When my car broke down, I started to walk for help. I didn’t get far when an arrow hit my back. It was a flesh wound, but disabled me. He had been watching me, stalking me. He scooped me up like a dead animal, threw me over his shoulder and carted me off to his cabin in the woods. Tossed me in the basement. Trembling, I asked him what his intentions were. He told me I was a “delectable piece of meat.” I thought he was going to force himself on me, but his intentions were way darker.
He told me I smelled like a dirty tramp and needed to be bathed; to be cleansed of all the chemicals ruining my natural aroma, my natural taste. He submerged me in warm water and scrubbed my skin. He hogtied me so he could inspect every ounce of my flesh. He was fixated on my fleshy thighs and ass. Just kept telling me I was going to taste delectable. Said I had tender flesh, the kind that could nourish a sturdy man like himself for weeks, but not all of me was meaty. My belly was flat and toned, lacking his preferred substance. He force fed me peanut butter milkshakes for days in a cage he kept me in, plumping me up. He even charted my growth, measuring my body parts daily.
Once he decided I was plump enough for him, he brought out a spit pole and a big bowl of some sort of butter sauce. He poured it over me, then he lubed the pole with it and patted my head. Said, “thank you for dinner.” I felt cold metal pierce through my anus, tearing my insides apart. It came out my mouth. I was bleeding, in pain, barely alive. He carried me out side. I could see the fire pit. I knew what came next. As I was roasting over the open flames, feeling my flesh singe and burn, I heard him say, “Thank you Cassandra.” I paid the ultimate sacrifice. I hope I tasted yummy to him. I hope he savored every last morsel of my flesh. I hope I provided the needed nourishment.
I am here for your pleasure. Your darkest desires. Use me, beat me, fuck me, kill me, cook me, eat me…. Thanksgiving is approaching. I would look great adorning your table.
I went to sleep in my bed, but woke up in a dingy basement. I was cuffed to a cell door. I heard screaming. Someone was being tortured. Darkness was all around me. I heard a strange noise. It was a fast clicking sound, almost chirping. It was getting louder and louder but not loud enough to drown out the horrific screaming. Then I could feel it. Tiny claws on my legs, or was it teeth? My flesh was being bitten, scratched it was painful. My hands were bound so I had no choice but to let the creatures tear my flesh.
The screaming got louder, then sudden silence. Silence is never a good sign. At least if screaming, still breathing. I said hello several times. I heard another woman’s voice say hello back. Then another and another and another. There were at least 10 other women in cells too. We tried to keep each other calm. They too had something living in the cell with them, eating their flesh. Rats? Then another woman started screaming. This went on and on for hours. Screaming then silence. It was harrowing. Before long it was just me and the woman in the next cell. Then I heard the keys and her struggling. After a few minutes she started screaming. I was yelling frantically. Then keys unlocked my cell, I was dragged by my hair in the dark and the lights came on.
I wanted to puke. I never seen such carnage. Dead bloody women with baseball bats shoved up their asses piled up like garbage. The baseball bats covered in blood. Shit, blood, urine, and human tissue on the floor. Bats drinking out of bowls of blood. Women were being sodomized to death to feed bats? That must have been what was biting my flesh. I was so scared. I was the only woman left. Only one still alive. I begged to be spared. Explained I came from money, that my parents would pay good money for my life. Money was not what they wanted. He dragged me to the center of the floor. Made me suck the bat that would likely kill me, eviscerate me. While I was face down, I grabbed the bowls of blood on either side of me and threw them on my tormentor. The bats swarmed him like bees on honey giving me my moment. I grabbed the bat and swung hard against the back of his head. I heard his skull crack. He fell to the floor, blood gushing out his head. The bats were drinking his blood.
Perhaps if I had not been the last chosen for death, I would not have walked out of that torture chamber alone. Apparently my will to survive is stronger than I imagined. I had my captor’s blood on my hands and it made my cunt wet. I love survival games. Being pushed to my limits, forced to survive. Maybe with you I will live, maybe I won’t.
I woke up in a basement. Not sure whose basement, or how I got there. It was cold, damp and musky smelling. I could feel spiders crawling on me as I laid on the floor groggy and bleeding from my head. I suspected I had been hit over the head with some object and kidnapped. I tried to speak. Ask where I was, barter for my freedom. A big huge man in leather and one of those S and M masks that obscured the face, grabbed my blonde ponytail and dragged me across the cold cement, and strung me upside down from the rafter.
