The Machine in the Park

The Machine in the Park

© Spitman, April 2011

Judy was enjoying her walk through the park. Ahead, on one side of the path, she saw an array of roasting pits, several of them occupied. As she drew closer she stopped to admire the scene. There was something about a girl roasting on a spit that made her pussy tingle. It was wickedly exciting to imagine being on a spit like that. Behind the roasting pits there was a barbecue area with enough seating for several hundred, with many of the tables occupied, and carving tables where chefs were already busy serving a line of very hungry looking customers.

Just then she saw a spitted girl on an overhead conveyor, moving towards the roasting pits. As Judy watched, she was deposited on a vacant roasting pit. Her spit started to turn while one of the attendants began to baste her from head to toe. It was a fascinatingly ordinary scene, but to Judy it was arousing beyond words. Her heart thumped, and she trembled with excitement.

There were signposts in the park pointing towards the New Kate machine. It was unattended, so that curious girls could have a look without being pressured into taking a turn on it, but she was sure there would be onlookers.

The path turned, and there it was on its plinth, hidden from the roasting pits by a row of trees, with a gap for the overhead conveyor. There were bleachers on both sides of the Kate machine, occupied by spectators which included all male groups, couples and families, and a few groups of girls. There was a buzz of conversation, which quietened when Judy approached. She didn't mind being the centre of attention, even when she obeyed the signs instructing girls to remove their clothes before approaching the machine any closer, enjoying the appreciative comments.

It didn't look like a machine, she thought as she stepped closer to examine it. There was a kind of smooth looking block, made from a glossy black material that might have been obsidian. It was strangely curved, but she could see how it would comfortably support her body. There were recesses for her breasts, and curiously shaped protrusions beneath them that made her heart beat fast, and her mind shrink from a closer examination. Looking forward, the block curved up to what could only be a chinrest. An awkward position, she thought, but she would like the feel of it against her naked body. She was sure of that.

She could see where she would have to kneel to lie over the block. There were widely separated grooves for her calves, which would open her thighs considerably. There were powerful looking clamps ready to close over her ankles and behind her knees, and seams betrayed the recesses where other mechanisms were retracted deep inside the block itself.

A beautiful, glossy, midnight black spit was loaded and locked. It was innocent, unthreatening, quiescent. There was no sound, no movement to suggest that its position was anything but an accident. It invited her to move closer. At least half the length of the shaft was hidden in the housing of its powerful motor. She felt the point. It was scarily, functionally sharp. She could barely close her hand around its girth, but what made her tremble was its position, inches from where her pussy lips would be, and perfectly aligned with where her cunt would be.

She stood for a little while, her heart in her mouth. It was patient, but she knew it wanted her.

She stepped through the gap between the spit and the block. Her pussy was throbbing. She couldn't resist kneeling down in the grooves. She leaned forward over the block. The feel of her breasts slipping through the recesses was delicious. It was a little less easy to move but the feel of the slippery-smooth, form fitting polished surface against her bare skin was wonderful.

Of course, Judy thought. The Kate had a routine before it got to the spitting stage. It distracted a girl with pleasure and then tricked her into becoming a captive. She reached down carefully to feel the locking clamps. A tiny, seemingly innocuous movement would be enough to trigger them. That was okay. Judy was just going to see how it felt to be on the spitting block. Knowing that the machine had spitted hundreds of girls before her only made it more enticing.

It was just a quiet whirring sound at first, somewhere between her legs. And then she felt it. A delicious caress from a smooth, sensual feeler between the lips of her pussy, and then another.

'Oooooh!' She breathed. She was so lucky to be a girl. Every touch was sheer magic.

Little flicks at her nipples, a rubbery sting, instantly they stiffened, only to be sucked into little cups. Feathery soft whisks teased her breasts until she was distracted with sensation, her arms frustratingly out of reach, but it didn't matter. It was an adventure beyond her wildest dreams.

She quivered as the wonderful, irresistible sweetness spread and intensified. Subtle vibrations teasing her innermost crevices brought a tingling deep within her core. Her whole body was an organ approaching a crescendo. She gasped, breathless in a haze of delight.

