The Table

As I enter the room, the first thing I do is shrug of the white robe I'm wearing. This isn't a place for wearing clothes, at least not for me. Instinctively, I reach out and touch the wall, needing to confirm the reality of this room, and of me being here. The room isn't particularly big, about the size of the bedroom I share with my lover in our smallish flat, and the only furnishing is the imposing stainless steel table in the middle. I feel a shiver run down my back as I see it, and immediately look away, skirting along the edges of the room, circling the table. There's no rush, I've been told to take as long as I like to savour this experience. I only get to do it once after all. I know there's a heartbeat monitor built into the table, and once it has a reading on me, no one will enter unless I call them. Not as long as there is a pulse for it to detect. I know intellectually that after I am finished someone will come, but I will be gone by then, only my meat left behind.

Having twice circled the room, I take a deep breath and almost reverently approach the table. There is blood on the surface, and I want to feel it before it dries out. As I requested, the room hasn't been cleaned since the last user, only her meat removed, and a clean benefactors plate put out for me to use. There are actually two tables: a small one holding the benefactors plate and various knives and other tools the user might need, and the big one. The big one is large enough that a person can comfortably lie down on it, and with various straps to hold them in place. Instead of normal legs, it's supported by two large pillars, one at each end, sticking a good half meter up above the surface of the table. There's also a small control panel built in, conveniently close to where the user's right hand will be, and a large mirror suspended above it, so they will have a perfect view of themself. As I get close to the table, I can smell her, the woman who used this room and this table before me. Her sweat is hinting of nervousness, her arousal, strong and musky, and her blood, sweet and intoxicating. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, feeling a drop of my own arousal run down my thigh, and can smell myself mixed in with her.

I reach out and touch the table tentatively, feeling the warmth of her body still lingering. It's thrilling to know how recently a warm, living woman was lying on this very table, using it as I'm about to. I press my hand against the table, wanting to feel closer to her, caressing the table we will soon have shared. I feel wetness against my hand, and once I realised I've come into contact with her blood, I immediately run my fingers through it, gathering some before bringing it to my face. It's beautiful, the way it sticks between my fingers as I admire it, but I can only wait a short moment before hungrily bringing them to my mouth. One by one, I take my fingers into my mouth, sucking her life of them before I let my tongue dart out to lick up the blood in between them. As I let the taste of her blood fill my mouth, I feel my cunt getting wetter, begging for attention. Cleaning my fingers like this usually happens after playtime, and it's as if my cunt is complaining that it didn't get its due before my mouth did. I ignore its complaints, and instead lean over the table, looking closely at the area slightly below where her cunt must have been. There's a lot of blood, still wet, but it's the smaller pool of clear liquid I focus my attention on. I dip a single finger for a quick taste, confirming it is indeed her arousal I've found, and am impressed by the amount. She must have come a lot, and I can't help wondering if I can match her pool. Before I get too caught up in thoughts, I quickly bring four fingers of my right hand into the biggest pool of blood nearby, dragging it towards the other gift she left me. I watch the liquids mix around my fingers, the clear arousal with the red, slightly thicker blood. This time I waste no time admiring, instead bringing my fingers straight to my mouth. The taste of her blood and arousal mixed together is like nothing else, and I feel the strongest sense of connection to her. Those two substances define everything about us that matters now, lust and blood. It's like we are bound together by our shared desire for spilling our own blood.

I can feel my arousal growing strongly as I think of how soon I will share her fate, but there is one more thing I must explore before I'm ready to strap myself in. Leaning down, I look under the table at the collection trough. Sitting down on the floor, I shuffle closer until I can look in, and just as I hoped it's half full of her guts. It's possibly the most precious gift she could have given me, agreeing to leave them here just because the next user after her requested it. The scent of her insides is strong, but not unpleasant, and I reverently slide my hand down to touch, while at the same time my other hand drifts to my own belly. They're warm and soft, just like I imagine she was, though wetter and more slippery. This is what I feel like on the inside. The thought enters my head, and before I know it both my hands are buried wrist-deep. I sit maybe a full minute with my hands in her guts, feeling my arousal growing steadily as I think about how recently these were inside a living, breathing woman, and how soon mine will be joining them.

