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Chapter 6
It’s funny. A few days ago death was an abstract certitude, a future event always superceded by more immediate concerns. An hour ago it had become very real, an immediate and terrifying possibility. Yet, when there was a definite timetable and there was literally no tomorrow, the terror was gone. What remained was a kind of simmering fear spiced with frequent episodes of sexual arousal.
The guards — I no longer think of them as “security” men — had put a collar on Katerina and clipped a leash to it. In my case, one of them simply attached a leash on my labia ring with a tiny padlock. They led us to the Kitchen like a pair of cows. It was humiliating. And exciting! It was my childhood fantasy come true, just as Lyle had said! I was an animal being led to slaughter. I was a prisoner, captured by cannibals for meat. Only this time it was terribly, erotically, deliciously real!
The Kitchen here is a stainless steel, butcher block marvel. The first thing that hit my senses, as the guards clipped our leashes high on a pole where we couldn’t get at the fasteners, was the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat. The second thing I noticed was a pair of leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling over a shallow tub. The bottom of the tub seemed to be coated with what looked like congealed blood. Katerina saw me staring at it.
“That’s where they dispatched the reserve girl.”
“What?” I mumbled, my brain having turned to mush.
“That’s where they slaughtered the reserve girl,” Katerina repeated more loudly, as if to a deaf dolt. “That’s her blood. They hang you up by the ankles and slit your throat so the blood can drain out. That’s her cooking in the oven.”
“The reserve girl?” I said stupidly, squinting at the steamed up glass door of a huge oven.
“Yeah. See that cage?” Katerina nodded toward what looked like the travel kennel for a medium sized dog. “That’s what they keep the reserve girls in down in the basement. They carry her up here in it because after a week or so in there, you can’t walk. They pull her out, hang her up and cut her throat.”
“Is that what they’ll do to us? Cut our throats?”
“Hell no. We’ll get the full treatment.”
I had no idea what that meant, and didn’t ask. There were five white-smocked kitchen staffers rushing around working with vegetables, fruits, sauces, breads, cakes, pies and things I didn’t recognize. Two of them were men, a blonde and a man with dark brown hair. The other three were young women, two of whom were vaguely familiar. The third was obvious nude under the smock and was entirely familiar. “Hey,” I said, “That’s Simone, the girl who was matched up against Candy on the walkway.”
“That’s right. And the other two girls are Anne-Marie and Josie. They went out in the first round.”
“Even the kitchen staff go into the Lottery?”
“You betcha. These days every female on the premises has to be a sponsored Member, wear a homing anklet off campus and take her chances in the Lotteries.”
I was still squinting at the stove, trying to see what was inside, when one of the white coated girls opened the door and slid out the rack. The “reserve meat” was in a shallow pan surrounded by fruits and vegetables. She was trussed up, wrists wired to ankles, her oven-browned skin glistening under the brilliant florescent lights. As Tad had said, she was just a tiny thing. She seemed emaciated, her arms and legs thin, her breasts flattened to pancakes, her ribs showing.
“That’s pathetic,” Katerina observed. “If they wanna keep the runaways for reserve, they ought to at least fatten ‘em up a little, not starve ‘em. What a dumb ass thing to do! She used to have tits. I doubt there’s enough meat on her now to feed two people.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“Sure. Name’s Brittany. Eighteen, I think, or nineteen. Made it through two lotteries, then lost her nerve. Tried to skip out on Dave, her sponsor. Guess she thought she could get that homing anklet off before Lenny found her. Dumb cunt. She’s lucky they didn’t let Lenny skin her alive. That’s his favorite thing, you know. Strings ‘em up, skins ‘em and filets ‘em right down to the bone while they’re still alive. Uses tourniquets and soldering guns to keep ‘em from bleeding to death, so they’re screaming the whole time. Quite a guy.”
I watched Simone and one of the other women baste little Brittany with paint brushes, spread some crushed pineapple and sprinkle some brown sugar over her, then slide her back into the oven. The aroma was heavenly. Will I smell so delicious, I wondered? The thought made me tingle.
“That’s beautiful,” I found myself saying.
“What is?”
“Her. Brittany. The way she looks in that pan. Is that how I’ll look?”
“No, dumbo. You’ll be on a spit. En brochette. Like your sister. Only you’ll still have your head.”
“I mean, all shiny like that, and browned.”
“Well, duh! You’re gonna be roasted. Basted with butter. What do you think?”
“So . . . how do they do it? Give us the full treatment, I mean.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Why spoil the fun?”
“Tad said it won’t hurt much.”
She snorted. “Tad isn’t about to have a nine foot steel rod shoved up his cunt.”
“Jesus! What a way to lose my virginity.”
“Sweetmeats, you already lost it.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been fucked over, honeybuns. Royally! We both have.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Those two bastards screwed us over. Got rid of us. Two birds with one stone.”
“What two bastards?”
“Oh fuck, even for a virgin you can’t be that naive. Who do you think? Fucking Lyle and fucking Tom, that’s who!”
“Are you saying they had something to do with us being . . . put on the menu?”
“Something? Christ! Wake up, China doll! They had everything to do with it.”
“Now wait a minute. Tom did volunteer you and, I admit, that was a nasty thing to do. But how can you say Lyle had anything to do with my being here? I lost fair and square. It was just pure chance.”
“Pure chance? Did you happen to notice I’m six inches taller than you and about thirty pounds heavier? Shit, my boobs must weigh half as much as your whole puny body. Now what kind of a match-up is that for a shoving contest?”
“Okay, that was unfair. That could’ve been arranged. But that bundle of ropes, and the wheel. There’s no way those could be rigged.” She was giving me a Yeah, right, Dummy! look. The bottom dropped out of my certainty. “Is there?” I asked meekly.
“Oh come on! You can’t be that dense! The trap door latch is electrically operated. How the hell do we know what those ropes were attached to. If anything. How hard would it be to wire up a switch to control who gets dunked and who walks away?”
A sick feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach. “Okay, but that still leaves the wheel. We were spinning around when we dropped the ball. How could that be rigged?”
But as soon as the words were out, I knew the answer. Katerina must have read it in my face. She nodded as if to say, Yes, idiot.
What she did say was, “Ever heard of magnets? You think golf balls and roulette wheels can’t be rigged?”
“All right,” I said, defeated. “But why? Why would Lyle want me turned into meat so soon? He’d already told me Ming had been eaten. Hell, he even fed me a slice of her. Yet I still agreed to come here with him. He can’t think of me as a threat.”
