Nude Bartending
- 4 years ago
- 29
- 0
Fantasy Ending free porn video
Ever since my wife died last year, I have been on a desperate search for a suitable method of death to join her in the afterlife. She was ****d and murdered while I was away on a business trip. Her death was violent, bloody and horrible from the evidence and as told by the assailant. She must have suffered in agony for many hours and wondered why I wasn’t there to protect her. I have blamed myself ever since and now I must find my peace in the only way I know how.
I decided to take my own life, but this would not be a quick or painless bullet to the head or sleeping pills. I wanted to experience the pain, horror and wonder that my lovely wife must have felt during her death. I wanted to experience as many types of torture for one body to endure over a length of time similar to the death of the woman I so loved. Her murderer enjoyed her agony, from his **** of her soul to the final desecration of her body. In a way, she was lucky in that a professional ended her life rather than a disease or old age at the hands of ahlzheimers. As much as I missed her, I also envied her. I would not have a professional, but I would become a quick study and learn the ways of torture and mutilation. I would use my unfinished attic to build a dungeon of horrors or a Death Room. It would be the place, when finished, where I would die. There would be every tool of death available to me. When the time came, I would be able to use and or chose several methods to destroy, mutilate and, finally, to kill my body and release my soul to join my wife. I began to search the Internet for stories and pictures of murder, mutilation and v******e. The real breakthrough came when I discovered snuff. These people were driven by the idea and planning of their own death by violent means or the death of others. There was an erotic twist to the whole deal that I would soon discover. To aid my mental processes and to get my mind in the direction needed to be totally at ease planning my own death, I began to write stories about it in graphic detail. I took pictures of my body in all manner of violent scenes and doctored them to look as real as possible. I was always naked in both story and picture. Sex and death had become intertwined. I had to be so comfortable with what lay ahead as to have it become real in my mind. When the day would dawn that I would end my life, I wanted it to be as if I was opening a door to another reality and triumphantly stepping through to the new beyond. Knowing that I would join my wife made it easy to imagine. I hoped that I would be strong and able to withstand the pain and agony of destroying my bodily vessel. The body is merely a carrier of our soul and what makes us who we are. I began to chose the implements, devices that I would use. I got the plans for a guillotine off the net. Don’t get the wrong idea. It would only be used as a final method to end my life. I would surely suffer great agony and pain prior to the finish. I also found a design for a gallows type beam structure for a slow hang. My final choice for the ending was a contraption of my own dark mind. It would have a double barrel sawed off shotgun enclosed in a headrest at the back of a comfortable chair. I would control the triggers with a lever. The placement of the back of my head against the barrels would be such that my head would be completely blown off above the neck. These three devices were for me to chose from at the desired time after inflicting unspeakable damage to my body over many hours. The actual death would be easy. Now I had to decide on how to slowly commit self torture and mutilation to resemble my dead wife. I needed to see and feel the damage inflicted on my body, but not lose too much blood and not black out too often from the pain. I was going to be taking some Percoset and Ecstasy in a combination that would leave me totally lucid, but take the edge off the pain. I got on the net and began to order various implements and knives. One place asked if my order was correct for the 15 Gerber combat daggers. They thought I’d made an error. I said no, that I was a reseller so they gave me a discount. Wow. I also bought a large sheet of stainless steel to make my guillotine blade. I had some plain razor blades, a few surgical scalpels and finally, two large fighting Bowie knives. I prayed that I would be able to use most, if not all, of them. I found a wide mouth sawed off shotgun also for one of my death choices. The spread pattern would easily blow my head off and leave only a bloody stump pumping blood until my heart finally stopped. Slow Instant Death (A few minutes of agony) I went to a home store to get my lumber, nuts and bolts and other hardware for both the guillotine and the gallows. The gallows would really be just a solid beam with a hook for a nice thick smooth rope. There would be stairs leading up to it. If that ended up being my final chosen method of death, I will simply climb the stairs, bloodied and already dying and put the noose around my neck. I would not drop, but merely step off and hang until dead. I would gasp for air for a few moments until losing consciousness. My body would shake and tremble. I would urinate involuntarily and then die. Maybe I would be lucky enough to orgasm during that time. Medium Instant Death (Maybe a few seconds of pain) The guillotine was a challenge to build. The high point of the device reached up into the center of my loft. I got truly hard building it and