Something slid down over the ridge of he clitoris, pressing deep on either side.

'Yeeeowww!' She screamed, squirming violently as a sudden shocking pain gripped her clitoris.

There was something she was trying desperately to remember, something important, but it was too distracting, her imprisoned nipples exploded with pain and suddenly the block was moving, she grapped at the block and then she remembered, too late.

'Klack!' The clamps closed instantly and locked.

There was a murmur of appreciation from the crowd, and some applause. Damn, she thought, aware of what a fool she had been. The clamps held her with utter rigidity. The spit was inches from her pussy, lined up perfectly to enter her cunt. Ironically, that was exactly what had made it so exciting to mount the machine in the first place.

Judy squirmed with discomfort at the rude intrusion of thick needles through her nipples and deep into her breasts, which swelled as the pumps discharged the cool liquid deep inside her, but once her breasts were prepped the needles withdrew.

Judy was shaking as the neural feedback helmet dropped over her head, and the feelers and probes moved into position over her pussy. This time the pleasure came quickly, her responses controlling the devices that teased and stimulated her body. In seconds she was screaming as the orgasms exploded from the delicate organs of her pleasure, intensified and then shattered her consciousness, while she convulsed in the exhausting throes of ultimate, helpless ecstasy.

When her consciousness returned, her whole body was still quivering in the aftermath of having the pleasure wrung out of her so comprehensively. There was a quiet whirring sound, which she could not place at first. It was not at all what she had expected from something as powerful as a spitting motor. She was rigidly clamped in the path of the spit, her tingling pussy lips wet with anticipation, intoxicated by the intensity of the moment.

Images came to her of girls she had just seen roasting on their spits. They were erotic images, and she saw herself in their position, her pussy lips stretched around the shaft, humping the spit while her pumped up tits projected invitingly towards the searing heat of the flames.

Why had she come to the park? There was something about the Kate that a girl found it hard to resist. It had drawn her like a magnet. She had to see it, she had to try it, and she had been so easy, it was embarrassing.

There were grading inspections, of course, and the excitement of becoming registered meat on her graduation from high school, but somehow it had not seemed real. Even the EZ-Glide™ and Fibre-Floss™ had seemed like exciting, sexy fun, rather than just the mandatory preparation of a girl who had chosen to be roasted on a spit, rather than meet, for her, a less desirable fate.

It could only be seconds away. She had come to surrender her meat. She knew it now. Her cunt was open for the spit, her helplessly quivering lips offering a discrete passage into her soft core. There were people, couples and even children on the bleachers, watching curiously to see a girl converted into a spitroast. Sellers passed among them offering girlmeat steaks, burgers and fries with an assortment of sodas. She was thirsty, but it was too late for that.

'Aaaah!' She gasped in shock as the tip of the spit met the parting of her lips. Instinctively she adjusted her hips a tiny fraction to align her cunt with the steadily advancing shaft. A moment later the glossy shaft was in her cunt and she felt even more helpless, pinned through the core of her meat. She tried to grip the slippery shaft, wet with her juices, but it was impossible. It slithered easily forward while she wriggled helplessly, until at last she felt it rise in her throat and then it was through and out of her mouth.

She felt the mechanical arms lift her arms and hold them to her sides while the banding began. The ball hook pushed firmly into her ass and locked itself to the spit. At last she was lifted onto the overhead conveyor for the short, bumpy journey to the next available roasting pit.

Tears ran down Judy's face. It was a terrible price to pay for a little mistake like that. It wasn't fair, she thought, but how many girls had told themselves the exact same thing? She was meat, so of course it was fair, and she was hardly in a position to argue, mounted on a roasting spit.

The searing heat came, dimmed and faded, and the faint crackling sound told the chefs that she was almost ready. She was not required immediately, so they lifted her spit onto a higher notch so she could continue to cook more slowly.

Every few minutes a girl would stop on the path and admire the scene at the roasting pits, look for the signpost to the New Kate, smile and walk on.