As I prepared our most recent victims remains for dinner, dancing around the kitchen naked and bloody from head to toe, mistress perches on a counter, lazily watching me with those terrible, dangerous eyes. She informs me we have a guest for dinner, and dessert. Her own master has arrived. I pause, what horrible creature could be so powerful, so much more murderous as to be HER master? Then the thought occurred to me, I hadn’t made anything for dessert. She tells me it’s already been handled, and not to worry. That his coming was a very special occasion. I go back to rubbing salt and thyme into the chunks of pink flesh I had rinsed the blood from earlier. But my heart still beat.
Suddenly I’m waking up. I don’t remember falling asleep. My body is moving, back and fourth on a table of some sort. There’s something in my throat. I can’t breathe. But why doesn’t it hurt? I can’t see very well. My eyes aren’t all the way open.
Oh, God help me! He’s on me. It’s gotta be him. He looks like they say demons do. Beautiful, big, dangerous. He’s thrusting in…in…oh fuck! his dick is in my throat. But not from my mouth, from my chest! I’m cut open, and he is fucking my throat from the bottom up. Mistress is holding my esophagus, helping to jerk his dick off in the back of my mouth. WHY DOESSN’T IT HURT?! My heart is poun… wait, no it’s not pounding…. then it occurs to me. It doesn’t hurt, because I’m dead. I was fucking dessert. They are using my mangled, empty corpse to fuck. I’m covered in pussy juice, cum, blood, and pieces of myself.
But it doesn’t matter…. not anymore…
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