worked in the nude. I carefully cut, shaped and sharpened the blade before installing it into it’s holder. There were rubber bumpers where it would hit. Not enough to cause a bounce, but enough to let it rest easily as it sliced through my neck. I also installed three padded sides to hold my head in place and a pad under my neck just back from where the blade would slice. Two feet above where my head would lay there was a two foot by two foot mirror. The pads were there and designed to keep my head from moving at all as I was being decapitated. I would be face up looking at the blade the whole time and see it all. I would control the lever for release. If legends hold and guesses about anatomy too, I would be able to see my face during and for a few seconds after the blade separated my head from my body. My blood pressure in my head would quickly drop and I would lose consciousness. I would be the only one in history to view himself after decapitation. It was so hot to think about the possibilities. Instant Death (Split Second with no chance for pain) If I did decide to use the shotgun, that would be an even more instantaneous death than the guillotine. After laying back in the chair and positioning my neck at just the right spot, I would hold a picture of my wife in my left hand and the triggering lever for the gun in my right. I would look down at my bleeding body one more time to survey my work, look at the picture and then pull the two triggers. Within a millisecond, my head would be splattered all over the room into a wash of blood, brains and skull fragments. There would be no pain. My heart would continue to pump blood out of the stump spilling over my body for a few seconds and then my blood pressure would drop to zero. After building the devices and testing them thoroughly, I was ready to decide on a day. Since I retired early, there was no job to worry about and I had virtually no family left. I wanted to do this at night, starting at around 6pm and finishing around midnight. For Phase I, the torture and mutilation of my body, I had bought and installed a large floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. It was 8 ft wide. The former loft, now the Death Room, was very well lit with large windows at both ends. For both Phase I and II, I would be able to see everything in a mirror. I wanted my body to be in tip top shape. I have always been close to my ideal, but I decided to spend another month or so honing my physique to a time and place in my youth of years past. I went on a strict diet of fruit and vegetables. I ran and lifted continuously. I went to the death room daily and posed in front of the mirror. I tried the noose on for size often and laid down on the guillotine table, even falling asleep there on occasion. Just looking at the blade tempted me to just go ahead. But I was on a mission and had a plan. After about 6 weeks of training, I was in the best shape of my life and nicely tan. My wife would have approved. The human body is beautiful when sculpted carefully. I would be at my most hansom in death, slice open and soaked with blood. My body would be a tribute to my dead wife and to the poor soul who finds it after I am dead. The view of my body, both during and after my death will be glorious. I really wanted to join my wife and could wait no longer. Everything was now ready. My body, mind, the room and all of it’s contents. Today is now Friday and tomorrow I will die. I feel good saying it. I get an erection thinking about it. As I strip off my clothes this evening, I gaze into the mirror seeing a whole healthy body. There is a tinge of fear, but fuck that feeling. I am ready. I barely sleep this evening and soon the warm sun shines into my eyes. It is now Saturday. By midnight, I will be dead. I did not eat last night and will only drink water today. I have some anti-nausea pills and will take my percs and ecstasy at around 5pm. I spent the day looking at videos of my wife and going over my plans. The day whirls past as if to spare me time to come to my senses. I fully admit that my mind is warped and the darkness of my wife’s death has blurred all manner of reality. If during the process, I feel even the hint of backing out, I will have to remind myself that there is no other way. As I swallow my pills, I feel so at ease and committed to this unspeakable plan. I can feel the percs taking hold and the ecstasy gives me the euphoric false courage that I will need to end my life. I walk up the stairs to the Death Room and my penis is fully erect. It is unbelievable that at the moment of death, the body strives to fulfill it’s one true reason for being, that is to create life. I will not be creating life at all, but will be taking one in a truly horrible yet erotic and purposeful manner. The room is dark. As I turn on the lights, my chamber of horrors looks so fucking inviting. I walk over to the stainless steel table where my torture tools await. I can’t wait to work on my body like a sadistic surgeon. My goal is to make many small cuts of my skin from head to toe. None will be lethal, but each will help turn my body into an unrecognizable bloody form out of the best of the cult slasher movies. I did some cutting as a youth with a razor blade and it got me hot. Now I would do it for real. I picked up a raw blade and examined it. They are so fucking sharp. I looked at a picture of my wife and thought about how she looked when the police found her. I wanted to look the same. I turned and faced the full length mirror. My naked