The Knobscot Cannibals

Excerpt 5

When I opened the door to her "cell" that evening, she was standing by her makeshift bed, clutching her chain in both hands, her eyes wild with excitement.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, Master."

"Master?"

"You're my owner. I'm your animal. That makes you my master."

I could hardly believe it! She was really into this! My own excited part sprang to life, eager for insertion into my "animal." I glanced at her bowl. She had licked it dry. The room reeked with the contents of her bucket. I unlocked her padlocks.

"You must be hungry."

"Yes, Master."

"Come upstairs, wash yourself up and prepare my dinner."

"Yes, Master. At once."

She charged at me, embraced me savagely, kissed me ferociously, and sprinted off and up the stairs. I decided then and there that she might be insane, but she was definitely sincere. She was no thief. The next day I locked her up in one of the bedrooms with enough newly purchased chain to allow her to move from bed to toilet. I also added handcuffs. She loved the handcuffs!

If anything, her privations doubled her sexual cravings. It didn't matter where I locked her up and chained her down — the cellar, a bedroom, the attic, the garage, a closet, — she greeted me on my return with unrestrained sexual vivacity and slavish obedience. I experimented with more severe restraints, like removing all pillows and blankets, making her spend all day and night on a hard floor. She was all the more eager to assuage her hours of discomfort with hours of debasing sex! I was in heaven.

On the fifth evening she set aside her "Yes, Master" routine long enough to discuss the next phase of her career as livestock.

"We need to decide how I will be cooked."

"Ah," I said.

"You know the choices."

"I do?"

"Sure you do. I can be skinned and butchered with the various cuts cooked in different ways — oven roasted, broiled, pan fried, made into a stew, ground for meatloaf — that sort of thing. Or I can be roasted whole in an oven or on a spit over a barbecue pit. What do you think?"

What I thought was that I'd like to keep her around indefinitely as my personal slave and fuck toy. What I said was, "I don't think I could bear to see you skinned."

"Okay. That leaves roasting whole. Do you like the idea of seeing me roasting in an oven trussed up on a pan, or would you rather I be mounted on a spit and roasted over a fire? Either one is great with me, but which would be sexier for you?"

"Actually, we have no way of doing either. We'd have to build special facilities."

"So, are we back to skinning and butchering?"

I felt sick at the prospect. "No. We could build the necessary facility. But it will take a while." Already I liked that idea better. The longer the delay the more chance of talking her out of it.

"That's okay. So which will it be? On a spit or in an oven?"

"I guess a spit over an open fire would be more practical. We could build that out back. An oven the size we'd need would be huge and the installation might draw unwanted attention."

"A spit it is. I like that better! Imagine what I'll look like impaled on a spit and turning over the fire. God! I'm coming!"

She rocked her chair backwards and massaged her clit vigorously, moaning loudly. Rock hard and not wanting to be left out, I picked her up out of the chair, laid her on the rug, unzipped, and mounted her, ramming myself home to the rhythm of her rapid orgasms until I had spent myself into her and we both melted into an inert mass. After a few moments her eyes fluttered open and she bit at my neck playfully.

"Trouble is," she said as though nothing had happened, "we don't know what human meat tastes like. Hell, I don't even know what it looks like when its cooked. Is it red like beef? Gray like pork? Do you know?"

"Not me. You're my first."

"How are we going to find the best way to season me if we don't know how I taste?"

"Beats me. Maybe we'll just have to make do with salt and pepper."

"Oh no! I want to be done right! What's the point of going through all this if I just come out blah? I want our banquet guests to be smacking their lips and saying I'm the most awesome meat they've ever tasted."

"Well, I don't see how we can try out recipes in advance. You're our one and only source of girl meat."

"We could cut off one of my legs and try cooking the meat from it in different ways."

I grabbed her arms hard. "Oh no! We'll do no such thing! I'm your owner and I will not permit your body to be mutilated in any way. At least, not prior to your roasting."

"Silly!" she laughed, and kissed me. "You really like my body the way it is, huh?"

"Damned straight! No amputations!"

"Okay. But that means we have to recruit someone else to practice on."

"Someone else? You mean you want me to run another ad?" My hopes rose! What were the odds of attracting another girl with a death wish. I might be able to drag this out for years.

"No, there's no need. I know a girl I can talk into it. We've been into this fantasy together for over a year. I'm sure I can convince her to come and join me. We just have to be careful, same as you were with me. Make sure she keeps her destination a secret. Please let me call her. This is very exciting!"

