Cathartic Harpy

Vultures are holy creatures.

Tending the dead.

Bowing low.

Bared head.

Whispers to cold flesh,

“Your old name is not your king.

I had to turn this off, but it's something that allows Windows and anyone using your device to generate text/images.

7 months, 2 weeks, 4 days.

So long planning this.

Finding somewhere isolated, with no chance of interruption, identifying the best way to get a good rip, discussing what tool to use, how big the hole should be, do we want to start with something wide enough for a whole hand? Or small and tight that can be stretched out? Do we do it slow, stretching out the agony? Or allow the pace to ratchet up rapidly? Is the cutting enough before the main event? Or shall we indulge in the build up?

7 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, of building up the anticipation. And now it's here, the flutter of excitement is intoxicating, made all the better by the fear or disappointment. Just extra adrenaline pumping around the body heightening senses. Even picturing it is more intense when in this state. Only minutes before the moment it's all been leading to, and now we get to the question that should have been asked so much earlier.

Do we go all the way? Like, beyond the point of return, all the way?

The thought had been floating around, although, hidden behind fears that she wouldn't want that, that it would push too much, scare her off. Thankfully she broke the ice on the topic

Is that something you'd like? I'm... uh I think it's something I'd like...

It's so much effort to not grin, don't pull out the predator vibes yet, let her answer first, make the prey feel safe and comfortable, before the jaw clamps shut around her neck. It keeps the meat tender that way. Fuck, this pause feels like an eternity.

Yeah, I think so... I mean, it's definitely something I'd like.

She's making the face, the bite me face, the fuck me face, the I was made for your cruelty face. Now grin, the prey has shown it's underside, why wouldn't a beast grin with sadistic delight at that.

Surprisingly it makes everything easier, no clean up, no recovery time, no messy questions if things go "wrong" after all the wrong is now the climax.

7 months, 2 weeks, 4 days.

The room is clean, for now. Having actually discussed going all the way now, the room feels too clean. Now that the aftermath won't be an issue, the image of what it could have been won't leave. We could have had wood and dirt and stains. But clean will do, it's not the room that matters after all.

She knows what she's doing, she's flaunting her knowledge, the drowsy haze wearing off and the panic setting in. But the excitement under it, her pupils going wide with fear and excitement, her breathing quick and shallow ready to fight. It was decided that chains weren't necessary, but now it seems almost a shame to have her unbound as she is. But that's the point, she needs to be free to struggle, free to lose, it's only worth it if she's been gained by force.

And here comes the force.

She didn't want to decide on the order of events, but that's fine, there is the perfect way afterall.

Going to turn on the machine as she huddles in the corner, weeping and sobbing. There was a safeword, but the agreement was to ignore it, so why bother remembering what it actually was. The deglover whirs to life, an old saw made new and shiny, clean, but not for long. The rings snag quickly on the altered machine, both at the same time, the pain is ungodly, and the sound it forces out is just as inhuman.

The prey is horrified, but intrigued.

The meds before were necessary, just to prevent passing out from the pain. As glorious as this was, skin that was attached moments ago now splattered against the wall, the best part is still to come.

After screaming for what feels like forever, comes step 5. The knife.

The prey bolts, taking the moment of weakness, pain and distraction as the opportunity to escape. All of it anticipated and expected of course, a good hunter knows all the tricks its prey will pull. Leg kicked out, striking it in the knee, the satisfying snap, the cry of pain, the prey sprawled on the floor, shaking.

She's trying to mask it, trying to hide the familiar tell, that shake, that shudder, She's done that too many times when being cut before, too often when teeth bite down on her flesh, she can't hide it from one who knows her so well.

she just came,

The bone is sticking out at an unnatural angle

No clean up needed.

Leaving her to enjoy the delicious agony for a moment will be fine, she's too lost in the pain to try anything for a few minutes at least, even with how used to pain she is.

So the knife, it's slick with blood, it almost slid away like some lethal soap bar. Blood oozing from skinned fingers will do that. But it doesn't matter, it's perfect, these flensed fingers would wield the tool that was to open their home in her body.

M-muskrat. Muskrat. Muskrat!

It's perfect, the excitement bubbling under the surface is gone, the real panic and fear sets in now, survival instincts that it's impossible to escape from. She's lost in the fear, the perfect prey to consume.

Tears streaming down her face, blood spurting from her shattered knee, no escape. The beast pulls back to lunge forward with the knife gripped in bleeding hands, one hand round her neck pinning her to the ground, the other holding the knife hovering above her abdomen. A little indulgence, there is a perfectly good bone to fuck with. Boot on her knee, a brief distraction from the main event. She screams in agony and the boot pushes down, but a little glimmer, a slackness to her face that wasn't there before, she's back, instincts overcome and euphoria in its place.

Good, don't want her to completely miss this.

With her senses coming back, now is the time. Knife plunged to the hilt in her abdomen, she starts shaking again, shivering with delight, but it's not time yet, a quick squeeze on her throat, a bit of pressure on her knee, timed perfectly for her eyes to shoot open. Blade still lodged in her, a fleshless finger raised to lips.

Be still, hold on.

She makes a noise of ascent, and bites her lip, it's all she can do right now to keep herself present, but she must be present, we aren't doing this without her. The perfect prey.

Hand returns to hilt, retracts the knife from her skin, and plunges it in again, she squeals in ecstasy, a little twist and turning, making the hole just loose enough.

Call it inspiration, call it impulsive. But the shock and delight on her face as the knife is pulled out and slides quickly into her shoulder is divine.

Tool now adequately sheathed, the final step is now. Skeletal fingers with chunks of meat still clinging to them trace their way down her chest, circling her breasts, poking and scratching, she begins to lose focus, getting lost in the sensation and bloodloss. A quick jab and pinch is enough to bring her back.

Don't look away Prey, I don't want you to miss this.

And degloved fingers dive into lacerated wound, poking, prodding, teasing. She moans in pleasure, as the fingers test the limits of what they can reach, stomach obviously, a little twisting and thrusting and there's our liver, curling around and grabbing a hold of our intestines, we are together now, there's no separation, flesh meets flesh, we are together, at last,

But we can get closer.

Our hand reaches up and in, hitting bone and soft lung,

Closer,

Crawling further and further up, piercing our lungs which start to deflate,

Not far now,

There, the thump of meaty muscle, our arm is engulfed up to the elbow now, in this position our face is against her breast, her breathing is shallow and failing, but enough still for her last words.

Th-thank you, I love you.

We grin together, and as our fingers begin to clasp our heart, our teeth bite down on our succulent flesh, tearing into our left tit, in the ecstasy she reaches to her shoulder pulls out the blade,

Join me, love.

Wait, this isn't what's meant to happen? We were the hunter not the hunted.

Together forever, my love.

It's obvious what she's doing, and the panic is like a current, running down our spines.

It is thrilling.

The blade plunges into our neck, our control goes slack, fingers still clenched around our heart. There is no escape now.

You were wonderful darling,

My beautiful bait,

Her hands are still moving? How is she still moving?

Did you enjoy my performance, love? You were so desperate to hide your desires, I just knew you'd enjoy it.

Don't worry sweetheart, I have ways of making this last, forever and ever and ever.

My beautiful prey.

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7 months, 2 weeks, 5 days.