Glancing upward to the dark, street-lit numbers on the side of the decrepit building in front of him, then down towards the torn scrap of loose leaf in his paw that matched, he swallowed. He depressed the doorbell and waited. Faint, but quickly growing louder, rapid clacking sounds approached the door from the other side, followed by the unlocking of several deadbolts. 
The door swung open to reveal the lady of the evening, her pleasantly pink and translucent nightgown covering her thin frame, so pale it looked grey in the dusky lighting. “H-hello?” He stammered, his face turning red, meeting directly with the underside of the large, but perky breasts of the surprisingly tall woman standing in front of him. 
She scanned his body, taking in the appearance of her new guest.  Although she knew was quite large in comparison, she could still tell that he was still quite a bit smaller than the average client who came to see her. His face was obscured from her view just from her towering height and she could only see his messy-textured hair short horns poking through, and the horn-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. Moving down further she could see that his navy button-up shirt was just a bit tight on him making an outline of his chest. His fluffy, fat tummy poked out at the sides. The buttons on his shirt were straining under the slight pressure, causing tiny gaps where more small patches of mottled black and white fur could be seen. As she looked down further she could see his cloven hooves turned awkwardly inward, toes tapping anxiously.
She leaned down, flashing a bright, fanged smile at the chubby little goat in front of her. “Hi, hi! You must be Sam.” The sharp teeth barely registered to him as he could hardly avoid staring at the eight beady black eyes spread evenly throughout her face and brow. “I’m Ara. It’s so good to finally see you! Come in, come in! It looks so cold out there. Let’s get you inside and warmed up”. She reached her arm around his shoulder to usher him inside. The hard sensation caused him to glance towards it, where his eyes were met by a black hand as dark as her eyes, ending in razor sharp carapace-like fingers that threatened to tear him to shreds simply by resting on him. He nervously shuffled inside, lurched forward by her unexpected strength. 
“Just leave your shoes by the door.” She gestured towards the floor, causing him to look down and notice her thick, rounded arachnid body, as dark as the night he stepped out of. The front two of her eight spindly, pointed legs rapidly clacked against the hard wood floor of the entranceway in excitement. Most of her lower body was covered with a thin fuzz and short hard spikes protruded from the sides of her legs, giving off a casually threatening appearance. He continued to follow her through the dimly lit foyer into the gaudy time capsule of a living room, complete with animal print sofa and tacky multi-coloured carpet. 
She eagerly gestured towards the couch. “Sit, sit! Get comfortable! You’re here for a special occasion, after all!” He followed, sitting his wide butt on the couch and kicking his feet up on the equally plush, equally tacky ottoman. “I’ll go get our tea, I’ve already put the water on waiting for you to get here. I’m so excited!” She disappeared with an alarming speed, her eight hard, creepy legs a blur.
Sam was left alone with his anxious, rapid thoughts as he glanced around the room and tried to take in the whole scene. This home seemed like it was from another time. Strange paintings and prints depicting violent, bizarre landscapes littered the walls. A lava lamp sat on the end table next to the sofa, its opaque red wax flowing through the dark water like viscous blood clots. Large webs could be seen in some of the corners of the room. With the age of the house, he couldn’t be sure if they were hers or simply built up over time from pests.
The intimidating spider-girl returned with small ceramic cups dotted with web patterns, and saucers plastered with a classic spider web image and frilly patterns on the rim. She placed them on the table in front of the sofa and took a seat next to the pudgy young bovid nervously glancing around the room in every direction but hers. She took his cup and saucer and handed it to him. He hardly noticed it until it was right in front of him and he jumped slightly. 
