==M/F, DubCon, implied cannibalism, decapitation==

Dinner had been lovely.

Well. After he had opened the door, and she had told him to get out, one hard slap across the face had set her right, laid her out across the floor.

She had blushed as she struggled up to her hands and knees, he could see and smell her cunt opening up, dripping with excitement, heard the drip-drip-drip of her big wobbly tits dripping milk on the floor.

"Oh... Of course, Master..." she had apologized, and had crawled over to unseal his pants, then swallowed ten inches of cock in a single bob of her head.

He had listened to her sing as he sat in the little living room, happily busy in the kitchen. The meal smelled absolutely delicious, tasted absolutely delicious as she knelt under the table and swallowed another two loads of her own liquid dinner.

He had her lay back on the table, legs high in the air, and she wrapped her silk-sheathed legs around his head as he ate dessert. The squeals and moans she made were just as exquisite as the taste of her cunt.

Now she was bent over the kitchen counter, and his dick was deep in her ass, rutting away in the sticky cum-filled ass, about to unload a third time inside her backside. She'd begged for another round, and it really had been for the anal sex, not just to put off the big finish a precious few moments.

But he pulled the long bread knife from the block, and held her hair with his right hand, and slid the knife across her throat with his left.

One, two, three. The wide rippled serrations of the thin blade parted her flesh like butter and he felt the steel against her bone. He gave her hair a yank as she gargled in panic, found the notch between the bones, and poured out another load of cum in her spasming, kneading ass, while one last sweep of the blade neatly parted the bones and out the back of her neck.

He held her head up by her hair, watched her blissful smile, and kissed her gently on the lips as he hauled her naked body off the counter. She sucked on his lip for a moment, then smiled bashfully.

He knew what she wanted, and lowered her head to his crotch. Eagerly she sucked down his cock, working lips and tongue and what was left of her throat to fellate the shaft of his cock, his throbbing head left in open air past where the blade had slashed through her gullet.

Her body knew its final job, had managed to struggle onto its knees, yellow rubber dishgloves smearing blood over her heaving naked tits, forcing her thick cream from her fat teats while her throat made wordless gasping noises and burbled under the flood of hot blood.

Before he came, he pulled his cock from her hungry mouth, turned her head around, and found the open end of her gullet. She got to watch as his cock forced its way past her soft, painted lips, and erupted one last time over her heaving, blood drenched tits.

And then she closed her eyes, and her headless body slumped to the side.

He was in the front hall, putting her severed head on the post, next to her mother's. He saw her cheek twitch, and her mouth shifted, settling into a content smile.

Just like her mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and so on, down the row.

Very nice, all looked about late twenties, early thirties by the old reckoning.

So maybe two, three months alive.

Then the door opened. "Mom, I'm ho- Who are you!?"

She looked about fifteen or sixteen, so not quite a month old now, but her tits were already huge under the cropped-off school uniform shirt, nipples thick and starting to moisten already.

It was instinctive, she bent over from her hips, scooted the heels of her sneakers apart, and held the ends of her twintails wide apart, opened her painted mouth wide and stuck out her tongue. He caught her hair like handlebars and roughly thrust his cock down her gullet, pumped hard and fast. She gagged and choked as he abused her tight little throat, the training posts at school were about half his size so they were never ready for the real thing.

When he finally unloaded down her gullet, he let her fall, her face smeared with black mascara tears and snot, but he held the ribbons as he pulled them from her hair. Her pigtails unfurled, he tossed them aside as she shook in fear and confusion on the floor.

He held out the pearl choker he had taken from her mother's severed neck. Wordlessly, she put them on, nodding as she stripped off her school uniform and setting it aside. She went across to the box by the door, naked and padding on soft feet, and tied the half-apron around her waist. She bent over to get the last of her uniform on, the tall red heels, when his cock rammed into her tight little cunt.

No hymen to burst, the livestock loved to deflower each other with their strong tongues, but she still shrieked at her first real cock. It was fast and rough and mechanical, a powerful rutting to unload one last load into her womb. He grunted, and let her drop to the floor. She looked up in terror, makeup ruined, as her hands in yellow rubber dishpan gloves caressed her churning belly.

"You have a day or two to butcher the meat and get this place cleaned before the baby gets too big to do anything, and then you'll have to look after them from day four on. Get to work, please."

She sniffled and nodded, crawling away as he left, shutting the door on her as he stepped onto the path.

The concrete was smooth and hard for the livestock's heels, but it was narrow to control their movement, and he strolled over the soft grass that was warm under his bare feet.

One of his women was gardening in the house across the way, her week-old daughter looking five years old as she scampered around the yard.

The mother looked like she had been tired, but was coming around again, and she perked up immensely at the sight of his naked cock. She eagerly sucked down the fat cock between the slats of the white picket fence, gulped down some of his load, then pulled back to catch the rest between her eyebrows and let it drizzle down around her nose and across her cheeks.

They smiled at each other for a long moment, and then she went back to her gardening.

He looked down the street, at the rows of small, comfortable houses, the green grass, the naked women in pearls, heels, aprons and dishpan gloves.

At the end of the row, he saw the sheen of the glass. He followed the dome up, looking at the angry black-grey-red swirl outside. High overhead the firestorm gave no respite.

He followed it up and over. This last pair of homes, he was close enough to put his hand against the glass. Six inches through, the furious firey winds blew a clump of the black sand against the outer surface, squishing wetly from the searing white-yellow-orange-red molten sands. When the outer edge faded to black, the glassy sand crumbles away and blew away on the violent wind, leaving not a mark on the impenetrable transparent dome.

He sighed, shrugged, and strolled back down the short street. He chose a shy-looking lady by her leaky teat, and when she looked terrified he promised he had just eaten.

Her young daughter was happy to stay with friends for the night, and he promised her mommy would be back to pick her up in the morning, but he didn't like to spend a night in an empty bed.

He kissed her neighbour, apologized for interrupting their conversation, and with a glance at *her* daughter decided she'd be cooking tomorrow's meal. Then he led the excitedly giggling bespectacled lady off to his home.

Maybe two days. Maybe three before he'd eat with her, too.