Mackenzie thought she would be starring in a lingerie bondage video. While she did end up in bondage dressed in revealing lingerie, she’s fated to suffer an obscenely torturous death at
the hands of a cruelly sadistic monster, a serial killer known as the butcher.
After dressing in her costume, Mackenzie walked out onto the set, her six-inch spike heels clicking against the room’s polished concrete floor. Glancing around in amusement, she asked,
“The blood-stained floor is a nicely gruesome touch. Who decorated your set, Hannibal Lector?”
Securing the restraints around my wrists, he paused to put on a blood-stained apron and latex gloves as he responded, “Actually, Mackenzie, this isn’t a movie set. Welcome to Hell’s Abattoir,
where I butcher pretty young women like yourself to provide my cannibalistic customers with the finest cuts of meat.”
Picking up a razor-sharp scalpel, the butcher smiled, “So, Mackenzie, I’m going to start by cutting your belly open and disemboweling you. Your death will be a slow
and agonizingly painful affair that will cause your brain to release endorphins that will heighten the flavor of your flesh as you die.”
Positioning the scalpel’s sharp tip just below the base of Mackenzie’s sternum, he added, “Oh, and you should feel honored. Most women I butcher end up as steaks, chops, oven roasts, sausage,
and ground meat. However, you’re going to end up as a whole roaster after I’ve finished removing your internal organs. From what I understand, they plan to fill your body cavity with stuffing
mix and roast you for around 6 hours before serving you as the succulent main course at their banquet tomorrow night.”
I screamed in agony as the scalpel’s blade opened my belly from my sternum down to my crotch, the blade cutting just deep enough to open the inner wall of my abdomen without damaging my insides.
I could already feel a sickening bulging sensation in my lower abdomen as the butcher placed a blood-stain plastic bucket between my feet.
A smile of eager anticipation appeared on the butcher’s face, “You can never have enough small intestines. They make the best sausage casings.”
Seconds later, I cried in horror as I watched the first few loops of my intestines obscenely slithering out of my ruined belly and falling into that bucket.
Watching as Mackenzie’s intestines spilled into the bucket, “Once your intestines have finished filling that bucket, I’d clamp off the top of your stomach and separate it from the base of your
esophagus. Then clamping off the bottom of your rectum, I’ll free it from your anus. Next, I’ll carefully remove and dispose of your bladder, pancreas, and gallbladder. Your liver and kidneys,
I’ll save since there’s always a market for organ meat.”
Pausing for a moment, he continued, “I pride myself that none of the roasters I’ve prepared over the years lost consciousness until the next step. It’s when I cut through your diaphragm and,
reaching up into your chest, cut out the most sought-after organ meat, your heart. The last thing you’ll see before you finally die will be me holding your still-beating heart in my hands.”
That sadistic bastard was right. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out. My final thought, I’d always harbored darkly disturbing nightmares of being slaughtered and eaten by cannibals. I just never
expected them to come true...