#snuffplay

[girlcalledsubstance]

pressing and holding the power button to do a hard reset feels so erotic. like smothering someone with your hands

[miscling]

A Thousand Cuts

cw: snuff

It had been months in the planning. I had thought it was meant for me. I wanted it to be for me. Everything I wanted: an orgasmic death, a memorable end, a loving send-off, a fitting memorial… it wasn’t for me. It was for Her. We’d planned everything. How to dispose of a body. How to cut without killing – not immediately, anyway. How to do it all. I was right beside Her as she did all the research and collated it into a file. I had thought it all a way for Her to keep that information in mind…

Every so often she’d get into one of her ‘moods’. Each time She orders me to lay out the plastic sheeting across Her basement. Each time She orders me to get out the carving knives and lay them all out on Her worktable. Each time She orders me to strap her to the cross against Her basement wall. Each time She orders me to take up each knife and cut Her. She orders me to hit Her. She orders me to hurt Her. She orders me to break Her.

But She never gives up control. Every time She does this She orders me to keep going, even when my hands are shaking and my nerves are fraying. She wants to hurt. She wants to feel Her body cooling. She wants to feel what She’s done to me. Each time She pushes me a little bit further. She loses a little more blood, She gets a bigger patch of bruising, She gets closer to needing a doctor to fix it all up. The point of all our planning was that we’d never need to get help. I would know everything I needed in order to treat Her wounds right up until the day she gave me an order I couldn’t obey.

‘Kill me,’ She said. I couldn’t believe it. She made me set everything up and naked on the cross before me she gave me that task. ‘Finish me, and do everything we planned.’

I begged with her to give me a different order, a way to be obedient, a way to keep Her. She was insistent. She told me again, and warned me not to make Her tell me a third time.

With tears in my eyes, I took up the first knife and I started my task. Small cuts, here and there. Over and over; She bled, She cursed, She demanded I keep going.

But I couldn’t. I dropped the knife and fell to my knees and I let Her go.

And how She punished me until Her next mood arrived.

She didn’t ask again. Not for a while. I thought I was safe.

And then She did it again. She made me set everything up, and She gave me the impossible order. Kill Her. Kill Her. KILL HER.

I cut and I hit. I faltered and She snarled at me. She demanded and I cried. I begged Her and She shouted at me. I cut her with tears in my eyes and She kept Her orders flowing. Each demand to cut a little deeper dug a hole in my heart. Even as Her voice began to quieten, Her breath began to slow, Her eyes began to close. Her blood dripped on the floor. Even in this state, She mouthed the words ‘Kill me’ over and over again as though I would forget if she didn’t…

Her light was fading but She could have survived. I might still have saved her. I could have bandaged Her and cared for Her and brought Her back.

But She had made her feelings clear. When She gives me an order I am to follow it.

She wanted to be awake, and so I did what I knew would work. A hand between her legs brought Her back, too weak to comment as I pushed her body to the edge. The other hand held a knife, long and thin, sharpest at the point. She could barely lift her chin as She looked me in the eye. Tears streamed down my face. I sniffled as I worked with my hands, bringing Her pleasure as I dug the knife into Her chest, just as She showed me, just below the sternum, inches away from that heart that loved me so much to trust me with Her death. I broke the skin as she began dripping over my hand, and somewhere between the pain and the pleasure a moan escaped her lips, carried on her last breath.

I sat in the pool of Her blood for an hour, weeping. She was my everything. She was my reason to live. I was Hers, and now she was gone. Eventually I collapsed, exhausted, weeping at Her feet. I wanted to hold Her, to give Her my life, my warmth. I was nothing without Her, and now everything about Her was in me. My hands were Her hands, my thoughts were Her rules, my life was Her life. Everything She was would be mine forever, from everything She taught me to Her final moments…

I would be Hers forever. I could never belong to anyone else. No one else would make me kill them, not like She did.

So I did as I was told. I followed the plan. I gave Her the memorial She deserved. I carry Her memory forever, and the memory of Her lives inside me. I will never forget Her, nor what She made me do. In all my years as Hers, we always asked what the greatest sacrifice a submissive could make to its dominant could be. Well… I have an answer now. The greatest sacrifice I could make to Her was Her life...

~~~

This story came from a prompt by @bubblegumgothglados. The prompt was 'sub top snuff scene'

Reblog if you enjoyed this story, there's more of this thing's writing under the Miscling Writes tag!

if you have an idea for a story, shoot me an ask or dm! i'm always happy to recieve prompts and inspirations!

[miscling]

It’d just be…so easy to end you.

Tie you down, wrists and ankles bound up together. Lay you face down on a table. Slice away your clothing. Draw a little X right where I’m going to strike. Trace my hand along your body. Whisper a platitude about how beautiful you are.

And bring the head of a hammer right down on the back of your neck.

You’d not survive long, if you were going to die from that. Just like flipping an off switch. Your body would just…turn off. Little blood, no mess. Just a thing lying there for me. No time to hurt or struggle or cry out. So clean, so simple.

Of course, if you are unfortunate enough to survive you might ask for me to finish the job. Numb and immobile…barely having any control over your own body...it’d just be torture. Living like that, it’s not hard to argue that you aren’t…you, anymore.

Either way, id take such perfect care of my new toy. Cleaning and dressing and pampering. Loved and held. Treated just like a favored doll should be.

you love this doll so much, how could it not trust you when you tell it to lie, face down on the table? it sees the restraints and it sees the hammer, and it trusts you because you love it. by the time the restraints are on, it's already primed, it knows you're going to do something to it, you've already done so much to it, it knows you love it and you're going to take care of it.

when you cut off its clothes it gets more and more aroused, wondering if it will be knives today, but the hammer is still in sight. when you pick it up, a part of it knows what's coming, but it's too turned on to care. when your strike lands, it registers as orgasmic.

maybe it does die, there and then, maybe not completely, but its life as it knows it is over. it really is just your doll at that point. a doll to be taken care of and played with. just because it can't move or feel it any more, that doesn't mean you can't still string it up with rope, abuse its flesh and hit it, or take full use of its holes.

dolls are meant to be played with, after all, and if you don't feel like playing with it, you can always lend it to your friends, but it thinks a favoured doll like this probably isn't going to be leaving your sight for a long, long time...

[jawsofpleasure]

I don't think I'm into guro because I don't get off to prolonged suffering or body horror but I do think if a perfect numbing drug existed and someone really reallyyyy needed to get into my guts to cum I'd be easily cornered into saying yes