He started to shrink wrap me. I had been mummified before, but this was not quite the same. This felt sinister, even darker than bondage. He wrapped my face so tight I could not breathe. He was suffocating me with the plastic wrap. I was gasping for breath. I was in a panic but trying to breathe slow ; trying to breathe period. I couldn’t move or breathe. Suddenly, he inserted a small tube in my mouth, giving me an airway. But, very little air was coming through, so I was still suffocating, struggling to breathe, struggling to stay alive.
I could hear voices, but the plastic wrap was so tight on my face I could not open my eyes. Then suddenly I was moving. Three men were carrying my mummified body like a coffin out of the basement. I was struggling to understand them. I was moving but not sure were. I was getting weak from lack of oxygen. Then one of the men made an opening where my eyes were. I heard him say, “We want you to see where you will take your last breath.” It was a creepy ass pond or lake. I could see hands sticking out of the water. They were going to bury me alive in a liquid tomb. I was starting to shake. I even said a prayer. I felt myself being submerged in the slimy noxious smelling water. It smelled like death; like rotting flesh. They buried me up to my chin. The horrifying thing was I could see other women struggling to breathe like me. And I could see the decaying hands of the women who were unlucky to stay afloat or keep their head in such a manner that they did not suffocate.
My breathing was so labored. I could feel myself suffocating. Very little air could get in through that tiny tube. Wind was making the water splash into the tube. The pond water tasted nasty. My head was cramping in the only position that kept me alive if even barely. I passed out from lack of oxygen. I woke up in a fisherman’s boat. Never been so close to death before. I was the only one that made it. The rest suffocated or drowned in that death pond. I still don’t know who took me or why. It could have even been my kind rescuer. I am grateful to be breathing again, but I will always live in the fear that my captors will find me again once they realize I did not perish in that death pond like they intended.
My girlfriend Stephanie invited me to a Halloween Party. She met this hot guy at a club and scored us an invite to an exclusive underground club. I was pretty excited actually. I needed a good time. We both did. The location of the party was a secret. We were told to be at a warehouse at 9PM and we would be driven to the party destination. Stephanie and I arrived promptly at 9PM looking very sexy. There were other women there too, but they were not hot like us. None of us seemed to know what was going on, but I beginning to feel uneasy.
Then several men arrived. Very handsome men and Stephanie and I lost our senses. We are good submissive fuck pigs. Men tell us what to do, we do it. We know no other life. These men instructed us to get into this white bus. All of us, got on that bus, somehow knowing it might be the death of us. Like lambs to be slaughtered, we followed.
Were drove in the dark, in the woods, for several miles until we stopped at what appeared to be an abandoned church and graveyard. A creepy ass old church in the middle of nowhere. This could not be good for Stephanie and I, or the others. They led us into the church. I saw the pentagram, the candles, the blood… It was clear we were in the church of Satan. Why, we were not sure, but Stephanie and I were scared. There was blood all over the alter.
Stephanie and I were together, but the other girls they separated from us. Stephanie and I got tied up in the back of the church. I did my best to calm her. I had a plan. If we could convince our captors that we were good fuck toys; good breeders for virginal sacrifices, perhaps we could survive. We were clearly the pretty ones in the group. The Satanists seemed intrigued. Stephanie and I were forced to watch as they slaughtered the other girls at their bloody alter. Each girl was bound, gagged and forced to lay in the center of a burning pentagram. Their breasts were cut off, their pussies sowed shut, some sort of animal blood spilled on them, then they were lit on fire. It was the most horrifying thing either of us had every witnessed. And as subby fuck pigs, we have seen a lot. I can still smell their charred flesh and hear their screams.
I looked over at Stephanie and told her to trust me. We had something those women did not. We had rocking bodies and pretty faces, and we had youth on our side. We could appeal to their primordial urges. It worked. They did not kill us. Instead they took us to the basement. It appeared to be a sexual torture dungeon. All sorts of S and M devices. For days we were Satan’s sex slaves. Fucked in all our holes. Whipped. Tortured. Deprived of food and water. Forced to pee and defecate on the floor. They even forced us to play with each other as they jacked off on us. They were insatiable. They didn’t seem to need sleep. They did, however, need to fuck. They were determined to breed us.
