EXTREME WARNING. This is intended for persons of 18 years of age or 
above. If you are not 18 then go away.

EXTREME WARNING. This story contains descriptions of violence, snuff, 
eroto-cannibalism and sexual acts. Do not read if these subjects are 
likely to offend.

EXTREME WARNING. In no way do I condone any of the anti-social behavior 
described in the story. This is an erotic fantasy, not to be confused 
with reality.



Please reply by preference to the newsgroup, or failing that to 
grim_williams@my-deja.com




The Feast of Purim
By Grim Williams


Series One, Part Seven


Guy found himself in a dimly lit room, full of rich red tapestries and 
lush corded carpets. Broad-leafed plants filled the center, watered by 
the continual trickle of a small, relaxing fountain. From the white 
decorative ceiling came the calming strains of piped music, delicate 
and fragrant.

"God!" Guy muttered, closing the outer door and staring back through a 
chink in the blinds at the near riot that was continuing unabated 
outside.

A naked man tapped him gently on his shoulder. He was tall and 
muscular, with a red bow tied around the base of his cock.

"I'm Teresh," the man said with a slight lisp and a dip of his head. 
"I'm your head waiter tonight. May I welcome you to Hegai's Modern 
Butchery!"

Guy took one look at him, and then turned back to the window. "Yeah, 
fine," he mumbled, for the mob was now surging back down the hill 
towards the Butchery. It was difficult for him to make out exactly what 
was going on in the darkness. He saw excited faces in the glow of the 
shaky lamps, and subtle movements in the shadows. Shit! Those were 
rats!

The headwaiter coughed politely. "Shall I check your dams into the 
kitchen, sir," he asked patiently, opening a drawer and pulling out a 
small knife. "They're not really allowed in the vestibule, sir. The 
food comes in through the back entrance."

"Yeah, yeah," Guy mumbled absently, rubbing the dirt off the window 
pane so that he could see better. The waiter sliced through the knots 
binding Ruth's wrists and, thanking him, she stepped across to Guy, 
rubbing her arms ruefully. 

The crowd surged towards them a little, and Guy could make out for the 
first time the woman at the center of the fuss. Screaming and 
struggling, she was being carried by a large number of jubilant men. 
Several of them had manhandled her onto their shoulders and were 
conveying her down the hill. A couple had hold of her jerking ankles 
and calves, while others grasped her arms. She bucked and fought, 
yelling and blaspheming.

"Fuck, what is that?" Guy asked wondrously, watching the intemperate 
procession carry her past. The woman had long black hair tied into a 
bun with an expensive ruby tiara and hand embroidered gowns. She had 
shoes too. This was obviously a woman of power, of influence. Guy was 
incredulous. She looked for all the world like a Gemini, a real living 
Gemini. God. What was going on?

"It would appear," Ruth said simply, glancing through the window, while 
pulling at the loose strands of rope encircling her upper arms, handing 
them to a young waiter who had appeared from out of the shadows. "It 
would seem that Ahas has decided to dispose of his wife. That is 
Vashti, his Queen. I'd recognize her anywhere. You can't miss that 
tiara. It's the one he gave her on their wedding day. I guess he's 
found someone he likes better or else he's grown tired of her. It's an 
old trick. A bodyguard cuts the rope bindings; another discovers the 
crime. The rest, as they say, is history."

Guy swallowed hard. He strained his neck to see the kicking, humiliated 
Queen disappearing down the hill lost now within the chanting mass of 
humanity. "God! So they're taking her to the pillory?"

"Of course," Ruth said flatly, turning from the window. "They'll leave 
her there for a day or two until the nobles and grandees have had their 
chance to fuck her. And then they'll tighten the screw and do the 
dastardly deed."

"God," Guy exclaimed again. "And Ahas won't lift a finger to help her?"

"Quite so," Ruth declared, finally managing to disentangle her arms 
from the ropes. She handed the remnants to the young waiter, adding 
diplomatically: "So what about Esther? Do you want Teresh to free her 
or would you rather keep her bound? You can free her if you like. This 
is a licensed Butchery. The law about women in the Casbah doesn't apply 
here, only outside."

Guy went quite white. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, twisting around suddenly, 
his mouth wide open, searching for his sister. "I'd quite forgotten! 
Esther! God. She'll kill me!" 

But he looked without success. Esther was no longer in the vestibule, 
and neither were the other dams. Teresh had already taken them to the 
kitchen.

Guy's heart missed a beat. God. Where was she? Where was Esther? This 
may be what his sister wanted, but hell, he wanted at least to be able 
to say goodbye. And maybe more. Maybe much more. God. He didn't know 
what he wanted. "Where is she?" he demanded vehemently, moving away 
from the window. "Where have they taken her?"

"She's waiting for you in the larder," Ruth replied, coyly 
straightening her blue shawl and her satin gown. She brushed a fleck of 
invisible dirt from her breast. "Would you like to see her?"