When I withdraw my hands and stand up, I don't lick her blood off, even though I'm tempted. I'd rather have her blood still on my hands as I touch my own insides. Just like I feel I have been inside her, I want to bring her inside me. I move onto the table and lie down for just a moment, pleased to feel it still retains a bit of her warmth. Another way I can feel close to her. I quickly sit up though, reaching down to strap in my ankles first, and then my thighs. The padded hiprests are next, clicking shut over my hipbones, keeping me safely in place without restricting access to any part of my body. Now that I know exactly where I'll be, I lie down again to adjust the headrest, making sure it's comfortable. Lastly, I strap in my shoulders. It's a bit like putting on a rucksack, except I'm lying on it. A single band crosses between the two straps, just above my breasts. After locking the final buckle, my hand finds the control panel, glad my lover talked me into taking meat preparation classes before coming here. I've known the layout just by feel for months, and even though any of the options that might retract from my experience require confirmation, it's good to know I can easily find the buttons I want, and avoid the ones I don't. First order of business, before it will even accept any other input, is securing my straps. There is a slight hum as I press the button, and immediately I feel the straps tighten and the hiprests move a bit closer. I raise my head to gaze down at myself, my breasts rising and falling rapidly with my breathing, my nipples pink and hard, but it's much more relaxing to admire myself in the mirror above the table. I take a deep breath, and close my eyes lazily. I am impressed by the near total freedom of my arms, and gently run my hands down from my breasts to my hips, over my inner thighs. I'm so turned on by now, my cunt is screaming for attention, but I just brush my hand over its smoothness, missing the soft curls I had to shave off before coming here. I move one hand up over my stomach, unable to resist dragging just a single nail over the skin, imagining what it will feel like to open myself up, and shuddering at the thought. I roll my nipples between my fingers, sighing softly, before taking a firm grasp of both breasts, squeezing them gently. Satisfied that I can easily reach any part of myself that I want to, even in my strapped down state, I open my eyes again, to admire my body one last time before I start ruining its perfection. Without having thought about it, I've smeared her blood all over myself, but I don't mind. There'll be a lot more before I'm done.

Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention to the smaller table. There's an angled mirror placed behind it, so I can easily see the various tools at my disposal. Remembering my meat preparation classes, I reach out for a small paring knife. While there's an undeniable attraction to the bigger knives, I don't want to risk unneeded damage. Rupture the wrong organ, and I could spoil my meat. Panting slightly in excitement, I bring the knife down to the bottom of my belly, about halfway between my navel and pubic bone. Far enough down that I can make a nice long cut, but without getting too close to my precious cunt fillet. I press the tip of the blade against my soft skin and take a few moments to get my breathing under control. I spread out my left hand just below the knife, hoping to help keep my stomach steady.

Sliding the knife into my body feels perfect. I can feel my skin, fat, and muscle easily part around it, and I let out a sensual moan as I slowly slide the steel in. Through the haze of sensation, I think back to my classes again, feeling for the signs that will tell me the cut is deep enough. There is a membrane surrounding my guts, and the cut should be just deep enough to pierce it, but no more. I slowly push deeper, feeling slight resistance, then a sudden pricking sensation and gasp as I quickly pull the knife back. Looking in the mirror, I can see my blood welling up around the cut, but not too much. It looks like it's just a flesh wound, but I know that my precious belly has been pierced. Putting down the knife, I am overwhelmed with a need to explore the cut, and gently slide a finger in. I'm warm, wet and tight, the cut pulsing slightly around my finger. I'm reminded of the first time I slid a finger into my cunt, and immediately I feel it clench in desire, wishing to be filled. As I slide my finger deeper into the wound, I move my left hand down between my legs, surprised at just how drenched I am. I quickly slide two fingers in, letting out a deep sigh of pleasure as I gently grind my clit against the heel of my hand. For a while I'm content to just finger myself, my left hand knowing exactly what to do as I explore the wound further. Pushing deeper I can feel the membrane covering my guts, the hole too small even for my slim finger. Instead, I force another finger in, gasping at the sensation as I force the wound slightly bigger. My cunt demands two fingers, and I don't want the cut to be left out. I slowly bring myself closer to orgasm as I thrust into the wound, looking forward to forcing my fingers through the membrane, ruining my belly's innocence the same way my lover took my cunts years ago. Feeling my orgasm is near, I push hard against the membrane - once, twice, three times - and then suddenly there's a sharp, tearing sensation and I can feel my own guts as my two fingers slide deep into my body. I gasp and strain against my bonds as my orgasm overwhelm me, my cunt clenching around my fingers as pleasure course through me. As I feel my body start to relax, I quickly force an extra finger into both my cunt and the wound. My cunt welcomes the delicious stretch, only on occasion having had something as big as my three fingers combined; while I feel the wound tear further, making the muscles of my belly convulse, clenching around their invasion like my cunt. The sensations drag out my orgasm, but finally I feel myself come down slowly, panting with pleasure. Just like when I lost my actual hymen, I feel this orgasm was a promise of things to come.

