(based on an illustrated story by DOLCETT)
CHAPTER 1: Marsha Has Fling
Marsha Edmunds was your average young career woman on her first
business trip away from home and away from her husband. At
twenty-nine, she felt like it was time to experience life a
little more. Those thoughts began to crystallize for her as she
watched a tall, handsome man holding two drinks walk toward her,
carefully making his way through the crowd at the cocktail party.
"Here you go, Marsha, one old fashioned for you and a mineral
water for me. Are you an old fashioned girl?"
"That depends on who's asking," Marsha laughed at the bad pun.
Bob Kendrick was a charming man, and very good looking. He
latched on to her about five minutes after she'd entered the
party room at the convention hotel, and had been paying lots of
attention to her ever since. Marsha enjoyed this. Her husband,
Mark, had been taking her for granted lately. The attention from
this handsome man was having an effect.
"Oh, I don't know how old fashioned I am," she added, feeling
wicked and daring, "you might be surprised."
Now she was openly flirting with Bob, and he was coming on to
her, using any excuse at all to move closer to her, physically,
and brushing against her body anytime someone bumped into him.
Marsha felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach and a slight
dampness growing between her legs. She knew that at some point
in the evening, Bob was going to propose that they go somewhere
less crowded, where they could get to know each other better.'
Marsha had never cheated on her husband in the ten years they'd
been married. She'd never even been tempted before this.
Somehow, this evening, she knew it would be different.
It suddenly felt way too warm in the room, and she could feel the
effects of the drinks Bob had been giving her, all the while
staying away from alcohol himself. She could feel her body
responding to the proximity of this handsome man, and she knew
that he found her attractive as well.
Bob had spotted the pretty brunette as soon as she'd entered the
room. She was the one he would chose tonight. Having captured
her attention, gotten several drinks into her, and filled her
ears with compliments, it was time to make his move. With any
luck, he'd have her all wrapped up for shipment in a couple of
hours and get a good fuck out of it to boot.
"Marsha, I'm having a great time with you tonight, but it's
getting kind of crowded and noisy in here. Would it be too
forward of me to ask you to go with me to somewhere that would be
a little more private?"
This was it. The bait was in the water. Bob felt a moment of
tension as he watched for her reaction. His employers had told
him that the last shipment hadn't been exactly what they were
looking for, so it was important that he land this bitch. He
turned on his most charming smile and leaned a little closer,
making direct eye-to-eye contact. Any analogies the reader
wishes to draw referring to a cobra staring at its prey would be
completely appropriate.
"Somewhere less crowded? You mean, like," she paused, and smiled
a small, nervous smile, like your room, for example?"
"Why, Marsha, what a lovely suggestion, you sexy woman. Let's
go."
Without waiting for her response, Bob took Marsha's hand and they
moved swiftly through the crowd and out of the party.
"After all, what could this one time hurt?" she thought as she
walked beside him down the quiet hall of the large hotel.
Ben Kendrick, for his part, had thoughts of a completely
different sort. This was by no means the first time he had
managed such a tryst. He had spotted Marsha Edmunds (though he
hadn't know her name at the time) almost immediately after
entering the party (to which he hadn't been invited, but that was
beside the point). She was tall, about 5-9 or so, and brunette,
with hair that just covered the nape of her neck. Her business
attire could not hide the fact that she was shapely. Trim, but
with nice sized breasts and hips that were accentuated by the
skirt she wore, displaying them to best advantage. As soon as he
laid eyes on her, he knew she was the one. The ring on the
fourth finger of her left hand made no difference to him.
"Here we are, room 602."
As she watched Kendrick put the key in the lock, Marsha began to
have second thoughts. But, seconds later, she was in his room,
the door was closed, and his arms came around her. His mouth
sought hers and a passionate kiss ensued, taking her breath away.
This was exciting.
They separated, and began to undress. Her skirt quickly off and
tossed on the floor, her blouse unbuttoned and off one shoulder,
Marsha had a second bout with her conscience.
Kendrick, removing his own shirt and tie, noticed her sudden
hesitation.
"Phew! Now this is more like it," he said in a confident,
reassuring tone, "These conferences really are a bore. Hey! Why
so nervous? I don't bite."
"Oh! Umm. I'm sorry. This is just a little new to me. Um. I
don't. I've never been with anyone other than my husband. I've
never even been undressed with anyone else. Sorry."
"Don't be. Look, he's back home and you're here. Have some
fun!"
Marsha thought about that for a moment. "What Mark doesn't know
won't hurt him. Besides, I've always dreamed about this kind of
casual fling. I wonder if he likes eating pussy?"
"Yeah, you're right," she said aloud, "nobody will know, and it's
about time I loosened up."
"That's the spirit. Now, get rid of those clothes and let's see
you. I know you're going to be gorgeous!"
Now relieved of her twinge of guilt, at least for the moment,
Marsha quickly shed her blouse, bra, and panties, and turned to
face her casual fling.'
His stare and low whistle brought a smile to her face. What she
saw as he removed the last of his garments brought a surge of
heat to her loins. Ben Kendrick was HUNG.
"You're beautiful Marsha," Ben almost whispered, "I could just
eat you alive."
"Mmmm, that sounds like a great idea. You look pretty appetizing
yourself, Ben."
Marsha's previous mental question about Ben's willingness to eat
pussy was answered within moments, as she found her self on her
back, on the bed, looking down between her heaving breasts at
Kendrick's face plastered to her cunt. Mark would not eat her
pussy = = he hated oral sex of any kind = = and so this was a
rare treat for her. His lips, tongue, and fingers worked magic
on her long suppressed libido and her first orgasm of the day
crashed over her like a tidal wave. She was still catching her
breath when she felt Kendrick pin her ankles back next to her
ears and the blunt end of his massive cock press into her gaping
cunt flesh.
She could hardly breathe, so intense was her lust, and she whined
and moaned as she felt that long shaft slowly press into the
deepest reaches of her wet, clasping, cavern. No man had ever
filled her this way. Mark would NEVER even think of anything
that wasn't just straight missionary, preceded by a little grope
and kiss session, and followed quickly by snoring. Her passion
soared to new heights as, once fully ensheathed, Kendrick began
to pound the living shit out of her long under used cunt. She
grunted with each in stroke, gasping to catch her breath as her
diaphragm was compressed brutally by the position Kendrick had
placed her in. Yet, she relished the thrill of the lewd
position, and there was no denying the effect his pounding prick
was having on her churning insides. Orgasm number two swept over
her, if anything, more powerfully than number one.
Kendrick felt her cum again, and immediately switched positions.
Jerking his cock free and pulling Marsha on top of him. She
responded instantly, mounting his massive hardon and plunging her
body down, impaling herself fully in one stroke. He smiled at
the image of her impalement. Little did she know what that smile
meant. Marsha's thoughts were fully focused on the 10 inches of
thick gristle pressing up into her guts as she rode it like a
bucking bronco, fighting hard to stay in the saddle, not wanting
that wonderful pleasure stick to get away from her. Moments
later, she was rewarded with orgasm number three. Kendrick,
noted the small part of Marsha's brain still functioning
rationally, still had not climaxed.
"Ummmmm," Marsha sighed, "that's the third time I've cum.
Ohhhhhh, it's soooooo nice," she groaned as she pushed her pubic
bone down onto Kendrick's, grinding her clit into his body,
trying to wring every last ounce of sensation out of this
marvelous coupling.
"Ahhhh," Kendrick sighed, "how good are you at sucking cock?"
This brought Marsha up short, and she stopped in mid stroke, his
cunt-juice shiny dick halfway out from between her puffy cunt
lips. She knew she would have to repay the favor this man had
done her by unlocking her passion. Her only worry was that she
would be good enough to bring him pleasure. His would be one of
the few cocks ever to enter her mouth.