"Yes. I mean..." Guy stopped for a moment and pondered yet again how 
his sister would react to being prepared for dinner. He remembered how 
she had been that time in the desert when the Librans had got hold of 
her and had basted her from head to foot. He hesitated. "I don't know. 
I mean, what will happen to her there?"

He already had a good idea of the answer. They would prepare her. She 
would be bathed and scrubbed. Her insides would be washed out and her 
hair would be fixed. They would shave off her body hair, leaving her 
juicy slit bare and silky and smooth. Her nails would be painted and so 
would her face. Then they would paint body hair on her pubis to replace 
the real hair that they'd shaved away. That would tickle. It would 
tickle a lot. 

Ruth took his hand and led him out of the vestibule and into the main 
foyer. There were men there talking and drinking mulled vinegar. 
Bookings were being taken and slaves signed in.

"You mustn't worry," Ruth reassured with a wry grin, sensing what Guy 
was thinking. "No harm will come to her there. In fact, it's very 
pleasant, very sensual, if you get my meaning. For a dam, an Aquarian 
especially, the larder is a place of discovery, where we come face to 
face with our destiny, perhaps for the first time, and realize for 
truth our place in the grand order of the Zodiac. I have been there 
myself. I know. Leave her for a while. Trust me. Allow the maids there 
to help her discover her real sexuality, her real purpose. When she 
knows this for herself, I believe your mind will settle. Am I not 
right?"

"Yes," Guy agreed with an audible sigh. "You're right. I know that 
there's nothing we can do to change what's written in the stars, but 
sometimes I fight destiny, I know I do, for both myself and for Esther. 
I think we all do. We postpone the inevitable. And to what purpose? Has 
the struggle made my Esther any happier? No, it hasn't. Indeed the very 
opposite. She fights what her heart secretly desires and the struggle 
makes her tetchy and bitter."

"Then why don't you come with me into the dining room, and let nature 
find its way of showing her who she is? There's no need to worry. The 
waiters will tell M. Hegai where we are. Relax. You can catch up with 
Esther and the others later."

She tightened her grip on his hand and led him through the foyer and up 
a wide flight of stairs to the back of a big amphitheater. But even as 
they climbed the stairs, Guy could hear the raucous music and the 
continual noise of the Butchery. Everything was so loud.

"Enjoy yourself!" Ruth, yelled, laughing, as they got to the top, 
pulling his arm. By now she had to shout just to be heard. "This is a 
place where you forget who you are and just go with the flow. Relax! 
Chill out!"

Guy screwed up his face and pointed to his ears. "But it's so loud! I 
can barely hear!"

"It doesn't matter," she yelled back, pulling him through a rich dralon 
curtain and into a much darker area. "You'll get used to it. The noise 
is part of the atmosphere of a good restaurant. It's tradition. The 
customers expect it. M. Hegai told me that originally the music was 
used to drown out the sounds of the butchering. There were folk that 
thought it wrong to frighten the girls imprisoned downstairs. But ever 
since they started using prospective dams as waitresses, well, there's 
no part of the butchering process that we don't see. We have to deal 
with it, for better or worse."

Guy looked around curiously. 

The theatre was truly a challenge to the senses. So much noise, so many 
things to see. They'd come in at the back, at the very top. The stage 
was far below them, in the center of the amphitheater. Surrounding it, 
completely encircling the stage, there were twelve rows of tables, with 
soft leather sofas at which customers could recline. Each table curved 
in a full circle about the stage, with gaps at the gangways for access. 
With the tables arranged as they were, everyone had a perfect view of 
what was cooking on the stage. 

The restaurant tonight was about one quarter full. Guy could see the 
shadows of customers and staff, all having a good time. In some places, 
clients reclined in small groups, whilst others were alone, or with 
their a personal waitress, if they could afford one. 

Guy could just discern the waitresses, some clothed in not much more 
than a bra and briefs, many not even wearing that. They would lie in 
the bosom of their client whilst he ate and was entertained, and, for a 
modest consideration, they would serve him in whatever way he desired.

And on the stage, at its heart, were the ovens. Guy looked at them 
closely. They were arranged in pairs: two electric powered furnaces, at 
present empty, their glass doors slung open; two roasting spits, also 
empty; two vats of oil, one for deep pan frying, the other for shallow 
frying, neither in use; and at the back, in the glare of the lights 
that flooded the stage, there were two large glass cooking-pots. These 
were not empty. No, not empty at all.

Above each was a specially built chair with a hinge at the back, 
allowing it to be tipped, plummeting its occupant into the waters of 
the pot beneath.

One of the chairs was already empty, its occupant already dead and 
cooking, her naked body floating limply in the boiling waters of the 
pot beneath, swaying to the tune of its agitation. She had short auburn 
hair and a round, pretty face. The girl's eyes were wide open and 
glassy and stared vacantly at her audience. She had small hard breasts 
and a beautiful velvety snatch. 

