Into the Kitchen

Durga, holding the sword before him, stepped through the door, and found himself in what appeared to be a kitchen. Wonderful smells assailed his nostrils, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten at all since before the **** began. Looking around he saw, still roasting over a bed of hot coals, a whole pig, dripping juice and fat.

Looking around he picked up a knife and began to carved strips from the meat. Chewing noisily, he didn’t hear the sound of soft footsteps behind him, didn’t sense the crossbow being raised. Then, suddenly, Durga heard the snap of the bow string, and as he turned, food still in his mouth, he felt the bolt slam into his neck.

The meat drop from his suddenly powerless fingers. Standing before him was an old woman, a kitchen **** by the look of it, holding a crossbow in her shaking arms He took a step forward, but them his knees gave out and he fell to the floor. He tried to speak, but only blood came up.

This wound he could not shake off. His life was slipping away. At least I got a good fuck, he thought, as that endless darkness came up to claim him......