body looked great. I looked down at the blade and decided where to make the first cut. I’ll admit to being afraid, but there was no going back. I held the blade to my chest and dragged it slowly and deliberately down to my nipple. It stung and the shiny edge sunk almost a quarter inch into the skin. I had opened a 6 inch gash. It barely bled at first, only slowly, with beads of warm red blood forming at the edges. I just looked at the growing beads as they combined to form a trickle which ran the length of the wound and dripped down and off my left nipple. The room was so fucking highly charged now. The blood dripped onto my cock. I wanted to masturbate, but that would destroy my libido and I couldn’t afford to come down off my incredible high. With this first incredible cut, I had started my incredible journey into the unknown and dark world. I knew not where it would truly take me. I looked at my body in the mirror and chose another place to cut. I pushed the razor against my side and dragged it across my oblique or love handle area. Again, the blood beaded up and filled the cut. It did hurt, but the sharp blade kept the pain to a minimum. I was enlivened by the sight of my blood and this successful start to my eventual death. I just began to wing the blade against my body with little thought to aim or area and cut a dozen gashes into my skin from my legs to my neck. I rubbed my hand over my body feeling the blood. It was warm and thick. I licked my fingers. The taste was salty and exciting. I fisted my cock with my blood soaked hand just a little. I was in a murderous heaven now and on my way to my wife. I was experiencing some of what she felt and saw albeit without the fear and terror. I made a dozen more cuts until my body resembled a horrible bloody human swiss-cheese. It was now time for my Gerber knives. Each was identical with a 3 inch blade. These were not for cutting or slicing, but were built for plunging into someone. These were fighting knives meant to stab. I chose the length to prevent any real injury or the chance on spoiling my final act. I picked up the first of my combat daggers. I held it high and proud and looked at my bleeding body in the mirror and reveled in my glory. I was on my way to my ultimate reward. I needed all the strength I could muster to begin the 2nd part of Phase I. I wasn’t sure where to stab my body. I held the knife out in front of me facing in and counted in a whisper. 1, 2, 3 and plunged the blade into my belly above the naval. I quickly let go and looked down. It was to the handle and just embedded in my body. I felt only mild pain. The rest of my body was burning from the dozens of cuts. My cock was still very hard and covered in blood. There was no blood coming from around the knife. My skin had closed tightly around the blade. If I were to pull it out, I would definitely bleed. I walked back and forth looking into the mirror admiring my work and thinking about the rest of the knives. I still felt as if this were a dream and could not believe that I had just stabbed myself and was about to do it again and again. This was so fucking easy. Was it the percs or ecstasy that had taken the edge off the pain? I was waiting for any signs of shock, but I felt clear headed and ready for more. I picked up another dagger and again held it away out and ready to strike. Whack came my hand slamming the blade into my right side. I yelped at the pain and looked at my beautiful body. Two knives sunk deep into my torso was only the beginning. I had 13 more to go. I had no idea at what point in this process that I would decide to go Phase II. It would depend on my body and if I thought I was about to go into shock or to pass out. If I felt at all like the end was near, I would make that final choice and take my position at the appropriate device. I grabbed another dagger and quickly jammed it into my left side. I took one more and stabbed my gut just under the sternum. Over the next half hour, I took them one by one and found an ever decreasing clear target to stab. I was sweating profusely and bleeding from my neck to my calves. There were only two knives left and I looked like a human pincushion. I still felt totally aware and strong, but a bit hazy. I had to be careful not to drop dead where I stood or in route to my final choice. I picked up both knives and jammed the left one into my far left side. I carefully chose a spot up on my right chest between two ribs and, with both hands, pushed the dagger home. The pain was fierce and I fell to my knees. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like I would faint. My body was horribly and savagely injured now. I had some smelling salts on the table and quickly grabbed one ampule. I jumped at the smell, but it revived me. I was losing blood and decided to take a drink of water. As I drank about half a glass and felt better. I was parched. I just stood there looking into the mirror wondering if I could take the next step and plunge a full size 10 in blade into my gut. The floor was covered and speckled with blood all around me. It was shockingly beautiful and brought home the reality of my work. This was now a horrific crime scene with the victim and murderer being one in the same. I realized weeks ago that I might not have the strength to commit such an act at this point after sustaining so many wounds. I had taken the blade off the bowie knife and embedded the back end into a beam in the center of the room. I had also attached two handles on either side of the