Posted by Sawney Beane on September 14, 2006 at 23:15:41:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #65
TERMINAL DATE
by Sawney Beane
1 - 2 December 1998
2,601 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 consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is actually the second story I have thought of with the theme of terminal dating. Maybe I will write the other one someday. This story is very appealing to me in some ways, especially in that it follows the thoughts of a woman about to give her life for her fantasy. I'm not sure whether the poetry was a good idea or not. I like the window into Monica's soul that it offers, but it is bad poetry, and perhaps that detracts from the story. Unlike most of my stories, which tend to brush over the sex part, this piece contains probably my best effort to date at describing sexual intercourse in a way that captures some of the passion. Most of my sex scenes have been rather too mechanistic, so I tend to avoid them. This one could use some work, but it is the best I have done.
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SWFM seeks attractive MC any age, race, or marital status to take her away from it all. Make my night special and I'll be yours forever.
DWMC hungry and wanting to play. I especially like girls, knives, and blood. Come on, let me just have a nibble.
Two short personal ads in the Terminal Dating Club's newsletter and a videotape viewing had led 23 year old Monica Turner to the door of Apartment 22C amid the block of rooms leased by the Terminal Dating Club for hosting its special dates. She had dreamed of little else throughout the course of her short life, but now she hesitated on the threshold of her destiny. Terminal dating was barely legal, and it probably wasn't moral, but it was her obsession, and that was all that mattered to her.
The good thing about having an acronym that ended in M was that she didn't have to pay anything to use the Terminal Dating Service. Meat was hard to come by, and the organizers didn't want to discourage any prospectives from joining due to poverty. The service got all of its money from aspiring cannibals, who were a dime a dozen. It meant that Monica had practically had her choice of the litter, but most of them were a pretty dismal lot. It was hard to find a cannibal who wasn't a complete loser or weirdo. But she hoped that she had succeeded in choosing Jim Tierney. He had seemed very pleasant for a bloodthirsty monster in his video. Now she was about to find out and her head was filled with nothing but the endless poetry of her youth.
If I give myself to you...completely,
Will you appreciate my sacrifice?
Will you welcome me to your body,
To become a part of you forever?
She knocked timorously on the door. A voice from within beckoned her to enter, and she stepped through the door to meet her date. He was a good-looking blonde thirtyish man in a black tuxedo. She looked straight into his eyes as she stood magnificently before him in her long red dress and little red shawl that covered her shoulders.
Monica spoke the words that she had longed all her life to intone: "I am yours...utterly and entirely...we can go as fast or as slow as you please."
A broad playfully wicked grin emerged on his face. His voice was rich and sexy, perhaps a bit wolfish, or at least she fantasized that it was. "Good to meet you, my dear. I'm Jim."
"Monica, at your service."
"Come, dear, you'll have to do better than that. I can't stand slaves. I'm only attracted to real women."
Monica smiled shyly. It didn't matter to her. No matter how he treated her, her surrender was the same. "Nice to meet you."
There ensued a moment of uncomfortable silence. It was always difficult to get a date started with a complete stranger. Jim eventually took the initiative and slid close to her. He put an arm around her shoulders and placed his lips gently to hers. She responded to the kiss enthusiastically, so his tongue was soon exploring her mouth. She felt a thrill as her lips touched his teeth, and she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth half hoping that he would suddenly bite it off.
But he didn't. Instead, he slid the shawl off of her shoulders and kissed down her neck to her bare left shoulder. He licked her smooth skin subtly, but her mind raced with more poetry.
If I let you taste my body,
Will you ask for more?
Will you yearn for my flesh
Until I am consumed by your passion?
Jim did not escalate the encounter yet. He led his breathless date to the sofa and opened a bottle of red wine. He poured two glasses, and they enjoyed a drink together. She calmed down a bit, and they made an effort at small talk. It was difficult when both of them were entirely aware of the thing that they dare not mention. But they managed to spend about half an hour before Monica could stand the suspense no longer.
"Jim, I want to see it," she blurted out amid a discussion of presidential politics.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yes, I have to see it."
The two walked hand in hand into the back bedroom, and Monica gasped in utter awe as she saw the embodiment of her dreams.
