by Scipio42
I think all of this talk of various traditional recipes is good, but the wonderful thing about English cuisine is that we borrow from all over the world for our recipes.
The souffle, the hamburger, the curry, and the Chinese takeaway, where else in the former empire may we take recipes from, the jungles of Africa or the South Sea Islands?
Imagine then the scene......
It is the grounds of a large country house somewhere in England, away from prying eyes a marquee is set - one long side wide open - and on a patch of ground a deep long pit has been dug.
Polite conversation is in the air as two men plant strong metal poles deep into the ground at either end of the pit.
A fire is laid and ignited - in the cool air of the morning it burns fiercely. Flames leap and crackle as the dry wood burns fiercely, until the heaped wood collapses and the red hot coals produce an even heat.
The gathered party have been drinking and partying in the sun since the fire was lit, tender hands touch sensitive skin and in the shade of the surrounding trees more than one conversation progresses beyond the intimate.
Suddenly the gong which has been brought from its usual place in the hall of the big house sings out sonorously.
All gather by the fire.
The Master of the house appears with his naked sub Amanda obediently at his heels. Most of the men and several of the women, present draw breath as they approach - the dutiful sub has been the prized object in the Master's collection for over a year now. Many of them lust after her.
He sits in a seat which has been placed carefully in the opening of the marquee; Amanda kneels dutifully by his knee.
Several couches and other chairs have been brought and are now used by the guests.
"My friends! I take it you are enjoying our party?"
Glasses are raised in appreciation.
"This year I am going to serve for your delectation the rarest of meals..."
There is a curious silence; all are hanging on his every word.
"A meal beyond the contemplation of most, a meal which will act as an affirmation for all members of our little club, an affirmation of our membership."
"Boys and girls...." He beams at them, "After this there is no going back."
"What we are about to do, to partake in, to taste is a meal, an act of communion, so rare, so feared, dare I say it taboo, that once it has been done we will be marked among ourselves as set aside from all others."
The Master touches Amanda's neck, she realises it is a signal to stand, but although she has heard his words she has no inkling of what they mean... for her.
"Of all the slaves I have entertained, none has pleased me as much as this one here."
"She has such a high threshold for pain that her breaking was a journey of several weeks of pain and effort."
"Since then I have never had a slave so eager to please, so willing or so capable."
Amanda's heart swells with pride.
But all good journeys must end - so today, my brothers and sisters in debauchery, today we will cook and eat my beloved slave.
She wants to run. Every instinct in every molecule of herself tells her to. Her heart rate rises, adrenalin flushes into her blood stream, Amanda's muscles twitch as if waiting the mental word to go.
Only her heart stays them, only her soul, her need to subjugate herself to this Master holds her in place. Her need, schooled by hours of carefully taught and cruelly punished poise, governs her fear.
This, she realises, is what it is all about.
Her heart rate continues to rise, adrenalin continues to flow but now her sex swells, her labia blossom at the base of her shaved pubis, her nipples bloom with colour from the coursing blood flow.
Amanda's Master knows about the excitement. He always knows.
In the long nights of schooling he has sensed her needs as if he felt them himself. He has always known just what she needed - even when she did not know herself. When he had beaten her, when he had stopped. Exactly how hard to hit her.
When he had tied her and exactly how tightly.
When he has fucked her and when he has made her fuck him.
Master has always known.
And now Master knows her deepest, most well-kept lust.
Her secret dream, the dream she has felt as she slept curled on the floor by the foot of his bed - ready should he need her in the night.
Amanda has dreamed of this - fearfully it is true - since she was a small girl reading the books that her parents kept because they were full of such examples of courage and exploration.
Amanda had learned to read between their stories, to read about the other people in the stories. And at night she had dreamed of them. Being captured by the fearful cannibals, being dragged to their village, or hauled like some captured piece of meat. To be mauled and examined.
And then consigned to be cooked.
Amanda had imagined it in many ways - cooked on open coals or buried beneath stones and leaves in a luau pit, heat seeping into her body through her muscles and overwhelming her as she lies helpless beneath the stones and the earth and leaves.
