I was going to die today.
The thought alone caused my stomach to roll in a way it had not in days, if ever.
It was a feeling that hadn’t left me since I’d decided to kill her — she had asked for it, but also was so reluctant, even at the end... I had wanted to let her go. Wanted to see her life end.
She knew her life was over when she let me move in with her. Had known all along what would happen once she did that.
But even so, her eyes had been filled with terror as I slammed the shoddily-made knife into her chest. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth, so she just gently embraced me and kissed me as she struggled desperately to breathe even once more. When she still couldn’t get any air, tears spilled down her face as she weakly clawed at my breasts, her mouth opening and closing like a fish dying in the air. I held her tightly as she lost her last struggle. I laid there, sobbing, as I listened to her heart slowly stop beating under my fingers. She’d fallen back onto the bed, looking peaceful now.
And now I would soon be at peace, thanks to the "queen's justice."
The door opened and footsteps echoed around the corridor outside of my room; the steps were hurried, but measured. It sounded like a man.
My body tensed up, and I forced myself out of bed. My legs felt weak, but I didn’t feel afraid. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because this was the first time in a week I had felt anything other than pure numbness, or maybe it was just the knowledge that I could finally rest. Either way, I faced the doorway as the man entered, bearing a rolled-up piece of paper and a sword. He paid me no attention as he closed the door behind him, and kept walking until he stopped in front of my bed. The man unrolled the note and read off that I had been sentenced to die by the queen, and then drew his sword and stood in front of me.
“Are you ready, little one?” he asked calmly. His voice was soft, soothing even. And the gentleness made me want to cry.
I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I said quietly. “Do it.”
The man stepped towards me, and thrust his sword into me with a single motion, catching me under the curve of my left breast and running it through my ribcage and out my back. He moved quickly and efficiently, and in a few seconds he'd pulled the sword out of me. There was a sudden pressure on my lungs as blood rushed forward and out of me, and I gasped for breath, slumping against the man. His sword clattered to the floor. He grabbed me by my shoulders and lifted me, setting me gently against the mattress. I breathed in and out for several long moments, pain shooting through my body each time I tried to inhale into my ruined lung, before I spoke again.
“You... can play with me if you want...” I said. The words escaped me before I could think about them better, but maybe he'd get the idea. He seemed kind enough, and maybe he would take pity on me. I put one hand down to my groin and used two fingers to spread my pussy lips for him.
He smiled slightly and looked down at me, nodding. Quickly unbuckling his pants, he positioned his member against them and rubbed the head of his dick against my wet pussy.
“This is how I will play with you," he whispered, and then leaned forward and pushed his erection between my slick folds. It slid straight into me easily, and then he withdrew it and plunged it back into my cunt. The movement shocked me, and I gasped, then immediately hacked up a gout of blood onto my chest as he thrust his dick in and out of me. "Gakk... hrkk..." Fuck, I thought he'd need to stab me again to finish me, but now I wasn't sure. He must have liked it, though, because he kept pounding away, driving his cock deep inside of me and pulling it out every few strokes. He kept thrusting as hard and fast as he could, while I writhed beneath him, desperately trying to breathe with only one half-working lung. If I focused on how good his cock made me feel, I didn't have to think about how quickly I was dying. About how I was going to die here, this morning, in this bed.
Then the man paused and pulled out, and I almost cried, I felt so empty without him fucking me. I raised up an arm desperately towards him, begging him to come back. "Please... please fuck me!"
The man shook his head, then drove another blade - a short but broad knife, this time, in under the curve of my right breast. Pain flared up where the knife had stabbed into my ribs. My hand flew to the injury. He pressed me firmly down onto the bedspread and stood up.
"Once I pull this out, your execution will be complete. Maybe if you're enough of a whore, you can still jill yourself off before you choke." he says cruelly, yanking the knife out of me and collapsing my other lung. As my chest expanded and contracted with one of the few labored, shallow breaths, I could still take, he stood back and looked down mockingly, as my trembling hands went to my flower, two of my fingers desperately thrusting into my cunt and my other hand stroking my clit. "That will probably make your death less painful, slut." he says, grinning cruelly as I looked up at him with pleading eyes. I try to take another breath, but all that happens is blood gargling in my chest. Fuck, that means I've only got a minute or so left to live... As the man watched, I jerked my hand in and out of me, desperate to cum one last time. But then I begin to shake as the pain suddenly intensifies. My hand slips out and falls limply beside me and I feel empty and lightheaded, the room starting to spin and get darker as I focus all of my effort on rubbing my dying clit with my other hand. I keep fucking myself, using everything in me to bring orgasm over me, as I watch him smile at me. That smile is cold and cruel and I hate him forever as his hand grabs my wrist and pulls it away from my clit and forces it behind my head so that it hangs limply above the mattress. The emptiness inside me grows to consume me, and everything goes dark, with my last sight being that bastard's face...

(This was written with the assistance of dreamily.ai, not AI Dungeon.)