"Ulp. I haven't done it very much, but I'll try."
She quickly moved down on the bed, kneeling next to his crotch,
staring down at that massive, throbbing, prick. It was covered
with a thick coating of her inner essence, which in itself,
caused a strange reaction in Marsha. She had never tasted her
own pussy juices. Another first.
Moments later, she had taken the head and part of the shaft of
his dick into her mouth and was doing her best to please him
orally. His moaning and encouragement gave her confidence as she
moved her mouth up and down, using her lips to grip the firm,
pulsing flesh, her tongue lashing at whatever it could reach.
The combination of tastes and smells was intoxicating her. She
could smell herself, the odor of her own cunt juices, and his own
mixture of sweat and pre-cum. She could taste these things as
well. A heady mixture for the 29 year old brunette.
His hands moved to the back of her head, and he guided her, using
her mouth like a cunt, as he moved closer to his own explosion.
"That's it Marsha," he grunted, "Ahhhhhhh. Goooooood.
Unnnnhhh!"
He pushed up with his hips, holding her head down, forcing his
cock deeper than she thought she could take it. But, take it she
did. She could feel him swelling, and then the jerking began.
"I can't believe I'm doing this. And it's GREAT!" Marsha thought
to herself as she felt him go over the edge.
"Unh! Unh! Uhn! I'm commminnngg!"
Suddenly a deluge of sperm began blasting into her sucking mouth
and throat. She couldn't possibly handle it all, and it began to
leak from the corners of her mouth. She swallowed what she
could, however, savoring the musky flavor, and finding that she
really liked it.
At last, the throbbing stopped, and he pulled his softening dick
from her dripping lips.
"Was, ULP, I O.K.? Mark doesn't like oral sex."
"Ummmmm. Yeah. You were great!"
He took her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth,
oblivious, apparently, to his own fresh deposit of semen which
still coated her lips and tongue. This new experience inflamed
Marsha's passions anew and she felt her pussy begin to throb in
heated anticipation of more fucking.
Indeed, she was not to be disappointed, as Ben Kendrick gently
guided her into position for a doggie style insertion of his
massive erection into her needy pussy.
"Ahhhhhhh," Marsha groaned as she felt the large helmet of his
dick push aside the wet folds of her cunt's deepest regions. She
was in heaven, she thought, as he began to slowly stroke in and
out of her clasping cavern. So engrossed was she in this feeling
of bliss that she did not emit more than a mild squeak of protest
when she felt him press the end of his index finger into the
virgin confines of her ass. No man had ever touched her there
before and the new sensation, coupled with the intense
stimulation she was receiving from his cock served to bring her
lust to new heights. She felt wicked and slutty and she reveled
in those feelings. She was being well and truly fucked. If she
had died right then, she would have died a happy woman.
Slowly, gently, Ben Kendrick pressed his finger through the plane
of her anal sphincter until it was in as far as he could reach.
He held it there and then began a gentle fucking motion, in time
with his cock's thrusts into Marsha's cunt. He smiled as he
heard her grunt with lust at the bottom of each stroke and then
groan as he pulled back.
With his free hand, he reached for an unmarked bottle he had
previously placed on the night stand. It was a special
lubricant. He pulled his finger from Marsha's ass, not stopping
his fucking motion in her pussy, and she moaned in protest.
"Put your finger back, Ben, that felt good," she groaned.
"Don't worry Marsha, it gets better," he replied, leaning down
and kissing the back of her neck at the hairline.
Applying some lubricant to two fingers, he pushed them both into
her needy backside, causing her breath to catch and a momentary
hiss of discomfort to pass from her lips.
A slight acceleration of his hip thrusts, however, soon masked
the brief pain she felt, and Marsha was quickly moaning with lust
again.
Using the two fingers he had imbedded in her ass to spread her
virgin hole, Ben applied the nozzle of the bottle directly to her
anus and squeezed a liberal amount right inside the dark opening.
"Reach back and stroke your pussy, Marsha," Ben softly commanded
the lusty brunette, "I'm going to show you a new trick. One
you'll like."
Marsha had not been what you would call a chronic masturbator,
but she had learned how to please herself, and, when the need
arose, could do so. So far gone in lust was she that there was
no thought of not complying with Ben's request, and her right
hand quickly sought the junction of her thighs and began rubbing
the humid, turgid flesh it found there.
Ben Kendrick looked down at the puckered entrance to Marsha's
anal channel where his two glistening fingers were massaging the
thick muscle which guarded her most secret entrance. Slowly, he
pulled his fingers back, twisting them back and forth as he did
so, further loosening her for what was next. As his fingers came
free, her sphincter closed, pushing a generous glob of lubricant
out of her asshole, creating a thick coating on its surface,
perfect for what he had in mind. Marsha moaned in protest as she
felt the fingers withdraw, and again, as she felt the emptiness
left behind as his massive cock withdrew from her cunt.
"Noooooo," she moaned in protest as she felt his cock pull out,
"put it back, Ben. It feels sooooo good."
"Just keep stroking yourself, baby, and I'll make it real good
for you. The best," Ben replied, smiling to himself.
He quickly applied a large amount of lubricant to his cock and
pressed the head against the center of her ass.
"Wha-wha-what are you doing?"
"I'm fucking your ass, Marsha. Just relax and enjoy it. Keep
stroking your cunt."
Ben spoke in a soothing tone of voice and as he spoke he gently
stroked Marsha's back and ass, all the while beginning a gentle
yet relentless forward motion of his well lubricated spear.
Marsha's mind was a fog of lusty images. This was the most
wicked thing she could think of. He was going to fuck her ass.
She was actually going to let him! She felt the discomfort in
her ass grow, and her response amazed her. Instead of pulling
away from him, she was pressing backwards, her hand on her pussy
moving faster to stimulate her, masking the pain with pleasure.
Ben watched, fascinated (as he always was by this process, being
a dedicated ass man) as the mushroom shaped head of his cock
began to make headway against the natural resistance of her anal
sphincter. He felt the wrinkles of her asshole against the
sensitive tissues at the tip of his dick; he felt and saw the
opening beginning to spread wide to accommodate its girth. He
heard Marsha moan, and then cry out -- her body trembling with
lust and some pain -- as his coronal ridge passed through the
ring of muscle at her anal opening.
For Marsha's part, she felt a slowly building pressure and vague
discomfort at first. Ben's preparations had been thorough
though, and the lubricant was more than adequate to assure a
smooth passage of his cockhead through her anal opening. Still,
there was that stab of pain as the widest part of the head
finally breached her defenses.
Having gained entrance for the thickest part of his prick, Ben
stopped for a moment, still stroking Marsha's flanks and ass,
just holding himself still otherwise and letting her get used to
the sensation. This was not done out of consideration for
Marsha. That would not have entered Ben's mind. He knew,
however, that a willing participant provided him with more sexual
stimulation than an unwilling one. He meant her to have a
powerful orgasm and he would use this as a springboard for his
own release.
He looked down where his cock penetrated Marsha's ass and added
more lube to the shaft. She was still frigging her pussy, he
noted, and she had begun to press back against him again. Taking
this as a signal, Ben pushed forward, slowly, allowing her to
feel every vein and ridge along his thick shaft. His forward
motion would not stop now until he was fully seated in her ass,
his balls resting against the swamp which her cunt had become.
A flood of totally new sensations washed across Marsha's
consciousness as she felt the thick invader press against the
walls of her rectum. She had never felt so full of cock. It was
like a hot iron bar was stuck in her backside, yet it felt GREAT.
She stroked her clit and pussy lips with renewed vigor as she
felt Ben begin a slow stroking motion with his dick.
