zotter
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2023
- Messages
- 68
- Location
- North America
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" was what I was trying to say but all that came out was gargled spatters and the left over sounds of what were supposed to be my words.
The razor sawed aggressively and roughly against my throat. Severing my trachea and rupturing my vocal chords but knowing enough not to sever my arteries. I wheezed and choked at the pain.
"Not like this"...
...
No, not like that. I had always dreamed it. Going out as food. Food for MEN. Tourniquets at my shoulders and upper thighs. The chef butchering me exquisitely leaving barely any stump of my arms or legs on my torso and hips when he dismembered me.
My cock wasn't very big but that's alright it didn't need to be. I was older anyway too I knew it was time for me go to slaughter at some point, why not now. My purpose. Feed my fellow men.
And honestly I'm fascinated by what the inside of my meat looks like.
Dismembered I would be laid out in the center of the kitchen, around me water would boil, vegetables prepped.
The chefs talking but I can barely hear or understand them. The kitchen noise and my slowly dropping blood pressure, even with the tourniquets, would make sure of that.
It would be so weird to try move around, without my limbs, just a head, torso, hips, cock & balls. It made my body so much lighter and my center of gravity was all different.
I'd try to lean to roll over on my side but over did it with my awkwardly shaped body and almost rolled off the counter. That the chef would come over, probably rebuke me and roll me to my back.
I'd be alive to see my limbs turned into thin cuts of meat and little steaks. I'd smell it cooking on the grill around me and finally when people dined on me I could watch it all.
My leg and arm meat going to feed the men around me. My erection turgid this whole time.
But upon finishing the dinner the tourniquets would be untied and I would bleed out, them, slicing my neck halal just to make sure. I would finally black out.
So many nights I thought of that and jerked off. I fantasized about it looked and cartoon art and CDG. It's what I hoped would happen. I came multiple times at the thought. I'd find the chef that would do it and build out a plan.
But it wasn't like that at all...
...
I found that chef, well he turned out not to be a chef at all. That's how I ended up with him on top of me, fucking me doggy style, his large cock sliding in and out of me. Fucking me hard while his knife was at my throat.
He assured me it be just for knife play fucking me for fun before the main event.
For the thrill and the endorphins of being fucked and knowing that at any moment he could slash my throat. Would it be before or after I came?
Didn't matter because I knew he was going to cook me and not kill me here.
Turns out that's not what he wanted.
While fucking me he brought the knife across my throat sawing heavily into it and thus turned all my words and pleading into a gurggling mess.
The shock of the trauma mixed with the pleasure of this cock fucking and breeding me was unreal. He pulled his cock out of me leaving his load.
My wheezing and coughing and unworldly noises I was making from my slashed throat only intensified when he grabbed my cock and balls from behind me and sawed them off with the knife.
He chuckled with his deep voice "welp meat, you only have a bitty nub of a cock and small nuts, you wont need this anyway"
The pain was excruciating. My eyes were tearing up as he grabbed my little cock and balls, pulled hard and began to saw at the base of my genitals.
They definitely were small as he made quick work of it. Tossing them aside with the most disregard. Like my flesh meant nothing, my death meant nothing to him.
The fear. that primal urge to get away but at the same time turned on. My breathing was intense, my heart racing. True instinctive panic that setting in. My erotic fascination the only thing making it bearable. I could feel the last stump of erectile tissue try to get hard.
He rolled me over to my back, my breathing still haggard and choked. Making sounds not many living men have heard. This guy was getting to see a part of me no one else would.
I was fine with that. I kinda had to be. I was foolish enough to think I'd get my fantasy. When I play with other fetish brothers that have a complicated relationship with death & pain, what did I expect?
"I'm still not done with you, meat!" as he held his knife just above my stomach. He moved the knife back and forth from above my belly to my chest. Back and forth, back and forth.
"What's going on inside your peritoneum today, meat? Before I could hack a sound he plunged his knife just below the sternum and slid it down my belly.
The knife was short so it burned like hell cutting across me and exposing me innards, but not yet cutting my organs or guts.
My heart was beating so fast that my heart now pumped up and down in my chest cavity and out of it again. Slowly jostling my other organs and guts, coaxing it out of my cavity.
The shock had over took me. So many traumas across my body, my brain facing an onslaught of input before starting to block it.
"Hey meat, just one more thing"
He took his hands out from rifling around in my innards and picked up a larger knife. He held it above my upper left thigh.
"Oh thank god" Was the thought that came across my head, well if you cold call it a thought. More of a wave of relief that he was going to do one of the things I asked him to do.
He carved carefully into my leg, just down to the femur. The knife then found bone and he just left it there.
That little bit of grace, that being able to finally see what the inside of my leg meat looked like. It wouldn't be chopped off. It wouldn't have a tourniquet. It wouldn't be full dismemberment.
But that little slice open of leg meat and again the horniness overtook me, my quarter inch of erectile tissue getting hard. All this before I finally black out. To death. My empty stare still looking at my leg.
I had gone quiet and limp. He went on to eat me. Raw. Biting of parts of me. And cutting others off. Cooking some. When he was tired with me and had his fill the rest of my chunks were tossed out with next day's garbage.