For a few minutes I'm content to just lie there and relax with my fingers still inside me. My cunt is still clenching occasionally, and the wound pulses around my fingers in time with my heartbeat. Slowly I withdraw my hands, one finger at a time, but from both holes at once. Bringing my hands to my face, I slowly clean my fingers with my mouth and tongue, alternating between blood and arousal. I taste similar to her, but still different. While my blood is a new and exciting taste, my arousal is a familiar and always welcome flavour. I notice that I can also smell my blood now, mixing with the lingering scent of her. Blood, sweat, and sex.

Having calmed down enough to continue, I glance again to the small table, locating a specialist knife that was introduced to us in meat preparation. It's equally sharp as the paring knife, but instead of a tip, there's a tiny metal ball at the end of the blade. Useful for lengthening a cut already made, without risk of damaging the underlying tissue, it is perfect for me. I slip the blade into the cut, breathing deeply in an attempt to control my eagerness. I'm tempted to saw and rip myself open as fast as possibly, finally baring my guts, but instead place my left hand below the cut as before. I don't want to mar my meat with a messy cut, and I also want to drag out the experience as much as I can. I start sawing gently up and down, putting minimal pressure on the top of the cut, letting the sharp edge do the work. My excitement grows quickly as I feel the cut lengthen, my left hand following after the right to hold the cut closed, thus making it easier to continue slicing through my flesh. I work steadily, resisting both the desire to either hurry up, or stop and masturbate. As my body opens under the blade, it's like an odd pressure inside me is slowly released. It feels like it's always been there, yet I've never noticed it before, and the sensation is deeply erotic as my intimate parts are slowly bared. I don't stop cutting before I reach my sternum, reaching over to let the knife clatter down on the smaller table. I lie there for a moment, eyes closed and hands resting along my side as I drink in the feeling of finally being opened.

My guts are still inside me, though, and I can feel my desire to spill them grow. I push another button on the control panel, and hear the sound of machinery as the table slowly starts to turn over. The first few seconds I just lie there, strapped down tight, but then I feel a shifting inside me as the angle gets too big, and quickly bring my right hand over my ruined belly, carefully keeping my guts in a bit longer. For a moment I'm tempted to just let them start sliding out, perhaps even help them along, but I remember one of the tips from meat preparation on how one could enhance their experience, and I know how I want to do this. When the table stops moving, I'm hanging upside down, directly above the collection trough. The glistening pile of guts she left looking as inviting as ever, and I reach forward with my left arm to gently brush my hand over them, feeling their warmth and softness. Not wanting to keep my own, yearning guts waiting longer than needed, I quickly bring my left hand back to my cunt, and start rubbing over my clit. I don't enter myself this time, and realise my fingers need a bit of extra wetness. Normally, I would happily coat them with my saliva, but instead I bring them to the wound I'm still holding carefully closed with my right arm. Gently dipping two fingers into the slit, I collect liberal amount of my own blood on them before bringing them back to my clit, relishing how much easier they slide now. I rub my clit intently, I'm so very turned on already and feel I deserve this next orgasm, having teased myself enough as I took my time with the cut and not letting my guts spill too early. As my orgasm hits me, I can no longer keep my right hand in place, nor do I want to. As pleasure explodes through me, I see and feel my guts tumbling out of my belly, eager to join hers in the trough. Everything but my most vital organs and my reproductive system rushing down, out of the body I'm slowly destroying. As I feel the odd sensation of thousands of tiny nerves and blood vessels that connect my guts to the rest of my body being ripped apart at once, my ecstasy intensifies even further, and I'm gasping to suck in enough air, terrified I'll pass out and miss anything. My orgasm continues to roll through me as I look down at the now nearly full trough, my guts mixed beautifully with hers, only attached to my body at the colon and the esophagus, resulting in an odd pulling sensation in my anus, and throat. Still shaking with pleasure, I manage to summon enough presence of mind to press the next button on the control panel, and look down as gears in the bottom of the trough starts up. Slowly, her guts and mine are ground to a bloody pulp, and I watch them disappear out through the bottom, a hungry metal monster feasting on the parts of us no one else will eat. As I hang there and look down, my hand reaches over and find the paring knife again, reaching inside my oddly empty body to cut off the last connections to my guts, and I watch them also disappear into the grinding gears. I put the knife back, and just hang there a while longer, feeling blood slowly drip out my ruined belly, even as arousal is leaking from my cunt. I know for sure that I have passed the point of no return now, probably did a while back, but I feel secure in the knowledge now. Even the best surgeons won't be able to put my guts back in me now, and I let the finality of that settle over me.