As usual, her enthusiasm spilled over into another round of strenuous fucking. Ten minutes later she was dialing my cell phone as I lay on the floor recovering.

The girl's name was Brandi. She and Crystal worked the same circuit of exotic dance clubs. They spent a good twenty minutes on girlish chit-chat, sliding easily into how Crystal had changed plans and turned east. Shifting to confidential whispers, Crystal let her in on a huge secret. She'd gone to a bdsm club in Boston and found this really cool guy who had contacts with an actual snuff group and they'd agreed to let her be on the menu this weekend. How cool is that?! After a few minutes of excited discussion, Crystal said she'd love it if Brandi could come and watch her be cooked. Maybe, if she played her cards right, Brandi might even be able to join her on the menu! They giggled and bantered several minutes longer, but I could tell from watching Crystal's face that Brandi was wetting herself with the prospect of realizing their fantasies together. Ultimately she had agreed to sneak away for the weekend and join the party. Crystal would meet her at the Burger King off Routes 84 and 90 late Friday night. "Bring all your good stuff in case they agree to do you, too. Don't want to waste it. God, it's all so awesome!" Giggle, giggle!

And it was done. Easy as that.

"What good stuff ?" I asked, thinking code words . This could still be some kind of sting.

"Drugs. She's into lots of stuff. We may need to get her nice and high if she starts to chicken out. That'd make a good headline for your newspaper: Cow turns Chicken ."

We spent the rest of the week constructing a roasting pit with gas burners and a steel rod as a spit which, when connected to an electric motor, turned slowly over the pit. We added charcoal and applewood chips around the gas jets for smoking. We even worked out a way to snuff Brandi with maximum thrill effect and minimum legal risk. It was hard to believe I was carrying things this far, but Crystal's determination and enthusiasm was irresistible for my hopelessly smitten heart.

We picked Brandi up at the Burger King Friday night at 10:15. She turned out to be a pretty girl, about Crystal's age, although not in Crystal's league. Her face was round and cute, although a little too full through the cheeks for true beauty. She had a nice figure, albeit about fifteen pounds overweight. But already I was sizing her up as a butcher might, and she struck me as being perfectly proportioned for generous cuts of meat from her upper arms, tits, rump, thighs and calves. She had dark brown, shoulder-length hair and big brown puppy dog eyes, full of unrequited hope, ready to submit herself to anyone who offered approval and acceptance.

Crystal sat with her in the back seat, regaling her with fictitious accounts of exciting contacts with the snuff community and true accounts of her new-found sexual excess. They puffed on Brandi's supply of joints until the car was so full of burning grass even I was mellow. Crystal whispered tales of her romps with me to their combined tittering and promised this would be a weekend of unprecedented sexual extravagance for Brandi, setting her free forever from the stifling confines of her clueless vanilla world, giving her the chance to experience things they had only dared dream about in her New Jersey bore hole. Inevitably the talk drifted to Sunday's big event.

"Aren't you scared?" Brandi asked, chewing on her smile.

"Course I'm scared! Whadda ya think? But that's what makes it so incredible! The finality of it! I don't think I've gone ten minutes without an orgasm all week! My God, it's the most amazing continuous high possible! Just wait, you'll see. If they choose you, that is."

Brandi's panties were wet with anticipation when we pulled in to my garage.

After several drinks, both she and Crystal were naked and cavorting shamelessly for me in the living room. Brandi's boobs were not as spectacular as Crystal's but they were deliciously round and firm. (And real, Crystal assured me.) As the proceedings became more playful, the two girls undressed me while I faked inept resistance, and soon all three of us were entangled in a complex drunken orgy that ended with the three of us in my bed and both of the women incubating my semen.

Crystal continued to excite Brandi throughout Saturday morning with images of a crowd of banqueters admiring their two beautiful carcasses as they slowly turned on their spits over the fire. She showed her the new roasting pit in the back yard. At the sight of it, Brandi's knees nearly buckled with the intensity of her mounting excitement. Encouraged by Crystal, she dipped into her plentiful stock of drugs throughout the day and by evening was dreamily ecstatic when Crystal confided to her that the meat selection committee from the snuff group had agreed to look her over for possible inclusion in Sunday's banquet.