“Of course you’re a threat. You’re not like twat-brain Brittany over there. You might figure out a way to expose this place, get revenge for Ming. Besides, Lyle is constantly trolling for new girls. He had two on the hook while Ming was living with him that he’d met on a Dolcett site. Not that he didn’t like Ming. Shit, he pretended to marry her just to keep her happy. But what she didn’t know . . .”
“They got married?”
“Ming thought they did. But it was all phoney. Fake justice of the peace. Fake wedding ceremony. Fake marriage certificate. All the while she thought they were lovey-dovey husband and wife, he was softening up these other girls. When one of them, a girl in Seattle, agreed to fly in and meet him, he decided to cash in Ming. She was totally clueless. Never suspected a thing. Thought she’d lost fair and square, just like you. She planned a real nice banquet for herself, too, as you saw in the pictures. Unfortunately for Lyle, Miss Seattle got cold feet. Didn’t come. Not yet, anyway. So he’s been playing house with Candy and Cherry and some of his patients while he turned up the heat on the second girl, a blonde babe in Tucson named Carly with tits almost as spectacular as mine. In fact, Carly was all set to come visit him when you showed up. From what I’ve heard, she’s real hot to visit Millennium. My guess is he’ll have her living with him before another week is out and sponsor her at the next banquet.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the guts. The part of me still in denial asked, “How do you know all this?”
“I eavesdrop on Tom. Or used to, the traitorous bastard! He and Lyle are cast from the same mold. He’s been wooing replacement girls, too. I know about three of them. One in San Diego, one in Billings and one in my home country, Ukraine. By the way, I’ll bet Lyle never mentioned that he and Tom are on the Lottery Board? They actually help plan the games.”
“Did you hear them planning this one?”
“Not in detail. I knew they were gonna do you, but I didn’t know they were gonna do me, too.”
“Jesus Christ, Katerina! You knew what they were planning to do to me and you didn’t warn me?”
“Oh grow the fuck up!” Her eyes grew hard. “I knew you were gonna be meat, but I didn’t know how they were gonna do it. Even if I did and I told you, do you think it would have saved your scrawny Asian ass? Lyle had no intention of bringing you home tomorrow. One way or another you’d be meat tonight. Would you have been happier to know it sooner?”
Would I? I honestly didn’t know. I had agreed to come here, to become a Member, knowing it would lead to winding up on a menu some day. I had even accepted that it might be this very first day. All in return for the tremendous rush it gave me. I was the proverbial moth unable to resist the deadly seduction of the flame. Still, Lyle had deliberately betrayed me! A real lottery is one thing. A fixed lottery is another. I ducked the question.
“How about you? Why did Tom turn you in?”
“Same reason. He’s been secretly testing the water for some time. Thinks I didn’t know. He and Lyle troll the same Dolcett and dating sites. I know for a fact that Tom has three or four girls he’s been working on. He’s probably got one primed and ready to go for membership.”
“You knew this and didn’t say anything to Tom?”
“What would be the point? How would I make him stop? If I made trouble, he’d just have Lenny pick me up and put me in a cage. I’m near the end of the line, anyway. I’m thirty-two.”
“So what?”
“The unspoken cut-off age for Millennium females is thirty-five.”
“Then what?”
“What do you think? We’re fun to play with but at the end of the day we’re meat stock. Thirty-somethings don’t look as good on a spit as twenty-somethings. Plus, males around here like their poon young.”
“But Lyle hasn’t even fucked me yet. I’m still a . . .”
“. . . virgin. Yeah, yeah, I know. And I bet you told him you were saving your precious little unsullied pussy for your wedding night.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Well, yeah. Well, Lyle doesn’t have time for another fake wedding just to put his meat in your locker. He’s got a hot blonde comin’ in Monday with jugs that put your measly size B’s in the shade.”
“Size C.”
“Sure, if you don’t exhale. The point is, your insistence on keeping your baby-chute inaccessible to his big old male organ guaranteed your tenure would be very short. Who knows how long he might have kept you on as a fuck toy. You are cute. But he’s got no use for nuns. You fucked yourself, sweetmeats with that virginity shit. The irony is, you’re about to lose it anyway. Only instead of Lyle’s warm hard love muscle busting your cherry, it’ll be a cold steel spit.”
Simone, who had been issuing heated instructions to the other kitchen staff, turned and walked briskly toward us.
“Katerina!” she said as though she had just noticed her presence. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out there quaffing vodka gimlets?”
“I should be, but peckerhead Tom turned me in.”
“So you’re our extra roast! Fantastic!” She gave both of Katerina’s breasts an appraising squeeze. “There’s a lotta folks here who’ve been waiting to sink their teeth into these babies. I might sneak a taste myself.”
“Be my guest,” Katerina said.
“Old Tom must have found himself a real hottie to give you up, huh?”
“You can count on it.”
“Can’t wait to see her!” She turned to me. “And you’re Doc Lyle’s new girl, right? Ming’s sister?”
“That would be me.”
“She gave us quite a roast! And you’re just as pretty. Too bad you couldn’t have been with us a little longer to enjoy the banquets from the diners’ perspective, but that’s how the ball bounces, right? We’ll all be in your place sooner or later. In your case, it happened to be sooner.” She unclipped our leashes from the pole. “Well, let’s get to it!”
She led us over to a side of the kitchen where there was a row of windows. A number of members were watching through the windows as Simone lined us up in front of a pair of saw horses with padded tops. They were about hip high and topped with cushions.
“Bend over the trestles, ladies.”
Katerina knew the drill and I just did what she did, doubling over so the trestle was supporting me by the pelvic bone. Simone quickly lashed our leashes to the lowest cross bar between the legs of the trestles, effectively pinning us in that position, our bottoms in the air.
“Okay, girls, you’re gonna get two enemas to clean you out. It doesn’t have to be an ordeal. Some girls enjoy this particular abuse. Others don’t. Just depends on your mindset.”
That’s when I noticed the four bags hanging from a rack and the long hoses ending in a nozzle with a small bulb about two inches from the end. She inserted one in Katerina first. Then I felt the nozzle, nicely lubricated, slide inside me. It was definitely more comfortable than the butt plugs. A moment later the bulb began to enlarge, stretching me painfully. Simone must have noticed the distress in my face and patted my head.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. That’s just to help you keep it in until we’re ready to have you expel it.”
“With all those people watching?” I wailed.
“It’s all part of the show. They’ll see a lot more of your insides than that before you’re cooked.”
A moment later the solution in the bag began pouring into me. Warm and pleasant at first, in seconds it had brought on an urgent need for me to empty my bowels. Katerina beside me had her eyes closed and her lips clamped tightly together as she fought, like me, to hold it in. I could see her belly distend as the minutes crept by and her jaw muscles harden. I could feel my own doing the same.
