Chapter 4. Bittersweet.


That evening, Bob and Emma sat on the couch, chatting excitedly about their day, and re-living some of the high points, giggling like teenagers about green spangles and rolling eyeballs.

Bob had fixed Emma and himself up with a fine single malt, and a joint was passing between them. But he was preoccupied, still thinking about Kasia.

"It's a bloody shame we'll have to snuff her, I'm getting attached, and we can't let that happen," he confided.

A flash of jealous anger flushed Emma's cheeks. "Damn right we can't! She's going tomorrow. No ifs or buts. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest. She's a little whore, and I'm going to make her pay. You should never have encouraged her, Bob."

Bob nodded. He knew it had to be done. He would have mixed feelings of course, but at least it would be more entertainment. As he started thinking about the method, he put his arm around his wife's waist and gave a little squeeze.

"Love you to bits." he said with a kiss, and they both laughed at his gruesome little joke, her understandable outburst soon forgotten.

"Well it's my turn to decide the method again isn't it?", said Bob.

"Er, technically, no," Emma replied indignantly.

"You decided yesterday," Bob mansplained, "it's my turn now."

"No, we agreed that I decided for all three, to save on cleanup, remember?"

"Well if that's true, then logically she has to go in the Masher."

"The little one didn't. Your new girlfriend stole that one from me," Emma teased.

Bob laughed. "I didn't see you complaining."

"But I wouldn't mind the masher," Emma continued, "it was a blast. I'd kinda like to hate-rape her with the Ripper too. Or smash her up with a sledge-hammer. Maybe all three. I know I shouldn't be so jealous, but that's how I feel. The thing is, Bob, you're a fucking idiot. Do you think I can't see that you're infatuated with her? Do you even think of the practicalities? It ends tomorrow, we'll do her after she's done her cleaning duties."

"Okay," agreed Bob, "but lets make it quick. I'll just put a bullet in her brain, after that she's all yours if you wanna have fun with her body, or else I'll just dump her in the lime pit."

Emma protested a bit, but then reluctantly agreed. There's always a bit of give-and-take in a strong relationship, and the thought of taking out her frustration on that bitch's corpse with a sledge-hammer did seem like an acceptable consolation prize.

Bob sat glumly, and downed his whisky. She was right of course. He had been a fool. If only he had kept his head, they could have had their fun with her, moved on, and looked forward to the next delivery. Now he had become smitten, and it was going to bring him a lot of pain.

The couple finished their drinks. They both had stuff to do the next day, attending to day-to-day jobs around the farm, and decided to turn in early, and get a goods night's sleep.

Bob woke with a start. Still early, it was just starting to get light.

Emma wasn't in the bed. Bob got up, trying to shake the drowsiness from his head. Where was Emma?
He flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. "Probably a fuse gone," he thought.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and trainers and padded down the stairs. Still no Emma. Concerned, he went outside, and noticed that the front door was already unlocked.

"Emma?" he called. He was met by silence. Bob had the sense that something was wrong, just a feeling he had been here before, but that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Everything was still, an uncanny hush lingering in the air mixing with the ghostly morning gloom to cast a miserable pall over the world.

Driven by instinct, he jogged up the path to the barn, his legs heavy. Bob didn't want to be having to deal with this shit before coffee.

He entered the tool store. The trap door to the factory was already open, and lights were on. As he descended, a strange sense of foreboding overcame him. He could hear a noise in the factory, and ran towards it.

He could hear Kasia pleading, and Emma's voice as he approached, "… and he's going to try and weasel out of it. We had a deal, and I'm going to have my fun, whore."

Emma was standing by the Masher, and Kasia was inside, naked. Clearly, Emma had decided to get an early start before Bob could change his mind again.

Bob strode up to her, "wha…" he started.

"She's got to go, Bob," she said cooly, "It's best if we do it right now, before you get more attached. Besides, it'll be fun."

Bob knew she was right. It had to be done. And he was the one in the wrong, breaking the promise. He would let his wife have her fun, and then at least it would be over with once and for all.

He looked through the glass at Kasia's pleading face. "I'm sorry, sweet pea. It has to be this way."

Kasia's eyes met his, another gaze held a little too long. "Bob! you can stop her" and it broke his heart. "I'm sorry Kasia, it's time."

Then he turned, and grabbed his wife, threw her on her back into the slops tray, and declared, "I'm going to fucking hate-rape you so hard for this!"

Emma smiled, clearly she was looking forward to it.

As they had done the day before the two of them lay down in the tray, and Bob entered his wife's cunt with no mercy. She mewled with pain and pleasure, then, cackling with glee, grabbed the controller and set the Masher into motion.

"I'm not ready!" Kasia protested lamely. She was facing towards the piston, and watched as it approached her feet. But, unconstrained, Kasia simply stepped up on top of it. When it retreated she stepped down again. Bob noticed that Emma had changed the height of the piston and grid to twelve inches.

"Time for your workout, whore!". Sreeched Emma.

Bob then realised what Emma's cruel plan was, and why Kasia's back was turned towards them. "Well," thought Bob, "at least I won't have to look into those pretty hazel eyes."

Bob realised that he was more attached to Kasia than he had allowed himself to admit. It was more than lust or infatuation. It was love. He violently drove in and out of his wife's crack in retribution, wanting to make her squeal in pain.

Emma turned the dial to speed things up a bit. Kasia looked like she was doing a work out at the gym, her tight muscular buttocks working up and down, as she stepped. and her legs thrusting like the piston that was to destroy her. Soon she was breathless, "Guys, this isn't funny! Make it stop!"

