## Archive-name: grotto

(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'."

Last modified (12/24/96 16:10:49) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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