beam. I would either ram myself into the blade or get into position holding the handles and force my body onto the it. The scene would be a glorious medieval semi final act before the end. On the front of the beam was a mirror so that I could see every inch of my body and see my face before, during and after impaling my body onto the blade. I walked over to the beam and realized the Gerber daggers would interfere with Bowie knife. I carefully pulled out 6 knives. My skin closed up around the steel as each slipped out. I now had a clear path to force the Bowie blade into my body and give the beam a death hug. The tip of the Bowie was centered above my naval. I knew the pain would be horrific and I took a strong grip on the handles. The knife was just piercing my gut when I dug deep for all of my remaining strength and forced my body savagely onto the blade. It made a squishing sound as it entered me. The sound was breathtaking and I felt as if my insides had be ripped from my body. I screamed and held on so as not to fall. My knees buckled. I awoke on the floor with a horrible burning excruciating pain in the center of my body. I looked up at the bloody Bowie blade and realized I had fallen. The blade had ripped me apart. No man could stand that pain. I looked at my gut to see it laid open. The wound was horrific and I was bleeding at a good clip now. I again felt faint. I crawled across the floor to get to the smelling salts. I pulled the table over and broke another ampule under my nose. I could barely move. I had to get to one of my devices. The pain was unbearable and I was bleeding a lot. The shotgun was closest and I could rest in the chair. I made my way to the death chair with my fully loaded shotgun in place and climbed up. A trail of blood followed me and streamed out of my torso. I quickly positioned the back of my head and neck in the proper spot. I did not want to be found with half a face. This had to be done right. I felt so at ease now that it was time and held up the picture of my wife in my left hand. She was beautiful and I would join her soon. I found the lever with my right hand and made sure I was still. I was just looking at her and felt for the tension on the triggers. I was close to death anyway and smiled as I looked at the picture of my wife and at my mutilated body in the mirror. In a moment my head would be splattered on the mirror and I would be dead. I grabbed the lever and pulled, hearing only a click… I heard the gun go off and as if watching my body in a dreamlike state and felt the world spinning. When I came to rest, my wife called out to me and held out her hand. She was smiling reminiscent of the scene in Brave heart where Mel Gibbon’s dead wife watched him from the crowd as he was gutted and beheaded. How fitting and wonderful. As I looked back at the scene, it was truly a macabre and horrible scene with my body, headless and covered in blood and no sign of my head, but the splatter everywhere.
I decided to take my own life, but this would not be a quick or painless bullet to the head or sleeping pills. I wanted to experience the pain, horror and wonder that my lovely wife must have felt during her death. I wanted to experience as many types of torture for one body to endure over a length of time similar to the death of the woman I so loved. Her murderer enjoyed her agony, from his **** of her soul to the final desecration of her body. In a way, she was lucky in that a professional ended her life rather than a disease or old age at the hands of ahlzheimers. As much as I missed her, I also envied her. I would not have a professional, but I would become a quick study and learn the ways of torture and mutilation. I would use my unfinished attic to build a dungeon of horrors or a Death Room. It would be the place, when finished, where I would die. There would be every tool of death available to me. When the time came, I would be able to use and or chose several methods to destroy, mutilate and, finally, to kill my body and release my soul to join my wife. I began to search the Internet for stories and pictures of murder, mutilation and v******e. The real breakthrough came when I discovered snuff. These people were driven by the idea and planning of their own death by violent means or the death of others. There was an erotic twist to the whole deal that I would soon discover. To aid my mental processes and to get my mind in the direction needed to be totally at ease planning my own death, I began to write stories about it in graphic detail. I took pictures of my body in all manner of violent scenes and doctored them to look as real as possible. I was always naked in both story and picture. Sex and death had become intertwined. I had to be so comfortable with what lay ahead as to have it become real in my mind. When the day would dawn that I would end my life, I wanted it to be as if I was opening a door to another reality and triumphantly stepping through to the new beyond. Knowing that I would join my wife made it easy to imagine. I hoped that I would be strong and able to withstand the pain and agony of destroying my bodily vessel. The body is merely a carrier of our soul and what makes us who we are. I began to chose the implements, devices that I would use. I got the plans for a guillotine off the net. Don’t get the wrong idea. It would only be used as a final method to end my life. I would surely suffer great agony and pain prior to the finish. I also found a design for a gallows type beam structure for a slow hang. My