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Just to prove I can write nasty, dark stories as well as cute, consensual meat-girl adventures!


Mary sat timidly in the darkness. She had heard rumours about establishments like this – places where men could pay to have their basest desires fulfilled. There had even been women at the workhouse who had lived in places such as this for a while and told her of what had gone on. She had heard stories of gentlemen who loved to have their way with young girls while their wives watched, of gentlemen who liked to spank before they fucked or simply liked to spank. Most of the gentlemen wanted young women, at least the age of fourteen, but some who sought the company of girls as young as eight or nine.

Mary was eleven years old, on the cusp of womanhood. One year younger than the law decreed to be the age at which she could determine her own willingness to fuck. That dangerous time that some gentlemen found so tantalising. She feared what might happen to her here but not so much as she feared remaining in the workhouse, suffering the beatings and humiliations, going to be hungry every night.

Since the Madame had purchased her from the Beadle and brought her to this establishment she had at least been well fed, bathed in hot water every night and given clean clothes to wear and a comfortable bed to sleep in. If she had to tolerate being fucked or spanked by a few rich gentlemen in return, then it felt to Mary like a fair trade. This was her first night as what the others called “a working girl” and she hoped that the first gentleman to pay for her services would be kind.

The door opened and a dark figure walked in. He was tall and should have been handsome yet there was something wrong with his appearance, something that made Mary’s skin crawl and the hair on the back of her neck stand up in fear. His long dark hair was dirty and matted but his clothes were clean and expensive. Mary could not put her finger on what it was about his face that disturbed her so. His features were close to perfect, like a statue, and yet there was something so strange and unsettling about him that she could barely stand to look.

“Hello, my dear.” He greeted her with a voice like honey that had been poured through a cheese-grater. “They told me you were a pretty one but I had no idea how perfectly lovely you would be.” He removed his coat and top hat and hung them on a coat-stand near the door which he closed behind him with a quiet click. Mary noticed that he had a leather bag with him, the kind doctors would bring on the rare occasions they visited the workhouse.

Mary was dressed in a simple light-blue dress with a white slip beneath it. As instructed, she was wearing no underwear. The Madame had braided her long light-brown hair into two braids which hung either side of her pretty, round face.

The room was lit only by two gas lamps, on on either wall. The strange and sinister gentleman approached her and, with a finger beneath her chin, guided her to her feet.

“So tell me, pretty one,” he hissed softly, “What’s your name?”

“Mary, sir.” she answered timidly.

“A perfect name.” he smirked. “The virgin and the whore. Tell me, my virgin whore, did they tell you about me?”

“No, sir.” Mary answered honestly. All she knew was that a particular gentlemen, a regular customer, had requested a pure young girl like her and was willing to pay well for her company.

“Well let me tell you, my dear,” the man whispered into her ear, “you will not leave this room alive. Whether you die quickly or slowly, and how much pain you will be in at the time, all depends on how good you are at following my instructions. Do you understand?”



Mary was terrified. She stood, quivering, unable to respond. Angrily, the man grabbed both her plaits and yanked her heads backwards so that she was looking up into his eyes – eyes which seemed to dance with the fires of Hell.

“I asked you a question, little bitch!” he growled. “Answer me or you will learn just how unpleasant I can be! Do you understand what is going to happen to you?” Mary nodded timidly and he released her hair. “Good. And you understand that the extent to which it’s going to hurt is in your hands?” She nodded again. “Wonderful,” he sneered, “then we understand each other.”

Other than the chair on which she had been sat, and the hat-stand in the corner, the only other piece of furniture in the room was a small table. The dark-souled gentleman pulled it close, set down his bag and began to take out the contents, laying them out as much for Mary to see as for ease of access. First came a black silk scarf followed by a length of soft rope. Next was a long, rough metal rod with an ornate handle that Mary recognised as a knife-sharpener, the kind the Father of a household may use before carving the Sunday roast. What emerged next terrified her the most – it was a leather pouch which unrolled to reveal a selection of knives from a delicate surgeon’s scalpel to a terrifyingly large butcher’s knife.

“You like my toys?” The man asked almost conversationally. “Those who procured you for me may have warned you I am a man of unusual tastes?” Mary had, in fact, been told such a thing but, in her innocence, had taken it to refer to his preference for younger girls. She had seen careless cruelty in the past and even brutality as an expression of anger and frustration but this calculating cruelty was something she had never dreamed could exist. And to know that so many must either being willingly complicit in this man’s behaviour or at least content to turn a blind eye and ask no questions in exchange for their fee chilled her to the bone. “Now, let’s begin.”

