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Breakfast
In Bed
Marcie
hummed to herself as she pottered around the
kitchen. The day before she had drawn two
thousand pounds out of their joint account and
had bought an antique silver tray and two
matching tureens. They were quite a bargain, she
was pleased with her purchase.
She
laid the tray with a beautifully embroidered
tray cloth, she had spent many a long hour
making this to please her husband. They did so
enjoy the finer things in life.
Her
masterpiece was almost complete, the tray laid
with the exquisite cloth, topped with the two
tureens. A tall stem vase with some purple and
green hydroponic crystals looked far more classy
than just a fill up of tap water. She had picked
the single red rose with care. Paying attention
to its colour and form. This rose was as near
perfect as she would ever find. Fresh and vivid
in it’s crimson colour. Newly opened, it
appeared to be showing the virginal beauty
within its folds almost shyly. Seducing the eye,
drawing the gaze timidly into its velvety
petals. Marcie sprayed it with water to keep it
looking as fresh as it did when it was snipped
from the stem.
This
was a special breakfast. For fourteen years
Marcie had taken Allen his breakfast in bed on a
Sunday morning, but this one was so special.
She
had been a good wife to her husband, never once
strayed. Kept the house beautiful, Herself trim,
and was a pretty bauble for him to display on
his arm at work socials.
Allan
had come a long way in the last few years, the
business was one of the most successful in the
north sector of the city. They had gambled when
others had taken the safe option, had speculated
on risky deals, and had held back, restrained
when their competitors were making grand
ostentatious bids that they could never maintain
long term. Business was booming, and although
Allan was the figurehead of the company, Marcie
was the driving force. She had an intuitive
grasp of where the market was going to
fluctuate, she guided and led, always remaining
in the background. The little woman. The
stunning socialite who threw the most desirable
parties in town. Marcie was the envy of the
tennis set.
They
had gradually moved up the real estate ladder
too, who would have thought that fourteen years
ago they had begun married life in a two-bed
flat above a newsagents shop in the high street?
These days home was Manor-Gables. A little
private estate with high wall and surrounding
five acres of ornamental gardens and forest.
Sometimes Marcie had been lonely here, but this
special morning she was pleased with the
privacy. She hoped Allan would appreciate the
effort she had made.
One
last detail, she popped the Polaroid camera on
the tray, afterall they’d want to have the
memory of this morning for all time. Marcie
whipped off the wipe clean apron she had been
wearing and checked her appearance in the hall
mirror. The ivory Silk Negligee complemented her
dark skin tones beautifully, and her long auburn
hair fell in soft curls over her shoulders. The
low cut, matching night-gown plunged almost to
her waist. The breast enhancement she had had
the previous year had been worth every penny.
She was pleased to note that the morning chill
had caused her nipples to protrude through the
sheer material. The night-gown was slit to upper
thigh at either side. Allan was in for a treat
this morning.
She
pushed the bedroom door open with her foot, and
entered holding the tray out before her.
“Good morning my darling. Look I’ve brought
you breakfast in bed”
She smiled her most alluring smile.
Allan’s
eyes were wide open, no residue of sleep
clinging to his good-looking face. Marcie
reminded herself every morning how lucky she was
to be married to this man, who set so many young
female pulses throbbing. It amazed her that
after fourteen years of marriage she could still
command his complete attention when she walked
into the bedroom, and she certainly had it this
morning. His eyes were following her every move.
He licked his dry lips and swallowed visibly.
Marcie
placed the tray on the bedside table and gazed
down with love upon her dear husband.
He was half sitting propped against the stiff
headboard. He winced in discomfort as he tried
to shift his position. He rotated his left wrist
slightly, and Marcie mumbled a few cooing words
of sympathy as she saw how chaffed and hurt his
wrists had become.
“Oh
now look what you’ve done to your poor handies,
I told you it would do no good to struggle. You
are a silly boy Allan”
She
pulled hard on his wrist, checking without mercy
the tension of the steel handcuffs. His arms had
been extended beyond his head for over nineteen
hours. His ankles similarly cuffed, splayed and
attached to opposing bedposts. Red-hot needles
of pain were coursing through his poor tortured
body.
