It’s time to end this:
An hour after yet another round of one-sided sex I was no less sure there was no love left, just frustration and pain. I fetched my best knife from the display in my office and went to the bedroom where Pamela was asleep. I moved quietly to Pamela at the left side of the bed and gently pulled down the single sheet she was sleeping under. Despite all the past revenge fantasies I intended to waste no time taking sexual or sadistic enjoyment of Pamela’s pale fat bulk of a body, leaning over her with my right hand empty and the lethal knife held in a dagger grip in my left hand.
I slapped my right hand down over Pamela’s mouth, thumb under her chin to shove and tilt her head back across the neck roll she used instead of a pillow. The force exposed her thick throat as she startled and began to wake. She barely had time for the first sound of some hand-muffled exclamation before I used my full strength to drive the knife down into the center of her throat. The katana point of the knife easily cut into her soft neck and drove through her windpipe with a small crunching noise followed by the thud of the heel of my hand against her neck.
Pamela heaved on the bed when the killing thrust sunk home, her legs and arms thrashing but her head pinned down by the hand on her mouth and the knife. I twisted the knife back and forth before pulling it out, leaving a ragged wound in her neck.
Throat stabbed:
Pamela’s scream was muffled by my palm, not even as loud as the audible hiss of air from the deep wound. In a moment the noise became a wet bubbling gurgle as torn vessels leaked into her windpipe. She tried to inhale and instead started to choke on the flow of her own blood, her eyes wide over my mouth covering hand. I could see the shock and fear in her look at me as she understood I was the one hurting her. The wet coughing gurgles got louder when I let go of her mouth. Pamela struggled frantically on the bed, her hands pawing at the gaping wound in her throat.
My thoughts reeled as the enormity of what I had done swept through me. I dropped the knife, my now right hand dragging her left wrist aside and my left hand knocking Pamela’s right hand aside to expose the ragged hole. A flow of dark blood pulsed from one side of the torn wound, flowing and ebbing rather than jetting. I realized I had torn a neck vein, not an artery, giving Pamely a slightly slower death. I reached down with my right hand and grabbed at the ragged wound. I could feel her very hot blood flooding against my palm, each fresh pulse of wet heat flooding my senses with excitement, feeding an untapped depth of sadism I was just now discovering. My clenching thumb pushed into the wound, the tip partly in her severed trachea feeling the movement of her useless attempts to breathe air and cough up the drowning blood. I could feel my cock hardening rapidly but this was something different, more than just sexual, the life I was taking from Pamela feeding me pleasure.
Pamela thrashed on the bed hard enough her throat came out from under my hand, her rent windpipe flooded with the thick blood she coughed up, spattering her face and the already bloody sheet behind her head. Pamela was convulsing and I let go of her wrist while watching her thrash on the bed, bloody froth leaking from the wound. Pamela thrashed violently, her bloody hands again clutching at her torn throat, her legs kicking and her whole fat body shaking and rippling.
I snatched up the dropped knife in my right hand and raised it high, shouting angrily down at Pamela as I lost control, stabbing down at her shaking left breast. “Bleed for me you gross fat bitch, bleed!”
The first breast stab:
The beveled steel tip of the knife punched into the upper slope of Pamela’s massive breast, the tip grating against a rib just before my hand reached the pale flesh. I pulled towards me, the blade ratcheting across her ribs as her breast slashed open crosswise above the pink nipple, a lot of yellow fat visible in the growing deep wound. The knife pulled free of the gaping slash, blood quickly welling across the exposed fat and glans. I stabbed down into her cleavage, only a couple of inches of the blade going in before I hit bone again. This time my frantic pull more or less bisected the massive tit below the first gaping cut, the blade tearing open the upper third of her nipples areola as it cut across. “Right across the teat, I bet that hurt more!”
Even as I screamed down at my helpless, dying victim I was no longer in control of my body, brutally butchering her alive while yet feeling detached, observing almost detachedly the damage of brutal murder.
I watched myself stab Pamela’s increasingly mutilated left breast several more times. The now partial circle that remained of her right nipple attracted my attention, the attempt to stab into the tip of her teat missing by a half inch because of how much she was a moving target. It took 3 stabs and slices to fully destroy the nipple, her breast becoming a shaking mound of unrecognizable bloody raw meat and fat.
Next breast:
I leaned over Pamela’s bloody, shifting body, grabbing for her right breast with my empty left hand, fingernails digging into the soft fat as I tried to lift the shifting breast by a deep grip around her nipple, fingers and thumb trying to touch as I strained. I lifted the blood-slicked flesh as much as I could without losing my grip, slicing and sawing access below my hand with the blade. The heated slick pressure across the front of my glans was a surprise and I noted my now very aroused cock had pushed against the meat of Pamelas destroyed left breast when I leaned over.
My third slash severed the nipple and front quarter of Pamela’s right breast from her chest, the mutilated fat sack slumping aside with blood leaking across the bulging fat and glands in the wound as I threw aside the chunk of meat to stab down again.