He approached her with the black silk scarf in his hands and tied it tightly over her eyes like a blindfold. Somehow not being able to see this Devil in the room with her was worse than having to look at him. He moved so silently, almost like a cat. The only time Mary could place where he stood was when he would lean in close to smell the musky aroma of fear on her skin. He seemed to be circling her like as predator with wounded prey. There was silence which felt as if it went on for hours then the sickening sound of a knife being sharpened. Mark knew that there would be no escape and, at this stage, the best thing she could possible pray for would be a quick death. Almost hopefully, she tilted her head back to expose her throat, inviting the cut which did not come. The gentleman was not ready to kill her yet – he had far more interesting plans first!


wow, that's quite a change from your usual stuff. But I wonder if we can take it seriously.:) Like if a comedian is playing a tragedy. (or maybe horror this time?)
When I read it I am still involuntary expecting that Marry will just offer that gentleman to cut off her breasts and make lunch for both LOL

Although if the girl is taken from the place where she already suffered significant abuse, she is most likely already turned into a sociopath and not so easy to scare or torture.


Oh there's a cruel and sadistic side to me too - the "real" Hyde, you might say! I just don't let it out all that often ;) Hoping it will have more impact because it's not my usual style - like when John Lithgow played the Trinity Killer in Dexter!



The man was behind her now, one hand on her shoulders and his hot breath on her neck. She felt a tugging as he slipped a thin blade behind the buttons on the back of her dress and popped them off one by one before tugging and ripping off the last couple.

“Hold your arms out in front of you.” He instructed in his calm but chilling voice. Shakily, she did as she was told and he slid the thick cotton garment off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but the thin satin slip. She expected that next he would pull this off her shoulders but instead he roughly yanked her arms behind her back and tied her wrists together uncomfortably tightly with the rope.

“Please.” She managed to whimper. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked and not complained. Are you going to kill me now?”

“Oh no, my dear.” He chuckled icily. “I am going to have a lot more fun with you first.” She heard his breathing recede as he stepped away, back towards the table. She heard a swishing sound as a much larger knife was drawn from its leather pocket then a sickening rasp as the man dragged the edge of the blade along the sharpener, preparing from what was to come next.

Mary felt him in front of her now. He held the tip of the blade to her throat and ran it down her chest, so lightly it left nothing but a scratch. When he reached the top of the slip, he pointed the knife downwards, the sharp edge facing outwards, and ripped it through the delicate satin down as far as her naval before setting the knife down and tearing it the rest of the way with his rough hands. Mary felt her exposed nipples harden involuntarily as the chill air hit them. Some more tugs, rips and cuts and she was left completely naked apart from the blindfold, her hands tied behind her back and not a prayer left in the world.

The gentleman took her pert, budding nipples between finger and thumb and massaged them gently from a moment before squeezing tight then twisting them hard. Mary tried to stifle her cry of pain and shock but she was not quick enough and she let out a squeal.

“Oh dear,” the gentleman cooed teasingly, “it seems that these are causing you trouble. We can’t be having that now, can we?” Unsure of how he expected her to react, Mary shook her head.

“No, sir.” she replied.

“Good.” He rasped. “So tell me, which one do I remove first? Left?” he placed the flat of the blade against her nipple, causing her to shudder at the touch of the cold metal, “Or right?” She did not reply. Could not. She had never dreamt that she would one day pray for her throat to be cut but that is what she was doing now. It seemed, however, that God did not hear her prayers and that she was helpless in the hands of Satan.

“Listen to me, you silly little girl.” The man snarled, sounding angry. “If you do not cooperate with me I will use my scalpel to open the artery in your neck. You will bleed out slowly but nothing you do to try to stem the flow will work. It will take you half an hour or more to die, feeling increasingly cold and nauseous as your life-blood leaves your body. You will die naked, cold and utterly alone and nobody will mourn you or come to your rescue. This is your final chance, I will give no other. Now tell me,” he pressed the flat of the blade to each nipple in turn once more, “do I start with the left, or the right?”

“Left.” Mary replied quietly, her tears soaking the blindfold.

“Good girl!” The man caressed her face with the palm of her hand then, almost so quickly that she did not realise what was happening, he sliced off her hard left nipple then dropped to his knees, sucking the blood from the wound and running his tongue across it until the bleeding subsided. Mary waited for the slice of the blade on her remaining nipple but instead she felt teeth. The man bit down hard and ground his teeth together, slicing and tearing at her delicate flesh until the nipple came away. She heard a gulping sound as he swallowed it then continued to suck until the blood stopped once again.

“There we go!” the man stood once more and chuckled cruelly, “Now they won’t give you any more trouble!” Mary’s tears of pain and utter despair were now rolling down her cheeks, the blindfold utterly saturated. “Now,” he ran the tip of the knife across her belly, “what shall we do next?”