“Please stop!” I cried, feeling I was on the verge of exploding.
“No more whining if you don’t want to be gagged,” Simone warned me. “You’ll take the entire contents of the bag. You can cry if it helps, but no begging.”
I was, in fact, fighting back tears when the inrush finally stopped. Two portable commodes had been placed behind Katerina and me and by the time my leash was loosened from the trestle and I had been placed on mine and the butt balloon deflated, I no longer cared about the gallery of gawkers. My intestines and bladder exploded their contents and all I felt was relief. The second enema was just as distressing but less humiliating. This time I kept my own eyes closed and pretended I was alone in the darkness, like when I peed beside the car in my blindfold. I also said the hell with my pride and let the tears flow. It did help. Both Katerina and I were moaning and grunting a lot with the stress long before we were allowed to sit on our portable potties, but that was apparently okay.
“You should be thankful you’re not getting a third dose,” Anne-Marie told me, wiping away my tears with a finger. “We used to do that until we started the fasting routine on banquet mornings.”
With the enemas over, Anne-Marie and Josie stood Katerina up off her commode and pulled her over to a three-walled tiled alcove set into the inside kitchen wall in full view of the windows on the opposite side. A pair of wide nylon cuffs hung from chains in the center of the enclosure. The two male kitchen staffers strapped the nylon cuffs to Katerina’s wrists and removed the metal handcuffs. A moment later her arms were pulled up and out as far as they would stretch. Two more of the cuffs were attached to her ankles. She was ordered to spread her feet wide apart. Short chains were connected from the ankle cuffs to floor rings, holding her in an immobile X. Anne-Marie plucked a hose nozzle out of a wall holster and began spraying Katerina’s body while Josie produced a bucket and brush and began soaping and scrubbing.
“Jesus!” Katerina groused, wincing. “Why don’t you just use a wire brush?”
The two girls paid no attention. They finishing the cleansing by pushing the nozzle into Katerina’s vagina to flush it out. That elicited a small cry of pain, but again, they ignored it. They had obviously done this many times and their subject’s reaction to it was of no concern.
The two male staffers returned just as Anne-Marie finished up her work. At her nod, they moved in, relaxed the chains holding Katerina in her X and removed the wrist and ankle cuffs. Gripping her firmly by each arm, they brought her over to a narrow stainless steel table in a prominent position in front of the windows. These two were clearly body builder types and if Katerina or I had any notion of making a break for it, they would be more than capable of subduing us. A glance at the locks on the two doors leading out of the kitchen, however, made me quite certain their overstated musculature was merely to prevent any inconvenient resistance by the meat during processing.
Katerina had an air of complete nonchalance as she let them help her climb on to the table. She stretched out on her back and let the two men move her arms into position at her sides. Using nylon belts threaded through slots in the table, they strapped her arms down tightly at the upper arms, elbows and wrists. Each of her legs was strapped down separately at the crotch, knee and ankle. Another strap was cinched across her rib cage just under her breasts, a second over her neck and a third over her forehead. Everything was tightened down so that she was totally immobilized.
While the two men worked on Katerina, Anne-Marie and Josie turned their attention to me. My labia chain had been tethered to a ring at the base of the portable commode. Now they detached it and led me over to the washing area where they strung me up exactly as they had Katerina. The nylon cuffs, it turned out, were simply locked on with Velcro tabs and could be easily removed. But not by me. They may as well have been welded iron because with my arms stretched out above me, I had no way to reach the tabs. The water from the hose was pleasantly hot and the scrub brush not as brutal as Katerina’s sarcasm had led me to fear. It was only when Anne-Marie approached my pussy with the nozzle that I began to squirm in my bonds. She stopped and looked at me with a puzzled frown.
“Lyle said you’re a virgin. Can that be true?”
“Yes,” I answered quickly, hoping it would lead to a reprieve. Katerina’s discomfort with having hot water forced up her cunt had looked pretty extreme to me.
“Still?” she asked, as if I’d told her I could fly. “I mean, didn’t he have a go at you this morning before the lottery?”
“No. I’m still a virgin. Will die a virgin.”
“I never saw a cunt ring in a virgin before.”
“Well, you have now.”
“He didn’t even tease you with his pistol? Push it in just a little ways? Maybe leak a little cum in there?”
“No. Absolutely not. I was saving myself for marriage.”
“With Lyle?” She burst into laughter.
Josie gave her arm a rap with the back of her fingers. “Don’t laugh. He conned her sister into thinking they were married. He was probably gonna use the same scheme to get his pork into this one.”
“Yeah, probably. Well, let’s see.” Anne-Marie poked the middle finger of her right hand into my vagina, brushing aside the gold ring in my labia. “Yeah, there’s a cherry in there.” She pulled the finger out and sniffed at it. “Don’t smell no jizz. Guess you really are a virgin. What a shame! Too late now. But at least you don’t have to have your snatch hosed out.”
“I think it got a good washing out in the pool, anyway,” I offered.
“I hope you didn’t piss in the water,” she snickered. “I’d have to hose you out for punishment.”
“Not me,” I said. “Chinese girls are well bred. We don’t pee in pools, even when we’re hanging by the neck.”
“Good for you. I hope all Chinese girls taste as good as your sister did.”
With the scrubbing finished and the hose turned off, I glanced back at Katerina and was shocked to see her belly had been ripped open. The two sides of the wound, which ran from just under her breasts almost to her slit, were held wide apart by some kind of metal spreader in the shape of a U that allowed full access to her insides. Her belly had been emptied out. I could see the white ropes of her guts in a barrel next to the table and one of the men, the blonde, was groping around inside her. I had known evisceration would be part of the preparation, if only from the Dolcett drawings and common sense, but seeing it done to a human being was shockingly different from seeing it in drawings. I could see Katerina was still alive; she was grimacing hard, but had not screamed. How could that be? Was she impervious to pain, or just incredibly brave? Would I be that brave? I’d find out in a few minutes.
Inner organs I couldn’t identify went into the barrel along with the guts, and then they started doing something that was both fascinating and horrifying. The bottom end of the table was designed so that it could be split apart into a V with each of Katerina’s legs strapped down to one side of the split. They opened up the V as far as Katerina’s hips would allow.
Then the blonde man scooped a yellow substance out of a bowl with two fingers and inserted it into Katerina’s widely exposed sex, smearing it over her vaginal walls and labia. As he lubricated this entrance to her body, the dark haired man removed from a wall bracket a long, steel pole about two inches in diameter with a pointed end and a cross bar about a quarter of the way up from the blunt end. He lowered the pole to horizontal and aimed the pointed end between her legs. This, I realized, was the spit. The blonde added the yellow substance to the point and several inches beyond it on the shaft of the spit. He carefully guided the point into the vagina as his partner steadied the shaft and pushed gently. Once the lips of Kataerina’s sex had swallowed the tip of the spit, the man holding it began to push and twist it at the same time, screwing it into her body while the blonde smeared more of the yellow stuff (butter, I guessed) on the metal just before it passed between her genital lips. Still Katerina was not screaming although her mouth was open in a strange grimace and she was pumping her hips at the shaft.
