He did me brutal in the wood on an estate - I was scared and that aroused me so, and when he used his knife he used it like a cock and fucked my body to a sexual nightmare of pain and ecstasy. It’s the way I wanted to go; like a girl victim in a horror movie.
Since I was young, American horror movies have aroused me. The scenes of girls running from a knife-wielding human monster, so terrified, so panicked and breathless. Darting blindly through the wood or an old house with the monster following, plodding and relentless. He and I knowing that he will run the girl to ground and send her to her violent death shaking and writhing. With each film I knew that running was futile, even at a young age understanding that the best thing they could do was stop and submit - to bare their bellies and give themselves to the monster and accept his blade deep into their bodies and savour the intense and overwhelming invasion of their flesh.
There comes a moment during each murder when the girl knows the outcome is inevitable - when the blade sinks deep into her belly and she understands that all she has left is this experience. It is the look on her face; the expression of awe at the foreign sensation of steel penetrating deadly-deep and her complete surrender. It’s like giving in to a rape to steal an orgasm in the midst of horror.
Now I am running. Running through the wood in the near total darkness, tripping, knocking haphazardly against trees, tripping over roots and stones. Each time I pause and listen I can hear him moving toward me from behind - plodding and inexorable. I know he wears a robe and mask. I know he carries a long sharp knife.
He drove us to this place in his lorry - “It’s near a bog I had some business at” he said, and I know what he means; I read about that sixth form girl who came with him to be strangled and he confirmed that she was his business there.
“Don’t worry, luv - she had le petite mort during her grande mort.” he’d said and chuckled. I understood he meant she died cumming, something all of we the willing hope for.
We got out into the cool night air and he donned his costume and slid his knife from where it was hidden in the back of his lorry.
“Run.” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice - he was going to enjoy our game.
Now my legs are burning weak and my lungs are on fire, but ahead of me I see a brightening in the wood. It is a small clearing lit by the moonlight. We chose tonight because it is a full moon - to give light and ambiance and irony. I make for the light for that is where it will happen.
There is a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing and I climb over it and sit down, knowing my back is to him and knowing he will see me silhouetted by the brightness of moonlight reflecting and diffuse in the clearing. I catch my breath and savour the warm weakness that seeps into my thighs after my run. It’s that seductive warmth that spreads after strenuous exercise - the blood vessels dilated, the endorphins soothing the body, the feeling of physical contentment that is like a drug that quiets and calms. I want to be quiet. I want to be calm. It will be best that way.
I hear twigs snapping quietly and the soft susurration of his robe trailing over bushes from the wood behind me, drawing nearer. Closer ... closer ... then silence.
He has stopped. He has seen me and is creeping up on me without making a sound. There is enough light for him to be able to see the ground between him and me and is stepping lightly, picking his path over the loam and carpet of damp leaves.
I wait, forcing myself to breath evenly and deeply without making a sound. I ignore the urge to hold my breath - I want my blood to be oxygenated when it starts. I want to be aware and sensitive and alive until I am not.
I wonder why he is hesitating. I know he is close, I can feel his presence behind me like heat radiating from a distance.
The hand slides round the left side of my throat and cups my chin as the knife appears before my eyes. He lifts my chin and I let him, then feel the electric rush of adrenaline flood my body as the tip of the knife finds the base of my throat and he pushes it into me - it breaches steadily and deep. I gag as I feel it penetrate, slicing the soft tissue of my gullet as the length of it pushes downward, deep into my chest. Blood gushes inside me, I feel its liquid heat as it pulses in my throat, I taste it as it lubricates the root of my tongue.
It is as I imagined it - unyielding, rigid, stealing the chastity of my body like a cock steals a maidenhead. He has entered me - gored me. I feel a strong pull deep in my sex, suddenly aware of my arousal; my clit engorging with blood and pushing against the stretching hood of my labia; my g-spot swelling in the cavern of my vagina; my anus releasing its grip loosening.
He moves the knife inside me just enough to amplify its presence. I gag once more, my stomach heaves and I vomit up a thick clotting of blood as I fart and wet myself. At first I try to hold it and realize it is a vain attempt to preserve my dignity - a foolish thought at this juncture. I release, and as he carefully slides the blade up and out of my chest and throat I piss myself, hot urine flooding my crotch and inner thighs, puddling inside my jeans under my bum.
He lowers me, laying me down on the fallen tree like a lover. I lift my right leg and lay it over the tree, stabilizing my body like a sacrifice on an altar. He lifts my top, exposing the soft flesh of my belly and breasts and positions the tip of his knife halfway between my belly button and mound and with no pause at all pushes it into me. I feel the sharp burn of it penetrating skin and fat and the ache as it pushes through muscle - a bruising sensation both sharp and dull at the same time. It slides deeper and I grunt as I feel it skewer my uterus with an electric quiver of pain and a pre-orgasmic tightening. I have no time to recover as he slides the blade up out of me and presses it against the firmness of my mound and pushes it deep once more. I feel the blade grind against my pubic bone as it splits my now empty bladder and finds my g-spot, impaling it and my vagina and puncturing my rectum in one smooth slide. I feel my anus gape and liquid burble and vibrate than now loose ring, messing my pants further.
I feel the rush of endorphins as they tingle through my body from my core to my throat, dancing over my nipples to wash down my back and across my bum. I curl forward in that instant as a powerful orgasm blooms hard in my lower belly like a swelling cushion around shaft of sharp pain inside me. This is the peak of my orgasm, yet it will roll through me continuously like storm waves crashing on a stony shore for the remaining moments of my life.
I will die in ecstasy.
I am quivering and straining around that undulating orgasm so fiercely that I don’t notice him withdraw the knife until he pushes it relentlessly into the soft flesh just inside the right wing of my pelvic cradle and I feel my ovary burst. He repeats the almost surgical action on each side.
He is fucking me with the knife, pushing it with a measured speed into my body over and over, using it like practiced men use their cock to drive our desires higher and keep this seemingly endless orgasm rolling inside me. He works his way up my belly until just under my sternum where he pushes it into my stomach. This too is sexual, causing me to heave and vomit more blood, my body using the same muscles to vomit as it does to orgasm.
Yet too soon I feel myself getting weaker. A coldness is creeping across my skin and my fingertips are tingling. I am going into shock and he senses that and makes his final plunge; just to the left of my sternum on the soft swell of my breast, pushing the knife slowly into my chest. I feel the blade sink deep, making my ribs ache as it pushes them apart, nicking my heart, and filling my lungs with blood. My heart flutters rapidly like a little wounded bird and a wave of vertigo floods my senses turning the world upside down. He withdraws the knife, leaving me quivering and gasping, blood rattling in my throat.
“... I’m done ...” I gurgle wetly, my voice quavering and weak, and like the end of a horror movie, with my killer standing over me, my world fades to black.
As my lifeless eyes stare into the darkness he pulls off his robe and puts down his knife. He leans over my body and fondles my breasts, then straightens my head and tilts it back. Straddling the fallen tree, he unzips and releases his hardened cock, and guides it past my lips and pushes it deep down my throat. He fucks my gullet, his cock lubricated with my blood, the squishing sounds louder than his ragged breathing, my flaccid throat bulging with each slow thrust of his cock. He growls and presses harder when he cums, dislocating my jaw and forcing himself deeper.
Wiping himself with the robe, he departs, but returns with a bottle of bleach. Lifting my shoulders with my head lolling over his supporting arm, he pours the bleach into my open mouth, flowing it down my gullet and into my punctured stomach to destroy his DNA. He lays me back down gently, positioning me as I was. Taking everything with him, he leaves my body to the dark and quiet wood.