She tilted her head and flashed a fanged smile at him again. “Go ahead, go ahead! Take a sip! Get comfortable.” He lifted the cup from the saucer and began to take a sip. He closed his eyes and took in the pleasant, calming scent and flavour. “It’s my own personal blend!” The arachnid lady excitedly jumped in, interrupting his sip and causing him to hit the saucer against the cup, and the cup against his face, spilling a good amount of the hot liquid over his chin and neck and dampening his white fur. “Chamomile, rosehips, hibiscus, and…” She glanced over at Sam and realized what had happened. “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! I must have startled you! I’m so sorry. I get like that sometimes. Are you okay? Let me clean you up…” She reached for a towel and began to dab the remaining tea off of him. Initially, Sam could hardly get a breath out from the pain. He inhaled sharply through his gritted teeth. The burning sensation gradually subsided, reducing the hot tea to a warm residual heat that felt strangely pleasant where it had made contact with his skin. 
Sam and Ara exchanged small talk for a short while over tea but the topic gradually moved towards the purpose of the visit itself. “So…” Ara began, looking downward at him. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact. She dragged one her spiked legs up his thigh and inadvertently scratched at his skin, leaving long, red streaks. She moved it up over past his groin to the small mound of chub that peeked out from above his slowly tightening shorts. Circling the tip of her short, dangerous leg, she pressed down with just enough pressure to threaten to break the skin. His fatty pubic mound displaced from the pressure, the flesh threatening to give way if she only pushed a little harder. She took his chin in her hand and forced him to maintain eye contact. “You might have felt it already but…that tea should be having its effect by now.” She could feel his rapidly increasing heart rate through the lower artery that her sharp extremity was so delicately poised against. Sam audibly gulped and nodded slowly. His breathing got faster. “I think we both know why you’re here in the end, don’t we?” You wanted to make sure that I could have my way. That I could play with your body however I see fit. That I could bring you right to the brink and keep you there.” She chuckled. “You’re sicker than the masochists, you know that? You want the blood without the pain. You want to revel in it. You want it all to feel good, no matter what I do to you.” Ara bit her lip and flashed a sadistic smile with the last of her words. “You’re a lucky boy, Sam…because this way I get to have more fun too.” And she pushed.
Her leg briefly pierced through his flesh but was quickly withdrawn. A slow trickle of blood came to the surface, dripping down underneath the waist of his pants and staining his fur. “Not yet. You’re going to have to show me how much you want this yourself before I stick you like a piggy. Earn the right to become my own little canvas. But you’ve been good so far. Let me get you started…” She pinned him to the couch by the arm with one hand, leaning in so closely that her many dark eyes enveloped most of Sam’s field of vision. Fully experiencing the sedative and aphrodisiac effects of the tea, He began to feel slightly uncomfortable. His vision started to blur, Ara’s face taking on an even more monstrous appearance with her eyes seeming to flow like the lava lamp she just obscured from his view. Her brow was furrowed, equal parts menacing, seductive, and sadistic. “Just relax, silly!” Her cheerful tone contradicted the frightening stare that was mere inches from his face.
With her free hand, Ara pushed a jagged finger towards the nape of his neck, placing a small amount of pressure on his shirt at the collar. She pressed down just hard enough to pierce through the fabric and make direct contact with his skin, her finger expertly glided down towards his stomach from there. The cut now complete, his shirt opened, letting his fuzzy, plump torso finally expand to its proper size and breathe. There was a deep red scratch mark from the nape of his neck to his abdomen along the line that was cut, just barely breaking the skin. Sam briefly gasped out in pleasure, getting accustomed to the entirety of his body feeling so sensitive. Blood very slowly seeped to the surface in an irregular, bubbly pattern, wherever the pressure became just a bit too great for his body to bear. Sam moved his free hand to his shorts and attempted to quickly pull them down. Ara’s scattered, rounded eyes somehow seemed to widen, showing a flash of rage at his movements. She pinned him back again. 
 “WHEN did I say you could do that? WHEN?” She boomed, but her voice quickly softened. “So naughty…you think you can just get yourself off like that? I have half a mind to kill you right now so you don’t even get what you came here for. You don’t want to see what happens when I decide to push too far. Even gore whores like you have your limits.” Sam looked on, beginning to sweat in terror at the implied threat. “Do I make myself clear?” He nodded rapidly up and down in agreement. “Good…now, where were we?” She released one of his arms and spoke as sharply as her claws: “Don’t. Move.” 