The point of the spit reappeared inside the hollowed out abdomen, a gleaming metal spike where Katerina’s womb had resided only minutes before. The man with the butter shifted his efforts to the point of the shaft as it advanced through the empty space. When it began to disappear under her rib cage, he bent down, his head almost inside Katerina’s empty abdomen, and slid a hand up the shaft. A half a minute later he extracted himself from her abdomen and moved around to her head. With the press of a button, the portion of the table to which Katerina’s forehead was strapped swung down, forcing her head back as far as it would go. Her mouth gaped open even wider. She seemed to go into convulsions, her body bucking futilely in its tight restraints. The man at her head picked up a scalpel from a tray under the table and calmly cut a small slice in her throat. She immediately quieted to just hips movements again as the man inserted a small round device into the cut he had just made. He turned his attention to her open mouth, inserted two fingers into it and guided the point of the spit past her teeth and out. The dark haired man at the other end continued to twist and push the spit forward until about a foot of shaft extended beyond her mouth. A mixture of blood and saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth around the edges of the shaft and the blonde man packed some paper towels between her lips and the spit to absorb the flow.
Josie had moved to the table with a large pan filled with something the men had been working on while Katerina and I had been leashed to the pole. Resting atop it was some kind of thick material bent into an odd shape. As one of the men pulled open the gash in Katerina’s belly, Josie spent a couple of minutes carefully positioning the thing inside the empty cavity of her abdomen.
“What’s she doing?” I asked Anne-Marie.
“That’s the barrier we use to keep the stuffing from damaging the heart and lungs so you get to live longer during the roasting. Your boyfriend designed it.”
“Lyle?”
“Yup.’
“So that’s what’s in that tub Josie has? Stuffing?”
“Sure is. And we’re still using Ming’s recipe. It’s fabulous!”
“Will they use that for me, too?”
“Pretty much. There will be some differences to keep the two roasts distinct.”
So not only had Ming beaten me once again, this time to the most exciting moment of my life, but she had also provided the recipe that would make me a culinary success. Should I be aggravated or thankful?
Then I thought about Katerina.
“This isn’t fair,” I blurted out. “I went through that whole lottery thing to become the featured entree, and Katerina is going to be the first to be presented. She’ll get all the glory with her big tits.”
“Oh don’t you worry about that, hon,” Anne-Marie said. “Lyle specifically asked that you be processed second so you could see what we’d be doing. But you’ll be the first one carried into the Banquet Hall. Katerina will be brought in only when you’ve been completely stripped of meat.”
“But you said everyone wants her tits.”
“And they’ll be cut up into little bite size bits and distributed around. But this is your banquet, sweetheart. Katerina is just extra meat.”
“Who’ll get her cunt lips?”
“Tom. Like Lyle will get yours. They’re your sponsors. But hon, that’s just tradition. The important thing is, this is your show. Katerina got shafted, as she richly deserves. The honors will go to you tonight. Katerina is just a second helping.”
“And that barrier Josie put in is to keep us alive longer during the roasting?”
“Yeah. Let’s you enjoy more of the roasting experience.”
“But isn’t cooking over a hot fire really painful?”
“Not really. Not now. Lyle invented a way to let us cook painlessly. That’s what we always opt for now when we become meat.”
“Do we last right up to when we’re served?”
“Well, not quite. But for a couple hours, anyway. After you’ve been cooking a while, even over low heat, the blood congeals too much and your heart can’t pump it. So far, your sister is the only one who was there to see herself served and eaten, but that’s not for me. I don’t wanna be just a head. Gross! I want my carcass to be all there and look great when they bring me in.”
“How do you look when you’re fully cooked on a spit.”
“Your skin is a kind of bronze and all shiny like that girl in the oven, only much more spectacular. Since you’re the featured meat on tonight’s menu, Savanna is planning to have you presented on a big silver platter surrounded by steaming vegetables and fresh fruits. She’s going to have you face down with your legs tucked under you and your hands beside your shoulders like a cat about to pounce. That pretty rump of yours will be up in the air with a carrot sticking out, and an apple in your mouth at the other end. Your eyes will have burst, so she’ll replace them with glass eyes the exact color of your own. You’ll look alive, wide awake, sexy and absolutely scrumptious!
“And Katerina?”
“She’ll be carried in later on her spit. That will show those stupendous tits to best advantage.”
“What about that girl in the oven?”
“Brittany? Oh she’s just extra meat for tomorrow. Cold cuts, sausage, ground meat, dog food. Stuff like that. We’ll carve her up here in the kitchen.”
“But she smells delicious! I’ve never tasted fresh . . . you know.”
“Girl meat?”
“Yeah. The only . . . girl meat I’ve eaten was a sliver Lyle saved from Ming. But that had been frozen, thawed and reheated. It didn’t taste anywhere near as marvelous as Brittany smells.”
“Hon, you wait right here.”
As if I could move in my restraints.
Anne-Marie went to the oven, opened the door and rolled out the rack containing the steaming girl. A new burst of divine meat fragrance filled the kitchen. She grabbed a carving knife and fork off a nearby counter and proceeded to carve a wedge of meat out of Brittany’s left breast, laying it in a small dish before rolling her back into the oven. Using a smaller fork, she picked it up again and blew on the meat to cool it as she brought it to where I was strung up.
“Since this will be your first taste of fresh roasted girl meat, and your last, I decided you deserve the best cut.” She blew on it some more. “Every cut has its own distinctive flavor and they’re all great, but tit meat is best of all.” She tested the slice against the back of her left hand. “I think it’s cool enough, now. Open up, take a bite!”
When I opened my mouth, she put just enough of it between my teeth for me to bite off a small fragment. She was right. The taste was extraordinary! Quite unlike any other meat I’ve ever tried, and infinitely more juicy and succulent than Ming’s year-old, reheated flesh. It was slightly sweet with a rich flavor and the texture of the finest filet mignon.
“O my God!” I said after I’d swallowed it. “This is fabulous! Will I taste like that?”
“Oh, you’ll be much, much better. Poor Brittany was starved and dehydrated from being in that cage for a week. She was emaciated. You’re properly fleshed out and Lyle tells us you’ve had a healthy, nourishing diet all your life. Your meat will be naturally flavorful and we’ll enhance it with butter and lots of carefully selected spices and oils and fruits.”