If I offer you my neck,
Will you remove my head?
Will you sever my life,
And drink my life's blood?
"I have always wanted to see a real guillotine," Monica whispered.
"I think you will become very familiar with it, my dear."
"Oh, yes," she moaned.
"Shall we go back to the living room?"
"No, let's stay here."
"As you wish."
She smiled to herself as she realized how dominant she was becoming, despite her submissive role in this date. Monica was still very much enthralled with the shiny steel blade of the execution machine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a cold thrill ran down her neck and through her chest.
Monica closed her eyes and asked a delicate question in a soft, almost inaudible voice, "Will you be having dinner after our date?"
"Yes."
"What's on the menu?"
Jim took her head in both of his hands, placing each palm under her ears, and drew her closer to him. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and whispered eerily in her left ear, "Your head, my love."
Monica shook with terror and excitement. "My head?"
"Yes, it will already be removed, so it's the best place to start. I'll call the bellboy to have it baked by room service. But first I'm going to cut off that lovely brown hair of yours. That and your skull will make excellent souvenirs." He spoke frankly about his plans since he could see that it obviously excited her to think about her own destruction.
"And the rest of me?" she said running her hands down the sides of the red dress covering her shapely torso.
"I have a large freezer at home. Maybe I'll eat nothing but you for the next month. Or maybe I'll eat a little bit of you every Sunday for the next ten years. Either way, I will make sure that none of you goes to waste."
Monica was trembling, and her face was contorted prettily. It didn't look like fear, however. Jim thought it might be closer to orgasm.
I feel your teeth tearing my flesh.
I feel the knife cutting my body.
Your tongue tastes my blood and meat.
We are becoming one eternally.
"Will you use the Terminal Dating Club's butcher service?" It was an odd question, but her eyes were still closed, and she seemed like she was gradually recovering from her passion.
"Actually, I'll do it myself."
"Yourself?"
"Yes, I'm actually a butcher in real life. Animal meat is easy to prepare. I've always wanted to take apart a woman though, and it will be especially wonderful to do a woman as beautiful as you."
I am yours, if you will have me.
Cut me, destroy me, preserve me.
Please take my body,
And make it your own.
"Perfect!" she exclaimed and leaped at him. She landed with her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her lips pressed against his. He staggered in surprise at the unexpected burden and leaned her on the bed of the guillotine. She continued to kiss him with wild abandon as if she were trying to eat him before he could eat her. Several minutes later she released him and purred an order, "Take me, now!"
He stepped back and smiled. "I thought you said we could go as fast or slow as I wanted."
She was too excited for conversation. "Changed my mind," she murmured as she kicked off her high-heeled shoes and ripped the spaghetti straps off of her dress. She had slid out of the dress and reclined on her back on the bed of the guillotine wearing only a red strapless satin bra and panties before Jim could gather his senses enough to start discarding his tuxedo. He fumbled with its bow tie and cummerbund as she writhed impatiently on her back.
Finally, he disrobed himself down to his boxer shorts and climbed on top of her. She jerked at his touch as if he were electrically charged but then she arched her back to press her taut belly softly against his chest. She moved slightly from side to side to rhythmically caress his body with her own. Her eyes were closed, and a distant smile covered her face.
Jim finally took some initiative and unfastened and removed her bra. She moaned as her large firm breasts were released, and he kissed her gently in the centre of her chest before nestling his head in between them. She soon became impatient for more, so he propped himself up on his elbows and placed his hands in her armpits with his fingers cradling her shoulder blades. Then he leaned down and began to kiss and lick her nipples and breasts, first gently and then with ever increasing ferocity. Her moans and trembling intensified until she seemed wracked with pain or pleasure or some mixture of both.
Jim could feel her wetness even through their underwear but not for long, because Monica suddenly grabbed the side of her bikini style panties and jerked it violently enough to tear the last remaining clothing from her body. Jim slipped off his boxers somewhat more delicately. With nothing remaining between her beckoning vagina, and his rock hard erection, he had no trouble slipping his penis deep into her. She gasped, and her entire body immediately tensed up with a spasm of pleasure as she felt him inside her. Then she relaxed for a moment before contracting again. Her lithe body pulsed first slowly then faster and faster as Jim began to slide his hips ever so slightly back and forth.
