Fantasy Snuff Slut

He said he wanted to surprise me. But he needed a few days to set it up. He told me to pack a suitcase, he was sending me on a vacation.

I brought my bag down. A small duffel… I don’t own many clothes. He took it & told me to stand very still.

He slowly inserted a plug into my ass. A small one, almost comfortable. Then he wrapped me tightly in a sheet. Trapped my arms to my sides.

He wound tape around me, holding the sheet together. My knees could still bend, barely, & my head was free, otherwise I may as well have been a mummy.

He picked me up & took me to the greenhouse. The bench had been moved, a sheet of particle board was propped against it. Under it he’d dug a pit. Over it hung a winch dangling a swing. He put me in the swing.

“Listen very carefully. You are going in this hole. I need a few days of privacy. I don’t want to see,” he stuck a ballgag in my mouth, cinching it tightly, “or hear you.” He showed me a pair of earplugs. “Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“Good. These will keep it nice & quiet. You can pretend you’re dead! Enjoy your vacation!”He placed the plugs in my ears. I couldn’t even hear the the whir of the winch as he lowered me in. He’d dug so that there was a ledge to sit on & just enough room for my legs in front of me. He leaned in to unhook the swing. I watched as the light was slowly blocked by the board.

I was alone in a black pit.

And yes, I did pretend I was dead. It’s a game I’ve become familiar playing with him.

Then I pretended I wasn’t…

…thirsty.

…hungry.

…embarrassed by the mess I was making as I sat there.

…frightened.

…crying & tired & terrified of the silence.

…depressed. Why was I here? Did I do something wrong? Was this really my grand finale, forgotten in a pit?

I don’t know how many days passed. I was sobbing as he pulled me out. I cried as he removed the gag & sheet & earplugs. He hosed me down, pulled out the butt plug, then cleaned me again. I was still sobbing as he helped me out of the greenhouse. I couldn’t tell if it were morning or evening, there was barely any sunlight. He sat me down at the picnic table & held me.

Finally, I asked him the question that had plagued me in the dark.

“How much longer?”

He smiled at me, knowing what I meant.

I am lost in a dream. During the day my life is “normal.” Feed the dog. Wash the dishes. fold the laundry. Make Him, & occasionally his friends, dinner. It is surreal.

In the evening I wait.

Some nights his friends drink their fill & go home. Some nights they drink & then fill me. Those nights I sleep trussed to the picnic table, cum dripping out of me. He frees me in the morning.

Most nights its just Him & I. I never know if we will lay in bed to sleep, or if we’ll spend the night testing my body.

I could be a model now that I’m so skinny(haha.) He says I’m the perfect weight to hoist into the rafters of the green house. A rope hangs down, but no noose yet. No, his favorite toy recently is a garrote.

He rigged it to a wooden bed frame in a guest room. The bed sits away from the walls. There is no mattress, just a sheet covering a piece of plywood lain over slats. Some nights, he tells me to go to “my” room after dinner. I comply, sit calmly against the headboard & place the loop of ribbon around my neck. He comes in when he’s ready…sometimes minutes go by, sometimes it feels like hours. He’ll smile, walk behind me, & begin to turn the crank on the back of the bed. Slowly. Its never the same; some nights He strangles me until I pass out. Some nights I am left to sleep, trapped on the edge struggling to breathe.

Other evenings, he wants to hear me scream.

It’s been a long time.

I’ve been recovering, & while my body heals, there’s not been much to say write about.

A couple weeks ago, after his friends were here, he woke me early in the morning for sex. Nothing unusual. Afterward, he told me to wash & meet him in the greenhouse.

On the outside it still looks neglected. The inside, however, is our playground. He’s set up a work shop of sorts out there. The room in the back is for me (he likes to lock me in there in the dark with my tombstone. We dug a trench in front of the stone, about three feet deep & six feet long. There’s just enough room for me to nap until he lets me out.) The rest of the building is filled with tools & projects & equipment. & toys for torturing a willing woman.

That day when I walked in he had cleared one of the work benches. At his insistence I climbed up & lay on my back.

He inspected me; checking my limbs & belly. Looking into my eyes with a pen light, checked my temperature. Asked me how I was feeling as I squirmed around his fist in my pussy. He deamed me healthy, then turned around to pick up a book from another table. It was on anatomy. He’d found it at garage sale.

He showed me the pictures of human organs & how they’re laid out. Then he showed me the knife.

It was a long fillet knife, like I’d use for cutting fish. He’d sharpened it, had me touch the edge to prove it. I lay there thinking this was it, he was finally going to murder me. I was a little sad thinking our games would be over, but mostly I felt anticipation.

As he strapped me down he explained that he wanted to cut me, stab me. He would try not to hit anything vital, this was just practice, but...

“You’re dead anyway Zombie. Does it matter what I do to you?”

Those words shouldn’t make me so hot.

I held still as he traced the blade along my skin. I held still as he used the tip to scratch & make tiny slits in my skin.

I screamed when he drove the knife into the flesh of my side.

He’d stabbed me in the fatty part above my hips & below my ribs, pausing to watch me pant in pain.

