Posted by Sawney Beane on June 18, 2006 at 22:10:37:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #34
THE SMILE ON HER FACE
by Sawney Beane
23, 24, 26 May 1996
2,181 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 scenes of non-consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story originated from its first sentence. Everything else seemed to grow organically from there with very little effort. The result is the story of a concubine's forced sacrifice.
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The smile on her face was not genuine. It was a broad, happy smile showing many of her perfect white teeth, but she did not feel the least bit happy. It was amazing how fast her situation had changed.
Earlier that morning, Sir Richard rolled off of her and sighed mightily. Nina stared at the ceiling and enjoyed the afterglow of a great morning of sexual activity. There were some things that she enjoyed about her duties. She always enjoyed being with Sir Richard, and he was always especially kind to Nina, his favourite concubine. Her household chores and such were no thrill to her, but spending the night with Sir Richard was always a treat, one that she enjoyed far more often than the other seven concubines in the household.
Richard suddenly rolled over to bring his face very near Nina's and said in a smoothly deliberate voice, "Do you know what I'd really like to see, Nina?"
"No, Sir Richard; what would you like to see?" she replied, wondering what sexual display he was after.
"Your head on a silver platter."
Nina was taken aback but smiled coyly and tried to brush off the joke. "OK, but I don't need a silver platter to give you head, Sir Richard."
He smiled, but it wasn't quite the right kind of smile. It was a faint curling of the lips that seemed to indicate a distant sort of satisfaction at a mildly amusing comment along with a desire to not let humour distract him from his purpose.
Sir Richard didn't need to say a thing. The smile told it all. Nina averted her eyes in terror as well as embarrassment at her lame comment. "When?" she asked plaintively.
"Tonight, for the banquet."
Nina was silent for some time. "Sir Richard, does it have to be so?"
"Yes."
"Please, Sir Richard, don't do this to me! Don't you enjoy having me around? Don't you enjoy sleeping with me?"
"Yes, Nina, I do," he said with just a hint of nostalgia, "but I require your services in a different capacity."
"How can you do this?" Nina, the model concubine, was by now behaving disgracefully and disregarding her station. "Don't I mean anything to you? Don't you care about me at all?"
"No, Nina, I couldn't let myself fall into that." Nina's world was shattered at the words from Sir Richard's mouth. It was no exaggeration to say that she had come to love him over the three years of her tenure, and she had believed that he cared for her as well. She covered her face in her hands and cried. "Nina, I want you to clean yourself up and report to Nigel right away."
Nina climbed out of bed and stood on numb feet that she feared would not support her and skulked disconsolately into the adjoining bathroom. The warm water of the shower served to return feeling to her limp limbs, but the fear and anger filling her mind continued to consume her thoughts. All of the comforting realities that had made her life bearable and even pleasant now seemed just so many naive illusions. The object of her love, Sir Richard, was now a hateful despot. She no longer wanted to live, but she didn't want to die to serve Richard's whim. Sadly, there was no escape. She let the water cascade over her silky smooth shoulders for a very long time.
Finally, Nina stepped out of the shower feeling light-headed and clean. She dried herself slowly and brushed her long dark hair. Returning to the bedroom, she found that Sir Richard had departed, which relieved her greatly. She slipped on a pair of sandals and, not bothering to collect her robe, strode out into the hallway on her way to the kitchen. Her nudity and stunning petite body drew a lot of eyes belonging to the many passing servants and courtiers, but Nina was not embarrassed and barely noticed her surroundings.
Nina pushed the kitchen door open sullenly and greeted the head chef, a close friend of hers, with the most cheerful voice she could muster. "Hullo, Nigel!"
The middle-aged, overweight chef abandoned the salad he was preparing and smiled affectionately as he welcomed his young friend. "Hiya, Nina, how's my favourite girl?" As he finished this sentence, he turned and saw that she was nude and unhappy, both unusual and ill-omened states of affairs. "Nina, darling, what's happened?"
"Richard wants to snuff me."
"But...." Nigel was unable to complete his thought as the horribleness of the situation dawned on him.
Nina pleaded with tears in her eyes, "You have to beg him for my life, Nigel! You'll do that for me, won't you? You still love me, don't you, Nigel?"
Nigel gathered the sobbing unfortunate in his arms and allowed her to cry on his ample shoulders. "Of course, love, but I doubt he will pay any attention to me."
When Nina finally extracted herself from the fatherly hug, Nigel stepped to the wall and pressed a button on the intercom. Nina stood in the middle of the large kitchen with her arms clasped around her breasts in a tight self-hug. Tears rolled down her face and dripped onto her shapely body.
Nigel spoke into the intercom, "Sir Richard, this is Nigel in the kitchen. Nina is here."
Nigel replied from his study, "Yes, have you snuffed her yet?"
"No, sir, I...."
"God, man! What are you waiting for?"
"Sir Richard, it's just that...well...are you sure you want me to do this?"
"Of course, Nigel. Do as you're told."
"But, Sir Richard, she's still young. She can give you many good years yet."
Richard seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Yes, Nigel, she is a good fuck, but I need her head for the banquet today."
"Couldn't we do Jesse or Linda instead? You've been unhappy with them." Nigel was so set on saving Nina that he would sacrifice the other concubines.
"No, Nigel, Jesse has crooked teeth, and Linda's hair isn't quite right. It has to be Nina; she's the best I have."
