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Notes:
{
This is a fantasy! Women are lovable persons and I would do anything to make them happy. I am a vegetarian myself.
}
Cannibal Cruise. Chapter 9.
Sally dives headlong into a pile of mattresses just in time to escape being hit by half a dozen glass cups. The noise, as they smash into the floor, shattering in thousands of flying pieces, is drowned by a frightful screeching issuing from the kitchen.
"Dew neh loh moh on all foleign devils! Am I a dilty lump of foleign devil dogmeat? No, I'm a civilized person! Me, Teh Mei Ling, Chef number one in the whole wolld! Sullendel my kitchen to a bunch of spoiled Indian blats? Nevel!!! First I kill that motherless turd of a ship captain!
"Please, calm down sweet Mei Ling. It will be only..."
"I kill you too! You stupid big uddered cow! You... You stupid lump of dog turd!"
"...only for one d..."
A loud thud stops Betty in mid-sentence. An enormous kitchen cleaver quivers by her head, stuck in the wall.
"Thousand cuts!"
"What you say?"
"Captain Jessica agrees to let you perform the 'death by one thousand cuts' for our guests."
"For true?"
"Cross my heart!"
"Thousand cuts my way?"
"Yes, yes. All thousand cuts in breasts."
"Big bosomed Moroccan bitch?"
"You can pick the one you like best."
"Kitchen just one day, heya?"
"Yes, yes. Just one day and the girls promise to leave everything spotless clean."
"Ayeeyah. Why didn't you say so honoured tai-tai of brave captain Jessica?"
...
It had all started last night when the future partners of 'Ambrosia luxury gourmet cruises' and their lusty maids were invited to the Indian girls' quarters...
The girls are incredibly excited by Betty's promise: A whole day to do absolutely what they want. No matter how bizarre!
That's exactly what she said, isn't it? She would not take back her words, would she? Of course not! Bettyji is the right kind of girl, a good gal through and through.
And Fatima is invited! They had all watched sweet, voluptuous Fatima while she was sleeping the drugs off. Fatima with her full, turgid breasts, wide hips and meaty pussy... The perfect companion for a wild holiday!
The girls show their quarters perfunctorily to their dear guests. Comfortable beds, half of them -now that many are unused- joined to make an enormous communal bed. A bed that, judging by its ripe pussy aroma, is regularly used for orgies.
Three walls tastefully decorated with taxidermed heads of former sisters -heads that have survived the rigours of cooking- and a fourth almost completely covered by an enormous 3D screen.
The guests are barely settled on the communal bed when all the girls clamour for a 'dirty movie'.
"A movie Mumtaz. The one we have not yet seen. Hurry up!"
The wall disappears to show a dining room. Tridimensional video, surround sound and a scent device perform the magic of transporting the communal bed there.
Cutlery clinking, soft murmurs of happy diners, anguished moans from a woman being cooked and the pervading aroma of roasting flesh tell you this could be a typical high class restaurant anywhere in the world.
Slow camera panning shows an open kitchen area where a fat woman is roasting in a vertical kebab. It is the standard gradual-roast equipment and the electric fires are now hip high, her lower legs and left buttock already carved. The partially impaled woman's moans attest to the freshness of the roast.
The first sign that this is an Arab restaurant comes when the camera lets us see the fortunate diners, a fat, jaded looking man and his thirty naked wives. The women, eyes bright with lust, look occasionally to the camera with a predatory smile.
Next we are shown the restaurant staff, pretty waitresses dressed in transparent, 'thousand and one nights' outfits. Not a single man amongst them.
The camera now turns and we find what it is the wives are looking at so hopefully: A wide, well lit stage.
A neon sign in Arabic script (subtitled 'The Extreme Snuff palace') leave us in no doubt this is not a normal restaurant!
...
Sizzling, red-hot irons cooling on quivering flesh, chopping noises, pain crazed shrieks, stakes puncturing velvet skin, full-throated cries, desperate moans, hysterical crying,... The movie sound track is gradually drowned by pleasure moans, passionate grunts, licking sounds, shouted orgasms,...
Blood, burning flesh, the smell of fear,... all the movie's scents are completely swamped by a powerful aroma of sex juices. Thirty-four flooding pussies and two heroic penises have released an aphrodisiac cloud of musky fumes that envelopes the crowded communal bed.
...
"Fucking fantastic! I mean... Not bad at all by George! Best orgy ever, What?"
"Such a dirty movie! It is all my fault. I am a bad, depraved girl. Depraved and wicked! Spank me Samantha memsahib!"
"No, no spare Mumtaz! Spank me Samantha. Very hard!"
"And me!"
"Me too!"
"Yes, yes spank us!"
"Oh la la, quelle ardeur! Even ma soeur Justine is exhausted!"
"My first pussy's juice bath. Ah my girls, did my penis and tongue wriggle inside your ambrosial honeypots! Merci, Merci beaucoup!"
"I missed a spectacular impalement. And I don't mind it a bit! Oh my Princesses I love you all!"
"John sahib, what a frightening impaling stake between your legs! Oh, oh, why did we show you that cruel movie? Now you'll rend my tender yoni and pierce violently my body!"
"Will I? Yes by Jove! But you'll have to do all the work. I can barely move."
...
"I grant you it was exciting but Arabs are all sick psychos. 'Chop, chop, bang, bang, thank you Madam'. Thirty girls in as many minutes. No time to enjoy it!"
"Yes, crude, no sensibility, no art. Give me a long, unhurried one any time!"
"Which brings us to tomorrow's plans. It is our day and we are going to make the most of it!"
"Yes, yes darling Fatima will share in all our games!"
"But we must be careful not to overtire the sweet girl. She is our special guest for dinner!"
"Dear Indian sisters -and guests- let's do some brainstorming."
All kinds of wild suggestions are listened to and, heads rocking in thought, carefully weighed. Finally a very complete schedule is enthusiastically agreed on by all present.
"What about dinner, it should be something memorable!"
"If I may make a suggestion?"
"Dear, shy Amrita, please."
"I live in the north, where a long, long time ago, before 'the big change', there were some meat-eaters. My grandmother used to tell me incredibly detailed stories passed from generation to generation. It is from her that I know of a long forgotten recipe to cook in one of our Indian tandoor ovens. I consider myself a good cook but I have never tried that recipe because the necessary ingredients can no longer be found in India. I remember the recipe word by word and, if we could obtain all the victuals and one modern, clear glass tandoor oven, I am sure I could cook a most delicious dinner."
"Bravo Amrita. That's what we'll do!"
"But where will we find the ingredients? And the oven?"
"The main ones are already aboard. For the oven and the rest... I don't know if could impose on our dear guests..."
"But of course my young Lady. I am entirely at your service!"
"We all are, ma petite!"
Cannibal Cruise. Chapter 9. End.
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