I rest for a minute or two, savouring the moment. A bit of some unidentifiable organ cling to the inside of the trough, and I idly wonder if it was hers or mine. I can feel the emptiness of my stomach finally relieved of my precious guts, and am impressed by how little blood I'm losing. The drug cocktail is as effective as promised, and I'm glad I accepted it. Another benefit of meat preparation, they assured us that the flavour of our meat would in no way be reduced by the drugs, that it was just an urban myth. They even offered us a small piece of meat from a woman who had taken it. It was delicious, and I wonder how quickly I would have bleed out or died from shock if I hadn't accepted. Still, I won't last forever, and there are a few more things I hope to do before meeting my end. My cunt clenches in terrified anticipation even as I think of it. I reach up to the control panel again, bringing the table back to its original position, my body once again resting under the mirror.

My right hand finds the paring knife I used to make the original cut, while my left reaches into my body, searching out the various parts of my reproductive system. I gently stroke the outside of my cunt - or is this the inside? - and the sensation is odd, but entirely pleasurable. Now isn't play time though, and I quickly feel my way further up, past my uterus, till I locate my ovaries. They're small, and while not as sought after as cunts or breasts, that does make them my most valuable cut by weight, and I know exactly what I plan to do with them. I easily slice them both free, enjoying how the sharp edge feels as it cuts into me again. I place one on the benefactors plate, wanting my lover to have that part of me to enjoy. My other ovary I bring to my mouth, carefully placing it between my teeth as I bite half off. The other half I put next to the control panel, in easy reach. The moment I start chewing, my mouth explodes with flavour. The taste is unlike anything I've tried before, and it fills my mouth. I don't know if it's because they truly are the aphrodisiac some people claim, or simply because of how erotic it is to consume such an intimate part of myself, but as I slowly devour the morsel, my cunt is pulsing and throbbing, letting its desire for attention be known. As I swallow, I can't help wondering where it actually ends up, and for a moment I nearly laugh. Curiosity leads me to search for the end of my esophagus, but after I cut it off, the stump seems to have retracted up past my diaphragm, so I assume the chewed pieces of my ovary has ended up somewhere in my chest cavity.

Having finished with the small delicacy, I reach back inside myself with the knife, cutting my uterus and fallopian tubes free, finishing by severing it from the back of my vagina with a cut just above my cervix, leaving that bit as the natural end of my vaginal tunnel. I take it all out, and spent a moment to look at the viscera that represents nearly everything that defines me as a woman. Now these are gone I truly am just a piece of meat on a butchers table. I wish I could somehow get them into the trough, I would like for them to be ground up with my guts, but I don't want to spend time turning the table over again just for that. I settle for simply throwing them on the floor, hoping that when someone comes in here after I'm done, they will throw them in the trough.

The further destruction of my body has my cunt begging for attention, and for a moment I'm tempted to give in, but decide to stick with my original plan. I spent quite a lot of time during meat preparation to work out exactly what I wanted to do, and in what order and I won't change that just because actually doing it is turning me on even more than expected. My cunt will get what's coming to it, but first I want to take care of my breasts. I reach over and find the special breast knife, longer than the others I have used, and slightly curved. I place it under my right breast, giving my nipple a hard but loving goodbye tweak, before grasping the breast firmly in my hand, pulling it slightly out from my body. The feel of the knife biting into my soft breast is exquisite, and I let out a low, purring moan as I slice my breast free in one smooth motion. I lift the severed breast in my hand, admiring its weight, before putting it down on the benefactors platter, making sure it rests nipple up, to look as appetizing as possible. I eagerly move to my other breast, wanting to feel the sharp steel cutting through my soft body again, and give out another sensual moan as I gently slice it free, wishing I had been able to drag it out a bit. I place it next to the other, again making sure the nipple is pointed up, and notice they are both still hard with the desire I felt while cutting them off. I smile at that, happy that my lover will see how much I enjoyed myself.