Thrust deep into boiling water in the cooking pot, tied and helpless, feeling the roiling water boiling and bubbling between her pubescent lips - many was the night she had bitten her young lips to stifle a cry of orgasm as she dreamed that dream.
She had dreamed of a spit - tied to it and rotating over the flames as the dancing cannibals laughed and basted her scorching skin. They rotated through her view with each turn of the rough wooden spit the bonds biting into her blistering flesh, and as she begged they laughed. Rubbing their tummies and licking their lips in anticipation at the white meat cooking for their feast.
Finally her dream had metamorphosed as she had learned about impalement.
Amanda had eagerly read about this, imagined the thickness of the spit splitting her sex as it pushed and tore through her lights, emerged through her throat and out of her open mouth. Sometimes, with the dildo she had acquired, she would imagine the piercing to be entered through her anus.
Oh! She would melt as that orgasm shook her like a rag doll and rattled her eyes within her head.
And now Master was to make that fantasy come true.
How had he known, could he see into her very soul to know this one deep untold fantasy?
She did not care, as he pushed her forwards, still her sex pulsed, juices forming like a heady dew on her lips. Desperately she sought to regain the poise she had spent practising - she would go to meet the spit the perfect slave just as he had taught her to.
As he pushed her forwards, Amanda's Master's hands caressed her skin, slid over her back and firm buttocks lovingly. His hand was open, fingers wide and soft on her skin, it was the feel of someone who treasured a sensation.
Amanda fought the urge to stop and revel in his touch.
Her Master guided her to a table set up under the marquee. Now, despite the heat of the afternoon, gooseflesh rippled Amanda's skin, the table was equipped with shackles and a leather gag lay on its surface.
Master indicated that she should climb up on the surface, she did so.
His hand paused her in that position, kneeling, her sex spread wide between her exposed thighs and easily seen by the audience. Her blonde hair fell down and she looked back over her shoulder.
It was a pose and a look that started her descent into being meat. Her face, seen over her shoulder peering from below the tangle of blonde hair was wild and her breathing ragged.
The very posture - on all fours was designed specifically to make her more animal-like and less womanly.
Now Master openly caressed her sex and spread the flushed and swollen pussy lips.
A groan rippled through the audience, who had followed them inside and watched in a loose circle. Hands sought other parts of other near-naked and sun-heated bodies. Lasciviousness filled the air of the tent.
His fingers stole between the lips of her sex and penetrated the soft folds of her vulva, his thumb pressed her clitoris, pushing it firmly against her pubis.
Master offered Amanda his finger to lick, so she could taste her own juices. Understanding her descent into meat-beasthood Amanda licked at his fingers like a cat or a calf. She inhaled her aroma, tasted her arousal. Her tongue flicked across his fingers.
He replaced her fingers and massaged her clitoris and the lips of her cunt. Amanda clawed at the table as she sank deeper and deeper into sensation.
Guttural animal moans broke from her lips, echoed by the growing arousal of the audience.
She sank her hips backwards onto Master's fingers, pressing them back onto his hands, ground her cunt into his touch.
Finally his hands slick and greasy from not one but three of Amanda's small, energetic cums, Master paused before finally inserting one long, well-shaped finger into her anus.
Amanda howled her pleasure at the rape of her hitherto untouched anus. She screamed her orgasm in an unhuman voice.
It was precisely the effect the Master had wished, as she knelt there stunned by the sensation he quickly shackled first her hands and then her feet so she knelt on the table thighs wide spread and with her hands secured level with her shoulders.
Amanda - now wholly possessed by the sensation of being meat for Masters pleasure - watched him and waited for his next move.
From a table at the back of the marquee the Master took a long spit.
He showed it to his audience, showed them the square section tube, hollow through its whole length. He showed them the carefully bored holes in it so air could pass down the spit and into Amanda's body. He showed them the spike which was detachable so the air could pass into the tube. Lastly he showed them the collars that slide onto the tube so a post could be inserted into Amanda to stop her rotating.
The Master passed it around his audience in the way an illusionist might, and some of the watchers did actually feel like it was some sort of illusion, even now they wondered if he might stop and release the girl.
Most of them knew him well enough to know better however, the girl was dead - she had just not been cooked yet.