The razor sawed aggressively and roughly against my throat. Severing my trachea and rupturing my vocal chords but knowing enough not to sever my arteries. I wheezed and choked at the pain.
"Not like this"...
...
No, not like that. I had always dreamed it. Going out as food. Food for MEN. Tourniquets at my shoulders and upper thighs. The chef butchering me exquisitely leaving barely any stump of my arms or legs on my torso and hips when he dismembered me.
My cock wasn't very big but that's alright it didn't need to be. I was older anyway too I knew it was time for me go to slaughter at some point, why not now. My purpose. Feed my fellow men.
And honestly I'm fascinated by what the inside of my meat looks like.
Dismembered I would be laid out in the center of the kitchen, around me water would boil, vegetables prepped.
The chefs talking but I can barely hear or understand them. The kitchen noise and my slowly dropping blood pressure, even with the tourniquets, would make sure of that.
It would be so weird to try move around, without my limbs, just a head, torso, hips, cock & balls. It made my body so much lighter and my center of gravity was all different.
I'd try to lean to roll over on my side but over did it with my awkwardly shaped body and almost rolled off the counter. That the chef would come over, probably rebuke me and roll me to my back.
I'd be alive to see my limbs turned into thin cuts of meat and little steaks. I'd smell it cooking on the grill around me and finally when people dined on me I could watch it all.
My leg and arm meat going to feed the men around me. My erection turgid this whole time.
But upon finishing the dinner the tourniquets would be untied and I would bleed out, them, slicing my neck halal just to make sure. I would finally black out.
So many nights I thought of that and jerked off. I fantasized about it looked and cartoon art and CDG. It's what I hoped would happen. I came multiple times at the thought. I'd find the chef that would do it and build out a plan.
But it wasn't like that at all...
...
I found that chef, well he turned out not to be a chef at all. That's how I ended up with him on top of me, fucking me doggy style, his large cock sliding in and out of me. Fucking me hard while his knife was at my throat.
He assured me it be just for knife play fucking me for fun before the main event.
For the thrill and the endorphins of being fucked and knowing that at any moment he could slash my throat. Would it be before or after I came?
Didn't matter because I knew he was going to cook me and not kill me here.
Turns out that's not what he wanted.
While fucking me he brought the knife across my throat sawing heavily into it and thus turned all my words and pleading into a gurggling mess.
The shock of the trauma mixed with the pleasure of this cock fucking and breeding me was unreal. He pulled his cock out of me leaving his load.
My wheezing and coughing and unworldly noises I was making from my slashed throat only intensified when he grabbed my cock and balls from behind me and sawed them off with the knife.
He chuckled with his deep voice "welp meat, you only have a bitty nub of a cock and small nuts, you wont need this anyway"
The pain was excruciating. My eyes were tearing up as he grabbed my little cock and balls, pulled hard and began to saw at the base of my genitals.
They definitely were small as he made quick work of it. Tossing them aside with the most disregard. Like my flesh meant nothing, my death meant nothing to him.
The fear. that primal urge to get away but at the same time turned on. My breathing was intense, my heart racing. True instinctive panic that setting in. My erotic fascination the only thing making it bearable. I could feel the last stump of erectile tissue try to get hard.
He rolled me over to my back, my breathing still haggard and choked. Making sounds not many living men have heard. This guy was getting to see a part of me no one else would.
I was fine with that. I kinda had to be. I was foolish enough to think I'd get my fantasy. When I play with other fetish brothers that have a complicated relationship with death & pain, what did I expect?
"I'm still not done with you, meat!" as he held his knife just above my stomach. He moved the knife back and forth from above my belly to my chest. Back and forth, back and forth.
"What's going on inside your peritoneum today, meat? Before I could hack a sound he plunged his knife just below the sternum and slid it down my belly.
The knife was short so it burned like hell cutting across me and exposing me innards, but not yet cutting my organs or guts.
My heart was beating so fast that my heart now pumped up and down in my chest cavity and out of it again. Slowly jostling my other organs and guts, coaxing it out of my cavity.
The shock had over took me. So many traumas across my body, my brain facing an onslaught of input before starting to block it.
"Hey meat, just one more thing"
He took his hands out from rifling around in my innards and picked up a larger knife. He held it above my upper left thigh.
"Oh thank god" Was the thought that came across my head, well if you cold call it a thought. More of a wave of relief that he was going to do one of the things I asked him to do.
He carved carefully into my leg, just down to the femur. The knife then found bone and he just left it there.
That little bit of grace, that being able to finally see what the inside of my leg meat looked like. It wouldn't be chopped off. It wouldn't have a tourniquet. It wouldn't be full dismemberment.
But that little slice open of leg meat and again the horniness overtook me, my quarter inch of erectile tissue getting hard. All this before I finally black out. To death. My empty stare still looking at my leg.
I had gone quiet and limp. He went on to eat me. Raw. Biting of parts of me. And cutting others off. Cooking some. When he was tired with me and had his fill the rest of my chunks were tossed out with next day's garbage.
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