Ben pulled back until just the head was lodged behind her anal
ring, then pushed back inside, faster this time, plumbing her
depths. In and out with long, deliberate strokes Ben pumped her
ass, feeling her clench along his length and girth as she sought
to wring every last ounce of sensation out of this new
experience. He smiled again, knowing that she wanted him to fuck
her ass. Now, he prepared to really go to work on her. Gently
pressing on her back, Ben pushed Marsha down, keeping his cock
firmly lodged in her backside, until she was laying flat on the
bed, her hand wedged in between her throbbing pussy and the
mattress. Then, he moved his legs outside hers, pushing hers
together, and pressing the full length of his cock inside her
ass. A long, groaning sigh escaped Marsha's lips, her teeth
tightly clenched as she felt the incredible pressure of Ben's
thick stalk along the length of her ass channel.
Marsha was lost in a fog of lust. She felt so wanton. Words
like "slut" and "whore" went through her mind, and to those
charges she answered "YES!" She loved the way Ben was making her
feel. Mark would never think of anything like this in a million
years. She would have to have other flings, she thought. Surely
there must be more men like Ben Kendrick around who found her
sexually attractive. Little did she know.
For the present, however, she felt Ben speed up his strokes, as
he began to fuck her ass in earnest. She stroked her clit as
furiously as her position allowed, feeling the orgasm building,
not in her pussy this time, but deep inside her, and then it hit
-- she was cumming from her ASS!
"Cu-cu-CUMMMING!" She screamed, as she felt the freight train of
climaxes hit her head-on. "UNH-UNH-UNH-OH MY GOD! I'M CUMMING IN
MY ASS! MY ASS! AAAIIIEEEEEE! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK MY
ASS!"
Marsha's orgasms were now strung together in a continuous loop of
sensation. Her asshole burned where Ben's cock flew in and out
at a furious pace. Her pussy burned where she felt his hairy
ball sack strike her on every in stroke. Her clit burned and
tingled from her vigorous stroking. Her whole body was on fire,
as if it had become a whole flight of roman candles arcing
through the atmosphere, one explosion after another causing
colored lights to flash behind her eyes.
Ben felt her orgasms start and then redoubled the strength and
speed of his stroking. He was brutally pounding her ass now, all
pretense of gentleness gone. She grunted in pain/pleasure on
each stroke, chanting the "FUCK MY ASS!" like a mantra each time
his cock bottomed out. His thighs hit her ass with a wet
slapping sound and his sweat dripped in great drops on her back
as he labored to make her a slave to his cock, at least for a
little while.
Changing tactics, he pulled back and stopped, reaching under
Marsha, he pulled her back to her knees and then pressed down on
her lower back, bringing her ass down to her heels. He put his
hand on the back of her neck, pushing down and forward so that
Marsha was now curled almost into a ball, with his dick shoved up
her ass. Shoving his cock back inside, he was able to go even
deeper than before, and he began fucking up into her butt with
long steady strokes. Momentarily distracted by the switch in
positions, Marsha quickly began another series of orgasms, and
was soon moaning and crying with each new release. She had never
felt anything like this. It was SO dirty and SO sexy.
Unbelievable bliss spread to every nerve ending in her body.
But, Bob had more surprises in store for the young career woman.
Knowing that his second orgasm would be a while in arriving yet,
Bob continued to plow Marsha's virgin ass for a few more minutes.
Then, suddenly, he pulled his cock out of her ass with a loud
"plop" causing a moan of protest from Marsha.
"Noooooo...put it back, Bob, don't stop fucking my ass,
pleeease," she pleaded.
"I'm getting tired, Marsha. It's time for you to do some of the
work."
"Wha-what do you mean?"
Bob laid down on the bed next to her, gripping his massive cock
in his right hand.
"It's time to play anal cowgirl, baby," he said, smiling at her.
Being the bright person that she was, in spite of the
overwhelming lust fogging her brain, Marsha quickly realized what
Bob wanted her to do, and she began to crawl over his body.
"Unh-uhn, wrong way. Face toward my feet," Bob instructed.
Marsha quickly turned her body around and, looking back between
her legs, she squatted over the throbbing pole of flesh sticking
straight up from Bob's hairy crotch.
"That's it, Marsha. Now, sit on it, and fuck yourself silly."
Wasting no time, the leggy brunette positioned her newly opened
sphincter over Bob's cock head. Still thoroughly lubricated, she
had no trouble at all sliding the thick helmet through her newly
loosened sphincter, and she began to let her weight fall back
onto his prong.
Her breath hissed through her teeth as she once again felt the
thrill of such a forbidden invasion, his cock completely filling
her. She felt her ass cheeks touch his body, and she continued
to press downward, seeking every last centimeter of penetration.
Satisfied, finally, that she had as much as she could get, she
pulled back up, beginning a slow stroking motion. She had to use
her hands for support, so she couldn't continue stroking her
pussy, but Bob was taking care of that chore for her. He reached
around her hip and began masturbating her pulsating clit and
pussy lips while she repeatedly impaled herself on his hugeness.
He smiled at the notion of Marsha impaling herself on his cock.
Little did she know what was in store for her later that day. Up
and down her body flew, her tits jiggling on her chest (they were
too tight to bounce), her orgasms flying through her nervous
system like miniature fireworks displays, her breath forced out
of her in high pitched grunts each time she hit bottom. She was
a total fuck slut at this moment, her casual fling having gone
way beyond anything she might have expected.
At last, Bob felt the rumbling in his balls signaling his
nearness to the point of no return, and he welcomed it. As good
as the explosion was that he had experienced from her oral
ministrations earlier (made all the sweeter by his suspicion that
his was the first semen her mouth had ever tasted), this climax
would far surpass it. His second orgasm was always more intense
anyway, even if it produced less cum.
She was tight and hot above him, and the spasms of her continual
climaxes massaged the whole length of his cock on every stroke.
Her squeals of delight and discomfort were like an aria to his
prowess as a lover, and that is what drove him the edge. Now,
there was another surprise in store for Marsha. Another first in
a day of firsts.
Grasping Marsha's hips, he pulled her up and off of his cock.
She screamed in protest, her mind far gone in orgasm, but she was
putty in his hands as he rolled her over on her back and
straddled her chest, pushing his glistening cock into her open,
gasping, mouth. Before she even knew what was happening, her
mouth was filled with his dick, and he was pushing it down her
throat. The shock of the assault overwhelmed her. The nastiness
of what she was doing hit her brain like a 100 car freight train.
Instead of fighting Bob, Marsha welcomed his cock, and did her
best to relax her throat to accept more of his length and
thickness. Her hands flew to her pussy and she furiously frigged
herself to yet another crashing climax.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! TAKE IT BITCH! HERE - - I - - CUM!"
With that, he let go, his cock buried to the hilt in her hot,
wet, mouth and throat, a long, continuous blast of his jism
pouring into her like a hot river of magma.
Marsha felt his cock swell and begin to jerk as his orgasm
overtook him and it triggered yet another climax for her, knowing
that she had given him this pleasure on her first time getting
ass and mouth fucked.
"FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK MEFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK..." her mental cries
emerging as low moans and grunts as she felt his cock jerk and
spit deep inside her throat. Oxygen deprivation was beginning to
push her toward blackout, and she felt him lower himself onto
her, pressing every last inch of his dick into her face, until
she felt his balls resting against her chin. She felt them
twitch as a few more spurts of cum went directly down her
esophagus to her stomach where they formed a warm pool.
Finally, however, she felt his cock begin to shrink and withdraw,
and she felt a profound sense of loss as he pulled out of her.
She gasped and coughed a few times, her vision returning to
normal after the near asphyxiation she had endured. After shocks
of orgasm still shook her body, which she was beginning to get in
touch with again.
She smiled a little and thought about how sore she would be
later. But for now, she just relaxed and enjoyed the tremors and
After shocks of what had been the most powerful orgasms she had
yet experienced.