She held the remaining morsel of Brittany up to my mouth and I eagerly took it in my mouth. As I slowly chewed and savored it, a new awareness washed over me. It was both comforting and exciting to face death knowing that my body was being prepared as an erotic visual spectacle and would yield such stunningly delicious meat.
“From what I’ve heard,” I said, “cunt meat is supposed to be a big deal. Could I have a taste of that?”
“‘Fraid not,” Anne-Marie said. “Even though Brittany was a runaway, her ex-sponsor still get first dibs on her cunt meat. But you wouldn’t like hers, anyway. When you’re cooked on a spit, the hot metal of the spit crisps the lips and vaginal wall up nicely; but when you’re boiled or oven roasted they have to be crisped separately in deep fat. Otherwise they’re too tough, and not all that tasty. It’s mostly the guys who like it. Eating a girl’s cunt is strong erotic symbolism. By eating the most female part of her body, he celebrates both her life as his sex slave and his gift of her body to his friends for meat. It both honors and demeans her at the same time. It also signifies that she was his property.”
“So Lyle gets to eat my pussy.”
“Yup.”
“But I’m not his sex slave. I’m still a virgin.”
“A minor detail. If you hadn’t lost the lottery, you’d have lost your virginity soon after, I guarantee it.”
I glanced over at Katerina. They had sewn her belly back up with wide, black stitches and she seemed to be squirming sinuously on the spit, as though the limited movement gave her some kind of pleasure.
“Why is she moving like that?” I asked Anne-Marie.
“You’ll find out,” she laughed.
One of the men had been wrapping wire around her knees and the cross bar, then used more wire to bind her ankles to the pole. At that point Simone reappeared from where she’d been working over in another part of the kitchen, and while the two men hefted both ends of the spit to lift Katerina up off the table, Simone turned Katerina so they could lower her face down on the table. Having done that, the men swiftly wired her arms behind her, forearm to forearm while Simone snugged a foil bonnet over Katerina’s hair and pinned it in place. Then she unlocked the door leading out on to the patio as the men picked up Katerina’s spit once again and carried her out of the kitchen. She locked the door behind them, turned and came directly over to me.
“Okay, you’re next,” she said cheerfully. “Are you going to be good, or should we wait for the men to return?”
“I’ll be good.”
“I hope so. All the doors are locked and we can always call in Lenny.”
“No! I’ll be good. I promise. I agreed to this and I’ll go through with it. You’ve agreed to it, too, haven’t you? If you lose the lottery?”
“Absolutely.”
“And will you need Lenny to make you be good?”
“No, of course not. When it’s my turn, I’ll climb right up on the table.”
“Well, it’s my turn now, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Simone’s exquisitely beautiful face remained tranquil, her black eyes scrutinizing me for any hint of pretense. At last, finding none, she broke into a beaming smile and told Anne-Marie and Josie to let me down and remove my restraints. They did. She gestured at the table. Determined to show her I’m as good as my word, I promptly walked over to it and hopped up on it, then laid back to let the three women strap me down as Katerina had been strapped down. In a few minutes my entire body — head, neck, torso, arms, wrists, legs and ankles — were cinched down tightly. They might as well have unlocked the doors at that point. I’d never again be going anywhere under my own power.
“We’re going to clean you out, now,” Simone explained tactfully.
“You mean you’re going to gut me,” I translated.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “But we’ll be using some topical anaesthetics as we go, so it shouldn’t be terribly painful. You can thank your Dr. Lyle for that. He supplies the stuff and showed us how to do it. He even redesigned our spits. You can scream if you need to, but I’ve done four of these now and so far no one’s complained. Are you ready?”
“Uh-huh,” I grunted, trying to sound more brave than I felt.
“We’re gonna start with a spray. Some girls think it’s ice and some think we’re burning them, but it’s really just an anaesthetic.”
Josie handed Simone a can and I heard the whoosh of an aerosol spray. A stab of mild pain hit me at the breast bone and ran quickly down to my bikini line. She was right: it could have been either hot or cold. I couldn’t tell. Simone exchanged the can for a short, scalpel-like knife and, having seen the results of this part on Katerina, I clamped my teeth together and held my breath. But instead of searing pain, the sensation as her hand traveled down my belly was more she was drawing a line with a crayon. Pleasurable, actually. Because my head was strapped down and immovable, I couldn’t see the results of the slice, but the activity of the other two women made it clear they were moping up blood. I could feel the wet sponges on both sides of my body. .
Anne-Marie bent over my mid-section and a burning pain began blossoming up from within my belly. But before I could unleash a scream, I heard more squirts of the aerosol can and the pain was mostly quelled. I knew from watching Katerina prepped what they were doing. Anne-Marie was stretching the gaping incision in my belly wide open and inserting the spreader. I could feel the hard metal claws gripping my skin while Simone started to pull out my intestines. The pain was bearable so I said nothing, but I was intensely curious and felt an urgent need to talk while I still could.
“Are you cleaning me out now?” I asked the ceiling, since that was pretty much all I could see.
“Sure am.” It was Simone’s voice. I saw her hand rise into the air to show me a loop of white intestine. “You don’t need these things anymore, so we’re making room in here for some really delicious stuffing. We’ve been working on the ingredients for two days. It’s a variant on the stuffing recipe Ming gave us. I’m including bread that has a somewhat nuttier flavor. You’ll smell it, I hope, before you’re gone. It will do you proud.”
“What else are you taking out?”
“Stomach. Bladder. Kidneys. Liver. Womb. Pancreas. Gall bladder. Spleen. Everything but your heart and lungs. You still need those.”
“Are none of those edible?”
“Sure. The liver and kidneys and tougher cuts like the shanks go into our sausages. We even use your bones after the banquet for soups and stews. Most of the scrap organs and any leftover meat gets ground up and fed to the guard dogs.”
“Will they bury what’s left of my bones?”
“Not a chance. Goes into the crematory and turned into ash. Three days from now there’ll be no physical evidence that you or Katerina or Brittany were ever here.”
“What about the gallery? All those pictures? My sister’s head?”
“If the wrong people come snooping, there will be a tragic fire. An exceedingly intense tragic fire. And it will start right down there in the gallery.”
The sensations from inside my abdomen were strange, to say the least. Fleeting stabs of pain that made my body clench up were quickly followed by short blasts of the anaesthetic that let me relax again. I could feel tugging and poking, but no pain of any duration. The sound of my organs plopping wetly into the container was disconcerting and contributed to the growing realization that I had passed the point where anything could save me. An old nursery rhyme popped into my head. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put Ling back together again. Not even the brilliant Dr. Lyle Bach. But strangely, with that same realization came an increasing sense of peace that allowed me to being enjoying the coming to life of my oldest and deepest fantasy. I was a slave being turned into meat, and I was loving it!