This is fun! (If that's the right word) Can't wait to see how things develop…


Well the "gentleman" (who's name may or may not be Hyde) is having fun! Hehe


nice work, i prefer this one than the consensual works


Glad you're enjoying :-) I have both in me - it very much depends on my mood…


"Hyde" got one stupid girl to have some fun :)
Or maybe she is actually enjoying it just as much? ;)

All that NC stuff is a real chick magnet, so expect few extra fans coming to worship you ;)

I do not really care about all that domination thing but looks like we already reached "juicy" parts and I really want to see how you do it ;)


This is excellent stuff, keep up the good work!



The man stepped forward and rested the heel of his shoe on the toes of Mary’s right foot for a moment before pressing down hard, grinding his heel until the crunch of bone could be heard. Mary could not help herself and cried out. The gentleman slashed angrily yet in a controlled manner across her chest with the razor-sharp blade, deep enough to draw blood but no deeper.

“Every time you make a fuss, you worthless little bitch, you get cut, understand?” Mary nodded weakly. “You know what?” She didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smirking. “I’m going to take off your blindfold now. I want you to see what’s coming!” He reached around her head and untied the scarf, peeling the sodden fabric away from her tear-stained face. She looked up at him imploringly with her big, dark eyes, not wanting to look down and see her bloodied chest.

She watched as the man set down his knife then he pulled her towards him, crushing her body to his, not caring how her blood stained his shirt. He ran his hand down her back. His fingernails were sharp. When he reached her firm buttock he squeezed hard enough to break the skin. Mary bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

“Good girl!” He complimented her sarcastically, “It seems that you are learning!” He grabbed hold of her hair once again and yanked her head backwards then kissed her aggressively, forcing her mouth open with his tongue and probing so deep into her throat that she almost gagged. He released her and stood back, admiring her for a few moments, then fished something out of a small pocket of his knife pouch. It looked to Mary a little like a thimble that she and the other workhouse girls would wear while sewing but this one had a sharp, curved metal spike atop it like a beast’s tooth, or perhaps a claw. The man pressed it onto not his thumb but the tip of his index finger.

Approaching her once more, he ran the tip of the claw down her cheek. Mary felt the sting as the salt of her tears entered the fresh cut. He then ran the claw around the ragged edge where her right nipple had been chewed off, tugging at the torn flesh and causing it to seep blood once more which trickled thickly down her belly. Very lightly then, he ran the claw down her torso, lingering at her navel as if he meant to rip through it but then kept moving down, resting between her puffy, hairless lips. A quick jab forward pierced her clit. Try as she might, Mary could not hold in the yelp of pain.

“Oh, silly, silly little girl!” the gentleman tilted his head to one side. “What did I tell you would happen if you made a fuss?” Mary expected him to reach for the knife but instead he ran his clawed finger down her slit until he found her tight opening and pushed it hard inside, ripping the delicate internal flesh as he did so. He did not stop, however, drawing his finger out and ramming it home again that clawing from inside. The tears poured, unquenchable, down Mary’s cheeks. The man forced the fingers of his free hand inside her mouth and gripped her tongue as if he meant to rip it out.

“My, my!” He sneered, withdrawing his bloodied claw from her ruined pussy. “You really are giving me a lot of bother now, aren’t you?” He released his grip on her tongue and returned to his tools, taking out this time a pair of pliers, sharpened to vicious spikes at the tips, and a long, thin knife such as a surgeon may use for performing an autopsy. Fearing what was to come, Mary tried to keep her jaw tightly closed but the man forced the blade between her teeth, causing fragments to chip off, and levered her mouth open wide enough for him to slide his fingers inside, under her top front teeth, and wrench her head backwards to prevent her biting down. With his free hand, he invaded her mouth with the spiked pliers before grabbing hold of her tongue and pulling it forward. Releasing her head, he then took the knife and sliced her tongue out of her mouth, as fer down as the slim blade would reach. He dropped the severed muscle onto the floor where it twitched disgustingly for a few moments.

“There.” He sneered as Mary spat out the blood pooling in her mouth, unable to make any sound beyond a guttural whimper. “That should stop you giving me too much trouble!” He walked behind the terrified, broken girl and unbuttoned his blood-soaked shirt, took it off and laid it neatly over the back of the chair where she had been sat then slipped out of his trousers before walking back around in front of her letting her see him naked and hard.