We survived the church of Satan. We survived being the devil’s sex slaves. But barely. They passed out after being up for close to two days. I’m double jointed and freed my hands, then freed Stephanie. We ran naked through the woods, in the dark and the cold until we reached the highway and the kindness of a stranger. I’m not sure if the devil exists, but he certainly has followers who believe and they kill and fuck in his name. What would you do to us in the name of Satan?
Most women masturbate thinking about being eaten. But I bet they don’t get off thinking about being eaten how I think about it. I could care less about having my cunt eaten out or pussy worshiped. I want to literally be eaten. I want a master with a particular diet; one that requires human flesh to survive. I want to nourish my master and maybe his cruel accomplice. Look at me. I am tall, with big beautiful breasts and some meat on my bones. You could sustain yourself on my flesh for quite awhile.I bet I am delectable.
I want you to hunt me like a wild prey. Abduct me. Keep me locked up while you force feed me like a pig to fatten me up for slaughter. Then I want you to tenderize my meat, season and butter my skin. Shove and apple in my mouth and slow roast me over a fire. I wanna feel the flames engulfing me; I wanna feel my skin charring, falling off my flesh while I am slowly cooked to death for your sustenance, your survival. I wanna die slowly, painfully for your pleasure, your amusement. I want you to get off on my screams, my pain, my pleading for survival.
You know I look tasty. You know I would be scrumptious. I bet we could cook up all sorts of yummy scenarios together. Let me feed you and your family.
This new Master I knew was unusual, not like the others. I only saw him at night. He was pale. Skin was cold. He was sensitive to light. He was an amazing lover. Strong as an ox. Keen senses. Could heal my wounds he inflicted quickly and quite miraculously. He was extremely into blood play too. I should have known. I have seen enough horror films. But I had trouble rectifying reality from fantasy. That was until the night my Master made me his. Really made me his.
It was a dark and dreary night. I was tied to a wooden table spread eagle. Master had made over a 100 small but deep cuts on my body; on my worthless flesh. Blood was covering my body. Master was hard at the scent and sight of my blood. He would get off not so much on my pain like other masters, but on my blood. He would lick it off my body and never seemed to get enough of my sweet tasting crimson juice. If I got too weak from the bloodletting, he would cut his wrist and make me drink up. It somehow made me stronger, healed me.
This particular bloodletting, Master hit an artery on my neck by mistake. Blood was spurting out everywhere. I was choking on my own blood. I knew I was going to die. Then Master bit me, hard. I felt a chunk of my flesh separate from my neck. I began convulsing, twitching, dying. But then I awakened, almost like new. Master released me. I immediately looked at myself in the mirror, but I had no reflection. My skin was pale and cold. I was on sensory overload. I could hear bugs in the wall, birds outside, toilets flushing. And I was ravenous. So hungry. It scared me. I looked at Master and I knew. I just knew what he was, what I now was.
I have an unquenchable desire for blood now. I’m in need of accomplices to bring me something to feed on, preferably young and tender. In my new found state, I can be beaten unrecognizable, tortured, bled, mutilated, burned; anything brutal I can handle because I have the power to heal myself. So please, hurt me, destroy me, snuff me out. I assure you I won’t stay dead long. I will heal myself for you to hurt, destroy and snuff out another day.
When I was a little girl, my Daddy would read me bedtime stories while I was tied to the bed. And not your typical bed time stories one tells a wee lass. These were more like horror stories designed to scare the crap out of me and keep me pure. I remember all his wicked bed time stories, but one in particular stands out. It was about these evil little dolls that lived under my bed. They could only be seen at night. They only came out to torture bad little girls who touched themselves or had sex or were disobedient to their parents. They had sharp teeth and sharp spikes and would tear the flesh off of bad little girls. They would even penetrate naughty girls’ pussies and asses ruining them for future enjoyment because if a girl did not know how to use her privates properly she should not have them at all. A girl’s special spots were for her daddy’s enjoyment, not her own and certainly no other man.