The woman had obviously been in the water for some time. Her skin was 
pink and puffy, and she was looking decidedly tender. Guy's cock perked 
up at once because, her hair color apart, she was the spitting image of 
Esther.

Esther.

He wondered idly what they were doing to his young sister in the larder 
downstairs. The preparation would take a little while, an hour or two, 
maybe. Would she enjoy being tied down while her naked body was 
examined, criticized and graded, or would she find the experience 
humiliating? He thought she might. Indeed he was sure that she would. 
But then, on the other hand, as Ruth had said, it would give her the 
chance to discover for herself... to find her own sexuality... He 
determined to go and check up on Esther.

Ruth tugged him forward, ever onward; down the stairs towards a row of 
tables half way between the front and the back. He couldn't believe the 
plush carpet, the rich tapestries, the sense of opulence and luxury. 
"It's quiet tonight," Ruth yelled over the intensity of the beat of the 
music, straight into his ear. "We often have two, maybe three times as 
many customers as this. I think the whisper was out about Vashti. I'm 
sure it was. That would explain the crowds outside, how come so many 
people were in the right place just as it all started."

She found them a vacant area, and pulled off her shawl, tossing it onto 
the cool black leather of the sofa. "Lie down," she yelled, pointing to 
a space on one of the sofas. "Make yourself comfortable! You're here to 
enjoy yourself!"

Guy felt slightly self-conscious as he put his feet onto the sofa, 
staring again at the woman boiling away in the huge glass pot. "Doesn't 
that ever frighten you?" he asked, nodding towards the food bubbling 
away in the water. "Don't you ever look at the women as they're cooking 
and think, Christ, tomorrow that may be me?"

Ruth nodded energetically, unfastening the top button on her robe. A 
buxom waitress in a tight yellow bikini came across to them, carrying a 
bowl of warm water, a cloth and a small towel. She handed them to Ruth, 
and then she left. 

Ruth placed the bowl very deliberately on the floor, then unfastening 
the second button of her robe. She leaned forward intentionally so that 
he would remember that she wasn't wearing her undergarment tonight. "Of 
course," she agreed, picking up the cloth and dipping it into the bowl. 
She took hold of one of his feet and began to wash it, wiping away the 
dirt and the sweat, massaging it with her soap. "But I won't we eaten 
tonight, or tomorrow night either. At least, I think not. My price goes 
down by five shekels a day until someone is willing to pay my price. 
There are girls here that are much cheaper than I am. I may even escape 
the menu until the big feast at the Castle. But that'll be my lot I 
think. None of us will survive that. Ahas is taking every dam that M. 
Hegai can lay his hands on."

"So..." Guy paused, hesitating. She was kneeling in front of him, her 
top buttons undone, kneading his feet with her fingers, rinsing them 
with the cloth. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, very 
difficult. He peered down at the firm rise of her breast, and the 
expanding valley of Virgo flesh emerging from between the soft blue 
folds of her gown. He coughed. God. "So, how much are you at present? 
Is that a rude question for a man to ask a lady?"

She shrugged awkwardly. The way that he was looking at her, it was 
making her horny too. Her breasts were tingling with desire. "It's not 
a rude question to ask a mercenary," she said respectfully, rinsing 
between his toes. "After all, I'm here for the money. The sooner I'm 
sold, the more money there'll be for my shefriend."

He waited while she dried off his feet with the towel, rubbing firmly, 
demurely. When she had finished, she folded the towel and then kissed 
each of his feet with her soft ruby lips.

Guy was entranced. "Is that why you sold yourself?" he asked.

She nodded, pushing the bowl to one side and sitting down upon the sofa 
beside him, laying a not so casual hand upon his thigh, close to his 
groin. She left it there. "It was either me or Deborah. We were in 
debt. We couldn't pay. Deborah has extravagant tastes, she loves the 
exotic: foreign things, expensive things. It was getting nasty, what 
with the warnings, and the threats. They would have come for her, I 
know they would, because she owed the money. But I couldn't allow that. 
How could I let her work in a place like this? How could I? I couldn't. 
So I volunteered first. I had to. It was the only way." She shrugged. 
"Would you like a drink?"

The waitress in the bikini had returned and was lingering patiently by 
their table. Now that Guy was more relaxed, he was able to admire her 
better. She was blonde, long straight hair, five feet seven inches, 
blue eyes. Her bikini was a tight yellow miniscule affair that covered 
her nipples and her pussy slit, but very little else.

Ruth leaned back into her reclining escort. "You can tip her if you 
like her," she whispered over her shoulder, taking hold of his hand and 
slipping it inside her gown, onto her bare hard breast. She gasped, 
dissolving into his embrace, as his fingers found her sensitive teat. 
Her bosom burned at his touch. "But you don't have to" she sighed, 
closing her eyes. "It's not necessary when you have your own personal 
waitress. It's not necessary at all."



End Of Series One, Part Seven