Emma responded by taking the speed up another notch. Shick-Shick-Shick.

And another. After a few minutes of this, Emma's pussy was dribbling with anticipation, and Bob had slowed a little, mushing in and out with a purposeful rhythm, drawing things out. Soon, Kasia was visibly tiring, and gasping for breath.

Her legs were burning with lactic acid and starting to shake. Her heart rate climbed to over 200 beats per minute. Another notch.

Kasia was getting the work out of her life, and despite his intense feelings of heartbreak and horror, a part of Bob was darkly lusting for the inevitable denoument.

He watched with morbid fascination, as sweat trickled down her trembling nubile body, as calf muscles strained under her pliant skin, and her bare, athletic cheeks wiggled enticingly this way and that.

Guilt swept over him, as he found he was enraptured by her gasping cries. Her pleas of disbelief becoming increasingly desperate as her strength started to fail her. Her legs were in agony now, but were all that separated her from a worse agony and death.

Soon she was in tears, "No no no no no no!", she cried in a rising scream, then her right leg started to cramp.

Then, inevitably, the moment came when Kasia didn't step up quite in time, and her trailing left foot was caught by the fast moving piston. She shrieked as her foot exploded through the grill, showering Bob and Emma with it's grisly components.

Her struggling spirit hadn't given up yet, though, and next time she managed to hop, one legged on top of the piston, her vital fluid spraying out from her ruined leg with impressive pressure, as her heart pumped harder than it ever had in her life.

But then, after one more frantic hop, she slipped on her own blood, lost balance, and spun around sideways; falling into the gap on her knees, her calves lying sideways on to the grid.

There was an almighty crunch, and the machine shuddered as the piston destroyed her lower legs and most of her thighs, leaving just ragged stumps.

An impossible amount of blood was gushing from her severed limbs, flowing down the grill, and spreading rapidly in the tray. Emma put her face into it and greedily licked, then cruelly twisted the speed down to it's lowest setting. The pitch of the motor rapidly fell to a low hum.

As the piston slid away from under Kasia, she found herself sitting at the bottom of the well, sideways on to the approaching piston. Instinctively she tried to push her self up with her hands, but shock and blood loss had made the task hopeless.

Very slowly the piston caught her in a pincer movement, and pushed her entire pelvic area towards the grid.

Kasia screamed again, as much as in dreadful anticipation as pain, "nooooooooooooo!"

The remains of her thighs were forced one on top of the other, her pelvis cracked, and Kasia wet herself, urine mixing with the flowing blood.

Then the piston relentlessly squished her two butt-cheeks together. Her pelvis was being flattened from the sides, and this had the effect of pushing it's contents outwards and forward.

She was still peeing, and the escalating pressure caused her piss to squirt upwards in an arc, hitting a Plexiglass wall, and washing away blood to create a clean spot as it trickled down.

Her little pussy squished out in front of her before splitting open along it's length, causing her womb to promptly prolapse, ejecting itself from this newly expanded gash with a wet "flump." Kasia's escalating shrieks told of excruciating agony, and Emma was clearly delighting in them.

Soon her uterus too was mashed into paste before joining bloody meat, bone and adiposal fat, as they were squidged through the grill. Flesh was forced upwards, too, lifting the rest of her body, so when the piston retreated her now-severed torso was dumped back down into a pit of her own innards.

Kasia looked down in horror at the wreckage below, then helplessly turned her arrestingly beautiful, tear and blood stained face to Bob. Their eyes met, and she parted her sensuous lips slightly, as if to speak, but no words came.

Overtaken by grief, Bob watched as she died, and the light vanished from her eyes.

The machine cared not. It continued it's implacable task of obliterating Kasia's abdomen. squirting most of her internal organs through the grill in one monumental wave.

Mashed up skin, intestines, liver, kidneys, spleen, fat, muscle, bone, spinal column, shit, piss, and bile all erupted in a spectacular flood of gore, slurping though the grill in a cascade of bloody carnage.

This incredible splatter-fest swept over Emma's head, and Bob, fired by hate and bloodlust, grabbed his wife's throat and drove her head down into the pile, just as she had done to Maisie the day before. "Let's engage in a little breathplay," he said as he pounded into her quivering minge.

Emma didn't react, Bob could feel she was holding her breath, no doubt expecting her loving husband to release her in due course.

The piston returned again splattering the the entire remains of Kasia's torso. Ribs and spine snapped and splintered, lungs and heart burst, stomach exploded, the remaining intestines were squeezed of their contents.

Her breasts almost comically managed to escape as they were pushed upwards on a wave of viscera, then plopped down again for the final thrust of the press which exploded her pretty blonde head, mashed her flopping, lithe arms and splurged those teenage titties through the grate.

Bob could feel Emma violently orgasming, and she tried to lift her head to breathe. He was about to cum, but stopped thrusting to contain himself. He held his wife down, and pushed her head deeper into the slurry. Emma tried to pull backwards, but Bob had other plans.

Soon, perhaps realising that Bob was no longer playing, Emma was getting desperate, and started thrashing forlornly with her arms, and bucking and squirming under her husband, trying to free herself. Bob came in bucket loads, then finally relented, and pulled her gasping form free of the gore. "You're not the boss around here, bitch."

But she had shown him that the most exquisite dish of all has the bittersweet taste of snuffing the ones you love.