Tecpatl
Forum Resident
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2011
- Messages
- 501
- Location
- USA
They’re so much easier when they’re wanting it so bad. Or at least when they think they want it so bad. Even with the willing ones, there always seems to be a point where they change their minds, where preservation instincts take over. But once I’ve started they’re already past the point of no return. Once I step through the door …
Which was what brought me to my current location in Edinburgh. To a boy who was so convinced that he really wanted to be slaughtered and eaten. He’d role played it a number of times after all and always gotten a hard on. Always cum like he’d never cum before. So it had to be that way with the real thing, right …
He opened the door as soon as I rang. Oh he was ready all right. He stood there in jeans and a t shirt. His shock of hair, which was purple in the photos online, was blood red for this occasion. And to his credit, the body under the clothes looked like it was the same as the one in the online photos. Which was good for him. If he wasn’t up to my standards I’d slit his throat quickly and leave the rejects for the coroner.
He opened his mouth to start to say something but I covered it with my hand. I was studying his eyes, seeing if he had the commitment to do this without tying him down. I decided we could try. I reached to the collar of his t and tore it, ripping the shirt in two. Yes there were the tattoos, the smooth body from the photos. I had the shirt off and unbuttoned the jeans, slowly revealing the cock. It was already hard and already leaking precum. We‘d see how well he handled it when there was pain mixed with the pleasure, when it was so much more than an imagined feeling.
I pulled the jeans down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of being undressed. I ran my hands over the nicely sculpted thighs, then my tongue, then closed by teeth around a mouthful of thigh flesh. He just about came at that. I was going to need to get some pain into the mix to slow him down before he spilled his cum early and ruined the whole experience.
I led him into the kitchen, which he had already set with knives and a cleaver. I wondered if he jerked off while arranging the knives that would kill and butcher him. I bet he did actually. I told him to lay down on the island where he had lain in the photos. Now I let him watch me undress. I was very careful to reveal my carefully sculpted body casually, but slowly. Letting him savor the muscled body that would cut meat off of his dead carcass. His cock was straining, lying against his smooth belly. I gave him a smile. He smiled back. But no spoken words. That was the agreement. There would be no safe words for this encounter.
I took a broad knife and laid it flat on his chest, using its cold surface to tease his nipples, to run down his belly. Then I decided to inflict some pain by starting to collect the tattooed skin I would preserve as a souvenir of our short but intimate and intense relationship. I took his right forearm and rotated it so the tattoo was facing up. He looked at me quizzically like he expected something more. But then I inserted the point of the knife into his skin and there was a sharp intake of breath. I traced an oval around the tattoo, keeping the point of the knife just deep enough to pierce the skin and not the muscle. He was moaning slightly and breathing rapid and shallow breaths from the pain. But to his credit he stayed in place on the island counter, raising his head to watch my artistry. Then I slid the knife under the skin and began to cut it away from the flesh. This elicited a short scream. Yes, so many nerves in the skin to be cut away. Tears were running down his face.
I held up the tattooed patch of skin and licked the blood away. I held the knife to his lips and gave him a chance to taste his own blood. Yes that’s how we began.
Next I took his nipples, one at a time, sliding the knife under to slice them free and then licking them off the face of the knife and chewing and swallowing them. There was a low moan, almost of pleasure, as he watched me eat that first bit of his flesh. His cock began to harden again, after growing flaccid under the pain of his skin being cut off his arm. Now we would play the game of how much pain caused him pleasure, and how much destroyed the pleasure. It would be a delicately timed dance until I brought a crescendo of pain and pleasure together with his death. But then I was a master at this. It’s why I was there.
One by one the other tattoos came off, revealing bloody muscle underneath. When I took the stars that covered the belly and hip they revealed some of the ab muscle. It looked like the abs might make a decent meal. In between each tattoo, I teased the cock and balls back to their erect state, leaving them bloody with the blood from my lips and tongue, working the cock til it was just shy of spurting its cum before leaving it to lie long and hard and unfulfilled on the intact belly before I inflicted more pain. And so it was that I edged my victim with tongue and knife, pleasure and pain, until it was time.
I drew the point of the knife from the base of his throat down the center of his chest, down that wonderful center line of a man’s belly that leads through his navel to his cock. All the time I was working the cock with my hand, until it was straining for release, until the whole sweating, pain wracked, pleasure filled body that lay under my hands, cried out for release. I ended the red line of blood at the base of the straining cock and used the flat of the blade to tease the balls and the shaft, sensing the timing for when the balls drew up toward the shaft to shoot the massive load that had built up, and just as it was about to spurt forth I grasped the cock and balls, pulling them down and with three quick cuts of the knife had them off in my hand pulling the ducts and glands they were attached to out of the crotch with them. But the pain couldn‘t stop what the network of pleasure nerves had started and the cock spasmed in my hand, shooting the massive load that had built up in the balls over my own chest. The body beneath me howled, whether in pain or pleasure I will never know. Was it outrage for being deprived of the massive orgasm it was longing for or did severing the nerves cause them to dump a massive signal of pleasure into the brain? Or both maybe.
As the body lay quivering at the massive loss of ripping away its cock, I decided it was time to skin the marvelous thighs. I stroked them with my hands, admiring them, even though my touch could no longer bring sexual pleasure as this body got nearer to death. I drew the point of the knife along the inner thighs, from the crotch to the knee, then circled the leg at the hip and knee, slipping the knife under the skin to cut the massive piece of skin free and drape it over a counter. The screams were weaker and the body didn’t move as much as the continuing loss of blood slowly drained the body’s strength.
He had done well, my willing longpig. I brushed his hair from his eyes and looked at him, his face tear stained, his eyes filled with pain, but he was still hanging on, lying still on the cutting board of the island. I decided to be quick with what came next.
I thrust the knife in deep at the top of the breastbone and began sawing quickly, cutting the right ribs away from the sternum, continuing to the bottom of the rib cage where it got easier cutting through the flesh that held the abs together. I cut until I reached the hole where the cock and balls had been. I looked up at the face, and the mouth was open in a silent scream.
I reached up and grasped the two sides of the rib cage, now separated, and pulled, cracking them apart. All his organs were now visible, and I wrapped my arms around them and pulled them down, feeling the heart feebly beating against my own left nipple. I pulled them out of the torso until they plopped on the floor, spraying the kitchen with blood and other internal fluids.
The man who had invited me into his house lay dead now, an empty carcass, ready to be broken down into its parts, ribs and roasts, steaks and chops. With two nice hams that would feed several people. And the feet of course. I finished wrapping and storing all the meat in the empty refrigerator. Disposed of the inedible parts, and then cleaned the kitchen and cleaned up myself.
I savored a meal of the left pec steak and the heart, and then left to return home. I placed the key in a place where it would only be found by someone who knew where to look. Then I posted the address, the key‘s location and what cuts of meat were available to private messages on a certain website where I had first seen the deceased. I trust that those with the proper information will stop by to enjoy our now dead longpig as he would have wanted them to. Bon apetite mes amies!