"But she's worth a lot. If you don't want her anymore, you could sell her for a very nice profit."
"Money is one thing I have enough of. This is about power, Nigel. I have a very important deal being discussed this evening, and I need to show everyone that I can afford to sacrifice a girl like Nina. Who could oppose a man like that?"
"But...that's ridiculous."
"Nigel, don't you presume to explain politics to me. I don't have time for this nonsense. If I hear one more word from you about it, I'll put you head on a platter and lop off hers myself!"
"Yes, sir." Nigel shook his head solemnly for Nina's benefit, and her last glimmer of hope faded to nothing. She began to braid her hair almost without thinking.
Sir Richard explained to Nigel in great detail exactly what he wanted done with Nina's head. Nigel took it all in, each word a burning cinder that seared his heart.
Nigel sighed when Richard had finished. "And what should I do with her body?"
"Just get rid of it; we don't need it today." Richard said dismissively.
"You mean you're going to waste her?" Nigel exclaimed incredulously.
"No, of course not. Just store it and I'll eat it later."
Nigel was relieved by this immensely. If there was anything worse than snuffing his favourite member of the household, it was snuffing her and throwing the body away. The one or two times Sir Richard had discarded the body of a victim, Nigel had jumped at the chance to take it home as a special treat for his large family. However, Nina was one of the few girls Nigel would not be able to bring himself to taste. Preparing her for Sir Richard's pleasure was going to be difficult enough for him.
Meanwhile, Nina, hearing Nigel's half of the conversation realized what was being discussed and ran her hands absently down the sides of her torso and thighs in a vain effort to reconcile her body with this discussion of meat. It was hard to imagine that they were one and the same.
Nigel ended the conversation and turned to Nina with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, love, he's firm in his decision."
Nina cried for a few moments, but then an abrupt change came over her. She straightened her body, brushed the tears from her eyes, and said, "OK, Nigel, let's get this over with. I can't stand here any longer waiting for the inevitable."
Nigel was surprised at first, but he understood after a moment or so. He followed as Nina walked solemnly across the room to the apparatus and stepped up onto the footrests.
"There's blood on your machine," Nina said in an odd voice.
Nigel searched for delicate words. "Yes, I haven't cleaned it up yet; we just finished with a pair of girls Richard imported from Norway for the banquet tonight. They're in the oven now." Nigel's voice was heavy and tired. Nina noticed for the first time the pair of cute short-haired blonde heads, twins perhaps, resting expectantly on the counter across the room. She sighed with relief at the realization that it was no one she knew.
With a heavy heart, Nigel watched the twenty-one year old martyr wiggle herself into a comfortable position and then he fastened the leather straps around her ankles, thighs, waist, wrists, and across her upper chest. She was standing in the machine, completely immobilized and staring straight ahead with terror in her large brown eyes. Nigel pinned the long braid to the top of her head and pulled down the top panel on which Nina rested her forehead. Nigel fastened the leather strap around her head. Her body rested on a metal plate from the shoulders down, but the head was exposed in back. Nigel shivered nervously at the sight of her delicate neck so vulnerable.
"I'm sorry, Nina," Nigel began, "I wish there was something I could do for you."
"It's not your fault, Nigel; I don't blame you. But please just start it now, so I don't have to think about it anymore." With that she closed her eyes tightly, but it was not enough to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks.
Nigel pushed a button almost without thinking about it. "I'll miss you so much, Nina."
Nina did not reply; her mind was occupied by the sound of the circular blade coming to life behind her. How different it was from this position! How many snuffings had she assisted in? Was it ten or eleven or twelve? She'd pitied those sniffling, whining, bawling, begging, trembling, waifs on their way to Sir Richard's dinner table. But more than that she had been contemptuous of their inability to see the greater good of their sacrifice. Now she was far more sympathetic.
Nina knew that Sir Richard was well within his rights to snuff her, and she'd known in the back of her mind that she might end her days on Sir Richard's metallic monster. But it was usually not concubines that ended up on the dinner table; there were kitchen slaves for that. Usually, only the unsatisfactory concubines were called upon to sacrifice their lives for Sir Richard's menu. The favourite mate should surely be securely immune to this threat, but somehow everything was different today.
Pain shot through Nina's body as the rotating blade touched the back of her neck for the first time. Warm liquid ran down her back, as the deadly blade continued slowly along its track. Nina felt she was falling off a cliff or in a car hurtling toward a brick wall. The blade grinding into the back of her neck vibrated her head unpleasantly, and the unbearable psychological pain was briefly supplemented by physical trauma. Mercifully, the blade was not long in reaching her spine, and her troubled life slipped away as the nerves were severed.
The blade continued without her until Nina's head was no longer attached to her body. Nigel flipped off the machine, but he could barely see around the tears in his eyes. Nina's eyes were open and staring in an agonizing expression that matched her contorted mouth. Nigel unstrapped her head and set about his unpleasant work.
The smile was not real. Nina's head was mounted on a silver platter in Sir Richard's main entry hall. It made an eerily beautiful ornament, and the dozens of party guests dropped their calling cards onto the tray next to her. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure, and the wide, toothy smile on her face conveyed joy, setting the mood for an upbeat celebration. But it was all artificial. Nigel had used thin wires placed discretely inside her mouth to support and uplift the sagging muscles of her face. Nina greeted the visitors with an emotion that was not her own. Nigel returned to his quarters that evening as the master craftsman and the brokenhearted friend.