I saw a flash of the barrier that would separate my remaining organs from the stuffing and felt the soft nudges within me as it was seated into position. I saw the silver tip of the long spit as Josie carried it from the wall rack. It disappeared from my view and I knew she was aiming it at my vagina. Again I needed to talk.
“Will that barrier get in the way of the spit?” I asked.
“Nope. There’s an opening. I just have to guide it through. Now I don’t want you to be alarmed, hon, but Josie is gonna swab your clit with something that’ll make it a whole lot more fun for you when you’re on the spit. But it will sting a little at first.”
Amazingly she took my right hand in hers and held it tight as a blaze of fire shot though my clit and right up to my teeth! I seized her hand twice as tightly and screeched! But it was over in three seconds. Just faded away. I felt Josie’s finger’s open up the hood and touch the clit. A most remarkable thrill roiled up through my loins and up my spine, almost making my hair stand on end. With a shock I realized my body was shuddering on the verge of an orgasm! She took her finger away, giggling.
“Well!” Simone chuckled. “I see it worked. Now I’m gonna put some butter on your pussy so the spit will slip in nice and easy.”
Her fingers were warm and slippery as they greased my labia and well up into that vagina. When she applied the butter to my clit my whole body locked up in a wondrous orgasmic spasm.
“Okay, hon, we’re going to start inserting the shaft of the spit, now. Don’t fight it, sweetie. Welcome it!”
The cold steel touched the outer lips of my vulva and, in spite of her admonition, I held my breath. In the next moment it rubbed against my clit, which must have been swollen and protruding well into its path. Another tremor, exactly like the ones she and Josie had triggered with their fingers, rushed up through my body and into my brain like an electric charge! Involuntarily I began to buck my hips. My body was making love to the spit! I can only imagine what a man’s shaft feels like inside there, but if it generates half the sensation this steel one did, I bitterly regret those wasted years of virginity!
“You can thank your boyfriend for this little miracle, too.” Simone was saying. “I don’t know what the clit stuff is, but all the girls we’ve used it on have gone out wildly happy, to say the least.”
It was hard to talk with that staff doing what it was doing to my hyped up clit, but I managed to ask between gasps, “Why don’t you try it yourself? It’s . . . (pant, pant) . . . It’s fantastic!”
“Can’t. It does permanent damage to the clit. After a couple hours of sky rockets, the clit goes permanently numb. Ain’t worth it. Not until the rest of me is about to be dead, too. Then, you bet!”
I could feel the spit worming it’s way through my vagina, setting off sexual claxons as it grazed past the berserkly oversensitized clit, turning my breathing into a succession of gasps. It made me all the more desperate to keep talking. Any topic would do. “Are you the Head Chef?” I croaked.
“The very same.”
“What if . . . uh! uh! . . . what if you’d lost the . . . aaah! . . . the lottery?”
“Then I’d be strapped down where you are and Anne-Marie would be sitting here. Josie’s next in line after her. And Savanna and Ariza are signed up to join the kitchen staff as soon as there’s a vacancy, which means as soon as one of us gets eaten. Lots of backup.”
“How about . . . ohh . . . the two men?”
“No chef material there. They just help out, make sure the meat cooperates until it’s on the spit or in the pot. On a day like today with two girls to process, they help with the gutting and spitting. To give him credit, though, Kyle — he’s the hunk with the blond hair and blue eyes — he’s really good at baking breads. He made the bread we’re using in your stuffing today. He’s also my own personal fuck toy, although he thinks I’m his.”
“He’s . . . aah! . . . your Sponsor?”
“You got it. Two hundred pounds of muscle and gristle, in all the right places.”
“Does he have . . . uh! . . . other girls . . . uh! uh! . . . lined up?”
“Course he does. They all do. Guys can’t come here alone. If a Sponsor’s girl gets put on the menu and he wants to come back again, he has to have another babe ready to recruit. And she’s gotta be young and good looking.”
Simone was bent down out of my line of sight. I could feel her hands moving around inside my belly, guiding the spit. It’s point touched and rubbed at things under my ribs. There was no pain, only a dull, uncomfortable sensation, like a gas bubble you want to burp up from your stomach, but it won’t come. I knew my ability to speak was only a minute away from ending, so I kept myself talking around the fusillade of orgasms.
“What if . . . uh! . . . the others. . . Ahh! . . . think she’s not . . . uh, uh, uh, uh! . . . .”
Simone’s voice was muffled by my own flesh. “Not suitable? Not pretty enough? Well, I asked that question myself when I first got here and saw how beautiful the others girls are. Kyle told me the men have a meeting to discuss new girls and if they decide she doesn’t measure up, they have her slaughtered that same day. If we had a big crowd like today, we’d oven roast her for the extra meat, like Brittany. If nothing else, we’d do her right after the banquet and feed her to the maintenance staff. But that’s never happened since I’ve been here. The guys are too proud to bring in a dog and risk being twitted by the others, to say nothing of having to start a whole new hunt.”
The spit was now at the base of my neck, niggling against my throat. Anne-Marie released the support holding up the table leaf under my head and lowered it so my chin was in the air. In a few seconds the skewer would punch into my windpipe. “Please, Simone!” I gasped between the jolts exploding from my cunt, “keep talking . . . uhh! . . . even when I can’t . . . aah! aaah! . . . Please!”
“Sure, hon,” she said. “I love to talk. Most of the time at home Kyle won’t let me talk at all. I have to ask permission and give him a blow job first. But that’s okay; I love to swallow his cum. He makes me call him ‘Master,’ too, when no one’s around, so’s I’ll remember I’m just livestock and he’s my owner. But I like that, too. Thinking about being where you are now makes me horny. Hold on, now, hon! This next part is scary because the shaft cuts off your breathing. But don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”
Anne-Marie kept her hands on the sides of my head as the spit suddenly slid into my windpipe. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and panic overwhelmed all else, even the still raging thrills from my clit! My body began fighting for air. Despite my resolve to remain calm, I found myself jerking furiously in my restraints. I was lashed down far to tightly to allow more than a few millimeters of movement, but every muscle joined in a futile battle to burst the bonds! A moment later a sharp sting on my throat was followed by a rush of air into my lungs and a sense of relief that instantly took the fight out of me. I collapsed as limply as a doe brought down by a hunter.
