Originally published in Adam magazine November 1960 by Paul Fitzsimmons
Completed by Gurgurant
Harry was considered a thrill-seeker and fancy-minded fellow. A globe-trotting wastrel with inherited monies he had not one-tenth the talent needed to amass on his own.
He was thought of and broadly regarded as a gentleman-adventurer. This was a part he played so fully and with such a flair that few could sensibly dispute it. For, it was his custom on returning from Borneo, Bedouin land or the Brazilian wilds to toss the silliest sort of soirees at his country house; curious, exotic or avant-garde goings on tuned to his latest travels. For example, upon his return from the latest excavations on Crete his guests came in goatskins, drank lots of wine from little stone jugs that he provided and, becoming lubricious, made further obeisance to Bacchus in the bushes. After his sojourn to Java, little bells were affixed every nook and cranny. The summer breeze jangled them sweetly and made the suspended cymbals clash like the hand-clapping of a hundred metallic imps. Balinese dances were done on the patio and impudent dares accommodated by the more handsomely endowed of the ladies present.
Still, Harry himself provided the most memorable touches to these affairs. Once, home from Hyderabad, it was a baby elephant browsing in the shrubbery. Another time, back from the green jungles of the Matto Grosso, dartboards and bamboo blowpipes were the rage of a riotous evening, and the first prize of the affair was a shrunken head, gruesome with skewered nose and lips like burned rubber. As notable was the night after months in India when he dramatically overturned the huge charcoal brazier upon the flagstone patio and proceeded to prance barefoot upon the blazing coals.
Eventually Harry went to New Guinea for two years and two months. Half his acquaintances had forgotten him and half given up hopes for him when invitations began to arrive from Brisbane saying, “- come as a cannibal.”
Five weeks later the first guests, looking but not feeling ridiculous, barefooted about the lawns ooh-ing and aww-ing at the trenched spits, the thatched huts, and the long house on stilts in which the wired lanterns shone on shiny skull-tops, stone hatchets and highly polished primitive masks.
Here it was that Harry pouted a bit.
"Not a decent looking cannibal among you," he chided puristically.
The men frowned, the ladies made easy remarks. Brown-stained, bare as possible, costumed in rags, tags, leaves and loincloths they had gone as native as possible. And after all, really, how did one go "cannibal?"
One, he noticed, had not even bothered to try. She wore a white silk "sack" of simplest line.
She saw his disapproving look and, by way of apology, she made a face at him. He affected to be unimpressed. Before everyone she came over to him, stood on tip-toe, as he bent expecting a whisper, bit sharply on the lobe of his left ear.
"There!" she declared saucily, "doesn't that make me authentic?"
They were the last to leave the long house. "I have your mark," he noted, fingering his ear. "Now I must have your name."
She smiled at his humor. "Felice. I came with the Chamberlains."
"No escort of your own?"
"No."
"Well, you have one now."
They went side by side for a long walk. They sat side by side at dinner. They were still side by side as Harry regaled his guests with a chilling, if not revolting, account of his twenty month stay among the Anaks.
Much liquor had been served by then but no one drowsed. And when Harry spoke of a "surprise" those who had not yet hied themselves to the huts on the lawn were eagerly distracted.
Harry left the house, hurried to the stables and called "Natey" to the shadow in the straw-lot.
Natey was behind him in the gloom of the vestibule as he announced from the archway, "I’ve brought back a real honest-to-god cannibal. His name is Natey and he's a sub-chieftain of the Chakans, a family of the Anaks. I was supposed to have brought him directly to the anthropology people at the Geographic Institute, but I needed a guest of honor."
At this point, Harry was happy to note, all eyes were focused beyond him except Felice's. Her pale eyelids, he thought, were ineffective chaperones to her passionate eyes.
"You'll have to excuse Natey's appearance," he continued. "The Chakans worship the sun and consider it a sacrilege to cover themselves. And, although I can't say how many people he's eaten, I can personally vouch for parts of at least eleven. Now, don't be afraid. He won't bite."
