Chapter 1 – Will Anybody be Left to Come?

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the pleasant suburb where the Doden’s lived. Ingrid Doden, 21 and still in the first flush of married love, had never been happier. It was their anniversary next weekend and her husband, Marcel, had bought her an extra-special gift to celebrate.

She’d first met Marcel at an S&M soirée and they’d hit it off immediately. After that first wild night together they were inseparable. Marcel proposed to her only two months later, and they had been happily married ever since. They both enjoyed the roughest kind of sex - Ingrid was often beaten hard during their passionate sessions (and always loved it). She also loved to inflict pain on other women. Nearly every month they placed ads on the net or in the local papers, looking for girls to take part in their sexual games, each time resulting in the willing victim being beating black and blue at least. Her sex life was extremely rewarding, but she still wasn’t totally satisfied. She was yearning for the ultimate pleasure. She wanted to experience the perfect high of snuffing someone.

Unfortunately snuff was really expensive, far too much for average people like her and Marcel to afford very often. To buy such a special pleasure, Marcel had been saving hard. He’d put in lots of overtime at work, and had even given up drinking, conserving every penny to save up enough money. They knew snuff would have to be a rare treat, but for their anniversary it would be the perfect gift.

All Marcel’s hard work and sacrifice wasn’t in vain, after just one year he’d managed to find enough money. Of course they couldn’t afford the premium service, and get a young and beautiful women for their snuffing pleasure, but they could afford a woman. They’d gone to one of the cheaper services which specialized in older women. The price of the women they offered, due to their age and appearance, was much lower, but it was still very high for the average person. In spite of the cost it was well worth it for them both, especially Ingrid. It was the Holy Grail in sex for her and the timing was perfect. It was only one week until their anniversary and they could now afford the thing they both most wanted. Ingrid was so happy and excited, it was going to be the perfect celebration. They were going to buy themselves a snuff-bunny, a woman they could abuse, degrade and torture to death on their anniversary day. It had been one of her wildest fantasies, an experience she had yearned for all her life, and now it was not only within her grasp but soon to come true.

While Ingrid was fiercely masturbating, visualising the snuff session they had planned, only one more week away, the phone rang. "Hello, Ingrid Doden here”, she answered.

"Hi, darling, how's it going?" came the pleased response from the other end.

"Hi mum, sorry I’m a bit breathless, I was just relieving myself."

"Again? Not with the steel dildo I gave you for your birthday?"

Ingrid giggled like a little girl. She and her mother had no secrets, sex was always discussed openly between them. When Ingrid was younger her mother introduced her to sex by letting her daughter watch as she fucked her boyfriends. Ingrid had seen her mother being taken from all angles, and in every possible hole. Her mother was a pretty horny woman, just like Ingrid, but her mother was only interested in steamy sex, not violence and pain - torture and snuff didn’t interest her. Ingrid was quite different from her mother, she loved pain - both being tortured and doing the torturing.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary, darling. I hope you have lots of fun with your snuff-bunny. When your invitation came today I was so happy for you, I know how long you’ve been hoping for one." Erika loved her daughter immensely and was truly delighted she could finally afford her own plaything to satisfy her brutal desires.

"Thanks mum, that's really nice of you, but aren't you a bit early? The party isn’t until next Saturday. We'll have plenty of time to catch up on everything then… You are planning on coming aren’t you?"

"I'm sorry darling, I won't be able to make it next weekend. The other letter I got was my termination notice. I just needed to let you know and wish you all the best."

"Oh no! Do you know how they’re going to do it?"

"No I don’t. I just got told to report this afternoon. Apparently there’ll be a few days of prepping and I’ll be snuffed some time later this week."

"Well, I hope you get a swift kill. A pity really you don't enjoy pain and abuse.  I hope I get tortured lots when it's my time to go."

"Not me. You know I don't go for that. I just hope they do it quickly. The guillotine might be a good quick way to go."

“Yeah, I remember you saying years ago that’s what you were hoping for. What’ll you do if you do get sent for a slow snuff?”

“What can I do darling? You know we don’t get a choice when we’re called in. I’ll just have to cross my fingers.”

"Well, good luck. You know I love you mum."

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Don’t worry about me, I’m sure I’ll get lucky. Enjoy your anniversary and give my regards to Marcel. I’m sorry this is such a short call but I’ve still got to get myself ready. Bye love."

"Bye mum, and good luck again."