They touched the needle sharp point of the spit and laughed or shivered or wondered what it would be like to have that pass through, how much it would hurt.
"John?" The Master indicated one man. Once he had been Amanda's husband until he had surrendered her to the Master, who in turn had given John another immaculately trained slave in return. That woman watched as John went to the table.
"Hold her and spread her lips!" The Master placed the point of the spit at the mouth of Amanda's cunt, slipped it carefully between the still rosy engorged lips of the meat-slave.
Amanda squirmed as the spit slid deeper. It was cold, hard, a peculiar shape to embrace with her vaginal walls, but she gamely pushed back against its motion.
The first pain bit her. Bit her deep inside, bit deeply where she realized few nerves could register. There was a rending, a tearing and her Master flexed his strong biceps as he pushed the spit deep into her abdomen. Her guts felt cold, blood trickled from her lip.
John offered her the leather to bite, Amanda, as if not recognizing him from her previous life spat it away.
The Master could feel the spit grinding against Amanda's pelvic bone, he angled it slightly downwards, aiming to press through the girl's stomach and press up into her thorax.
Amanda felt pain like she had never felt before. Agony washed through her like hot and cold water, wave upon wave. It felt at one point like even her hair was hot. She struggled to keep her back straight, she knew she could deal with the pain, but she had not been prepared for the sound.
In the stillness of the tent the passage of the spit made ripping noises as it pierced soft tissues, in her cunt it made squelching popping noises. It was the sounds that nearly broke the devoted slave's resolution.
Amanda felt the agony - like a kick in the stomach that left her winded - as the spit pierced her abdomen and entered her thoracic cavity.
Suddenly her chest felt heavy, she struggled for breath, the spit was constricting her ability to breath, simply from the way it impeded the movement of her diaphragm.
She began to panic that she might let her Master down.
And then he was there, soothing her kissing her eyes, where the tears had formed. His voice soothed her, made her calmer, and she steadied her breathing again.
Happy that he had positioned the spit so the next thrust would miss Amanda's heart the Master nodded to John, who pressed his weight against the pole. That one push pressed the needle spike of the spit though between her lungs, past her heart and into the blonde meat's throat.
Her Master looked into Amanda's eyes as he held her head just 'so' with his spare hand he signalled John again and the audience applauded as the spit passed out of the meat's mouth.
"Now!" the Master said as he
removed the sharp spike, "A little more preparation!"
John sat down as the Master moved to his other table.
He was shaking from what he had done, but he also felt more erect than any other time in his whole life.
Freeing his penis he allowed his slave to
suck him as he watched the Master work.
With her head tipped at a slightly unnatural angle Amanda watched, still shackled
to the table. She was amazed that now it was done the pain had dulled to a
strong and all-embracing ache, she felt battered inside, as if she had
thoroughly and severely kicked but aside from the inability to move, through
the restriction of the piercing otherwise she felt like "so?!" Amanda
realised that rationally she was dying, even as she thought about. She realized
though it was a question of when, and at the moment she felt like it would not
be soon.
The Master took a sharp filleting knife from his knife block. Amanda was
complete, which meant she now needed to be cleaned, a large pan was placed
beneath the girl and he sliced her abdomen wide open. The filleting knife was
razor-blade sharp. It pierced Amanda's skin and opened a tear from the point
below where her ribcage formed her sternum, to just above her pubis. Lights
flashed behind her eyes as the pain lanced through her, she gasped for air
sucking at the spit in her pain.
Master's hand, his firm gentle touch soothed the meat-slave's panic.
Gravity pulled her lights from her with a sucking plop! Slick and oily in
appearance, they slid across each other in the pan as if alive. The Master
separated her liver and kidneys and placed them aside, before dragging the
remains of her colon and intestines away snicking them with sharp swift
movements of the filleting knife. Ends were tied and the mess disposed of into
black disposal bags.
John shot into his slave's mouth at the sight of Amanda's disembowelment. She
sucked vigorously as his cum flowed down her throat.
Now the Master took a bowl of cold water and washed Amanda's abdominal cavity,
cleaning it with a natural sponge, pressing the sponge upwards but being
careful not to stress Amanda more than he had to.