She felt Ben's weight lift from her, and she rolled over. Marsha
sat up next to Ben on the bed, and he reached over and began
absently fondling one of her tits. She could feel excess
lubricant leaking from her ass, creating a slightly burning
sensation as the fluid dribbled past the sensitive tissues at her
anal opening.
She sat up next to him on the bed, and he reached over and began
absently fondling one of her tits.
"Phew," Ben said, "let's take a break. Tell you what, why don't
I make some dinner reservations? What do you feel like having?"
"Ummmm? I know! Barbeque! O.K.?"
"Just what I had in mind," Kendrick smiled, as much to himself as
to her.
"I'm going to take a nice long shower," Marsha said, " wanna join
me?"
"O.K., let me call first."
"Yummm. I swear I love barbeque. It makes any meat taste
great!"
Moments later, Marsha, in the shower, thought to herself, "Ummm,
that was wonderful," as she soaped her still tingling body.
Meanwhile, in the other room, Kendrick was on the phone making
reservations, but not the kind Marsha had in mind.
"Hello? This is Kendrick. I've got a pick up. Marriot room
602. Make it in, um, about ten minutes. No, this one's prime
grade A. Better than the cheerleader on Tuesday. O.K., see you
soon."
He hung up the phone and reached into his nearby bag for a sap.
Marsha was about to go for a ride.
She saw him coming toward her out of the corner of her eye, and
she smiled, thinking that they would pick up where they left off.
"Ummmm. Hi there," she said, sexily. Then she noticed that he
was carrying something. "What's that for?"
Kendrick gripped her left arm in his left hand, while the other
struck out with the sap, connecting squarely with the side of her
head. THUD!
"Unnnh, " she managed to gasp as consciousness fled far away from
her. He gently helped her fall to the wet bathroom floor and
then went to get dressed and ready to leave. His work was almost
done.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the pickup team.
Soon, Kendrick and two other men were standing over the nude,
dripping, unconscious body of Marsha Edmunds. They worked
quickly, conversing as they did their jobs.
"O.K., let's get her wrapped up and ready to ship. Did you get
any specifics on her? Sometimes they like to know."
"Yeah, a little, plus what's in her wallet. She's here for the
convention. Married. Late 20's. Nothing unusual.
"Good. Oh, the boss told me to tell you there's a beauty pageant
tomorrow in Los Angeles at the Hilton Airport Center. You could
do a little hunting and get some sun."
"No problem. Alert the LA pickup team. I'll try to pick the
winner," Kendrick laughed.
Soon they were stuffing Marsha's limp form into a large packing
crate filled with energy absorbing material. She was trussed up,
her legs tied together and her arms tied behind her. She was
blindfolded. The packing case was labeled "MEAT PRODUCTS
Founders Island Butcher Shop" and had all the required inspection
stamps already in place.
"This one's a beauty, Kendrick. You still have a good eye for a
nice piece of ass. Look at that cunt, will you? What a mound.
And those lips. Wow, I haven't seen any that thick for a while
She's a regular Kristara Knight."
The other member of the crew produced a syringe filled with an
amber fluid. "This will keep her quiet until she's unloaded.
Did you tell her she's been invited for dinner?"
"No," Kendrick laughed, "I figured she'd want to be surprised.
She does love barbeque though," he chuckled. They all shared a
laugh at that. A quick trip out to the waiting truck and Marsha
Edmunds ride to Hell had begun.
CHAPTER 2: Marsha Discovers Her Fate
It was quite a while before Marsha Edmunds began to regain
consciousness. Ten hours, to be exact, and in that time, Marsha
had traveled 3,000 miles. As she began to come around she
noticed several things. One, she had a terrible headache (which
would soon be the least of her problems). Two, she was hanging
by her wrists which were cruelly tied together. And, three,
someone was rubbing something between her cuntlips.
"Uhhnnnn," she groaned.
"Oh? Where am I" she thought? "Oh God! The hotel! I'm tied
up? Voices! I hear voices! Who's talking? OH GOD! I'M NAKED
and it feels like I'm outdoors! What's that? Don't put that
there! What is going on!"
Where was Marsha? She was on an island, you don't need to know
where, far from civilization as she knew it. She was, indeed,
outside. She, along with dozens of other women and girls, was
hanging from a series of hooks linked to cargo gantries. They
were hung in groups of three or four, depending on how many of
them had been stuffed into the crates for shipment from wherever
they had been captured.
Just now, Marsha was being inspected by Herod, the head of the
island's inhabitants and his mistress Messilina. They were
attended by a man with a clipboard, apparently some sort of
receiving clerk.
"Look dear," Herod said sliding his thick walking stick between
the oversized lips of Marsha Edmunds' cunt, "a new shipment.
Ahhh! This one is lovely. Marcus, reserve her for us. I'll
enjoy this juicy fillet. Who is she?"
"Her name's Marsha," replied Marcus. "Let me see. She's twenty
nine, married, 112 pounds, and I'll make sure they deliver her to
your table sir."
"Darling? We'll need more than one, it's a large party, "said
Messilina, "The dark haired sow next to her should do fine.
Marcus, is she still available?"
"Yes, madam. Her name is Liz. 24 years old, 115 pounds,
unmarried."
"Thank you, Marcus. I'm in the mood for a nice thick fillet
tonight, too. I'll take her. Very rare on both as usual."
Herod and Messilina walked off to pursue other business and/or
pleasure on their private island. Meanwhile, one of Marcus'
assistants came up to take charge of the island's latest victims.
First, he removed Marsha's blindfold, revealing to her for the
first time where she was and what was happening.
Her eyes opened wide in shock, as the scene before her surpassed
her worst nightmares. She was suspended several feet off the
ground, hung by her wrists, and overlooking a horrible killing
ground of female flesh. Right before her were several large
firepits, each with an enormous spit rotating over it. And, on
those spits, with juices dripping and hissing onto the hot coals,
was a woman, impaled on a pole. Just beyond the firepits was a
raised platform. On it, just as she was given back her sight,
she witnessed a woman being impaled with one of those hideous
poles, her screams tearing the air. Another woman was being lead
to the platform, to replace the one who had just been killed. No
one was wearing any clothing, not even the men working around the
fires.
"AIIEEEE! My God," she thought!
"Well, Mrs Edmunds, you won't be needing this any more," said the
attendant, tossing her blindfold away. "Now, you can study your
eventual fate. You've been given quite an honor. Our members
are very selective about who they choose for the roasting grotto.
Your body will provide delicious meat for our dining pleasure.
Several of our members have already put in requests for the
choicer cuts and the head of our island has reserved your cunt as
his dinner tonight! So, relax and enjoy the view."
As he spoke to her, he casually fondled her body, pressing and
pulling on her flesh, testing the thickness of her cunt lips, the
firmness of her tits.
"They're CANNIBALS! Oh no! Oh, God, someone please save me."
"I'm sorry to say," continued the attendant, smiling blandly up
at her, " that you'll have to wait your turn. As you can see
there's quite a line ahead of you. But, Liz here can keep you
company. She's in line right before you so you'll be able to see
here spitted first."
"Y-y-you're going to eat me," Marsha stammered? "This can't be
real," she cried in despair.
"Oh, it's real, Marsha. And, yes, you'll be roasted and eaten.
But, first, you have an appointment up on the platform to be
impaled and gutted. I'm sure after watching the eleven girls
ahead of you die this way you'll get the idea. Oh! Excuse my
manners," he said, turning to a beautiful dark haired woman next
to Marsha, "this is Liz. Liz, say hello to Marsha."
Turning her head slightly, and looking through the tears now
welling up from her eyes, Marsha looked at the woman hanging next
to her.
"Ulp, h-h-hi. Um, I guess we're in the same boat," said Liz,
struggling to get the words out as she sobbed, "s-s-sorry, my
voice is a little shaky."