Belly stabbing:
The knife tip punched full depth into her mounded, shaking belly, each slit of a wound starting to well up a little blood as I worked my way diagonally down and across the wobbling swell. I was punching the stabs into Pamela so rapidly I was shouting one word per thrusts. “Useless! Worthless! Stupid! Bloated! Bitch! Die, Die for ME!”
By luck more than aim the knife stabbed directly into the deep cleft of Pamela’s navel, and I kept it pushed fully in as I pulled the handle towards me with all my strength, cutting her belly open from navel to left hip. A four inch or thicker layer of fat was visible as the gutting stroke went across, colored intact and severed tubes of her gut’s welling up and out of the wound. “Fuck that stinks!”
Despite all the other wounds Pamela reacted to having her belly torn open, a convulsion arching her up on her heels and the back of her head. Pamela exhaled for the last time, bloody froth spattering from the hole in her neck, her mouth, and even her nostrils. I was raising the knife to stab again when the spasm passed and she slumped down, completely limp.
Dead!:
I realized that Pamela had quite suddenly died, her lifeless body completely slack and I yelled down at her “I wasn’t done!” as I stood there, knife up, breathing hard. My hand slowly dropped as I moved to my right, shifting to look up her corpse from the gaping wound in her belly, across her mutilated breasts and the ragged wound in her throat, my eyes focusing on her wide-eyed, fixed gaze from her bloody face, the center of her eyes black, irises very narrow rings, fully dilated.
My hand was by Pamela’s head when I let go of the knife, breathing hard with shaking muscles as a rush of emotions swept over me. I was crying, but neither sad nor happy. There was a sense of relief for Pamela, for all I had grown to hate what had become of our life together. The badly mutilated corpse on the bed, with her blood spattered on the wall by her head and soaking into the sheets was that of a stranger, not the woman I had loved. Servicing her many needs, including sexual, was over with. After a couple of minutes my breathing had slowed and the shaking had stopped, my gaze again looking down from her face to the rest of her body.
Goodbye fuck, or necrophilia?:
I was distracted by a throb from my groin and suddenly realized I was not completely done with Pamela. I looked down my own blood spattered body and saw that cock was up in my view, very aroused and with the bloodied glans already purple-engored with a bit of pre-cum slicking the tip. I knew I needed to be the last one of us to cum, moving up onto the blood soaked bed and straddling down onto Pamela with my knees near her armpits. This was the first time I had been in this position where my weight did not matter, sitting on her lower chest with my ass resting just above where her guts were welling from her mutilated belly..
Pamela burbled a small amount of air as my weight compressed her chest, my hands reaching for the remains of her breasts. I leaned forwards, my jutting cock pressing into the congealing, sticky-slick mess of her cleavage. The remaining intact 2/3rd of her right breast was heavy, but easy to push towards my cock. Pamela’s left breast was a ragged mess of meat and fat, enough left that I could gather it with my hand and press it inwards.
Mutilated tit-fucking:
I began rocking forwards and back, shifting my shaft between what had been Pamela’s breasts, my tight scrotum dragging on her sternum. It was like a scene out of some horror-porn movie, my purple-swollen glans repeatedly pushing my view towards her lifeless, staring face. The strange mix of feelings gathered to an angry, almost desperate arousal, the pressure deep in my groin building quickly. I tried to slow down, wanting to prolong this strange experience but I was still in some way lost in the insanity. I was grunting, growling and almost frantically humping on Pamela, feeling more aroused than I had been in a long time, perhaps ever before.
It only took me what was at most 2 minutes of fucking Pamela’s corpse, thrusting rapidly between the butchered remains of her breasts to reach the edge of release. The tension deep in my groin was building quickly, pre-cum leaking into the blood on her cleavage, the shifting pressure of my riding body shaking Pamela’s head a little.
The view of Pamela’s face, very bloody except for her wide eyes, and the frothed red blood that had spilled from her mouth and nose put me over the edge. I rode her slack bulky fat corpse for the 5 intense spurts of sperm it took to drain my ball, my hard bucking motions putting a little motion in the limp body that had died for my cum. I ejaculated as if I was 17 again, off-white ropes of goo jetting across the gaping ragged wound in her throat, painting her bloodied blue lips and fat neck, with a little going into the darkly gaping wound. I groaned as the sight of my cum going into her torn open throat milked one last spasm from my ball.
My hands peeled off the blood-tacky meat of Pamela’s destroyed breasts, my palms putting imprints on the wall over her head as I slumped forwards, breathing hard. I straddled the corpse for long minutes, catching my breath while my hard worked muscles twitched less and less. Once I had recovered a bit I slowly climbed off, smiling as I moved backwards to the edge of the bed and got up, my knees shaky. I backed up a couple of slow steps then turned away from what was now just a pathetic heap of dead fat flesh, a slowly cooling corpse on the bloody bed.