Ara moved her hand down to the waistband of his shorts and continued the slow stripping of her consenting victim. She had to apply a bit more pressure to cut through the tougher fabric, pressing hard on the thick fold where his thigh meets his groin. With just enough force, his clothing, and the doughy flesh of his inner thigh, gave way. She continued to put the same pressure on as she cut vertically. Her breath became a bit shorter and her body became flush with arousal as she repeated the process to his other leg. She easily removed his now-torn clothing, leaving him fully exposed and bloody. 
Winking playfully, Ara continued. “Now I’m going to let go of you. Show me you want it. Show me how much you want to be destroyed…but make sure you leave enough for me.” She opened a drawer in the end table nearby, revealing a collection of razor blades and many different knives varying in length. She takes the implements, laying them out on the coffee table in neatly arranged rows and then sits back on the floor cross-legged, removed her nightgown and began idly playing with her breasts, preparing to enjoy the show.
Sam glanced at the tools placed in front of him, a moderate amount of blood already trickling down his body from several places. The sensation soothed any residual pain that might have remained. The red, raw gashes down his chest and legs thumped along with his racing heartbeat, a dull but pleasurable ache pulsating with the blood flowing through and out of his body. He reached down, breathing deeply, and took the short paring knife in his hand. Testing the edge on his other hand, he pressed the blade into the creases of his palm, slowly cutting along them. It easily dug into his flesh, tearing his skin away from itself and letting the blood rush out to fill in the space left behind. A sense of exhilaration not felt anywhere else soon followed. He increased the pressure and continued the cut down to the base of his wrist, slicing through the thin blue veins. He looked up to Ara who was fixated on the blood streaming down his arm, continuing to touch herself and clearly taking a perverted pleasure in the self-mutilation. He notices her form a word, unable to tell if she says it out loud or is merely mouthing it. But the message is clear: 
“More.”
For a short while he basked in the intense heat emanating from each cut, immediately followed by the cool soothing sensation of air meeting blood. Sam tossed the knife in Ara’s direction and slowly picked up one of the razors in front of him. He took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned back. Before he started, the half-spider, half-woman held up one of her threatening fingers, indicating a pause. She took his attention away from his own body, leaning down to pick up the bloodstained knife. She opened her mouth, drooling with excitement as she depressed the knife to her tongue, sharp-side down. Maintaining eye contact with Sam, she slowly licked it, delicately taking in the metallic taste. Her own blood gradually mixed with his and began to drip from the corners of her mouth as she moved her tongue all over the surface of the knife. She put it back on the coffee table, now clean. She licked her lips and nodded in Sam’s direction, indicating that he may continue with his self-mutilation.
Resting the corner of the razor blade against the front of his thigh, he sliced. A deep gash roughly six inches across appeared and blood trickled down his leg from the ends of the wound. He moved the razor down a couple inches. Slice. Moves down again, the same distance. Slice. Move down. Slice. A quick gasp escaped his lungs each time as he willingly exposed the underlying fat, muscle, and deep tissue to his onlooker for her enjoyment with each cut. He repeated the process with his other thigh, and then each forearm. Dozens of long gashes were left on him in an orderly pattern, fur drenched with blood that drained from each wound. It flowed down his limbs and intermingled with itself. Shaking with equal parts pleasure, submission, and fear, he looked up at his captor pleadingly, only to see her pleasuring herself in her bloodlust. 
Sam put the razor down and picked up the long, wide chef’s knife still on the table. He grabbed the handle, turning the blade inwards and pointing it towards his stomach. The blade is so sharp that the tip sinks into his body merely by making contact with his skin. He took a deep breath and prepared to eviscerate himself for her. Tears flowed from his eyes, his onlooker unable to tell and not appearing to care if they were from fear or joy. Sam lifted the knife away from his body, tip sliding out and leaving a small trickling wound. Right at the moment he began to deeply plunge in the large blade inside, Ara finally spoke.