final choice for the ending was a contraption of my own dark mind. It would have a double barrel sawed off shotgun enclosed in a headrest at the back of a comfortable chair. I would control the triggers with a lever. The placement of the back of my head against the barrels would be such that my head would be completely blown off above the neck. These three devices were for me to chose from at the desired time after inflicting unspeakable damage to my body over many hours. The actual death would be easy. Now I had to decide on how to slowly commit self torture and mutilation to resemble my dead wife. I needed to see and feel the damage inflicted on my body, but not lose too much blood and not black out too often from the pain. I was going to be taking some Percoset and Ecstasy in a combination that would leave me totally lucid, but take the edge off the pain. I got on the net and began to order various implements and knives. One place asked if my order was correct for the 15 Gerber combat daggers. They thought I’d made an error. I said no, that I was a reseller so they gave me a discount. Wow. I also bought a large sheet of stainless steel to make my guillotine blade. I had some plain razor blades, a few surgical scalpels and finally, two large fighting Bowie knives. I prayed that I would be able to use most, if not all, of them. I found a wide mouth sawed off shotgun also for one of my death choices. The spread pattern would easily blow my head off and leave only a bloody stump pumping blood until my heart finally stopped. Slow Instant Death (A few minutes of agony) I went to a home store to get my lumber, nuts and bolts and other hardware for both the guillotine and the gallows. The gallows would really be just a solid beam with a hook for a nice thick smooth rope. There would be stairs leading up to it. If that ended up being my final chosen method of death, I will simply climb the stairs, bloodied and already dying and put the noose around my neck. I would not drop, but merely step off and hang until dead. I would gasp for air for a few moments until losing consciousness. My body would shake and tremble. I would urinate involuntarily and then die. Maybe I would be lucky enough to orgasm during that time. Medium Instant Death (Maybe a few seconds of pain) The guillotine was a challenge to build. The high point of the device reached up into the center of my loft. I got truly hard building it and worked in the nude. I carefully cut, shaped and sharpened the blade before installing it into it’s holder. There were rubber bumpers where it would hit. Not enough to cause a bounce, but enough to let it rest easily as it sliced through my neck. I also installed three padded sides to hold my head in place and a pad under my neck just back from where the blade would slice. Two feet above where my head would lay there was a two foot by two foot mirror. The pads were there and designed to keep my head from moving at all as I was being decapitated. I would be face up looking at the blade the whole time and see it all. I would control the lever for release. If legends hold and guesses about anatomy too, I would be able to see my face during and for a few seconds after the blade separated my head from my body. My blood pressure in my head would quickly drop and I would lose consciousness. I would be the only one in history to view himself after decapitation. It was so hot to think about the possibilities. Instant Death (Split Second with no chance for pain) If I did decide to use the shotgun, that would be an even more instantaneous death than the guillotine. After laying back in the chair and positioning my neck at just the right spot, I would hold a picture of my wife in my left hand and the triggering lever for the gun in my right. I would look down at my bleeding body one more time to survey my work, look at the picture and then pull the two triggers. Within a millisecond, my head would be splattered all over the room into a wash of blood, brains and skull fragments. There would be no pain. My heart would continue to pump blood out of the stump spilling over my body for a few seconds and then my blood pressure would drop to zero. After building the devices and testing them thoroughly, I was ready to decide on a day. Since I retired early, there was no job to worry about and I had virtually no family left. I wanted to do this at night, starting at around 6pm and finishing around midnight. For Phase I, the torture and mutilation of my body, I had bought and installed a large floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. It was 8 ft wide. The former loft, now the Death Room, was very well lit with large windows at both ends. For both Phase I and II, I would be able to see everything in a mirror. I wanted my body to be in tip top shape. I have always been close to my ideal, but I decided to spend another month or so honing my physique to a time and place in my youth of years past. I went on a strict diet of fruit and vegetables. I ran and lifted continuously. I went to the death room daily and posed in front of the mirror. I tried the noose on for size often and laid down on the guillotine table, even falling asleep there on occasion. Just looking at the blade tempted me to just go ahead. But I was on a mission and had a plan. After about 6 weeks of training, I was in the best shape of my life and nicely tan. My wife would have approved. The human body is beautiful when sculpted carefully. I would be at my most hansom in death, slice open and soaked with