Now my attention focused on the feel of the spit entering the back of my mouth. Twisting. Sliding along the roof of my mouth. My head was bent back as far as nature would permit to prevent the point of the shaft from tearing up my palate and breaking my teeth. Using both hands, Anne-Marie hooked her fingers under both my upper and lower teeth, spreading my mouth wide open and holding my tongue down and out of the way. Fascinated, I watched the blood streaked point of the spit emerge from my mouth and continue to slide forward another foot or so before it finally came to a stop. I tried to say something, but the spit was jammed against my tongue and my voice box no longer responded to my will. The thickness of the spit and the angle of my head forced my jaw open as wide as it would go and my teeth to clamp down firmly on the hard metal. I could move only my lips. I remembered how Katerina seemed to be sucking on her own spit as she was carried out of the kitchen. The blitz of orgasms had stopped now that the shaft was no longer rubbing past my clit, but an experimental wiggle of my pelvis proved I could induce another jolt whenever I wished.
While Anne-Marie wiped the leading end of the spit clean, Simone had gone somewhere and was returning with a small tub. The rich aroma of warm stuffing filled the air and I felt her starting to press it into my emptied abdominal cavity.
“This is some of the best stuffing I’ve ever tasted here. Or anywhere!” Simone said, babbling for my benefit, as she’d promised. “Since there are two roasts on a spit today, I don’t have to overstuff you. I can put in just enough to give you a real sexy flat tummy. Of course, no one will be able to appreciate that at first because you’ll be presented belly down on the platter when we bring you in from cooking, so’s we can make you real pretty on a yummy bed of veggies and exotic fruits. I’ll put a bright red McIntosh apple in your mouth and a big fat fresh carrot in your bum, with a nice plume of greens for a tail. You’ll be surrounded by tomatoes, broccoli, mangos, papayas, pears, baby bananas, kiwi, star fruit, apples, radishes, parsley, scallions, cilantro, limes, berries — all kinds of stuff. And you’ll have a chain of pineapple rings down your spine. You’ll be amazing! Colorful and gorgeous! Your hair is the perfect length, too, for your cute little face; so we’ll protect it with aluminum foil and let it curl in under your chin the way it does now. You’ll be posed on the platter in a little crouch, like a roasted piglet so everyone will get to admire you in presentation, all evenly cooked with your elegant little ass up in the air. With the glass eyes in place, you'll look so lifelike and ready to leap off the serving tray. It will be very tasteful. We’ll baste you every half hour as you roast, so you’ll be glistening with ten or twelve coats of delicately spiced butter. You’ll look and smell absolutely mouth watering!”
I felt the skin of my belly being closed up again, followed by a dull poking sensation.
“I’m sewing you up now, hon,” Simone went on, “and I’m using a nice flesh-colored thread instead of that black stuff we used on Katerina. You don’t mind if you look prettier than her, do you?” She leaned back where I could see her and winked at me. “I’ll also spread a brown sugar paste over the whole incision before we take you off the spit. It’ll be toned the same color as your fully cooked skin, so the incision will disappear completely. That way when we turn you over on the platter to begin carving you up you’ll look slim and sleek. The first thing we do is slice off your cunt lips and present them to your sponsor, Lyle. In your case, since you have that sexy cunt ring that Lyle’s been using to lead you around,” she flipped it with a finger, sending another blaze of electricity out of my clit, “we’ll make good use of it. He’s asked us to present him with your leash with your crispy hot cunt hanging from it. That’ll be a new one! The crowd will go nuts!”
As she talked I felt the straps holding my legs and body to the table being released. Strong hands brought my legs together against the spit and began binding my knees to the crossbar and my ankles to the lower end of the shaft with wire. The wire bit rather cruelly into my skin but no attempt was made to use the anaesthetic. As this was going on, Simone patted my belly, stood up and came up by my shoulders where I could see her.
“The next thing we do is slice up your breasts,” she said, “and distribute them to designated Members.”
She began squeezing my boobs and pulling on the nipples to make them stand up. Again, shocks blasted through all my sex parts!
“They tell me you’re worried that these little beauties don’t compare favorably with Katerina’s.”
All I could do for response was crease my brow and suck on the spit.
She smiled patiently at me. “Well, in the first place, to each his own. I think Katerina’s tits are excessive and vulgar. Yours, on the other hand, are in perfect proportion to your body and, like the rest of you, absolutely lovely. In the second place, since tits tend to shrink a little during cooking, we’ll pump yours up a bit with milk so they’ll be standing up full and firm when we flip you over.” As she talked, she began releasing the straps around my head, throat, upper body and arms. “We use natural mother’s milk that Ariza donates. She has a three year old daughter she encourages to nurse to keep her milk flowing. The milk enhances flavor, too. I guarantee your tits will not only look great, they’ll be divinely delicious! Pumping all that milk in, though, hurts like a sonovabitch, so we won’t do it until you’ve had your spinal prep. Then, I promise, you’ll hardly feel it.”
She gave my nipples a last pull and said loudly, “Okay folks, let’s flip her.”
I felt myself lifted up on the spit, turned face down and lowered again. One pair of strong hands pulled my arms behind my back and held them forearm to forearm while someone else wired them together and to my body. When you’re impaled on a metal shaft you’re pretty damned helpless. This was the finishing touch. Now I really felt like a piece of meat.
“Well!” Simone patted my bottom. “Time to get you to the roasting pit.”
Peering down the length of spit in front of my face I saw one of the two men who had worked on Katerina. Blonde and blue eyed. Simone’s “master.” I wished I could ask her if she’d had to suck him off for the privilege of giving orders to the crew and talking to the meat today. There was a moment of jostling and suddenly I was lifted off the table again. Enough pain leaked through Lyle’s miraculous anaesthetic that I was very glad he’d invented it! I had never given any thought to the potential for pain inherent in being hoisted up by a rod through your body, like a fish on a hook. I could well imagine the agony live spitting must have been for all the girls who went through it pre-Lyle. But of course, with a thick metal skewer in their mouths and their vocal cords out of commission, there would be no complaints. The movement of the spit struck new sparks from my clit that sizzled all the way to the top of my head! But I had to enjoy the pleasure in silence.
It’s dismaying how little one can see when being carried face down on a spit, especially when your hormones are a raging inferno, blasting you with every step, making it nearly impossible to focus! I knew we had gone out to the patio and were moving through the crowd because I could hear their laughter and lewd comments, and I could certainly feel their hands groping me, pinching my nipples, slapping my ass and pulling at my labia ring. My forward view was mostly of Kyle’s rear end, but at least it was a gratifyingly sexy rear end and correlated well with the sexual tornado roaring out of my tormented clit. Did these people realize I was having multiple orgasms right in front of them? How could they not? I was wriggling and humping uncontrollably! Was Lyle in the crowd? If he was, why didn’t make himself known? I silently cursed him for his indifference even as I thanked him for this astonishing sexual maelstrom.