He ushered "Natey" in.
The squat savage stood in the light like a reminder of all that was dark. His splayed-toes curled atavistically into the crush of the carpet; his front teeth, filed to points, bared in a frightening grin; his grayish-wool hair kinked in a monkish bowl across his bony bulging brow.
Harry sensed a lull in the lilt of things. His perception was quickly confirmed. Mady Downes gasped, gurgled, made a vain effort to swallow and spewed a splendid dinner over the splendid rug. Two men muttered and left the room. Alice, who drank sparingly, swooned. Rita, who was something of a weirdy herself, walked right up to Natey and started a shoving grind saying, "you gorgeous thing."
Ernest Chamberlain grabbed his wife and bolted for the door. Passing Harry he snarled, "You rotten clod!"
In a flash the party was a flop, but Harry took heart in Felice's interested gaze. The hell with the rest of them, he thought, herding them homeward.
"Tak pa 'u," he told Natey. "Go above." The cannibal moved to the vestibule.
"I'll be right back," he told Felice. He ran out on the patio and across the lawn tipping over the little thatched huts and kicking and cursing at the naked couples who grabbed at their grass clothes, ran for the driveway and scurried into their Cadillacs. In five minutes the estate was empty. He came back to a silent house and a sweet Felice still in the corner of the divan.
Her look was deep, her eyes dark with exotic interest.
The rage went out of him, desire came desperately in. He felt an extreme titillation at the soft swell of small bosom against the covering silk, seeing almost bowls of white cream with strawberries floating atop them.
Hungrily he reflected on how long it was since he had really had a woman.
"Natey!" he called in a loud comradely tone as he sat down next to Felice. In a moment he felt her tremble strangely as he nibbled delicately on her dainty ear. His appetite surged greedily then. She had begun to struggle.
His grip tightened on Felice's arm, ignoring her feeble attempts to push him away. Harry's eyes darkened with a cruel intensity as he leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against her skin. She felt a shiver of fear run down her spine, her heart hammering in her chest as she realized the true nature of the man sitting beside her.
The air in the room grew heavy with tension, suffocating Felice as Harry's hands roamed over her body with a possessive hunger. She tried to scream, but his fingers clamped down on her throat, cutting off any sound that threatened to escape.
With a savage gleam in his eyes, Harry forced Felice back against the divan, his weight pinning her down. Her struggles only seemed to fuel his aggression, his movements becoming rougher and more violent.
“Aren’t you taking this a bit far?” Felice protested. “This whole playing cannibal thing is kind of hot, but you don’t have to be that rough.”
“You find this hot, do you?”, Harry chuckled. “This is nothing compared to what you would endure at the hands of the Chakans. They don’t just ‘play’ cannibal.”
In a moment Natey loomed above them. His eyes roamed over Felice’s body with a sinister look of hunger and lust.
“What, is this going to be a threesome?”, Felice asked half-jokingly.
As both Natey and Harry he loomed over her, a twisted smile played on Harry’s lips, revealing the depths of his depravity. The facade of charm and sophistication had crumbled away, laying bare the monster that lurked beneath.
In that chilling moment, Felice knew she was at the mercy of a man consumed by dark desires.
As Natey and Harry loomed over her, a shiver of terror ran down Felice's spine. The room seemed to close in on her, the walls pressing in with malevolence as she found herself trapped between two predators. Natey's eyes burned with a primal hunger that sent a wave of fear crashing over her, realizing that Harry's true nature wasn't a mere act—it was a dangerous reality.
“Please,” Felice's voice quivered, her eyes darting between the two men. “Let me go. This isn’t funny anymore.”
Harry's laughter was cold and sharp, devoid of any semblance of humanity. His grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her skin like claws as he leaned in closer, his face contorted with a sadistic glee.
“Oh, but my dear,” Harry's voice dripped with malice, “the real fun is only just beginning. You see, you've stumbled upon a secret long buried beneath the facade of luxury and decadence.”