Amanda was now in shock, the pain, the loss of blood, the loss of vital organs
was causing her body to start a shut-down of vital functions. Her consciousness
began to wander and once again it was only training that helped her maintain
her current pose kneeling on the table.
But now the Master came to her aid, unshackling her hands and feet, and
pressing the blonde girl sideways, awkwardly Amanda rolled onto her side first
and then her back.
Concentrating solely on the meat girl in front of him, the Master appeared to
have forgotten his audience; they watched rapt, as he took a large bowl full of
dressing and began to fill the slave's now vacant abdomen.
Handfuls of the breadcrumb-based dressing, sage and onions, went into the space
before the Master was happy, and he took a needle and thread and sewed the
incision neatly together.
"Right to the fire with you my girl!" he said and indicated to John
and two other men to help him lift the now vacant girl towards the fire.
The Master made sure the three men had a
firm grip on the spit; to be sure they would not drop the impaled girl or
otherwise jar her. At that moment he wanted to ensure Amanda underwent as
little stress as possible.
Even as he formed the thought the Master smiled at the ridiculousness, then he
rationalised it. He could see from her open eyes and expression that she was
getting further and further into a state of shock. But the crucial thing was
that she was still alive and probably still rational, He did not want her to
expire until after she had started to cook, that was the initial point of the
exercise for him to cook the delightful slave alive.
Amanda was maintaining her grip on life by will-power alone, though the
movement of the pipe when she was lifted had helped, and now she was receiving
more oxygen, she regained something of her thoughts. The pain of the slash
wound to her abdomen had quickly dulled, submerged in the overall back ground
agony that she felt. Here was where the hours of punishment and tight bondage
served Amanda well. The agony was bearable as she focused - at a very low level
of thought - on this most exciting of demises.
The Master slid a collar over the end of the pole and placed a rod at the
entrance to Amanda's anus. Pressing it forwards, he inserted it into her and
tightened the wing-nut that gripped the main spit. Now the meat-slave was
prevented from rotating against the motion of the spit.
Amanda felt the post enter her and it stimulated her to a small but quite
intense orgasm. The slave girl grinned inwardly.
The Master now secured her Amanda's hands behind her back and tied her ankles
to the spit. He pressed the backs of the bearers towards the fire pit.
They carried her at shoulder height, with all due pomp and circumstance. They
walked slowly, partly to stop her jarring and partly out of a sense of
occasion.
The party was silent - anticipatory, amatory but hungry at the same time.
Several of the women and one of the men wondered how it would feel to be in the
place of the meat-slave and how they could achieve it.
The heat from the fire made the hills behind the house waver and sway. Despite
the heat of the afternoon, the burning embers added a savage heat to the day.
All of the party were now down to a bare minimum of clothing. An onlooker might
have thought they were a tribe of well groomed, bronzed, savages.
The Master raked the hot coals to either side of the long central line of the
pit before placing a long drip tray in place. He indicated where the bearers
should place the spit, before inserting a handle into the end of the spit. The
end which had not just passed the length of the slave that had been Amanda, who
now was to be basted as she sat in the heat of the fire.
A brush dipped in an extra virgin olive oil basted her skin, already browned
from the sun, now under the heat of the fire the girl's flesh turned red.
As the people turning the spit - all volunteered and agreed to take turns - the
Master took his filleting knife and carefully sliced the flesh as it rotated
past him. On Amanda's back and buttocks, on her thighs and upper arms the
Master reproduced the pattern made by a whipping. But the wounds would be used
to crisp Amanda's flesh and have it thicken and make delicious crunchy
crackling when it was cooked.
To aid this the Master then took handfuls of salt and patted it onto the
slave's skin as she rolled helpless in front of him. The salt would form a
crunchy crust, her flesh would be delicious.
On the spit, gagged by the steel pole Amanda howled and squirmed at the slicing
and the salt in her wounds. The oil had been cool, soothing until it heated and
for a moment she had felt the heated oil burn on her skin till that too joined
the overall agony she felt. It was an agony that filled so much of her
perception that she hardly felt the knife cuts. But then the Master had used
the salt.