I was in such an orgasmic frenzy that I hardly noticed when our little procession finally came to a stop. The spit had been set into a set of brackets. At least I assume it was a set. I could see only the bracket in front of my face. Simone was beside me again, stroking my hair.
“Did you enjoy the ride? Don’t pretend you didn’t,” she laughed. “There’s too much girl juice dripping out of your pussy. And it’s gonna be just like that right up to the end. What a way to go! You don’t know how I envy you! Maybe next time I’ll get lucky and lose the fucking lottery. That skewer beats any man’s pee pee by a mile, including Kyle’s and Lyle’s. I’ll tell you this, hon, you’re gonna have more orgasms in the next two hours than you’d have had if you’d lived another hundred years. So you just enjoy yourself. Me and Josie are gonna baste you now with your first coat. It’ll feel real good.”
And it did! Josie began with my feet and ankles while Simone pinned my hair into the promised foil bag, then started painting my face with a soft brush, making sure to touch it to an exposed edge of my tongue so I could taste its buttery flavor. It was wonderful! Delicately seasoned with rosemary and something I can’t identify. I wished I could ask. She worked her way down over my throat and neck as Josie worked up my legs. Then they rolled me over slowly to paint every inch of my skin, the spit turning in its brackets. I could see people watching, hear them commenting on how good I looked, how tempting the aroma of the baste, speculating on the seasoning and what recipe was used for my stuffing. Simone kept chattering away, as I had asked. She’s such a sweet girl! I’m so lucky that she’s the Head Chef, that she’s the one in charge of cooking me, especially since Lyle has apparently abandoned me.
“Okay, hon,” Simone was saying in my ear. “It’s time for your spinal prep so you won’t suffer while you roast. It’ll hurt, but only for a few seconds.”
I caught a glimpse of a syringe. I hate needles! But I suppose fire is worse, so I closed my eyes and waited. There was a prick in the back of my neck at the spine, then a flame erupted and raged all the way down my back and legs. My whole body was vibrating from the pain! It was worse than anything I’ve ever known or imagined possible! But then it was gone! My whole body seemed to have disappeared, head and all! I couldn’t feel anything! Was I paralyzed? No. I wiggled my hips and my clit showered me with sparks again. I held myself still to calm the orgasm and opened my eyes. Simone was scooched down on her haunches beside my face, smiling at me.
“Don’t worry. You’re not paralyzed.”
It was like she’d read my mind, but it’s probably what everyone thinks when they get that shot.
“Another Lyle miracle drug,” she said. “You’ll still feel things physically, but differently. You’ll know you’re in pain, for example, but it won’t really hurt. You’ll see. Now for that milk. I won’t show you what I’m doing because it’ll scare you, but it won’t hurt. I promise.”
There was some clanking of equipment out of my range of vision. Then I was turned on the spit so I was face up. I felt something go into the under part of my left breast. It must have been some sort of large needle, but what I felt was more like the tip of a ball point pen pushed against my flesh. It was followed by a tremendous but distant ache. The same thing happened to my right breast. Then I was being rotated back to a face down position, the motion swamping me with another grand orgasm.
“Wow! You sure are spectacular now!” Simone gushed. “And that didn’t hurt a bit, did it? So don’t you be afraid. We keep the fire low until you’re gone so you’ll have about two hours to enjoy what your clit is doing for you. Just envision yourself at the feast. You’re going to be magnificent! In fact, you already are! I wish you could see yourself.” She kissed my temple and nodded to someone beyond my view. “Okay, hon. Off you go.”
Kyle’s backside reappeared. He picked up his end of the spit, touching off my clit again! O God! It was awesome! I was panting from a series of climaxes, trying to catch my breath as they brought me over to a pit with four long rows of lighted gas jets sprouting low flames. There was a second pit beside it where Katerina was already turning over a similar bed of fire. They eased the ends of my spit into a new set of brackets. My face, breasts, belly and legs where instantly battered by an intense heat. But within a few seconds I was beginning to rotate slowly above the flames, the heat spreading to every surface of my body.
And I’m still turning, so far as I can tell. Still cooking. I’m sure it’s been at least an hour, but I seem to have lost track. Simone was right. I’ve been in constant and increasing agony — and yet I’m not. The pain just doesn’t seem real. Or rather, it seems to be someone else’s pain that I’m sharing out of mere empathy. All I can really think about are the continuing ecstatic explosions engulfing and overwhelming my brain and body! My lungs shudder with the effort to breathe and my heart hammers in my chest. But is it because my body is slowly turning into roasted meat, or because of the incessant orgasms, that relentless cascade of electric currents? I don’t know. Can’t tell. Don’t care.
They’ve basted me three times now. Or is it four? The turning goes on and on over the brutal heat, but the brushes are gentle. Stroking, stroking. Katerina is still beside me, turning on her own spit over her own fire, her body leaking fat, glistening with steaming butter. We watched each other turn for a long time, our rotations putting us face to face again and again. But a while ago her eyes stopped moving, stared at nothing, turned white in the heat of the fire. The flames under her grew taller and her skin turned a deep bronze, then a rich brown. The passers by comment on the aroma of our roasting meat. Tantalizing, they say. But I can’t smell it because my breath comes in from my throat. My eyes have grown foggy. I see the outlines of people watching. But they’re getting too blurry. It’s getting dark. Much too dark. They’re talking, but I can no longer hear them over the roar of my clit.
The heat is intense, penetrating to my bones. Between orgasms I can feel my flesh popping as it roasts, hear it sizzle. I wish I could smell it. I’m going to look great on that platter! Simone said so. She promised. She’s the Head Chef, you know. She’ll see to it. I can see her now, slicing into my breasts, laying the slices on decorative plates. They’re lovely tits, she says, standing up all full and firm with milk. Juicier than Katerina’s. Much more tasty! Now she’s carving out my cunt, dangling it from a leash in front of Lyle. Isn’t that a riot? He ate my sister’s cunt, too. Now he’s eating mine.
But that’s all right. They envy me, all these girls. I saw them watching me, watching me hump this spit, watching my juices flow around it, dripping off the shaft, wishing they could share it, ride it with me. But they can’t. Not yet. This one is all mine. It’s my lover, fucking me blind while holding me over the fire. Roasting and fucking me! Fucking and roasting!
O God! I feel another big one coming on. This one is huge! It’s lifting me up! I’m heading for the edge! Wait! There’s Ming! She’s found me! It’s about time!
Thank God you’re here, Ming! You almost missed it. Come on, take my hand. We have to hurry. They’re about to carry me in!
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