Monica seemed absorbed in her orgasm, almost not noticing that he was there. But Jim found that he could make her body pulse faster or slower in synch with the movements of his pelvis. Jim tried to hold back as long as possible because he was enjoying her passion immensely, but his brain finally exploded in his own orgasm, and his body pushed uncontrollably in and out as his semen surged into her. This brought her already immense passion to a higher level, and her vagina clamped down on him so tightly that he thought his penis would be lost. She wrapped both of her arms around his back, and her legs around his thighs as he dropped panting onto her chest. Her own breathing was long and deep but fast.
Ten minutes later they were still in that position drenched in sweat and semen but somewhat less out of breath. Her eyes were still closed, and his now limp penis remained in her dripping vagina. She whispered in his ear, "Tell me what you will do to my body after." She didn't say after what.
Jim did not answer for many minutes, but he eventually began to whisper his butchering plans in her ear. "Once your head is gone and I have drained out all of your blood, I can remove your limbs and cut each one into different steaks...."
She interrupted him. "Show me," she purred still with closed eyes.
Jim reached down and ran his finger along the side of her upper thigh to indicate where he would cut off her leg and then he touched each of the places that he would have to sever her leg in order to make it into the right kind of steak. He described how each piece would be prepared for the freezer.
He had to disengage from her embrace and slide down her body in order to do this, but he licked her genitals carelessly every so often and brought her to orgasm again before he explained how her arms would be removed and prepared. Then he explained how he would slice off her wonderful breasts, shapely rump, and external genitalia. He kissed or licked each part as he described its removal. Then he explained how he would slice open her trim belly and remove her abdominal muscles. She was lost in a sea of gasps as he described the removal and cleaning of her internal organs and the ultimate division of her torso into ribs, chest, shoulders, back, loin, and spine.
I see pieces of me on the table.
I see pieces of meat on the table
That used to be me.
She slowly opened her eyes as he finished describing his plans and planted a long tongue-filled kiss on her moist lips. She stared at him for a while with a thoughtful gaze on her face. She thought of his desire for her, and her desire to give herself to him. She savoured the thought for quite a long time because it was the defining and most exciting thought of her entire life. Finally, she spoke again in a whisper, "Are you hungry, Jim?"
"Yes," he replied seriously, "but I can wait 'til later if you want."
She looked back at him for a long pause and then glanced at the shiny silver blade hanging above the end of the table. Then she smiled and said, "I can't." With that she rolled her fabulous body over onto her belly and crawled to the end of the table, resting her delicate neck in the wooden cradle. "I'm yours, Jim, make me into your meat now."
Jim was a little bit startled by her eagerness, but he brushed her hair out of the path of the blade and snapped the wooden brace block over her unobstructed neck. He moved slowly but deliberately, realizing that she would want to enjoy the anticipation for as long as possible.
He found some rope and tied her wrists tightly behind her back. She gasped in surprised pleasure at the innovation. Then he tied her ankles. Jim moved to her head and looked into her gorgeous face. Her eyes were wide, but it wasn't from terror, she was clearly bursting from excitement.
My neck is on the chopping block.
There's nowhere I can go.
Soon my life will dissipate.
There is nowhere I would rather be.
Jim looked in her eyes with his hand on the trigger. "Monica, my beloved doomed one, do you have any last words before I snuff out your light and take you for my meat?" It was the kind of speech he knew she would like.
Monica made no reply, but she blinked her eyes in silent acknowledgment. Jim felt that she deserved one final orgasm, so he slid his hand under her and stroked her tense vagina. Soon she was moaning and groaning more meaningfully than ever. When he thought that she was at her peak of passion, he pulled his hand away and ran back to her head so that he could see her face as he pulled the trigger rope. The blade fell and hit the wooden stop with a loud metallic ringing. Blood appeared from nowhere, and the orgasmically contorted face of Monica Turner followed her severed head as it fell away towards the waiting basket.
Falling, falling, death is come.
Body and mind diverge.
Mind dissolves into blackness,
A sacrifice for the glory of the body.