"Hi, , oh, um? . Is this real? I mean, how can they do this to
us? To me?? S-O-B! My husband. Nobody knows where I am. Are
they really going to eat us?"
". I'm afraid so," Liz replied. "I've been here for five hours
and they kill about two girls an hour. God, I don't want to die,
not like this, not yet," she sobbed.
"I'm supposed to be in Chicago, giving a speech! Why is this
happening? Who ARE these people?"
"I don't know, but to them we're not women. We're just meat for
their tables. They discussed what parts of me they intend to
eat, and they knew I was listening. I hope they choke on me!"
"I know," said Marsha, "I heard them. It's like we don't matter
to them except as things they own."
Marsha closed her eyes for a while and tried to block out the
sounds of the spits turning over the fires, the juices sizzling
on the coals, and the occasional screams from the women as they
met their fates on the impaling platform. She thought about what
was to come.
"Oh, God. What have I done to myself? Yesterday, I was just
fine. My husband loved me, I had a good job, friends. Now, I'm
here. I'm going to be butchered and roasted like an animal.
And, these people are so relaxed about it. I'm just meat to be
cooked. Like I roast a chicken back home. That man who fondled
me was just checking the thickness of my cunt lips, the way I'd
check a pork roast for fat!"
The combination of the heat, and the stress of her position, hung
by her wrists, proved too much for the 29 year old brunette, and
she passed out, blissfully, for a while.
CHAPTER 3: Marsha has a Lot at Stake
"AIEEEEEEEEEE!"
The long drawn out wail of another victim of the impaling
platform woke Marsha from her stupor with a jolt.
"Oh God, that's the tenth girl they've impaled since I've been
here. One more, and then =="
"O.K., Liz, time to get you down and ready to go."
One of the attendants had come to take Liz down from her hook, to
meet her fate at the hands of these cruel butchers and their
bizarre tastes.
"Oh, Liz, "
"I know, Marsha. Don't look when they impale me. It will only
make it worse for you. Bye."
Marsha watched, helplessly, as Liz was half carried, half dragged
to the platform. Marsha averted her eyes and so missed Liz's
preparation for the stake. She looked up, suddenly, when she
heard her new friend's death cry, and she cringed as she heard
one of the attendants say "one more pig on a stick."
She had a clear view of Liz her body jerking and twisting as the
lethal spear worked its way through her. Marsha gasped as she
saw the blood streaming from between Liz's legs, and then come
bubbling up from her wide open mouth reducing the dark haired
girl's screams to gurgling moans.
"Oh, Liz, why don't they just do it quickly," she wondered?
"Oh, God, I'm next! I can't believe they're going to eat me.
She's jerking so much. Why did I ever go to that hotel room? No
one will ever know what happened to me "
She averted her eyes once more, missing the bloody spectacle of
the pointed end of the impaling rod emerging from between the
gore covered lips of what once was a woman named Liz. Her
attention was soon captured though, as she felt her position
changing. She was being lowered from the hook! It was time!
" Pleeeeease, just skip over me! They'll never notice. I
probably won't taste very good I've always eaten junk food. "
"Sorry Marsha, time to go."
The attendant quickly lowered Marsha until her feet were firmly
on the ground. Quickly, he untied her hands and retied them
behind her. She winced as circulation began to return to her
arms and shoulders.
"Do I get a last request, or, anything?"
"Afraid not. You're not a prisoner, you're just meat for our
tables. The only difference between you and a suckling pig right
now is that you know what's going to happen to you."
"B-b-but I'm a human being! P-p-p-lease?"
"Not any more, Marsha. You're just a suckling pig, ready to be
butchered."
One hand on her neck and the other holding her hands at the
wrists, her executioner began to lead her past the fire pits
toward the killing platform. Marsha sobbed quietly.
"Don't cry Marsha. You really are being given quite an honor.
Most of the women and girls that come here are executed as
entertainment, or simply butchered for our food supply. Only the
best are used in the roasting grotto. You've been selected over
hundreds of others for your place as a prime roasting sow. Your
filet is being served to the leader of our group."
" W-w-what do you mean, my filet?"
"Your cunt is the filet, Marsha, you have the firm large labia
and meaty mound we like. Come one now Marsha, it's just a short
walk."
He was leading her past the fire pits. Many women were turning
slowly over glowing coals, thick impaling rods protruding from
their mouths and assholes, their hands and feet secured so that
they didn't flop around. One woman, a beautiful blond, was
apparently done cooking and was being removed from the pit.
"This one's ready to go. Let's move her to the carving tables,"
the aproned cook said to his assistant.
"Oh, God," she thought, "it's really going to happen. I'm going
to die. Even worse, I'm going to be eaten by these fucking
people. Look at all these women. How could this be happening to
me?"
" Bastard! H-how would you feel if I was your wife or daughter?"
"Well," her tormentor chuckled, "you could ask my wife. But
she's making dinner. In fact, that's her to your right."
"Who? That man!?"
"No, the blonde on the spit he's lifting."
The last pit they passed on the way to the platform caught
Marsha's attention.
"LIZ! How can you do this? Please, I don't want to die! I
won't tell anyone about this! "
Marsha's weeping increased as they came to the platform and
mounted the steps. She was maneuvered toward a low table, where
another man was waiting with some sort of power tool. I will
take a moment here to describe the platform. Seven steps led up
to the top, like a gallows, and there were several items of note.
One was the large, oak, beam at one edge. At the bottom of the
beam, and just a few inches out from it, was a two inch aperture.
Around the aperture was a drain. A six foot tall vertical meter
of some sort was off to one side. On the other, mounted on a
post, was a switch box labeled "spit control." It had a three
position switch: up, down, and stop. There was also a dial on
the control box. This controlled the speed at which the spit
pole moved.
"Just relax, Marsha. We can have you turning golden brown in no
time. First, we have to core out your ass though. That way the
spit goes in easier."
"WHAT!? What do you mean core out?"
Marsha found out soon enough, as the attendant reached around
from behind her and firmly grasped her left leg just behind the
knee, lifting and pulling it outward, spreading her crotch for
the other man, who quickly pressed a small power drill fitted
with a special keyhole saw bit to the pucker of her asshole.
*WHIRRRRRRRR* went the drill.
"NOOOOOO!!!! AAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" Marsha screamed in agony,
white hot pain shooting up her abdomen as she felt the saw's
sharp teeth tear into her most delicate tissues.
"That's it, hold her. Good. See how easy this works? Just
slices your sphincter out as easy as can be."
He pressed the awful instrument until the saw had sunk in about 2
inches. Then, he pressed another button on the side of the
drill. A snap, like a mouse trap closing, was heard amidst
Marsha's agonized wailing, and the man with the drill removed his
hideous tool. Blood immediately streamed from the now gaping
opening where Marsha's anus had been.
The driller pulled the torn flesh from the drill bit and dropped
it into a nearby bucket, which Marsha saw held many such star
shaped pieces of bloody flesh.
"Thank you Marsha. This is what we call kissing your ass
goodbye!"
Both attendants had a good laugh at that. Quickly now, the dazed
brunette was moved into position over the impaling post, her back
shoved squarely against a stout wooden beam. She screamed again
as she felt the sharp point press into the vacant area where her
anus had been.
"Oh, please," she pleaded, "don't kill me. Oh, God! Noooooo!
Uhnnnnn! Pleeeeaaaassseeee!"
But her pleas fell on deaf ears, and soon the first ten inches of
the pole were buried in Marsha's bottom. She pushed herself up
on tiptoes, but could not get her ass high enough to escape the
probing point of the metal shaft.
"O.K., tie her arms behind the beam."