blood. My body would be a tribute to my dead wife and to the poor soul who finds it after I am dead. The view of my body, both during and after my death will be glorious. I really wanted to join my wife and could wait no longer. Everything was now ready. My body, mind, the room and all of it’s contents. Today is now Friday and tomorrow I will die. I feel good saying it. I get an erection thinking about it. As I strip off my clothes this evening, I gaze into the mirror seeing a whole healthy body. There is a tinge of fear, but fuck that feeling. I am ready. I barely sleep this evening and soon the warm sun shines into my eyes. It is now Saturday. By midnight, I will be dead. I did not eat last night and will only drink water today. I have some anti-nausea pills and will take my percs and ecstasy at around 5pm. I spent the day looking at videos of my wife and going over my plans. The day whirls past as if to spare me time to come to my senses. I fully admit that my mind is warped and the darkness of my wife’s death has blurred all manner of reality. If during the process, I feel even the hint of backing out, I will have to remind myself that there is no other way. As I swallow my pills, I feel so at ease and committed to this unspeakable plan. I can feel the percs taking hold and the ecstasy gives me the euphoric false courage that I will need to end my life. I walk up the stairs to the Death Room and my penis is fully erect. It is unbelievable that at the moment of death, the body strives to fulfill it’s one true reason for being, that is to create life. I will not be creating life at all, but will be taking one in a truly horrible yet erotic and purposeful manner. The room is dark. As I turn on the lights, my chamber of horrors looks so fucking inviting. I walk over to the stainless steel table where my torture tools await. I can’t wait to work on my body like a sadistic surgeon. My goal is to make many small cuts of my skin from head to toe. None will be lethal, but each will help turn my body into an unrecognizable bloody form out of the best of the cult slasher movies. I did some cutting as a youth with a razor blade and it got me hot. Now I would do it for real. I picked up a raw blade and examined it. They are so fucking sharp. I looked at a picture of my wife and thought about how she looked when the police found her. I wanted to look the same. I turned and faced the full length mirror. My naked body looked great. I looked down at the blade and decided where to make the first cut. I’ll admit to being afraid, but there was no going back. I held the blade to my chest and dragged it slowly and deliberately down to my nipple. It stung and the shiny edge sunk almost a quarter inch into the skin. I had opened a 6 inch gash. It barely bled at first, only slowly, with beads of warm red blood forming at the edges. I just looked at the growing beads as they combined to form a trickle which ran the length of the wound and dripped down and off my left nipple. The room was so fucking highly charged now. The blood dripped onto my cock. I wanted to masturbate, but that would destroy my libido and I couldn’t afford to come down off my incredible high. With this first incredible cut, I had started my incredible journey into the unknown and dark world. I knew not where it would truly take me. I looked at my body in the mirror and chose another place to cut. I pushed the razor against my side and dragged it across my oblique or love handle area. Again, the blood beaded up and filled the cut. It did hurt, but the sharp blade kept the pain to a minimum. I was enlivened by the sight of my blood and this successful start to my eventual death. I just began to wing the blade against my body with little thought to aim or area and cut a dozen gashes into my skin from my legs to my neck. I rubbed my hand over my body feeling the blood. It was warm and thick. I licked my fingers. The taste was salty and exciting. I fisted my cock with my blood soaked hand just a little. I was in a murderous heaven now and on my way to my wife. I was experiencing some of what she felt and saw albeit without the fear and terror. I made a dozen more cuts until my body resembled a horrible bloody human swiss-cheese. It was now time for my Gerber knives. Each was identical with a 3 inch blade. These were not for cutting or slicing, but were built for plunging into someone. These were fighting knives meant to stab. I chose the length to prevent any real injury or the chance on spoiling my final act. I picked up the first of my combat daggers. I held it high and proud and looked at my bleeding body in the mirror and reveled in my glory. I was on my way to my ultimate reward. I needed all the strength I could muster to begin the 2nd part of Phase I. I wasn’t sure where to stab my body. I held the knife out in front of me facing in and counted in a whisper. 