“As you can see,” he forcibly tilted Mary’s head downwards, forcing her to look at his throbbing manhood, “you’ve got me quite worked up! Too bad your bratty behaviour forced me to ruin that tight little hole of yours or there’s a chance you may actually have enjoyed this next bit and died with a smile on your face but it matters little to me!” He tilted her head upwards to look into his gleaming eyes in which the Devil’s own fire danced, “I can just cut a new one!” He took the thin blade again and pressed his body against hers. The tip of his erect penis pressed just below her naval. “About here will do!” He grabbed her hair with on hand and with the other plunged the knife in. There was very little fat to cut through and Mary felt a terrible burning sensation as the blade sliced the muscle of her tight belly.

Mary’s vision blurred and her knees buckled from the intense pain but her torturer held her up by her hair, his sharply-nailed fingers digging into her buttocks once more as he thrust inside her, forcing open the slit in her belly and pushing aside her intestines, thrust after thrust. After a mercifully short time he through his head back and let out a sigh of satisfaction. He pulled out and allowed Mary’s limp body to fall to the floor. He looked down with comically exaggerated disgust at his still-hard, gore-covered penis.

“Here!” He grabbed her hair once again and yanked her to her knees. “Clean up your mess!” Knowing the wounds to the mouth stop bleeding very quickly, he shoved his bloody manhood into Mary’s unprotesting mouth. She had no strength or will left and any power or desire she may have had to resist was long gone. With no tongue, there was little she could do but shape her lips around the large intruded as the man drew it in and out. With every entry he pushed further into the back of her throat causing her to gag up some concealed blood which was quickly swallowed back down. Apparently satisfied, the gentleman released her and allowed her to fall to the floor once more where he straddled her all-but-lifeless form.

“You could have been more cooperative and less of a whiny little bitch,” he reprimanded her, “but you didn’t give me as much trouble as some girls so I suppose I owe it to you to keep my end of the bargain.” With his knife in one hand, he tilted Mary’s head back so that her delicate throat was exposed. “Goodbye, my dear.” There was a glint of metal as he slashed and a burning sensation but, mere seconds later, it subsided and Mary was gone.

“Was everything to your satisfaction, sir?” The Madame entered the room just as her gentleman client had finished buttoning up his shirt.

“Very much so.” He smiled his wolfish smile at her. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Oh that’s no bother.” She chuckled. “Having my regular girls clean up after you helps keep them in check. I warn them that they could be next if they don’t do as they’re told!” The gentleman laughed. “So,” The Madame asked, handing him his coat and hat, “Same time next week?”

“Yes, of course.” The gentleman gave her a polite nod. “Although perhaps next time you could find me a sweet little pair of sisters? I feel like treating myself.”


Whew… that was quite an intense departure from my normal style! I think I need to go write about some happy, willing little meat girls to recover! Hope you enjoyed this 'though!


Have I scared you all off? Nobody even gonna call me a sick fuck? :-P


Still thinking what funny thing to say about all that LOL

Looks like your transformation serum did not last for very long :)

If I was a girl my pussy would be all wet and dripping when reding this story ;) But now, I rather prefer happy meatgirls.


Haha I think there was a compliment in there somewhere ;-) Thank you!


I think I should explain why I assume that Mary is also somewhat masochistic in your story :)

This is because even when she is told that she will be killed she still cooperates. And that is pretty stupid because if someone told me they will kill me I will not even consider any cooperation but either fight back or try to make some problems for them. For example, she could bite his hand ripping a piece of the flesh or entire finger.
Although you strategically do not explain what she is felling leaving for the readers to make their own assumptions ;)


Aah I see where you're coming from. My assumption during writing, which I think I mention during the dialogue, is that she knows she will die but hopes if she cooperates it will be relatively quick and painless - if she struggles or fights back he will just make her endure more pain before death. It's not that she's enjoying it, more that going along with it is the "lesser of two evils". But as with all art, the consumer's interpretation makes it unique to them and is perfectly legitimate! :-)


Yes, you said that, but she must be pretty dumb to believe that it will be "painless death" if the guy actually says "cooperate with me while I will use those tools on you and cut off your nipples ;)"
If he used them just as a threat that would be different.

and this :
“Listen to me, you silly little girl.” The man snarled, sounding angry. “If you do not cooperate with me I will use my scalpel to open the artery in your neck. You will bleed out slowly but nothing you do to try to stem the flow will work. It will take you half an hour or more to die, feeling increasingly cold and nauseous as your life-blood leaves your body. You will die naked, cold and utterly alone and nobody will mourn you or come to your rescue. This is your final chance, I will give no other. Now tell me,”

looks like the most painless death she could have ;)

of course in that kind of situation, it may be hard to think well, so she just obeys irrationally.


It's called artistic licence, Onix. It's a thing us writers do to cheat our readers out of reality. :)

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