In less time than it takes to tell about it, Marsha's arms were
securely fastened to the wooden beam, thin nylon ropes tied
tightly to her upper arms and wrists, pulling her elbows back,
forcing her chest to stick out, preventing her from moving any
part of her upper body. She held herself still, afraid of what
would happen if she tried to move with that shaft poking into her
ass.
Now, the first attendant approached her with a large hypodermic
filled with clear fluid. Without preamble, in turn he shoved it
through her left nipple, then deep into her left tit and then the
right.
"Here we go," he said, "this will slow your heart and keep you
alive longer. It also contains a special fluid that keeps your
tits nice and firm while you roast."
"Mnmnnnnhhhh. it hurts so much," Marsha moaned.
Then she noticed that her butcher's cock had begun to grow. Like
Ben Kendrick's (oh, how she cursed the moment she'd met him!), it
was massive. She guessed his intent as he moved toward her.
Indeed, he planned to fuck her, and he kicked her legs apart,
pressing his thick cockhead against her gaping pussy and at the
same time causing more of her weight to rest on the impaling rod,
shoving it further into her abdomen.
"Oh! Oh God! Leave me some dignity! "
"Don't be silly, Marsha," he said as he continued to press into
her body with his cock, "there's nothing dignified about being
cooked like a common animal. So, what can it matter if I fuck
you? Who knows, maybe you can come and go at the same time," he
laughed.
He swiftly hilted himself in her hot, tight pussy, and began
fucking her, his hands grasping her legs and pulling them up and
apart, causing her to slide down even further on the impaling
pole.
"Ahhhhh, nice and tight," he gasped as her painful spasms
tightened her doomed cunt around his pistoning member.
Marsha was sobbing continuously, gasping in pain and
mortification. She could feel her blood, warm and sticky,
flowing down her thighs as the pole began its deadly journey.
"Unhhh, uhnn, uhn," she grunted as he slammed into her, "Oh,
pleeeaase! Oh, God! I can feel I moving! Ahhhhaaggggghhhhh!"
Marsha could feel the spit moving deeper into her body, and knew
that her last moments of life were upon her.
"Of course the spit is moving, Marsha. Very slowly, you're being
skewered alive. I'll increase the speed after I've come.
Ahhhhhhh," he sighed in satisfaction as he felt his orgasm
approach.
Marsha felt the spit slowing impaling her, twisting as it moved
inexorably upward into her body. She felt he rapist jerk against
her and then felt his cock swell inside her, spilling his seed,
and spelling her final doom.
"Well, Marsha, I'm afraid it's time to finish spitting you. The
chef is ready and I've just shot my load, so here goes. The pole
should reach your throat in about 60 seconds. If you're still
conscious you'll have a front row seat for your gutting," he
said, pulling his dripping cock from her widely splayed cunt.
"I won't be alive when they start cooking me, will I?
AGGGHHHHAAAGGGGHHH! Please, just kill me! AIIEEEE! It hurts so
much!"
"Hmmm, can't say for sure. Every so often one of the girls' eyes
are still open and moving when she starts to roast. Could just
be nerves though. Here goes!"
He reached over to the control box and pressed a button which
controlled the speed of the shaft. Marsha felt the difference
immediately.
"AAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! OH GOD!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!! I CAN FEEL
IT!!!! PLEASE! OH PLEASE NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! IT HURTS SO MUCH!!!
PLEASE STOP!!! AAAWWWKKKKKKGGGGHHHHHH!!!"
The doomed brunette felt every centimeter of the painful pole's
progress through her body. Intuitively, she knew that vital
organs had been missed. In fact, the pole entered the bottom of
her stomach and miraculously found it's way into her esophagus,
thus missing her heart and other vital organs.
The attendant was watching the spitometer mark the progress of
the pole through Marsha's helpless body. Within seconds, he
knew, the end of the spit would reach her throat. Her cries had
already grown weaker as the worst of her pain had ended, at least
for now.
"Congratulations Marsha, the spit missed your heart. That means
you get the unique pleasure of being completely spitted alive!
If you have any last words you should spit them out. Ooops,
sorry about that," he laughed as he watched for the telltale
swelling of Marsha's throat that would signify the arrival of the
end of the spit.
"You bastards," Marsha managed to gasp out, as she could feel the
spit moving into her throat, "*cough* oh please *cough* I don't
want to die *cough*"
"OK. Marsha, just tilt your head back and say ahhhh!"
Amazingly, that is just what she did as she felt the pole enter
the back of her mouth. A final groan, more like a sigh, and the
bloody shaft slipped quietly through her lips and back into the
open air. Marsha was impaled.
The spinning shaft moved about two feet past her mouth and then
stopped. Marsha could not believe that she was still alive, or
even conscious. The pain was like nothing she had ever felt.
Her entire body was on fire with it. Her insides ached with a
throbbing, pounding pain unlike anything she could ever have
imagined. A very small amount blood, much less than she
imagined, ran from her mouth and down over her tits, dripping
onto the platform and captured by the drain below her feet.
"Oh, you might be interested in the one other design feature of
this spit. It's made of a permeable material and it has a small
self contained oxygen supply. That way, you don't choke to death
on the spit. It's the latest invention here on the island. Now,
we still have to clean and stuff you," he said, approaching her
with a long, sharp, butcher knife.
Marsha's attempted response came out as a gurgle as her throat
filled with blood. Somehow, the design of the spit kept oxygen
flowing into her body, but she knew she was not long for this
world.
"Please," she thought, robbed of speech, "no, don't hurt me any
more!"
Her position, impaled on the spit, prevented her from moving her
head up or down, and so she could not see what the man was doing
with the knife. She soon felt it, however, as he plunged the
deadly blade into her unresisting belly.
"UUNNNNHHH," she grunted.
"He's cutting me," she thought, "ahhhhhh noooooooo!"
He began to force the knife up through her belly flesh toward her
breast bone. It made a ripping, tearing sound as it moved
through the well defined muscles of her abdomen.
"This takes some practice," he commented, "but I'm very good at
cleaning."
"Now, hold still, Marsha, UNPHG" he grunted the deadly blade
moved upward, "time to get you cleaned so we can get on to the
next young lady."
"Oh, No! I can feel him cutting me open! How can this be
happening to me?" She could feel her belly being torn open,
exposing the pack of guts inside, causing new rivulets of blood
to flow down over her recently ravaged cunt to splatter down into
the drain. How she was able to live to this point was beyond
her, but the pain just kept getting worse.
Satisfied, he removed the knife from her body and set it aside.
For a moment. He used his fingers to widen the opening made by
the knife and he began very carefully pulling out handfuls of her
internal organs and placing them in a nearby bucket. He used the
knife to cut away parts that wanted to remain attached, and in no
time at all, he had finished his task. Marsha, he noted, was
still making gurgling noises.
"Oh, God," she thought, "he's gutted me like a pig.
AHHHHGGGGGHHH! Why am I still alive?"
Finished with his task for the moment, the man stepped back to
admire his handy work.
"Now we can wash you up and stuff you. And, well, I guess you
know the next step," he chuckled softly.
"ROASTED! I'm going to be roasted on a spit like one of those
pig roasts in college! Please," Marsha mentally begged, "just
finish it!"
"Number five spit just opened up, Bob!"
"O.K., Marsha will be ready in just a couple of minutes Ed."
Bob took a hose and forced the end of it into the cavity left
behind from Marsha's gutting, and turned on the high pressure
water supply. Marsha felt the water go right through her, the
pressure carrying it up and down inside the cavity, causing it to
run out of her mouth, cunt, and around the pole in her ass.
"Ahhhhhh! I'm completely empty! The water is running right
through me!"
Bob played the water up and down her body, removing the blood and
traces of gore from her still beautiful skin. Next, Marsha's
impaled body was untied from the beam behind her as Bob began to
place stuffing into the empty cavity of her abdomen.