Harry slipped his hand under Felice’s frock and lifted it up over her breasts. Under the dress she wore only small lace panties. Harry caressed her flat belly and small, perfect breasts with rosy pink nipples.
“Mmmmm”, he cooed. “Lean, soft and beautiful. And, no doubt, absolutely delicious!”
Felice's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing loudly in the suffocating silence of the room. She could feel the weight of Harry's words bearing down on her, a sense of impending doom settling over her like a heavy shroud. She was not certain exactly what was going on here.
Natey's presence loomed like a specter. He stared at Felice’s bare flesh, grinning lasciviously. He exchanged a glance with Harry and licked his lips.
Harry leaned down and licked Felice’s bare belly, letting his tongue glide from her pubis to her navel. He put his tongue deep into her small navel and spiraled around it in circles, and then up her belly to her breasts. He took his time enjoying himself. When he had finished he smiled at Felice.
“Yes”, he said. “Just as I thought. Absolutely delicious.”
He leaned back a bit and it was Natey’s turn. His rough hands felt her body, pinching the flesh on her thighs, her ribs and her breasts. Natey looked right into Felice’s wide blues eyes and grinned, revealing sharp, filed teeth. He then bit softly into the soft flesh near Felice’s navel. She let out a shriek.
“What is going on here?”, she shrieked. “Am I going to get raped, or are you actually going to eat me?”
Harry leaned back over her. “Natey is not an actor”, he said. “Natey is a real cannibal. When I lived with his tribe, I developed a taste for some very exotic meat. I particularly enjoyed the taste of young women”, he added, “And none of them were finer or more delicious than you.”
Felice's eyes widened in terror, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend the horrifying situation she found herself in. She fought against Natey's hands, struggling to break free from his grip, but his strength seemed to be unyielding.
"No, please!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear. "This isn't some twisted game! You can't do this to me!"
Harry smirked, enjoying the sight of Felice's desperate attempts to escape their clutches. "Oh, but you're wrong, my dear," he said, his voice oozing with malice. "This isn't just some game. This is your final performance, your swan song. And you will be remembered for it, oh yes, you will."
Natey leaned in closer, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. His eyes bore into Felice's, filled with an unsettling hunger that chilled her to the bone.
"I'm not going to let you do this," Felice managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just... eat someone."
"Oh, but I can," Harry replied, his voice like a snake's hiss. "And I will. You see, my dear, in this world of ours, there are some who choose to play the game of life by a different set of rules. Some might even call it a difficult decision. For Natey and his people, it started as a matter of survival. But in time it became more than just survival. It became a matter of taste.”
As Felice's mind reeled with the realization of her impending doom, she tried to plead for her life, to bargain for even a shred of hope. But Harry's response was cold, and merciless.
"Even if I were inclined to spare you, which I'm not," he said, "I wouldn't know how."
Natey's gaze never wavered from Felice's terrified eyes, his fangs glistening in the dim light. He opened his mouth, revealing his sharp, jagged teeth, and lunged forward.
Felice let out a blood-curdling scream as she Natey took her in his arms and scooped her up off of the divan. She tried to fight and struggle as the savage lifted her up and carried her out toward the yard, but his steel-like muscles were too much for her slight frame. She started to let out a scream but Natey silenced her with a large hand over her mouth.
Natey carried Felice out across the patio and lawn to the huts that Harry had set up for the party. In the back between the huts a pit had been dug posts at either end of the pit held up a long pole, long enough for Felice’s entire body to be attached to. Harry met them there carrying a coil of rope in his hands.
Natey placed Felice on the ground next to the pit. With one had still over her mouth stifling her sceam he pulled her silk dress off with the other, leaving now only the lace panties. Harry then approached and as Natey let go of her mouth he shoved an apple into her mouth.
“A little cliche, perhaps”, he said, “but it will make an effective gag.”
Natey built a fire in the pit. As he tended the fire, Harry tended to Felice.