It was to take place in one of the upstairs bedrooms, she was told, where there was a one-way mirror I had installed for spying on unsuspecting guests. We told her the members of the club had to remain unseen behind the mirror in case she was rejected, for obvious reasons. For dramatic effect (and to add verisimilitude to our little charade) we made her strip nude in another bedroom and I led her from there down the hall and into the "viewing room" by a chain locked around her neck. Standing in the room in front of the mirror, I ordered her to turn slowly all the way around. I placed a small stool in front of her and slightly to the left upon which she was told to place her left foot. This opened up her pussy for inspection from the unseen side of the mirror and allowed me to squeeze her raised thigh and calf to demonstrate the firmness of her meat. I hefted and squeezed her ample breasts the same way. Then I made her turn her back to the mirror and bend over, palms on the floor, so I could likewise demonstrate the suitability of her nicely rounded ass to our phantom audience. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and excitement as I led her out of the room. I could see her heart pounding under her breast. I made her sit naked on the bed, chained to the headboard, to wait for the "decision of the committee." Crystal held her hand and kept reminding her of how "wicked awesome" it would be if she passed, because the snuff club had very strict requirements and only accepted the most beautiful and potentially delicious girls for these roasts.

By the time I returned with the news that Brandi had been accepted and we could start preparing her right away, Brandi's emotions went off like a rocket and the two girls began dancing each other in circles, restrained only by Brandi's chain. We let her take another long snort from her supply of powdered courage, then I locked a matching chain around Crystal's neck and led them both into the master suite shower — an open room, fully tiled, with double shower heads on one wall — where they washed and shampooed each other thoroughly.

"No point drying our hair," Crystal told her. "We'll just pin it up in a bun. They'll only shave it off before they roast us, anyway."

Brandi shivered, a dull awareness of her rapid approach to the abyss poking against the coke-glazed surface of her thoughts.

"But there's only one spit," she observed belatedly.

"No, there are two," I assured her. "They're setting up the other one now."

We made her sit on a stool and spread her knees so I could shave off her dark, neatly trimmed pubic bush to render her pussy as bare as Crystal's. It just happens that I prefer that look. And I'm the Master, am I not?

We let Brandi enjoy one last, long hit of white powder before starting the final leg of our journey. It ended in a room on the first floor only a short gurney trip away from the roasting pit. Crystal and I had installed two rings in the ceiling through which ropes had been run with nooses at one end. I had installed a camcorder to capture the "volunteer" nature of what was to follow, just in case. The lens was aimed to see only one of the participants: Brandi.

Bleary from what must have been a near overdose, she climbed limply up on a rather high, long box under one of the rings, as instructed. Crystal took up a position on the other end of the box under the second ring, the one not in the camera's view. The nooses dangled next to their heads, just touching their shoulders. I ordered them to loop the nooses over their heads and around their necks, then pulled the ropes taut and tied them off.

I had locked a chain around both their waists and padlocked a set of handcuffs to the front. Now I ordered them to lock the cuffs on their own wrists. Crystal snapped hers on with no problem, but Brandi fumbled for a full minute, swaying precariously. Finally both pair of hands were properly restrained.

"Where is everybody. When are they gonna roast us?" Brandi slurred.

"Well, first we have to snuff you." I answered. "We're doing both you and Crystal together so you can appreciate each other's final moments and give each other support. Everyone's very excited about you and Crystal being on the same menu. You're going to be the most beautiful and mouth-watering roasts they've ever enjoyed. It's your best fantasy come true! And it's time to begin. All set?"

"Hmm," said Brandi.

"God, yes!" gushed Crystal. "This is fantastic! I'm coming again! It's running down my legs."

"That's all right," I soothed. " I'll clean you off later. Enjoy. Now I'm going to count backwards from five. When I reach zero, both of you push the box away that you're standing on. I guarantee the grandest orgasm you've ever experienced. Here we go. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. PUSH!"

Brandi made a feeble attempt to comply, but it didn't matter. Crystal's simultaneous kick sent the box toppling away. Both girls made a grunting sound as the nooses seized their necks, holding their thrashing feet just an inch off the floor. Crystal and I had carefully adjusted the height of the nooses to make sure of that. In fact, Crystal had insisted on testing it. Both girls were the same height, so when I had lifted Crystal up so she could put Brandi's noose around her neck, then lowered her and let her dangle for half a minute, she had been satisfied that neither she nor her friend would be able to touch so much as the tip of a toe to the floor.

"But how do I know you won't let me die with Brandi?" She had asked.