Finally turning my attention back to my cunt, I reach out for the sharp tipped paring knife I started with, feeling a fresh wave of desire make its way through the remains of my body, culminating in a flow of liquid from my cunt that I can feel trickling slowly down the crack of my ass. This next cut is complicated, and I hope I get it right. If I do, the sensation should be extraordinary. I place my left hand over my cunt, whether to hold it steady, or to give myself something to rub against I'm not sure, while my right takes a firm grasp of the knife. Even with the mirror, I can't see from this angle, and have to rely on the feel of the knife moving over my skin, knowing the exact spot I'm searching for from meat preparation. As I find the right spot, my training kicks in, and I instantly slide the knife deep into my body, letting out a yelping gasp at the sudden penetration. From here on, it's a bit easier, and I feel my cunt pulse under my hand in mixed anticipation, fear and arousal as I let my body guide the knife up slowly. Like when I opened my stomach, I only put the slightest pressure on the knife, letting the sharpness of the blade and small sawing motions work on separating my cunt from my body. When the cut is long enough, I gently slip the knife out, and bring it down to the bottom of my cunt, and start slicing it free on the other side. As I finish that cut, my cunt is throbbing like mad, blood and desire flowing down between my legs, pooling under my ass. I rub gently over it with my left hand, not sliding any fingers in, nor touching my clit, but after a few seconds I'm still awarded with a small, sweet orgasm making me let out a pleasured sigh. I move my left hand slightly, as I prepare to connect the two cuts above my cunt, a bit below where I started the opening in my belly. As I'm right handed, I will cut from left to right, thus freeing my cunt completely from the surrounding skin. As I prepare to cut, is as if my cunt is screaming at me, simultaneously begging me for one last orgasm before being removed from me forever and urging me to cut it free so it can be turned into meat, at last. As I slowly cut across, I carefully hold the nearly severed fillet in place with my left hand, until I finally feel the last bit of skin part under the knife. Now for the moment of truth, the last thing I hoped to accomplish after being first told about it in meat preparation. I gently slide the middle finger of my left hand through my wetness, holding my breath. I can still feel it. I silently congratulate myself on managing to cut all the skin holding my cunt in place free, without damaging the nerves, running from the back of it and directly to my spine. Carefully, so as not to damage the fragile connection, I change my grip, so I'm holding it with my right hand, to fingers inside me, slick with both blood and arousal, and my thumb through the cut above it. It only takes me a moment to find my g-spot from both sides, and I start to gently squeeze and massage it between my fingers. As I work myself up towards another orgasm, my left hand strays to the opening in my belly. Often, when I masturbate, I would claw at the skin of my abdomen, either imagining my nails as knives, or as claws sharp and strong enough to actually rip myself open. This time, I bring it to my mouth instead, licking it clean of its fresh coat of blood and arousal, humming in enjoyment as I bring myself closer to orgasm. I start to manipulate my g-spot more roughly, squeezing it harder, yearning for my release. When it hits me, both my eyes and mouth fly wide open in a silent scream, even as my right arm tears my fillet away from my body, ripping any tissue still connecting it. I feel it clench strongly around my fingers for a few seconds in its dying orgasm, but then it slowly goes still, and finally it's just a piece of meat I'm holding in my hand. The rest of my body continues to shake and strain against its bonds for what feels like an eternity after my cunt has gone still, unlike any orgasm I've experienced before. It's like all the parts of my body that I cut out are climaxing at once, making me feel pleasure from places I've never felt before, and certainly shouldn't be able to feel now.

I slowly bring my fillet before my eyes, admiring how delicious it looks before placing a gently kiss just above the clit. I am tempted to also clean this with my mouth, but instead place it on the benefactors plate. Once the pulse monitor reports that I am gone, and only my meat is left behind, it will just be a matter of minutes before the plate is placed in front of my lover, and I want my fillet to be fresh, raw, still covered in my blood and arousal.

As I lie back and prepare to leave, I pick up the other half of the ovary I didn't set aside for my lover, and bring it to my mouth. As I start slowly chewing, I bring my other hand inside the opening in my stomach and start gently feeling along my spine, hoping this last trick from meat preparation will also work. After a bit of searching, I suddenly feel a spike of pleasure, and know I have found the nerves that used to be connected to my cunt. I rub over the spot softly, and shudder in pleasure. There will be no orgasm from this, but it fills me with a soft, sated feeling. As I continue caressing that spot, I feel myself slowly slipping away, my eyes too heavy to keep open, and my pulse slowing down. I bite into the last bit of ovary just before I slide into the darkness, and the last thought I have is:

I taste delicious.

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