Now with the motion of the spit - as her body rolled around it, the steel
flexed and moved within her vaginal and vulva in a deeply sensational way - the
feeling of well-being brought on by her deepening shock and her deep ecstasy at
her form of demise - this was the end she had fantasised about - Amanda
orgasmed for a final time.
The spit turner noticed it, as did the Master who was watching her closely.
They both noticed the feeble bucking of her body, the flexing of her bound arms
and ankles. Then they saw her go still.
The Master knew then that Amanda was beyond consciousness, still not dead yet,
hanging on by a thread, but so close that she would slip from one state of
existence to the other within the next few moments.
Now at last he could relax. His aim had been to cook the girl alive to fulfil a
dream she had confided one night as he experimented with the effects of sleep
deprivation on her. And she had experienced enough of the cooking, he was sure,
enough to enhance that final orgasm.
The blonde would take hours to cook thoroughly, but now he had done the hard
part. The Master indicated two women, one of whom was present with her husband,
and he took them both to a couch within the Marquee.
As the sun set over the hills behind the large English country house, the
flames that burned in the long fire-pit shed a faint light on an unnatural
bacchanal. In the grass couples, threes, fours, indulged each other sexually
and with abandon. At the centre of the orgy the browned and hissing, rotating
singed body of a young meat slave rotated on a spit.
From the shadow of the Marquee to one side, his limp cock swinging, drooling a
string of cum, a man appeared.
Quickly he commanded lights and there they were, illuminating the scene.
The Master took a meat fork and stuck it deep into the hams of the roast.
Juices - devoid of blood, greasily flowed down the slashed skin of the meat and
into the dripping tray.
The cooked girl was lifted from the fire and carried into the marquee. On the
table she was placed onto a dish literally bedded with green leaves and fresh
fruit. The spit was withdrawn; it stuck several times as they withdrew and had
to be tugged back through Amanda's body. Then it was gone leaving a jagged hole
in her sex around which the crisped flesh made a wrinkled brown rose - an
imitation of her previous vitality and sexual nature.
The Master indicated that the meat now needed to 'rest' after cooking and the
party used the washing facilities to clean up before eating. Few of them
dressed, the evening was still hot from the day and the fire.
Eventually the Master deemed that the meat was ready for slicing.
The crowd gathered again and the Master took a carving knife from his butcher
block. With his meat fork he steadied the cut, a slice from Amanda's long
shapely thigh. The flesh crackled and snapped as he cut it - the crunchy skin
the after effect of the salt crust.
The Master set the skin on one side to reveal the cooked flesh beneath. White,
though not as pale as turkey, the flesh steamed and smelled delicious, several
people made comments about the smell and the quality of the meat.
The Master was more than pleased with the quality of the roast and beamed his
pleasure.
He started to cut in earnest now, slicing the meat from thighs and calves, from
her rump, from her saddle, and her arms, ripping deep cuts into Amanda's flanks
to release the steaming hot stuffing from her abdomen.
As he cut into the girl and piled plates high, with delicious girl meat, the
propriety of the party was lost, first portions were forked eagerly into mouths
and chewed and tasted an enjoyed and the portions were conveyed by fingers.
Crammed into chewing mouths, between immaculate teeth.
Soon the party were crammed round the roasted girl picking the flesh from her
bones, as the Master severed one of her arms it was picked over and stripped.
Soon the meat slave's body was merely a collection of bones strewing the
platter. The Master himself, grease from Amanda's flesh streaking his skin,
eventually called enough and retired to his couch with his two women.
Renewed and fed, enervated by the meal and the whole day's events, the Master
exhausted both women before he eventually rested.
As they lay there in the dimmed light of the Marquee, a hot summer evening
outside and a seething turmoil of debauchery inside the woman whose husband was
deeply involved with another couple elsewhere in the tent, whispered a question
in the Master's ear.
He, sated temporarily, and feeling comfortable, smiled to himself as he
recalled the delicious sensation of Amanda's juicy tender flesh, the succulence
of her arms and the taste of her buttock flesh, thought for a moment.
Just as quietly the Master agreed the woman's request.
She would be next.