Alexis often has the same disturbingly erotic nightmare, especially on dark and stormy nights like tonight...
I find myself hanging by my wrists. My naked body chained spread-eagle against a cold tile wall. My toes not quite able to reach the room’s concrete floor. Strapped tightly withIn my straining mouth is a massive phallic-shaped gag, its bulging tip pressing firmly against the back of my throat. The smell of leather and the taste of rubber from the penis gag fills my senses, and yet, I can also detect the faint scent of disinfectant and a lingering smell of blood in the room’s cool air.
Suddenly the door opens, and a man enters. As I helplessly watch him approach, I’m having trouble trying to decide what I find most troublesome, the heavy rubber apron, boots, and gloves he’s wearing or that he’s carrying a blood-stained five-gallon bucket.
He stops in front of me. His eyes look cold and unfeeling as they linger over my naked body. Finally, he sets that blood-splatter bucket on the floor directly beneath my naked crotch before turning to a nearby table and picking up a sharp-looking hunting knife that had an oddly hook-shaped upper edge.
Turning back toward me, he pressed the tip of the blade against my skin, just below my sternum, and made a small but painful incision in my belly. Pausing to reverse the knife, he inserted the razor-sharp hook-shaped extension into the incision as I realized to my horror that he’s inserting a gutting hook into my belly. Suddenly he pulled the knife downward. A faint gag-stifled scream escaping my lips as the blade’s gutting hook slices me open from my ribcage to my crotch in one smooth agonizing motion.
Calmly he set the bloody knife back on the table before shoving his rubber-gloved hands wrist-deep into my guts. I could feel the sickening painful feeling of his hands moving around inside me, followed almost immediately by an even more painful tugging sensation as he pulled several loops of my intestines out of my belly.
Pausing to use a towel to wipe the blood off his gloves, I heard the horrifying sound of amusement in his voice, “Right now, Alexis, you’re tensing your abdomen muscles in a futile attempt to keep your insides where you think they belong. However, in an hour, two at the most, your guts will be in the bucket, and you’ll be dead, ready for processing into steaks, roasts, and various other fine cuts of meat for my exclusive clientele.
An hour or so later, too weak and exhausted to resist, I helplessly watched the last of my intestines slither out to hang from my mutilated belly. The slow but steady trickles of blood running down my legs, having formed a large pool surrounding that obscenely intestine-filled bucket. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. I know death is only a few heartbeats away as I finally lose consciousness.
Of course, this is the moment in my darkest erotic nightmare when I always seem to wake up, all the excruciating details of my unspeakably gruesome demise still brutally vivid in my mind. Although, I often wonder if my nightmare would seem quite this erotic if it actually happened to me. Still, I have to admit, ending up as meat sounds pretty hot, Bon Appétit...