Just get it over with. (Knife Sadistic)
An hour after yet another round of one-sided sex I was no less sure there was no love left, just frustration and pain.
Penelope’s increasing disabilities as a 350 sick fat woman had reduced what had been our active sex life to her wanting more than she could handle. Too many times she had gotten her thrill then called off anything to do with my pleasure as being too much for her to handle, or too painful. Our marriage had become just work, my taking care of her for little in return.
I fetched my best knife from the display in my office and went to the bedroom where Penelope was asleep. I moved quietly to my wife at the left side of the bed and gently pulled down the single sheet she was sleeping under. Despite all the past revenge fantasies I just wanted it over with no intent to take sexual or sadistic enjoyment from what I needed to do. Pulling off the sheet exposed Penelope’s pale fat bulk of a body, allowing me to lean over her with my right hand empty and the lethal knife held in a dagger grip in my left hand.
I slapped my right hand down over Penelope’s mouth, thumb under her chin to shove and tilt her head back across the neck roll she used instead of a pillow. The force exposed her thick throat as she startled and began to wake. She barely had time for the first sound of some hand-muffled exclamation before I used my full strength to drive the knife down into the center of her throat. The katana point of the knife easily cut into her soft neck and drove through her windpipe with a small crunching noise closely followed by the thud of the heel of my hand against her neck.
Penelope heaved on the bed when the killing thrust sunk home, her legs and arms thrashing but her head pinned down by the hand on her mouth and the knife through her throat. I twisted and pushed down while pulling the blade towards me, tearing a gaping wound in her neck.
Penelope’s scream was muffled by my palm, not even as loud as the audible hiss of air from the growing wound. In a moment the noise became a wet bubbling gurgle as the blade severed her left carotid artery, the spurting hot blood spattering me and filling her windpipe. She tried to inhale and instead started to drown on the flooding gush of her own blood, her eyes wide over my mouth covering hand. I could see the shock and fear in her look at me as she understood I was hurting her. The wet coughing gurgles got louder for a moment as I yanked the knife up and the arterial blood not flooding her lungs spurted higher in a pulsing jet. Penelope struggled frantically on the bed, her right hand clawing at my right wrist to try and pull my hand off her mouth while her left hand pawed at the gaping wound in her throat.
My thoughts reeled as the enormity of what I had done swept through me. I dropped the knife, my now empty left hand knocking Penelope’s aside to grab at the ragged wound. I could feel her very hot blood spurting against my palm, each fresh flood of wet heat flooding my senses with excitement, feeding an untapped depth of sadism I was just now discovering. My clenching thumb pushed into the wound, the tip partly in her severed trachea feeling the movement of her futile attempts to breathe air and cough up the drowning blood. I could feel my cock hardening rapidly but this was something different, more than just sexual, the life I was taking from my wife feeding me pleasure.
Penelope thrashed on the bed hard enough her neck came out from under my hand, her severed windpipe flooded with the thick blood she coughed up, spattering her face, my hands, and the already bloody sheet behind her head. I covered her the wound again, fingers digging into her slippery neck and bloody froth leaking out my palm. I struggled to hold her convulsing fat body down by just her neck and mouth, my own heavy breathing much louder than the wet burbling sounds from under my hands.
Penelope’s thrashing was weakening, and I let go to lean over her, gripping her hair with my bloody hands to turn her face towards mine. I looked straight into her wide eyes, seeing the pupils dilate fully as she ran out of blood and air. I knew I was watching this woman I had once loved die by my hand, the emotional rush making me dizzy. The jetting spurts from Penelope’s mutilated, gaping throat faltered and subsided, showing the nearness of her ending.
Penelope heaved weakly on the bed again as she ran out of strength. I felt I had granted my ex-love a quicker death than she deserved, her struggles subsiding quickly. Her pale skin whitened further wherever it was not spattered with bright red blood. The jetting spurts of blood from the ragged hole in her neck quickly subsiding to a pulsing flow. In what was likely less than a clock minute she was barely twitching. I let go of Penelope’s head when her eyes stopped moving, her stare at the ceiling fixed and her pupils so dilated there was no brown visible.. I stood there watching her staring eyes film over, my shaky knees barely keeping me up as I recovered from the unexpected thrill. I backed up a couple of slow steps then turned away from what was now just a pathetic heap of dead fat flesh, a slowly cooling corpse on the bloody bed.