********

Ingrid's mother, Erika, was 39 years old. She was, even now, really attractive, and could easily have passed for 29. Her strawberry blond hair was smooth and long, usually worn in a neatly tied bunch at the back of her head. She had always taken good care of herself and still had a pretty trim figure. When Ingrid looked at her mother she always hoped, if she lasted that long, that at 39 she’d still have such a fine figure, especially her big tits, which were firm and hard nippled, not saggy like so many women.

After putting down the phone to her daughter, Erika’s stomach turned a little, as she thought again about her current situation – she had just been notified she was to be culled. It wasn't something she didn't expect, all women if they reached 35 automatically joined the national culling program. The program ensured the population didn’t get imbalanced, and also allowed older women to be terminated before their looks had gone. It would be cruel thing to let a woman die of old age – when her body had deteriorated and her beauty had departed. The culling program made sure that such cruelty couldn’t happen. Erika didn’t mind being culled, it was just how the world worked, she had no problem with that, but she couldn’t help feeling a little worried about it.

Erika wondered how she’d be done. She hoped for a quick and painless death, but knew she didn’t have a say in it, the local centre would decide how to dispatch her. It was always down to the selectors, based on where women were most needed. Older woman generally went for live stewing meat or to the grinder. The only alternative was if you could afford the luxury fee. Erika wished she had the money for the luxury service so she could select how she was dispatched, She envied the rich, who could choose how they were killed, even who killed them (they usually chose some celebrity to do them). Erika didn’t have that choice, her fate was no longer in her hands.

********

Putting down the phone to her mother, leaving her getting ready to report, Ingrid returned to preparing for her anniversary. The news about her mother's impending demise had unsettled her a bit, but there was nothing she could do about it. It certainly wasn't unexpected, four years past 35 was a bit of a record in her family. Really it wasn’t worth worrying about, every woman eventually got snuffed, one way or another. Some women enjoyed it, like she knew she would, others did not. She paused briefly to wish a speedy death for her mother (knowing that's what she wanted), then went on with her preparations for the reception. She crossed her mother's name off the list of those attending and worked on the schedule for Saturday.

The phone rang again. "Ingrid Doden" she answered.

"Hi Ingrid it's Pamela. Sorry I don't have time for a long chat, I really need to make this quick."

"That's OK Pam, what's up?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to your party next weekend. My sister got sick so I have to take her place at the execution this Friday. I'm really sorry but that means I won't be able come to yours."

"Oh, that’s OK, I understand. Thanks for letting me know. By the way, how are you being done?"

"I don't know precisely yet, but probably the axe or guillotine. It’s going to be some kind of beheading. Anyway, I’ve got to get ready now and report for duty if I’m going to be prepped by Friday. Bye Ingrid, and good luck with your party."

"Thanks Pam, and good luck to you too. Bye"

That took another person off her guest list. Ingrid cursed a little at her friends poor timing, but went on with her preparations for next weekend not unduly troubled.

********

Her plan was to sleep late, then wake her hubby by blowing his cock and getting fucked. Breakfast was going to be delivered that morning so they could have it in bed, she didn’t want anything to interrupt their screwing. Breakfast was booked to arrive at nine thirty, she had already put in an order for two fresh clitoris sandwiches. Clitoris sandwiches were another luxury they couldn’t usually afford (to be sold as a true clitoris it had to be cut, whole, from a live woman), but since it was their special day Marcel had said that they shouldn’t limit their pleasures, and had borrowed some extra money from a friend.

After breakfast, around half past ten, their snuff-bunny should arrive. Marcel and her would then enjoy their first torturing, probably just a mild whipping as she wouldn’t want any real damage before the party. After that she could finish the preparations for lunch in time for their friends arriving. When everyone had assembled they could bring out the snuff-bunny and let people examine her. She was planning to borrow her friend Anika's cross and tie the bunny spread-eagled on it for everyone to admire. Over lunch they’d probably have another torture session for her friends to watch. When the party was over, and everyone had gone, she and Marcel would finally be able to enjoy hours of merciless and undisturbed torturing of their snuff-bunny.

********

The phone rang again and Ingrid answered it, already dreading another disappointment.

"Hi, it's Barbara here…. Ingrid, this is a bit embarrassing, you won't tell anybody else, will you?"

"Of course not sis, what's up?"

"Well, you know that big vibrating horse I ordered last month? Well it arrived and I got a bit carried away with it. Anyway the upshot is that, while I was riding it, I slipped and broke my hip and leg."