“Enough.”
Sam stopped mid-way through the knife’s thrust, centimeters away from impaling his stomach, and looked up at her. She removed her hands from her own sensitive body and skittered towards her bloody, cut up prey, taking the knife from him and putting it on the table.
“Good boy, Sam.” She heaped praise on him for following her instructions so closely, speaking to him as though he was a child or puppy. “You started things off so well! Now all we need is to get you set up for the main event. I’ll take it from here…” She says, licking her bloody mouth once more. She picked him up by his underarms like a toddler, carrying him towards one of the cobwebbed corners of the room. Sam soon found himself pinned in the corner of the ceiling, where it meets with the wall, arms and legs spread apart. Ara deftly suspended him by his wrists and ankles using her silky webbing, putting him at a slight angle to the floor where blood started to drip from his arms and legs, forming small pools underneath.
“One more thing to help protect you… I want to make sure you stay awake for all of this, after all.” With Sam being suspended higher, his throat was in convenient reach of Ara’s mouth. She moved up to his vulnerable neck, opening wide. She pierces his artery with a vicious bite, injecting a venom into his bloodstream that will further blur his understanding of pleasure and pain, and keep him alive throughout her coup de grace. No matter what damage is inflicted on his body, he’ll be sure to survive. She pulled away from his throat and watched the blood pour up from inside of him and flow down his neck and chest. She couldn’t help but smile, knowing what was in store for her compliant prey.
Sam’s mind began to twist and warp further with the venom injection combined with the mind-altering effects of the concoction he drank earlier. His senses started to blend into one. His vision began to shift and he found it difficult to distinguish Ara’s increasingly monstrous appearance with the colourful, psychedelia-inspired palette of the rest of the room around her. He saw eyes in places that shouldn’t have eyes, colours mixing and combining into indescribable deep-dream-like patterns of pareidolia. Pleasure and pain mixed together even further as he became completely unable to distinguish the two, both being replaced by a slurry of pure sensation. All he could do was notice the associations building in his mind. Seeing all of the blood pouring out of him, feeling all of the cuts and piercings of his skin, the rendering of his flesh…all of it just felt so good to him right now.
“So…” she started with her trademark seductive, intimidating tone. “Enjoyed yourself, did you? Having your innermost self exposed to me?”
“Yes…” he squeaked out, his cut up, weak body barely able to croak out a response.
“And you know that was just you showing yourself off to me…silly boy, I haven’t even started with my fun!” She took a sharpened digit and pressed it to his navel, displacing the built-up fat of his slightly overhanging belly. She plunged her claw several inches directly into his stomach and kept it plugged, and then dug in her thumb a short distance away, wiggling both extremities around. She looked up at his eyes before yanking both out. Sam’s expression was in between gratitude, terror, and pleasure as she tore a wide gash into his stomach that bled excessively, the wound thick enough to reveal his insides. The gravity of him being suspended caused a tiny arrangement of his innards to peek out from behind the newly torn flesh. 
She continued to methodically abuse his body, looking for places that hadn’t already been damaged. Meanwhile, the amount of time he’d been suspended only by his own weight began to take a toll on his body. The crisscrossed lines of webbing started to dig into the weakened flesh of his wrists and angles like piano wire as he slowly fell into his bondage. Ara’s eyes drifted toward his thin, red cock which had up to this point been left untouched. She decided then to add the one final piece to the puzzle of overwhelming sensation that Sam was experiencing at that very moment. A single knife-like digit dug its way along the underside of his cock, leaving a shallow cut from the underside of the head down to his perineum. She wrapped her dangerous hand around his cock and began to stroke him gently, lubricating him with his own blood. On the edge of consciousness from blood loss, Sam was left in a suspended animation from the combination of her paralyzing venom and tainted drink. All sensations of touch—pleasure, pain, sex—whirled together in a blinding white-hot sense of pure feeling. Anything distinguishing these sensations had long since been lost to him. In that moment, Sam wanted nothing more than to feel, and to feel in as many places in and on his body as he can. 
