The Fetish Dictionary takes one sexual “philia” and explores it through a short fictional scenario. This week’s word is…
“Autassassinophilia is a paraphilia in which a person is sexually aroused by the risk of being killed.” (Source)
I am carried like Santa’s sack from the back of a truck. Tied, gagged, naked. When bound, the human body is a ham of a thing. My breasts, with rope wrapped tight around them, poke out meatily. There are bruises, many, spotting my beaten body. But the tears have long dried on my cheeks. It is time to face my death with dignity.
The railroad tracks are surrounded by deep woods, with thick clumps of trees dancing in the October breeze. My captor does not look up at the view, only towards each step he takes with heavy boots. I tremble from the chill, and I know he can feel the goosebumps rise up on my flesh. Still, nothing. His dark mustache twitches in the wind.
When my captor to drop me, he drops me on the tracks. I can see the stars above me, silver speckles, and the slice of a moon. I tremble and look towards him with pleading eyes, shaking my head. Please don’t do this (please do).
It took me three months to save for The Full Experience, a guaranteed life-or-death scenario with a happy ending. It’s risky for both participants, the “captor” and “captive.” The legality of this agreement is as solid as a puffed Cheetos. But right now, it’s worth it. My pussy is sopping, my heart racing.
The captor ties my wrists and ankles to the track until I am spread wide enough to feel a cold breeze travel through my pubes. The man looks down at me with the stars as his backdrop, pulling out his hard cock through denim. On his knees, pressed into the gravel beneath the train tracks, he slides his cock inside of me.
I moan through the gag, shaking my head as a captive might. His cock is thick and warm, much warmer than the atmosphere around us, creating a pleasant effect inside of me. Even though I paid him to be brutal and cruel, he is careful not to lean on my body and press hard onto the tracks. His cock pulls out and then pushes back inside of me, covered with my own excited wetness.
And then, a train whistle.
I can hear it far down the track, screaming towards us. There is the sound of chugging wheels and screeching metal. The pace of my captor becomes faster, quickening along with the train. He is anxious to finish and leave me here to be torn apart by the metal wheels. In and out, his cock works inside of me. I can feel my cunt heating up as the sound draws near, as my captor groans with pleasure.
The yellow light of the train casts a shadow above my head; I am ready to embrace several varieties of death.
My cunt feeds on my own fear, and I orgasm with a force so strong that I cut myself trying to jerk out of the rope. I scream beneath the gag and my captor knows that his work is finished. He pulls back as the yellow light brightens, squirting white cum on my body before the train arrives to take my life.
The train is here now, the whistle shrieks through my ears. My cunt is empty with satisfaction and I close my eyes to prepare for the metal carnage.
And then? Am I rocketed into the next life while wrapped in rope and topped with cum? The yellow light stops. I look above my head to see a man carrying a lamp and boombox, smiling down at me.
“Well, did you get your money’s worth?”
I nod, I nod.