A story came to mind of an intense scene, which depicted a hand cupping a breast and squeezing, the result being a presentation of an aroused nipple, which was prominent and ready. A syringe needle was poised at the center, and the thumb of the hand was on the base of the needle. A slow steady descent pushed the needle directly into the core of nipple, like the plunger on a dynamite charge, only this time the explosion was an orgasm. Grasping the handle of the knife, she plunged it into the shell. A bolt of white-hot pain shot from her nipple to her clitoris, causing her hips to jerk forward against the counter. It was far more intense than she imagined; yet she was highly aroused. A rivulet of fluid ran down from her breast to her hip, surely a path of blood as testament to the act of disfigurement. Hesitating, she looked, only to discover it was a rivulet of perspiration.
Somehow the eye had been distinguished, now it was time for the other one. Her left nipple was throbbing with anticipation. She brought the knife to the assigned place, only this time, she decided to slow down the process. Placing the tip on the skin of the pumpkin, she very slowly pushed it into the flesh. A stream of red-hot lava wound its way down from her nipple to her clitoris. The journey was slow yet deliberate. There was no jerking of the hips this time, just an additional spreading of the legs and the secretion of fluid from her aroused vagina, which was beginning to form a puddle on the floor. As the knife continued penetrating, the trail of pain expanded in size as well as intensity. Now both nipples were throbbing with an unbelievable arousing pain. She couldn't understand how the physical act on the pumpkin could result in her absorbing the impact of the wound. One thing for sure, this previously forbidden thought that now materialized into an actual possibility required further exploration, especially if it really was this arousing.
It was time to form the mouth. There was no doubt that the forming the lips on the pumpkin would be transferred to her lips, and not the ones on her mouth. The first plunge of the knife confirmed that assumption. The piercing of both inner and outer labia with a single stroke exceeded the level of arousal. As the knife proceeded to form the mouth, which resulted in the stitching of her labia, similar to a sewing machine rhythmically puncturing fabric, she decided she couldn't take that amount of pain. Try as she might, her hand would not stop, the fire continued down to the base of the opening and then back up the other side. There was a siren in the distance that gradually transformed into her scream.
She somehow ended up on the floor with the pumpkin and knife. Her entire pelvic area was sticky, surely with blood. She reached down to feel, but it was only an extraordinary amount of vaginal fluid. Her labia were grotesquely swollen and tender to the touch. The clitoris was also swollen to a size never before seen. It was standing dead center awaiting the plunge. No, there was no way; the pumpkin would go unfinished. Curled up in a fetal position with the pumpkin pulled tight against her stomach, she watched as her hand brought the knife to the center of the face. She was not carving the pumpkin; it was the one in control. As the tip penetrated, a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors rushed before her eyes, only to dim into the foggy cloud of subspace.