He
shrank back from her, a small whimper escaping
his dry mouth. “Marcie please. Come on now
you’ve had your fun. Let me go and we’ll say
no more about this please. Marcie Dammit she
meant nothing to me”
“
I know that sweetie” She smiled benevolently
at her errant husband “None of them ever do”
She held a bottle to her husband’s penis, and
he relived himself. Preferring this to the
indignity of soiling the bed. She set about
washing and shaving him. She patted cologne into
his freshly shorn cheeks, and smoothed some
deodorant under his armpits. She was pleased
with her efforts.
“Now then shall we see if Mr Eager wants to
come and play with Mommy”
He shook his head. “No Marcie. No. Please
don’t”
“Oh come on Allan you’re not normally so
shy. What’s the matter does it only work for
teenage sluts these days?”
Allan closed his eyes as his wife’s fingers
curled round his limp penis. It took a little
while, but soon his member stiffened and
betrayed his terrified mind in the same way it
had betrayed his wife many times over the years.
Beneath her familiar manipulations it soon
reached its maximum potential.
Marcie smiled. “There that’s better” she
crooned
She
removed the lid of the first tureen, as
Allen’s eyes widened in horror. Her eyes on
the other hand looked clear and serene as she
held the huge knife in front of her. Was his
wife still sane? or was it just a case of
insanity having no expression. The ‘Learned
gentlemen’ would debate this point at length,
later.
It
was more difficult than she had anticipated
cutting through the engorged flesh. Not that it
was engorged for long mind, the blood shrank
back through his penile veins a lot faster than
it had swollen in, as though it was ebbing like
a tide away from the penetrative blade of the
kitchen knife.
He screamed. That man really did scream, but
then as the last sinew was sawn through with the
serrated blade he went almost quiet, a small
mewling moan every few seconds but that was all.
He seemed fascinated as he watched his blood dye
the floral bedding. He stared from the blood
between his legs to the flaccid piece of meat in
Marcie’s hand and couldn’t seem to equate
the two. He felt no pain. That surprised him. He
had the works here, a veritable assortment of
external bleeding Veinous bright red oxygenated
blood. Arterial, the big boy. The gusher. A dark
red spouting fountain of blood, rising from
between his legs to fall in a crimson shower.
And the almost insignificant Capillary bleeding.
Marcie’s Ivory night-gown had an obscene
spread of deep red staining, and two red hand
prints smearing off in south tailing trails.
Allen’s
face was the colour and texture of soft putty.
His gums were white, his skin clammy. He was in
clinical shock. At this point he was still
conscious, a strange calm came over him, and
although he still continued to moan every few
seconds, he face broke into a small lopsided
imbecilic smile.
Marcie picked up the lighter from the pretty
tray, and depressed the flywheel that ignited
the flint. Allan’s eyes were drawn to his
wife’s beautiful face illuminated by the soft
flame of the lighter.
“Have a cigar Allen” she muttered as she
stuck the gory end of Allen’s dismembered
penis in his mouth. He made no effort to resist.
A glob of mixed blood and saliva oozed out of
his mouth and dribbled down his chin. A piece of
limp muscle adhered wetly to his upper lip.
Allen made no protest.
Marcie
picked up a length of wick from the tray, and
carefully inserted it into the urethral opening
of Allen’s penis. She put a flame to the wick,
and the hanging, wrinkled length of his precious
organ lit up like a candle on Halloween. Soon
the smell of singed flesh permeated the air.
Allen, still conscious made no effort to move.
She hoped he wasn’t too catatonic to enjoy her
creativity.
“Second course Allan” she enthused brightly
lifting the second tureen for inspection. She
was gratified to see Allen’s eyes shift
slightly towards the bright shiny silver that
reflected her face so perfectly.
She
lifted the lid with a flourish, and Allen
managed to gurgle on the last reserves of his
strength. He looked into the glassy eyes of
Tracy Jones his latest office junior and
occasional bed partner. Her severed head with
frozen expression, gawped back at him from the
silver salver
Marcie laid the tureen on his lap.
She
took a few photos of her artwork, and tossed
them still developing on the bed beside her
husband.
“I’m
just going to set the washer off dear. Now you
two make yourselves comfortable and call me if
you need me”
Allen’s eyes fluttered and he welcomed the
blessed darkness. |