1, 2, 3 and plunged the blade into my belly above the naval. I quickly let go and looked down. It was to the handle and just embedded in my body. I felt only mild pain. The rest of my body was burning from the dozens of cuts. My cock was still very hard and covered in blood. There was no blood coming from around the knife. My skin had closed tightly around the blade. If I were to pull it out, I would definitely bleed. I walked back and forth looking into the mirror admiring my work and thinking about the rest of the knives. I still felt as if this were a dream and could not believe that I had just stabbed myself and was about to do it again and again. This was so fucking easy. Was it the percs or ecstasy that had taken the edge off the pain? I was waiting for any signs of shock, but I felt clear headed and ready for more. I picked up another dagger and again held it away out and ready to strike. Whack came my hand slamming the blade into my right side. I yelped at the pain and looked at my beautiful body. Two knives sunk deep into my torso was only the beginning. I had 13 more to go. I had no idea at what point in this process that I would decide to go Phase II. It would depend on my body and if I thought I was about to go into shock or to pass out. If I felt at all like the end was near, I would make that final choice and take my position at the appropriate device. I grabbed another dagger and quickly jammed it into my left side. I took one more and stabbed my gut just under the sternum. Over the next half hour, I took them one by one and found an ever decreasing clear target to stab. I was sweating profusely and bleeding from my neck to my calves. There were only two knives left and I looked like a human pincushion. I still felt totally aware and strong, but a bit hazy. I had to be careful not to drop dead where I stood or in route to my final choice. I picked up both knives and jammed the left one into my far left side. I carefully chose a spot up on my right chest between two ribs and, with both hands, pushed the dagger home. The pain was fierce and I fell to my knees. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like I would faint. My body was horribly and savagely injured now. I had some smelling salts on the table and quickly grabbed one ampule. I jumped at the smell, but it revived me. I was losing blood and decided to take a drink of water. As I drank about half a glass and felt better. I was parched. I just stood there looking into the mirror wondering if I could take the next step and plunge a full size 10 in blade into my gut. The floor was covered and speckled with blood all around me. It was shockingly beautiful and brought home the reality of my work. This was now a horrific crime scene with the victim and murderer being one in the same. I realized weeks ago that I might not have the strength to commit such an act at this point after sustaining so many wounds. I had taken the blade off the bowie knife and embedded the back end into a beam in the center of the room. I had also attached two handles on either side of the beam. I would either ram myself into the blade or get into position holding the handles and force my body onto the it. The scene would be a glorious medieval semi final act before the end. On the front of the beam was a mirror so that I could see every inch of my body and see my face before, during and after impaling my body onto the blade. I walked over to the beam and realized the Gerber daggers would interfere with Bowie knife. I carefully pulled out 6 knives. My skin closed up around the steel as each slipped out. I now had a clear path to force the Bowie blade into my body and give the beam a death hug. The tip of the Bowie was centered above my naval. I knew the pain would be horrific and I took a strong grip on the handles. The knife was just piercing my gut when I dug deep for all of my remaining strength and forced my body savagely onto the blade. It made a squishing sound as it entered me. The sound was breathtaking and I felt as if my insides had be ripped from my body. I screamed and held on so as not to fall. My knees buckled. I awoke on the floor with a horrible burning excruciating pain in the center of my body. I looked up at the bloody Bowie blade and realized I had fallen. The blade had ripped me apart. No man could stand that pain. I looked at my gut to see it laid open. The wound was horrific and I was bleeding at a good clip now. I again felt faint. I crawled across the floor to get to the smelling salts. I pulled the table over and broke another ampule under my nose. I could barely move. I had to get to one of my devices. The pain was unbearable and I was bleeding a lot. The shotgun was closest and I could rest in the chair. I made my way to the death chair with my fully loaded shotgun in place and climbed up. A trail of blood followed me and streamed out of my torso. I quickly positioned the back of my head and neck in the proper spot. I did not want to be found with half a face. This had to be done right. I felt so at ease now that it was time and held up the picture of my wife in my left hand. She was beautiful and I would join her soon. I found the lever with my right hand and made sure I was still. I was just looking at her and felt for the tension on the triggers. I was close to death anyway and smiled as I looked at the picture of my wife and at my mutilated body in the mirror. In a moment my head would be splattered on the mirror and I would be dead. I grabbed the lever and pulled, hearing only a click… I heard the gun go off and as if watching my body in a dreamlike state and felt the world spinning. When I came to rest, my wife called out to me and held out her hand. She was smiling reminiscent of the scene in Brave heart where Mel Gibbon’s dead wife watched him from the crowd as he was gutted and beheaded. How fitting and wonderful. As I looked back at the scene, it was truly a macabre and horrible scene with my body, headless and covered in blood and no sign of my head, but the splatter everywhere.
Mara
- 25.04.2021
- 17
- 0
Fantasy Feeder
- 1 year ago
- 36
- 0
Fantasy Night Turns into Femdom nightmare
- 2 years ago
- 35
- 0
