyes staring through the back of my head.
After this moment, you will consume my body, and I will then truly be yours. Every molecule of me yearns for this moment. My blood will cascade over you and baptise you in my love. And then you will feast, but there is no violence in it. No harm. Only love.
I'm ready.