One night, I woke up screaming in pain. I had masturbated in the shower that day. The evil little torture dolls must have know what I had done. I felt a blindfold go over my eyes and a sharp instrument inserted in my pussy and asshole. Hurt so bad. I screamed for my Daddy but he never came to save me. When the sun rose, I could see I was covered in blood. My daddy came in and said he knew the creatures visited me last night because I was a filthy dirty whore. He could not save me because I was not worth saving. A knife or some other sort of razor sharp object had fucked my cunt and ass, shredding both. Leaving them a bloody, tortured mess. I was in so much pain, I could not go to school the next morning. I could barely walk. There would be many more nights those evil creatures woke me up in the middle of the night to teach me a hard lesson about being impure. First time I tried to masturbate, first time I got my period, first time I kissed a boy, first time I told my Daddy I did not want to suck his dick… all marked by a visit from the torture creatures who would mutilate my female parts.
As I got older, I realized it was daddy sneaking in my room at night to torture his slutty baby girl. He always knew when I was bad. He took sadistic pleasure in hurting me; ruining me for other men. My body belonged to him and no one else. Daddy believed I was a worthless whore who did not deserve a pretty ass or pussy or tits. What do you think?
My Master told me he had just come back from a weekend long seminar at the Serious Bondage Institute in San Francisco. He learned a new bondage technique-mummification. Essentially this meant I would be severely restrained and wrapped up like a shiny package or mummy. I have seen mummies. I was scared. I mean not being able to move an inch, and possibly being denied much oxygen scared the crap out of me. But, what am I to do? I am a worthless whore at the mercy of her Master.
First, Master put me into a tight, sexy neoprene hood. Then he laid me out on what is called a Gingerbread platform. He started to wrap my body in a transparent pallet wrap from head to toe, and then from my toes back to my head. Master put me in this contraption he called a “Vertical Vac-Cube.” It felt like a mummy’s tomb. I was completely immobile and trapped in this rubbery thing with a tube in my mouth to breathe. Master then dumped buckets of ice water on me. So cold. The idea behind any of the vac toys, Master said, was “To put the victim in between sheets of latex, and then attach a vacuum cleaner to the space in between the latex sucking the air out, collapsing the latex around the victim and essentially vacuum sealing them in the pallet.” When he extracted me from the Vac-Cube, I looked like the vacuum packed products you buy at the store. It was like I was shrink wrapped. I started to panic because I could not move an inch.
I could breathe through a little tube Master put in my mouth, but because the plastic wrap was sealed so tight on my body, my rib cage was constrained, making breathing very difficult. He laid me out on the slab then wrapped me even further on to the platform. It was now becoming extremely hot in that saran wrap. I was vacuum sealed with another layer around me to restrain me even further. My body was on fire. I was cocooned under two tight layers of thick heavy plastic wrap. I was sweating and my breathing was becoming labored.
Then I heard a strange noise. It was faint as my ears were wrapped tightly like the rest of my body but I could not move my head to see what the noise was. Then I felt duct tape going over my face blinding me, and it felt like he put a layer over my stomach to further immobilize me. I couldn’t even cry I was restrained so tightly. I swear my eye balls couldn’t even move. Pressure was building up in my body. I was mummified. It was a strange feeling. I felt almost dead. Completely motionless. Hot. Swallow breathing. Darkness. Not much different from being buried alive.
Then I felt the table I was on flip. Master turned me upside down so the blood rushed to my head. Felt like my eyes would pop out of their sockets. My head felt like it was going to explode. It was all I could do to not vomit. If I did, surely I would choke on my own puke and die. This was the most excruciating bondage position Master had ever put me in. When I thought it could not get worse, I felt the vibrator between my legs. My clit was being over stimulating sending pain all through my body. I could not shake. I could not convulse. All I could do was lay their motionless praying for it all to be over soon…. Soon came hours later when I passed out. I woke up feeling like my bladder would explode too since I could not even pee. If I did surely it would go back up into my bladder. After almost 22 hours of being mummified, Master released me. But I was weak, so very weak and I suspect a few pounds lighter. Master said that was just the beginning, that this was only one mummification technique out of many that he learned. I was in serious trouble.
Master is very fond of scaring me. He claims I constantly need broken in; calls me his stubborn Philly. Last week he had me kidnapped by a bunch of frat boys. He paid them some beer money and they snatched me right out of the mall and took me to this house of horrors. They left there and told me to find my own way home. There was no electricity, no heat, nothing. The house was so old too. Like I could fall though a floor at any moment. I was afraid I would hurt myself. That was not what I should have been afraid of however.