"No way, you were… that fucking huge thing?" Ingrid, while wanting to be sympathetic, couldn’t help giggling. "You stupid bitch."

"Hey, just remember you promised not to tell anyone. It was embarrassing enough when the ambulance came and I was lying on the floor all naked, with blood dripping from my pussy."

"Geez, I wish I could have seen your face. Mind you, if you’re anything like me, you were probably still coming as they loaded you into the ambulance."

"Maybe I was, but I’m regretting it now, however good it felt. I’m still in hospital and I’ve got to rest. The doctor’s told me I’m going to be kept here for at least two weeks, and that means I’m going to miss your anniversary party next Saturday. No pain session is worth missing seeing your first snuff-bunny."

"God, it's that bad?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. And it gets worse, the doc told me no sex for another month. I can’t see I’m going to survive that." Barbara sighed in, almost, mock sorrow.

"Well, serves you right. Ruining my party."

"Thanks bitch."

"Well.. be good, not that you can’t, and I’ll see you when you’re better."

It was good to banter with her sister, even if the news was bad. Still that was the third withdrawal, Ingrid's guest list really was starting to shrink. If this trend continued she’d have to cancel the lunch. Then the phone rang yet again, causing Ingrid to slam her hand on the table in annoyance.

"Fuck off." she yelled at the phone, not noticing she’d knocked the hands-free on.

"I wish." she heard from the other end.

"Bugger! Hi Stephanie, how's it going? Sorry about my outburst there. I’ve just had a load of bad news. My mum, my sis and Pam have cancelled on me."

"Oh no! In that case you'll probably kill me for this."

"What?"

"I’m going to disappoint you too next weekend. Sorry."

"What's your lame excuse?"

"I have to work. Remember the agency I was submitting my tapes to?"

"Not 'The Adventurous Snuff ' agency?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, they’ve accepted my application and offered me a job. It’s next Saturday too. I was told some rich couple wants to whack me during sex and then butcher me for roasting afterwards. Hey, maybe those two sickos are you and Marcel?"

"Yeah right. As if we could afford to buy someone as pretty as you."

"Yup, I'm first rate material, the best of the best."

"Ha, not exactly the best, you’re ditching your friends."

"True, sorry. But you must admit, it is my dream job and I’d be silly not to accept straight away. Someone else might get the job if I take too long to decide, everyone wants to get done by the rich perverts – they really know how to make you suffer. I heard from Anika that one couple had a girl screaming for three days while they ate each part they cut off her, then they snuffed her by shitting in her mouth until she choked. You know that kind of thing’s the chance of a lifetime. If I don't do it this week it might never come again."

"Yeah-yeah, you’re just a snob." Ingrid tried to sound dismissive, but her hand was rubbing hard on her clit as she imagined herself, in agony, choking to death on the waste from her own digested limbs.

"Hey, watch it cool girl. I may be able to get them to record it and send you a copy. You never know."

"Really?” Ingrid’s dismissive tone vanished, “That would brilliant."

"Anything for you. Seriously, I will ask them if you can have a video of me being snuffed, but I can't promise they’ll let you have it."

"That’s okay, but I hope I can get it. Anyway, good luck, and try your best to get me that video."

"Sure thing! And I really am sorry I’m not going to make it to your party. Have fun and send my best to Marcel."

"Thanks Steph, I really hope it goes well for you."

"Bye Ingrid."

"Bye darling."

Fortunately that was the last cancellation, and Ingrid had just enough people left on her guest list to make it a party, even if it was rather small. Soon though Ingrid forgot her missing guests as she busied herself with the preparations.

********

During that week she made sure she had all the tools ready for the great event. She cleaned and polished all their torture instruments, got all the butchery knives sharpened and made sure they had enough cooking utensils. Her plan was, late in the afternoon, to slaughter their bunny and get her ready in time for dinner. That would be an interesting exercise, they had never butchered and cooked a woman before, it was going to be their first time doing it and just the mere thought made her pussy moist. She had cooked parts of women before, bought at the butcher's for special occasions, but usually they couldn’t afford the luxury of girl meat, especially not the prime cuts like rump steaks and tits. But this time it was different. It was their anniversary and all their hard work would finally pay off. They would have a whole human cow to butcher. Ingrid had already bought the best manual on how to butcher a woman, and all week she studied it very carefully. She didn’t want to make a mess and waste their precious snuff-bunny.

With all of her preparations, in the time she could spare from masturbating, the week flew by for Ingrid. In no time at all Saturday morning had arrived.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.