Grinning, he pulled it out & quickly stabbed me in the same place on the other side. I arched as much as I could off the table, screaming again. He left the knife in & picked up another I hadn’t noticed. A paring knife. He carefully sliced out from the fillet knife, lengthening the hole in my body. He used the knives like tweezers, prying me open to peek inside.

I caught my breathe & raised my head to look. There was a lot of blood. He was ignoring me, concentrating instead on treating my body like a machine to take apart. My head collapsed back on the table, so I missed what was coming next.

At first it stung, then it burned, then I was in agony. Thrashing in the straps. He’d dragged the paring knife just deeply enough to cut through the layer of fat across my stomach to connect the two stab wounds. I passed out just as I felt him pull the skin back & away.

He says my last words were almost “oh god pleeeeeease.” He teases me with them.

When he was done with my almost-vivisection, he sewed me up & cauterized the area with a torch. I now have a very ugly scar that he loves to run his fingers over. He’d gotten antibiotics from a clinic & forced them into me as I slept, kept the wound clean & dry.

I didn’t wake for days. When I did, it was in the middle of the night, on a sheet in my “grave” in the greenhouse. When I asked why, he smiled & told me it was convenient. He didn’t want to move my body twice. If I hadn’t woken by sunrise he was just going to bury me there, breathing or not.

Three men came to our house. He had me stand still & one by one they inspected me. They praised him for finding such a good looking slave.

We barbecued. I served them & cleaned, ate the scraps they gave me. Around desert the oldest one disappeared & came back with a woman on a leash. She’d been in the trunk of the car the whole time!

He came up behind me & asked if I was ok? I nodded. It had been a shock, but somehow comforting. It was like finding acceptance.

The woman stayed kneeling by her “master” the rest of the night. I was allowed to sit at the table quietly while they laughed & drank.

After everyone left, I asked him if that was what he wanted from me, an obedient slave?

No.

We bought a house!

Well, he bought a house, but it’s for us. Recently remodeled kitchen, three bedrooms, a pole barn, on 5 acres of wooded privacy.

The best part is the huge green house in the back. It’s old, the glass walls almost completely covered in vines. The plants have been left to run wild. & the floor is dirt.

We moved in last week. After we unpacked he told me he had a surprise for me. We walked out to the greenhouse. He’d had the sole door repaired & added a heavy lock system. The light was dim & I was nervous as we entered, but followed him to the back.

Tables had been moved & a partition had been added. It looked like some one had built a toolshed inside the building. He opened the door & we stepped through to an empty almost empty room. He shone a flashlight to the left & I looked to see a large stone against the wall. He pushed me gently forward & I approached the stone.

It was etched with a flower & the name he gave me. Zombie.

It could have been meant for a pet for all it said about me as a person. I knelt beside it, running my fingers over the letters.

I looked up & he was smiling down at me. He zipped open his pants & I sucked his dick until he blew his load down my throat.

I was fired! I’ve never been fired before.

The manager called me a drunk. She said she couldn’t have me calling off or coming in hungover all the time.

When he found out, he laughed. He said it was fine, he didn’t expect me to keep any job long any more.

Then he called me worthless & said that the whole world could sense it. That was why I wanted to die; even my own subconscious knows my body is only good for fertilizer.

Yes, I survived again. I have a dark red ring around my neck & I had to call off work work (again) but I survived.

I hung myself last night.

The day before yesterday he forbade me from drinking anything but wine. He wouldn’t say why, but he ordered me to stay home and drink all day. He said I’d need to, he didn’t think I would do what I had to do otherwise.

He went to work, leaving me no food. I read, did his laundry, & waited. He brought home dinner for himself . He let me have a piece of toast.

We sat together on the couch. He tugged me into his side, held me against his chest, stroking my hair. He told me I was beautiful. That he loved me. That he was sad I was going to die. I was wine-drunk & began to tear up. As he talked, I cried. He told me he’d miss me. He kissed my hair & said he understood what I had to do.

He left me on the couch, feeling miserable. He came back with a noose, a stool, & more wine.

I drank it down while he strung the noose through a hook I’d never noticed in the center of the ceiling. He placed the stool underneath. Then he held out a hand to me. I took it & let him hug me.

He whispered to me that I didn’t belong alive, I shouldn’t be. It was time. I was sobbing, but I nodded. He was right, I never fit in with the living. & if he said it was time to leave, I would leave.

I stepped onto the stool & held still. I thought he’d put the noose around my neck, but no. He said the problem was me, so only I could fix it. I felt blank. He wasn’t going to kill me?

He backed away & sat down on our couch.

He expected me to kill myself.

I found the loop he’d made & slipped it over my head. I tightened the knot behind my ear so that the rope pressed against my skin. I took in a deep breath.

I froze. This was the moment, & I couldn’t do it. I was terrified, I began to panic. I always imagined someone murdering me, but could I do this to myself? Then I heard his voice,

“Go ahead.”

Everything became clear. I stepped off the stool, and began to dance.

I let my hands & legs move as they wanted, kicking & flailing. My body spun. I choked & struggled. The only thing I didn’t do was reach up to loosen the rope.