“You’ve been so good Sam…you really deserve to be treated like this.” He nodded, whimpering like a pup. “You deserve to have all of your guts ripped out. Wouldn’t you like that? Aren’t you glad that you’re sick enough to get something this as a reward?” He nodded again, with tears of desperation in his glazed-over eyes, mouth open and drooling saliva and blood
Ara made sure that Sam knew he deserved what was coming to him. “You’ve earned this for being so good with me…” she spoke as she tore him apart even more at the navel, digging her claws into to him, only to rip them out across his stomach. His guts and organs started to peek through even more visibly than before. In her final slash, she took both her hands and raked his torso from the sternum downwards, opening his whole body to the elements. His entrails simply hung there, fighting gravity to stay connected to his body and avoid falling to the floor. The sensation was so overwhelming to him that his cock twitched in orgasm, helplessly sputtering onto Ara’s body. She hardly noticed.
Ara cut Sam free after his orgasm and he fell to the floor with a big squish. Blissed out, he couldn’t help but revel in himself in an almost childlike way, viscerally feeling every part of his insides. The hypnotic effects of the venom reached their maximum as Sam began to feel his body blending into the world around him. Wherever pain would normally be felt there was instead a warm, fuzzy pleasure, like getting the perfect deep tissue massage in places that should never be possible. The venom was the only thing letting him continue through such extreme bodily trauma. 
He enjoyed all of the sounds and sensations, mixed together in a pleasure of pure feeling that somehow felt numb and amplified at the same time. He could just feel every part of himself, and every part of him felt good to feel. Ara looked on lovingly at the barely recognizable, pseudomasochistic submissive like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. He almost seemed to blend into the psychedelia-inspired surroundings. His playful rolling around in his own brand of bloody, gory catnip caused even more flesh to tear away, exposing more and more of the inner workings of his body.
Ara, sensing the need to end the situation if only to start the cleanup, reached down into the decaying, writhing, barely held-together body and began petting Sam’s forehead: “Relax, relax! Calm down now. It’s time to wind down…I know how good it must feel but things DO need to be cleaned and patched up, after all! We don’t want that venom wearing off in the middle of all this mess!” She continued to soothe the overexcited and overstimulated boy until he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, appearing to lose consciousness.
Sam awoke some time later with what felt like a throbbing hangover, laying down on the sofa with a hammock of webbing underneath him. He was wearing loose-fitting clothing that covered most of his body, although he looked down at his arms and saw more webbing tightly arranged like bandages around his wounds.  
A sweet, silky voice shouted from the kitchen. “You’re up!” Ara peeked out from behind the doorway. She slowly approached with a large decorative plate in her hands that held a variety of cookies and other sweets. She placed the plate on the table next to Sam, petting his head. “Feeling better?” 
“Mhm!” Sam replied with a nod. He reached out for one of the ladyfinger cookies but Ara quickly moved his arm back to his side. “Don’t move yet”, she began. “I don’t want you falling apart on me! At least, not right now.” She winked and picked up the cookie, moving it to his mouth. Sam started obediently nibbling on his treat. The aftercare continued to play out throughout the evening with Ara helping Sam with his snack and ensuring he was comfortable enough to heal up overnight.
The morning came and Sam felt rejuvenated, like he let some part of himself die and be reborn. The comfy silken hammock Ara wove for him allowed his body to rest and heal to the point where he could get up and move around. 
“Hungry?” Ara’s voice rang from the kitchen. Sam walked over towards her. He looked at the frying pan that contained a large assortment of flies, beetles, millipedes, and other insects simmering. He frowned and instinctually made a look of disgust. “Oh, right…I guess you don’t really like these things, do you? I guess I could get you some more cookies and some tea…”