"AAHHGGGHHH! It can't be! He's stuffing me! Oh, please,
nooooooo! I can't take any more!"
"Well, Marsha, don't be upset. We only use the best ingredients
in the stuffing and I'm sure you appreciate this since you're the
main ingredient to this recipe."
Now, Marsha was taken down from the beam and laid on the nearby
table. Bob quickly began sewing the sides of her new abdominal
opening back together with a very heavy lacing. Meanwhile,
another attendant was tieing her ankles together around the pole.
"There we go," Bob said, finishing the last stitches, "don't
worry Marsha, I've never had one split open yet!"
"Please," she thought, "just kill me!"
Finished with his grisly task, Bob retied her arms and wrists.
This time, they were tied in front of her. Fireproof cords wound
around her arms just above the elbows and then around her torso
several times, fastening her arms to her body. Her hands were
tied at the wrists with her fingers at the top of her cunt in a
lewd pantomime of female masturbation.
Finished, the Bob and his assistant picked up the two ends of the
pole and started carrying Marsha to her eventual destination:
spit #5.
Bob could see that she was still alive, which pleased him no end.
"Well, Marsha! I see you're still with us! Hope you're in the
mood for a little barbeque? I know I am!"
" Oh, God, please don't roast me alive," she thought. "Please
just finish me!"
CHAPTER 4: Marsha Becomes a Rare Dish
The hapless brunette was carried to a butcher block table and
dropped unceremoniously on her ass and back, her legs splaying
widely, opening her crotch for all to see.
"Careful," Bob cried, "don't bruise those nice hams! Hey, Jake!
Here's another one for a lube job."
"Oh, God," Marsha thought, "what else can they do to me?"
She found out soon enough, as Jake produced a nasty looking blow
torch and a lighter.
"O.K., first we burn off some bush and then we can grease the
cunt."
So saying, Jake lit the torch and began to play its flame over
Marsha's completely exposed pubic mound, burning off the hair
with a popping, sizzling sound.
"This is a lot quicker than the old days when we shaved them,"
Jake commented.
Turning off the flame, Jake inspected his work by running his
fingers over the now reddened, but smooth, pussy of the doomed
woman. He smiled, proud of a job well done.
"Smooth as a baby's ass. Let's grease her."
Two men once again lifted the pole, and the spitted Marsha
Edmunds, and rotated her while Jake squirted copious amounts of
oil on her body from a large squeeze bottle.
Marsha recognized the smell as being the same type of cooking oil
she used at home. "Oh, God," she thought, "that means they're
going to put me on to cook now! P-p-please," she pleaded
mentally, "just let me die first. I don't want to be roasted
alive! P-p-please! Oh, no! They're moving me towards the fire
pits!"
Jake gave her ass a hard slap and they all laughed as Marsha's
pain wracked body jerked in response.
"This little piggy's ready for the fire! Take her away!"
Once again Marsha's spitted form was lifted by the ends of her
impaling post and carried off. This time, she knew that the end
of the road was the fire pit. On the way, they past the pit
where Liz was slowly rotating over the hot coals. Her eyes were
wide open, pupils fixed and dilated. She, at least, had attained
relief from the horrible pain which even now was enveloping
Marsha Edmunds. As they passed Liz's pit, Marsha noticed another
woman being led to the impaling platform. She protested that she
was a mother and begged for mercy, but received nothing but the
smug rebuke of her executioner.
Thoughts jumbled through Marsha's mind as they slowly passed
Liz's pit. "Why is this happening to me? Oh, my God! That was
Liz we just passed. She looked so peaceful. Why can't I just
die? They must be looking for me by now. I'm glad they'll never
know what's happened to me. I wonder if anyone will ever know?"
Suddenly, the little procession stopped. "This must be the empty
pit," Marsha thought.
She felt the heat from the coals though she could not look down
to see them. The heat was incredible and she groaned inwardly
(the only way she could at this point) as this new pain enveloped
her.
Looking straight ahead, she saw the mittened hands of the man who
had carried the front of her pole lower the pointed end into a
special v-shaped slot at one end of the pit, making sure that was
properly seated.
"Here you go Marsha, welcome to the roasting grotto. You're in
good hands, the chef is a wizard with fine meat," he said,
looking down at her. Then, looking beyond her, "Hey Ed, this
one's for table three. They want her done very rare."
"OK Jimmy, I'll take her from here," the chef said. "Time to
baste you, Marsha. Don't want to singe anything."
"Oh, God, it's happening," Marsha thought to herself.
Meanwhile the chef was grabbing his basting brush and sauce and
half talking to her and himself at the same time.
"Hmmm, firm tits, well rounded ass, and a beautiful thick cunt.
You're a prime piece of meat my dear! And, pretty too!"
The heat was becoming unbearable, and Marsha could not understand
how she had managed to stay alive this long. She wished she were
dead, and not being subjected to this inhuman torture.
"Yummmm!" the chef said as he slathered on the sauce, "lots of
barbecue sauce! I just love a good barbecue, don't you?"
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE," Marsha screamed inwardly, "pleeeeeaaasss turn
me!"
Marsha could smell herself beginning to cook, and she frantically
began to try and project her thoughts to the cook so that he
would turn her over, giving her tortured tits and belly a break
from the intense heat of the glowing coals below her.
Finishing with a few strokes of the brush to Marsha's ass, the
chef prepared for the next step in the cooking process: securing
the carcass more stringently to the impaling pole.
"Well," he said to her, "that's enough sauce for now. Whew, it's
hot! Better get you rotating before I burn those nice tits.
That means I've got to secure you better. I don't know if you
can still hear me, but if you're interested, this is your pussy
post," he said, holding an object in front of her sweat stained
face. It was about two feet long, about a half inch thick piece
of metal which came to a sharp point at one end and had an
adjustable collar at the other. He continued to explain its use
to her.
"The pussy post will keep you in place while you turn on the
spit," he concluded.
Marsha didn't care to hear the explanation, she just wanted him
to turn her. She could feel her tits burning as they were
subjected to the unrelenting heat of the roasting pit.
The chef fitted the collar around the pole so that the pussy
post's pointed end was just aft of Marsha's gaping cunt lips,
then he slid it forward so that the point and first two inches or
so were notched accurately inside the roasting brunette.
Amazingly, she could feel the cool steel of the pussy post enter
her and it provided a perverse relief for just a moment.
"This will keep you from slippin' and slidin'," the chef told
her. "Get ready, cos here It COMES!"
SCHLLLLUUPPP!
And with a grunt, he slammed the entire length of the post up
into her body with one powerful shove. If Marsha could have
screamed out loud, she would have. The pussy post was just long
enough to penetrate all the way to her chest wall, adding new
pain to that which she had already endured. She finally felt
herself sliding down the abyss toward death, and mentally sent
out one final plea for mercy.
"AAAAAWWWKKKKK" she screamed inwardly one last time. "P-please.
I-I-can't. I-I'm == unnnhhh."
"There," said the chef, "that ought to keep you turning O.K.
I'll just flip on the switch and you'll start to roast and roll."
"Well," said a chef's assistant, "from the look on her face, I
think she's finally had it."
Marsha would have agreed if she had retained enough consciousness
to analyze her situation. As it was, her final, fleeting
thoughts were a jumble of reflections on the past days events.
"Love you too, sweetheart. See you Friday. It's about time I
loosened up. I've never been undressed with anyone else. I love
barbecue sauce, it makes any meat taste great.
Sssssssiiiiiiggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Marsha was dead, her body slowly beginning to turn on the spit,
her wide splayed legs flopping back and forth as she rolled, her
head moving from side to side as it slid around the impaling
pole. Otherwise, she was immobile, her juices dripping, hissing,
into the coals below.