“Natey has eaten white women before”, Harry explained to Felicia, “But this will be a first time for me. That is a delicacy that does not become available often. Well, any woman, really.”
Harry could see the questions in Felice’s panicked eyes as he stroked her body.
"Just where did you get these women?" she choked out between the bitten apple, her eyes fixed eagerly on the fire.
"Oh, the usual," Harry chuckled, his fingers tracing an unnerving pattern over Felice's skin. "Women from other tribes, itinerant workers, the occasional captured tourist. This little endeavor of mine? It started years ago, on a trip through New Guinea. I met Natey's tribe - I think the saw me as one of them from the beginning."
He paused, a sadistic grin forming on his lips. "They offered me something that no amount of wealth could ever buy. An experience that would leave me with a taste... that I'd be begging for more."
Harry's eyes gleamed with anticipation. He could see Felice trying to swallow her fear, the fire's warmth helping to ease the chill that had settled in her bones.
"But it was more than just a taste. It was a whole new world, a world of pleasure and pain, of life and death," he continued. "The cannibal feast was like nothing I'd ever experienced before - the taste, the texture, the sensation of it all... it was... it was invigorating."
Felice tried to speak through the tears and fear that gripped her throat. “Why me?”, she asked.
“Because you are here. And because for the next part of my enlightenment there is something that I need to know.”, Harry explained. “Does a woman’s physical beauty affect the quality of her taste?”
Harry licked Felice’s lovely flat belly once more. “Based on this minor hint of your taste, I am thinking that the answer will be a resounding, ‘Yes’”.
“I can’t imagine a better subject to test my theory”, he added.
“Is that what Natey’s people believe?”, Felice asked.”Shouldn’t he be the expert?”
“They do believe that there is a correlation”, Harry said, “We did eat an adorable young Filipino woman one time. She tasted so much better than the New Guinea woman from another tribe.”
“Natey said the best meat he ever tasted was from a red headed woman that the tribe caught in the bush.”, he continued. “That is what gave me the idea.”
“But”, Harry added. “Even Natey has never eaten anyone like you.”
“I’m not a redhead”, Felice protested.
“Strawberry blonde is close enough”, Harry grinned.
With a twisted fascination in his eyes, Harry leaned in closer to Felice, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, "It's not just about the color of your hair, my dear. It's about the anticipation, the thrill of the unknown. Your fear, your desperation - all those emotions swirling together make the meat taste so much sweeter."
Felice shuddered at his words, feeling a surge of revulsion and terror coursing through her veins. She had hoped that maybe, just maybe, if she played along with Harry's sick game, she could find a way to escape. But now, as she lay exposed and vulnerable before him, she realized the gravity of her situation.
Harry's fingers traced a delicate path along the curve of her jaw, his touch gentle yet menacing. "You see, Felice," he murmured, "this isn't just about survival. This is about embracing the primal instincts that society has long suppressed within us. The act of consuming another human being transcends mere sustenance - it's a communion of souls, a dance of life and death."
As Natey stoked the fire higher, casting flickering shadows across the clearing, Felice's heart raced with a mixture of dread and determination. She knew that her only chance lay in outwitting these predators was to play along.
“I think this whole thing turns you on”, she said to Harry. “This is all just an elaborate kinky sex fantasy for you, isn’t it? Well, here’s a little secret for you”.
She whispered in low tones, trying to sound as sensual and seductive as she could.
“I think it’s hot and kinky, too”.
Harry's lips curled into a sly grin, his eyes instantly betraying the lust that her words had awakened within him. He moved closer to her, his breath warm against her skin, and began to run his fingers gently up and down her body.
"Perhaps it is," he whispered, the suggestion of a growl in his voice. "But this is not just about sex, Felice. It's about power, control. About bearing witness to the most basic and primal instincts that we all possess, deep down. To see what it is that lies beneath the veneer of civilization."