"You don't know, do you?" I answered. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Oh my God!" she had sputtered, and took time out for another orgasm.

We knew that most people, when hanged without a drop, last at least ten or fifteen minutes — sometimes thirty or forty minutes. She had made me promise to leave her up there for a full five minutes, "For the experience."

It was an astonishing sight, watching them hang. Kicking and thrashing. Their eyes bulging. Their mouths open. Desperately searching for support under their feet. Twisting in slow circles. Shackled hands opening and closing on empty air. Faces turning blue. Pleading with their eyes! Take me down, quick! I didn't mean it! I've changed my mind! I want to live!

A riverlet of excretions slicked the inside of Crystal's thighs. Her face was frantic with fear! I could read her thoughts. Would I save her as I had promised, or betray her and let her die with Brandi? Could she even survive five endless minutes of this torture? Her body jerked with orgasmic spasms. God, it was erotic to watch! For the first time the thought of observing her death and turning her into meat made my sexual centers tingle. It gave me an erection of such force that I had to open my pants to relieve the pressure, masturbating furiously as the two women kicked and squirmed before me. My release came with such force that I dropped to my knees, gasping, shuddering, staring foolishly at the sticky mess I'd spewed on the floor. Suddenly a splash of water mingled with it. I looked up. Brandi's bladder had let go; a stream of urine ran down her legs.

Then I remembered Crystal. How long had she been up there? I'd lost track of time. She was still squirming a little, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed over, her tongue protruding. Without bothering to tuck my deflated manhood in, I jumped up, seized her around the waist with one arm, lifted her and loosened the rope around her neck with the other. She took a great, shuddering breath and trembled violently in my arms. Her eyes swam back into focus and she looked at me with a silent, desperate plea. The stool we had placed in the corner for this purpose was well out of range and I couldn't reach the top of the rope to detach it from its O-ring. She was panting now, frightened. For some reason I couldn't loosen the noose enough with one hand to slip it over her head. Nor could I slide the toppled platform back under her feet because the camera would catch it and spoil my recorded "proof" that Brandi's demise was self-inflicted and unassisted. Hopefully such proof would never be needed, but one can't be too careful. I knew perfectly well how the law would interpret this activity.

"Sorry, hon," I whispered. "I can't loosen the damn noose. I'm going to have to let you go for another few seconds while I go get that step-stool."

"No!" she groaned, her eyes flooding with fear. But I lowered her to the end of the rope again. Her words were cut off with her breath and she twitched frantically, mouth open, legs thrashing. For some reason I felt a malicious satisfaction seeing abject fear replace her usual unabashed aplomb. I took my time sliding the stool under her feet. By the time I had loosened the noose sufficiently to slide it over her head and helped her down to the floor, she was gasping in great gulps of air and blubbering. She crumpled to the floor and remained curled in a ball, weeping between deep breaths.

I turned my attention to Brandi. Her face had turned dark blue. Her eyes were wide open but unfocused, her tongue purple and protruding from her mouth. Her hands and legs twitched in small, increasingly irregular spasms. Her anal sphincter had let go and a small pile of feces had landed in the puddle of urine beneath her dangling feet. While Crystal recovered, still curled in a tight ball on the floor, I got out a bucket of disinfectant and a mop. I was about to clean up, when I got a better idea. I unlocked Crystal's handcuffs and prodded her with the mop handle.

"Get up!" I ordered. "Time to clean up this mess."

She looked up at me from her curled up position on the floor. Her eyes traveled to the still dying Brandi, then back to me.

"Come on!" I nudged her with my foot. "Or would you like me to string you up again and finish you off along with the other cow? I can butcher you both together. I've got a really large walk-in freezer."

The spark came back in her eyes and she began uncoiling herself. "Yes, Master," she croaked. "I'm getting up."

While Brandi died, Crystal was cleaning up and disinfecting the floor under her. When all movement ceased, she found some wash cloths and cleaned off Brandi's soiled anus, crotch, legs and feet. I had purchased a six-foot butcher's table which we wheeled out from its storage in a walk-in closet and placed under the carcass, lowering it face up on the table. We looked at the dead girl and then at each other. We had crossed the Rubicon. There was no turning back now. We both knew that at this juncture the only way Crystal would be leaving these premises would be in someone else's stomach. She smiled at me, trailing her fingers over Brandi's rapidly cooling breasts.

"I'll bet you can't wait to sink your teeth into these babies," she said.