As my struggling slowed so did the spinning. I was drifting in the air. It was almost over & I was relieved. He must have known because he came to my side at last, got up on the stool & turned me to face him.

He had tears in his eyes as he called me his pretty zombie. He kissed me, but i couldn’t kiss him back. I gurgled & choked as he fondled my breasts. Then he pulled out a knife & cut me down.

I hit the floor with a thud. He was kneeling there with me in a moment, roughly rolling me onto my back. The noose still cut off my air, I was too weak to move on my own. He spread my legs & slid his dick into me. He cut the rope & held my me down as I gasped for breath, fucking me hard & fast. I don’t know of I orgasmed or not but I felt the heat of his.

I have cum running out of my pussy as I write this. He fucked me again this morning, saying imagining my air-dance would have him horny for days.

Dear dia ry,

He’s so romantic.

I sound like a giddy school girl, don’t I? I’m just so happy. We’re a day’s drive south of home, on a min-vacation. We stopped all along our drive & toured mortuaries.

We lied & told them all we were married, & had decided to take care of our estate planning. After all, who knows when their time is up? The funeral home directors praised us as “practical.”

I’m laying across our bed, looking through the brochures, browsing coffins. He’s in the shower.

There’s a beautiful cemetery on a hill here, very secluded, where he took me to make love. He bagged my head & we fucked in silence next to the oldest stone we could find, our bodies sweating in the sun. The condensation in the bag built up fast, dripping into my eyes. Once he came, he kneeled next to me. With the trowel we had brought he dug up some of the dry dirt around us & covered me in it. I climaxed with my pants around my ankles, my shirt pushed up to expose my breasts, gasping for air, covered in grave dirt.

He gave me a promise ring today. It’s on a slim nylon choker around my neck.

He promised I’ll be his for the rest of my life.

Then he picked me up, carried me to the bathroom, & put me in the tub. He opened the cold water faucet then left to get ice, dumping in a cooler-ful he had already prepared.

He turned off the water once it covered my stomach, left & came back with another load of ice & a few towels.

After covering me to my neck in ice & freezing water he let me know he was going to drown me. If he could revive me we’d celebrate our “engagement.”If he couldn’t the ice would keep the body, my body, from smelling when he went to work.

Either way, he wanted to fuck my cold pussy.

I lay in the tub shivering. At some point I was too cold to do that any more. He sat on the toilet lid telling me about how he’d taken CPR class years ago, how he hoped he remembered his lessons, commenting on the shade of grey-blue my lips were turning, all the while checking his watch.

Eventually he asked me if I was ready. I nodded. He placed a towel down to sit on the side of the tub, put his hands on my shoulders, & gently slid me under the water.

I was cold before, but my head going under shocked me. I screamed, letting out all my air, gulping in liquid. I was surrounded by water & melting icecubes. Too weak to really struggle, but I tried a little. Above me was a blurry figure. There was pressure, something holding me down. I was so tired. I drowned feeling as though I was falling asleep.

He said I thrashed & splashed him only once as I passed out. There are bruises on my chest from him resuscitating me. He fucked me so hard there are bruises around my cunt too.

My back hurts.

He branded me. Like cattle. I have a burn mark on the small of my back just above my left butt cheek. & an asshole full of cum as a reward for holding still (LOL)

He made the brand himself. I didn’t know he was so talented. He spent days working on it in our shared garage, careful to hide it from prying eyes (apartment living is really inconvenient for our life now. Thankfully the walls aren’t paper-thin, but for some things we go out to a nearby forest. He heated it in a campfire & had me brace myself against a tree. I have scratches from the bark.)

“—ZOMBIE—”

That’s what is burned into my skin. He says it’s appropriate.

Last night he had me chug a bottle of red wine on an empty stomach then lay on the dining table. He ran his hands along my arms & legs & torso.

He took a paring knife and scratched the lines of a meat chart into my skin. He played with my clit, squeezed my nipples, naming off cuts of meat. I came so hard when he got to “tenderloin” that the table shook under me. He left me there all night. I woke up shivering this morning.

He gave me coffee, told me to shower & then meet him in the living room. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I thought I’d done something wrong. But then he kissed me. Deep & soft. It made me feel warmer than the hot water had.

He says I’ve passed my first inspection. He wants to make sure I stay healthy; there’s no fun in killing an already dying woman.

I’ve had my last cup of coffee. I’m allowed to drink only water and wine. I can only eat what he gives me.

He insists that I keep this journal. He wants the life (pre-death?) I’m living now to be recorded honestly. He wants a souvenir.

I started a new job, part time work at a small store. The only clothes I have now are the store uniform shirts, a black t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and black sneakers. No panties. No bra. He binds my breasts before every shift, saying that way no one will notice when he cuts them off. He wants to display me, but he doesn’t want anyone to know that’s what he’s doing. I’m scared. I’m happy being scared. It’s so fu I feel crazy.

I’m in I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this. All I thought about was the fantasy. I never thought about the details involved. He’s been reading my blog at random, teasing at scenarios, laughing at others. Planning some.