As Harry continued to caress her body, Felice could feel her resolve weakening. She had always been drawn to the darker side of life, the thrill of danger and forbidden desires. But this was something entirely new, something that trespassed even the boundaries of her wildest fantasies.
“I can play BDSM games, too”, she said. “I can be your tasty little sub, and you can eat me whenever you like. Isn’t that more fun than this? Come on… Mister Adventurer… Mister Globe Trotter… Mister Thrill-Seeker. Didn’t you ever fuck any of those women before you ate them?”
“Sometimes”, Harry answered her. “When it felt like something I wanted to do.”
“Well, doesn’t it feel like that now?” she egged him on. “You keep complimenting me on my beauty. Isn’t that beauty worth more than roasting over a fire? You have me at your mercy. Make the most of it!”
Her words had Harry fully aroused now. The soft tenderness of her silky skin, the sexy shape of her body and the sensuous sound of her voice mixed with his desire for the taste of her flesh. He found himself losing control. He kissed her deeply while his hands caressed her breasts. He reached down and pushed a finger into her labia. For her part Felice had tried to give herself fully over to erotic thoughts. Perhaps this was her only chance to escape that fire.
Harry found her wet and seemingly eager.
He wanted to taste her. He wanted to feel her moan beneath him as he took her.
Felice, realizing the momentum of the situation, decided to play along and fully surrender to Harry's desires. She arched her back, letting her head fall back, exposing her throat.
"Do it, Harry," she whispered. "I'm yours to take, to devour. I want to feel the heat of your body against mine, to hear the sounds of your pleasure."
Harry's eyes widened at her audacity, but then he noticed the glistening wetness between her legs and the hunger in her eyes. He couldn't resist the temptation.
With a growl, Harry mounted her, thrusting deep inside her, feeling her tight embrace. He thrust rhythmically, his breath hot and heavy against her neck. Felice moaned and bucked beneath him, encouraging him further.
"That's it, Harry," she breathed. "Eat me. Take everything from me."
Harry drove himself into her, grunting and growling as his orgasm built inside him. He felt the fire behind him, felt the weight of the cannibalistic act they were partaking in, but he couldn't help but lose himself in the raw pleasure of the moment.
As Harry continued to thrust, Felice's moans became louder and more insistent, her body writhing beneath his. She reached up and grabbed his face, pulling it down to hers, kissing him passionately.
Their tongues dueled, their bodies synchronized in a dance of lust and desire. Felice felt the heat between her legs build, the pressure of her climax growing closer. She couldn't help but wonder if Harry's hunger for her flesh would be sated once he tasted her. Would this be enough to satisfy his craving for human meat?
As their passion reached its peak, Harry's body tensed. He thrust one last time, filling Felice with his seed. He collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged.
For a moment, they lay there, entwined, the only sound the faint crackling of the fire. Felice felt the tide of her own orgasm crash over her, her body trembling with release.
And then, Harry opened his eyes. He looked down at Felice, the firelight casting an eerie glow over her face. For a moment, they simply stared into each other's eyes.
The moment was interrupted by Natey.
“Pak u’tu kai”.
Natey came over from tending the fire. He grunted something else to Harry in a language that Felice could not understand. “It seems that the fire is ready”, Harry told Felice coldly.
Felice started to scream but Natey clamped a large hand over the mouth. Harry shoved a ball gag into her mouth and secured it with a leather cloth that he wrapped around her head.
“Sorry my dear”, he said, “but we can’t have you raising a lot of racket. What would the neighbors think?”
Natey brought the pole from above the pit and placed it on top of Felice. Felice's eyes widened in terror as the rope was tied around her feet, wrists and waist and attached to the pole. With a swift and powerful motion, Natey hoisted her up into the air, her body suspended over the fire. Beneath her, the flames crackled and danced, casting long, flickering shadows across her face. Her breath hitched in her throat as she struggled against her bonds, her eyes darting between Harry and Natey, both of them grinning cruelly.