As I felt my way around every corner, I encountered a horrific find that had my heart racing. My Master put me in a nightmare. He created a house of horrors just for me filled with everything that terrifies me the most. There was a room filled with slimy slithering snakes. I had to crawl on the floor feeling them run all over me. I peed my panties. Another room had spiders. Big hairy fucking spiders. I squished some with my fingers. So gross. I hate creepy crawly things. Master knows this. I was sure he was filming this and getting off somehow.
I had my cell phone with me, and although I could not get a signal to call for help, my flashlight app worked. I was trying to conserve the power, but I was getting more and more scared. The next room had something hanging from the ceiling, like punching bags that I had to navigate through. When I got something slimy on me I used the flashlight to see what exactly I was pushing my way through. Big mistake. It was like I was in a slaughter house. Dead pigs and cows everywhere. Gutted and bloody. The stench was nauseating. Master loves playing survival games with me. Testing my will to live.
I have survived worse than a house of horror. I have been buried alive, submerged in water, forced to kill… I can get through a creepy house. Suddenly, the floor fell out from underneath me. I was falling and landed in something wet and sticky. I fell hard too. I knew that smell, that taste. I was in blood. A vat of blood. No clue what kind of blood, didn’t want to know. I felt like Carrie at the prom. My long blonde hair was covered in blood. I fell in a tub. I crawled out and at least now I knew I was on the next level of the house. I crawled on the floor when pain hit. I was now crawling on broken glass. It hurt like hell. But I went as quick as I could. I was covered in blood, my own and someone or something else’s too.
I crawled right into a person, a live person. I thought it was my Master, but when I used the flashlight I saw it was something grotesque. A freak of some sort. It picked me up by the throat and throttled me. I was gasping for air, kicking frantically to free myself. Then the freak through me hard against a wall. I hit the wall, then fell through another floor. My Master and his friends were there waiting for me, laughing. I was covered in blood, bleeding, banged up and they were laughing. My pain amused them. Does my pain amuse you?
I thought today would be an ordinary day. Not that a professional submissive has ordinary days, but I thought I would be playing normal bondage games with my master. He was in a much more evil mood than usual. He put me on a rack and elongated me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tombstone and a wooden casket. I got really scared. He was going to kill me. This was the day I would be snuffed out. I knew it was coming, but didn’t think this soon. I pleaded with him, said I would do anything, any sick depraved thing he wanted, just let me live.
He approached me with a menacing grin and said, “Oh Cassandra, I am not going to kill you. I’m just going to bury you alive. If you die, it’s your fault for not fighting hard enough for to live.” Then he carried me over to the casket and dumped me inside. He nailed the coffin shut. There were little pin holes in the wood so I could get some air. But once I was under dirt, it would become difficult. I was pounding the coffin in a moment of panic, when I remembered all the horror movies I have seen and my master’s words. I need to not panic, save my energy and my air. I could feel him pulling the coffin. He put me in the truck and took me somewhere. I would later find out it was an old abandoned cemetery.
Master was prepared. He had the ground already dug up because he just dropped me in a hole. Then I could hear the dirt hitting the casket and some dirt was coming in through the holes. I was trying my best to conserve my air and think. Think how I could survive being buried alive. I have really long finger nails. I tried digging at the wood , but that was taking too long and would not work. So, I used my nails to push up the nails. My fingers were bloody and I even ripped off several of my nails. My fingers were sore and broken, but I got several nails out. Enough that I could use my strength to push up the top of the casket.
Dirt started pouring in. I closed my eyes and my mouth and dug myself out. I pushed my hands up and clawed over and over and over as fast as I could. Luckily, I wasn’t down too deep. I could feel worms in my fingers and all sorts of other creepy crawlies. I was trying not to wig out but it was gross. I got my hand out through the dirt and felt cool air. I was close. I went faster, as fast has my hands could scoop and dig. Finally I broke through the ground. Dirt in my ears, my mouth, up my nose…I puked up some dirt, was coughing and gagging, but was alive. Master was sitting on a tombstone with a timer and laughing. It took me 3 hrs and 22 mins to get out. He was impressed.
It was quite scary, but exhilarating at the same time. Despite all my snuff fantasies, I did want to live, and fought for my survival. Master now will have more survival tests for me to pass. What survival games should you and I play?