Around the roasting pit, several chefs were busy watching
Marsha's carcass rotate slowly over the fire, attending to her
preparation quite carefully, since she was destined for the table
of the island's head occupant.
"This one's starting to brown up nicely. These tits are going to
carve like butter," said one chef, poking her firm tit meat with
a long handled fork.
"Yeah, this one set a new record for hanging in there. If we
hadn't used the pussy post she might still be alive."
"Someone should tell Herod that. You know how interested he is
in how long we can make them last on the fire."
"Better wet down her hair again before it lights up. They don't
make very good trophies when that happens!"
They all laughed, and one of them produced a large spray bottle
and proceeded to thoroughly soak her hair to keep it from
burning.
CHAPTER 5: Marsha Makes the Main Course
(Four Hours Later)
Marsha's now well browned body continued to rotate over the
burning coals, her juices filling the air surrounding the pit
with a fragrance unique to the island's roasting grotto. Nowhere
else in the world featured this menu. Testing her flesh with a
meat fork one last time, the head chef declared her ready to eat.
The same test was done on Liz, with the same result.
"Have someone tell Herod and Messalina their dinner selections
are done and we will be serving soon."
"Perfect," said the chef testing Marsha's tits with a fork,
"Marsha's tits are cooked just the way they like them, rare and
juicy."
On cue, two burly attendants appeared, with oven mits on their
hands, and lifted the ends of Marsha's impaling pole clear of the
spit holders. They quickly carried her perfectly cooked body to
a nearby carving block. There, she was placed on the block on
her stomach and her impaling pole was removed. Her mouth was
wide open, her perfect teeth now somewhat deformed from four
hours of grinding on the pole, her lips distended in the rictus
of death, her swollen tongue protruding slightly. As the sharp
end of the pole came free of her asshole (or what was left of it)
another gaping hole was left behind, just above her cunt, it's
lips swollen from the heat.
"This is one nice piece of ass. Bet her husband and friends
would be surprised to see her now," one of the carvers laughed.
Meanwhile, on another, nearby, part of the island, Messalina was
conducting a punishment session for a slave who had stolen some
food.
The poor, unfortunate soul was suffering incredibly at the hands
of Messalina, a rather inventive torturess. The victim was more
or less mounted on a small platform set on a three foot high
fluted column, the platform creating the effect of a capitol on
top of the column. Steel bands on top of the platform went over
the victim's calves, just below the knees, holding her in a
kneeling position. A metal spike, about 30 inches long and two
inches thick came up from the platform and penetrated the
victim's cunt to a depth designed for maximum discomfort without
being fatal. From each side of the spike, about at the level of
the woman's thighs just 6 inches or so above the knees, protruded
two smaller spikes which had been driven through the victim's
legs, holding her in place. Another large (about 18 inches long
and an inch thick) spike had been driven horizontally through her
buttocks, piercing them both. Likewise, her breasts had been
pierced at their bases by another long spike. A thin piece of
rope was attached to the spike between her breasts. This rope
went up into the air and through a ring mounted in the ceiling,
coming back down to attach itself to a d-ring mounted in the
slave collar the woman was wearing. Numerous whip marks covered
the bloody flesh of the doomed slave, and a cloth gag reduced her
screaming to muffled moans.
Messalina was considering what new tortures to try out when word
came of their dinner preparations. Herod was nearby, watching
her work out her anger on the slave.
"Mistress," one of her body slaves said, her head bowed in
submission, "they just called. The dinner is being served."
"Very good," Messalina replied, not even looking at the
messenger. "Hmmm? Slave, give this worthless pig some
stimulants. See that she lives until I return. She was caught
stealing food, so we will feed the bitch her own cunt as a last
meal!"
"Yes Mistress."
"Hello darling," Messalina said, turning to Herod, "I'm famished,
shall we go?"
"After you, my love."
Meanwhile, in Chicago, an angry phone call was made by Marsha's
boss to her husband.
"That's right, Mr. Edmunds. Your wife didn't show up for her
speech. Embarrassed the company and me. Well, you tell Marsha
when she checks in she'd better have a good excuse or I'll cook
her ass! Good bye!"
And, back at the island, Marsha was just about ready to be
served. The chef's arranged Marsha and Liz so that they were on
their knees, back to back, an apple shoved into their gaping
mouths, their splayed knees placing their swollen pussies in
plain view. Around them were arrayed fruits and vegetables of
all types, as well as wine, cheese, and bread. When the display
was ready, it was carefully carried to the serving table.
"OK, let's get them out to the dining room. Time to eat," the
head chef said.
Herod and Messalina were just entering the dining room as their
dinner choices were brought in.
"Ahhhh, they smell delicious!"
"You may carve them now, Martin," said Messalina.
"Yes, madam, please be seated and I'll serve you in a moment."
Two servers went to work at once. Martin, who was responsible
for Marsha, proceeded to carve off her succulent breasts,
arranging them on a platter. Another server did the same for
Liz. The island's leaders ate in the old Roman style, on
couches.
"This Liz had great tits. Uummmm, they look delicious."
While Herod and Messalina watched, the two women were carved up
for serving. Only the choicest parts would be consumed. The
rest would become food for the lesser servants and some would
even become shark bait. Marsha's head was removed and placed on a
spike which had a wide wooden base. This mounted trophy graced
Herod's table. Marsha's tits, hams, and upper thighs were set
before Herod. Her cunt filet was carefully carved and served to
him on a plate. Likewise, Liz's filet was served to Messalina.
"And, here's your filet, Mistress," said the naked, male server,
Martin, "very rare just as you like it."
He handed her a plate which held the cooked cunt of the once
living Liz. The filet consisted of the major and minor labia
plus the mount of venus, or pubic mount and the succulent flesh
immediately surrounding it, including the highly prized womb, the
most tasty part of the cunt filet.
"Ummmmm! Yes, it smells divine. Please see that our guests get
served and save me the nipples off of mine," Messalina said.
"Herod, how is your steak darling?"
"Yummm! Tender and delicious. Our Marsha was quite a catch.
And, she stayed alive almost five minutes over the fire. The
chef said that with a shorter post she might have lasted much
longer."
"Well, we can select another girl after dinner and try again
tomorrow," Messalina replied.
Herod put his hand on Messalina's shoulder and looked at her
seriously for a moment.
"You're not forgetting your promise?"
"Of course not, darling. *slurp* The first girl that stays alive
for fifteen minutes on the fire and is still conscious, I
promise."
"You promise?"
"Yes, if it can be done, then you can roast me the very next
day."
"In fact, after dinner, I'll help you select a nice young girl
for tomorrow's feast. Who knows? Maybe I'll pick the lucky one
for you. Now, eat up. Marsha would be so disappointed if you
didn't enjoy her."
"Don't be silly. This is the best roast this month. It must be
something about keeping her alive for so long. The adrenaline
must tenderize the flesh. Here, try some."
Herod tore off a portion of Marsha's filet and placed it in
Messalina's mouth.
"Ummm, delicious. I think you might be right.
(Later)
"Well darling, Marsha's stamina may have given me the information
I need. And, I've heard of a fellow from California who has
supposedly discovered a way to impale a woman and keep her alive
for up to two days. I'm inviting him to our island for a
demonstration. You may be dancing on the pole sooner than you
think."
"Hmmmm? I find the prospect somewhat exciting. After all, I've
tried about every other thrill there is. Come on my love, let's
go find you a winner."
"Yes. Oh, let's have Marsha's head mounted as a trophy."
And so, if you manage to make it to that island and don't end up
as the blue plate special, you may wander into Herod's trophy
room and see the lovely face and brunette tresses of one Marsha
Edmunds mounted on the wall like a prize antelope. Her name is
on a plate under her chin.
This is the end of Marsha and the end of this story for now, but
you can be certain that the Islanders are "still cookin'."
Go back to the main erotica page.