Natey brought out a jar that contained some kind of a fragrant, oily mixture. With a large crude brush her began to baste her skin with the substance. He followed that with a mix of spices and herbs that he sprinkled over her roasting body.
“A special mixture of jungle oils, spices and herbs”, Harry said to Felice. “One that the tribe has developed over centuries for this very purpose.”
Felice's sobs echoed through the night as her body trembled in the air. She watched in horror as Natey began to stoke the fire, the heat intensifying and scorching her skin.
Natey's eyes never left Felice as he tended to the fire, the flames leaping higher with each stroke of his axe. The heat grew more intense, and still Felice struggled against her bonds, tears streaming down her face.
Finally, with the fire roaring, Natey gave Felice one final, unkind smile before stepping back. Harry joined him, leaning against a nearby post, his eyes never leaving Felice.
The scent of the fire filled the air, blending with the aroma of the oils, spices, and herbs that had been painted and sprinkled onto Felice's body. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic, guttural sound as the pain began to overwhelm her.
With a final, fierce blow, Natey slammed down on the end of the pole. Felice's body jerked, and her screams echoed through the night one last time before being silenced by the flame.
Harry stepped forward, examining Felice's roasted body. "Well," he said, "we'll see what she tastes like tomorrow."
Natey nodded, a satisfied grin on his face.
As the sphere of light cast by the fire dimmed, the darkness of the night enveloped them once more. Harry and Natey stood in silence, the pair of them eagerly anticipating the meal that would come the next day. One that Harry expected to be one that he would never forget.
On the next day a small group of guests began to arrive at Harry’s villa. He escorted them to artificial cannibal village that he had created in his yard. There, now fully roasted and ready to be served, was Felice.
“Oh, she still looks quite lovely, doesn’t she?” said Mrs. Chamberlain.
“Yes she does”, mused Harry. “And I hope she will taste every bit as good as she looks.”
The atmosphere was both secretive and festive as Natey came to carve Felice for the feast. The small group sat down at the table that Harry had prepared.
“Last night we dressed like cannibals and we partied like cannibals”, he said, raising a glass. “Today, we shall feast like cannibals.”
They all raised their glasses in agreement, and the aroma of Felice's roasted body filled the air as they began to feast.
The first piece of meat was brought to the table, and the guests looked at each other nervously. "Go ahead," urged Harry, his eyes boring into them. "Taste her."
Mrs. Chamberlain took the first bite and chewed slowly, her eyes widening as she tasted the spices and herbs that had marinated Felice's flesh.
"She's delicious," she said, her voice trembling. "She tastes like heaven."
Each bite was savored, each taste analyzed, as they compared the texture, the flavor, the sensation against the tongue and palate. Harry could see the looks of pleasure and horror on their faces as the meal progressed. The fire had perfectly roasted Felice's body, leaving her tender and succulent, with a taste that was unlike anything they had ever experienced before.
As the guests continued to devour Felice, the mood in the artificial cannibal village became more and more surreal. The pleasure and pain of the night before, the fantasy of entering a world of cannibalism, was now intertwined with the very real experience of consuming a human being.
It was a world that Harry had invited them into, and they were now enthralled by the possibility that such a scenario could exist in a place as refined and exclusive as his villa.
As the meal concluded one of Harry’s guests was watching Natey with interest as Natey was finishing up devouring Felice, the juices dripping from his chin.
“What do you think he thinks of eating someone from our world?” He asked.
Harry said a few words to Natey in his own language to which Natey answered back.
“Natey agrees with us”, Harry interpreted. “Felice was about the best feast he has ever eaten”.
“Do you think it was such a good idea introducing Natey to the pleasures of the flesh of western women?" the guest asked. “I remember once seeing a cartoon about a cannibal that came to civilization from a cannibal island and started eating up the population of Cincinnati”, he joked.
“Oh, you don’t think there is a risk of that, do you?, Mrs. Chamberlain said nervously.
She glanced over at Natey to discover him looking back at her. The look in his eyes was one of hunger.