You Only Cook The Ones You Love

You Only Cook The Ones You Love

1They say that revenge is sweetest when served cold, personally, I like hot food....

Her family had been responsible for the ruination of my ancestors; their actions were calculated and callous. They enjoyed the game that wound up destroying them.

Their eldest daughter, Lisa was beautiful, she was the epitome of a society girl, she grew up with every advantage and the best schooling money could buy. She was getting married in just two weeks, and through my own devices, I had been employed as the head chef of the exclusive catering house, Dolcett Catering.

The affair was to be the society event of the year, and I would see to it that the food was, well, special....

For the last two months, I had befriended their younger daughter, Wendy. She is strikingly beautiful; blonde, tall, thin, with big, fluid blue eyes, and a smile that radiates sex. At 22 years of age, she was at the pinnacle of her sexuality.

I had made sure that she was introduced to every sexual perversion that I could imagine, and she followed my lead like a trained dog. Nothing was off her charts.

I had mentioned some very Dark fantasies, and she only seemed to be more excited by them, so my plan should be easy to carry out. 

Wendy was the polar opposite of her older sister, Lisa. She flaunted her steaming sensuality, I got her interested in wearing the most erotic fetish clothing I could imagine, and she took to it like a duck to water. Just two days ago, she appeared at my house wearing a skin tight pink latex catsuit, with attached gloves, feet, and open faced hood. Her legs were so beautifully covered with near crotch-high black vinyl boots sporting a 2 inch platform and nearly 7 inch heels. Her waist bore a wide, cincher belt that drew her already tiny waist down to only 18 inches.

When I saw a bulge under the crotch zipper of her suit, I asked her what it was, she proudly opened the zipper, exposing the end of what she was impaled with. It was a 10 inch long dildo made of silicon rubber, and heavily ribbed. She made sure to pull it out and push it back in several times as I watched her moan in ecstasy.

We spent the rest of the day and evening engaging in every sexual perversion I could imagine, even when I needed to go to the bathroom, she willingly opened her mouth wide and took my piss down her throat, so as not to waste it in a toilet.

It was time to get her used to my passion; her pain.  I took her into the den and showed her a noose made of soft, bright red, silky rope that hung from the ceiling.

She looked both scared, and strangely excited at the prospects it posed. She asked, “What is that for?”

I smiled and said, “Your beautiful neck, my dear.”

Without hesitation, I opened the noose up and held it at her head’s height. She walked forward and placed her latex hooded head fully into it. I could see her flushed passions igniting. I pulled the free end of the rope, tightening the noose around her tender flesh.

She let out a soft ‘OOOH” as it hit its mark.

“Give me your hands, my love,” I asked.

She placed her latex covered hands dutifully behind her back, clasping them together. I took a pair of handcuffs off the table nearby and clicked them onto her wrists, there was no complaint, nor words spoken. I then placed a small wooden box in front of her.

“Step up, my love,” I asked.

Holding onto her for stability, she stepped onto the box and steadied herself. The box was only about a foot high, and about a foot and a half wide. I took the free end of the rope and again tightened it so that the noose would be pulling slightly on her neck. She moaned softly as it reached its desired tension.

I let her go, and stood back to watch her beauty as she stood so still, not knowing what was to come. Clearly, she was preorgasmic, her face flushed and her breathing both rapid and shallow. My excitement was rousingly obvious, my cock was swelling and begged to be satisfied. Standing in front of her, I could only think of her beauty, not her ultimate fate. I began to pleasure myself as she looked at me, her willingness to satisfy, obvious as always.

“Master, what would you have of me?” she asked.  “How may I please you?”

“Wendy, it would please me greatly if you would kick the box out from under you and step off of it, hanging you self by your tender, young, neck.” I softly asked.

“Yes master, if it pleases you, I shall,” she replied.

Immediately, Wendy did as asked, she took a deep breath, smiled at me lovingly, and stepped from the box, kicking it away as she slipped downward. I had pre-tied a knot into the noose, so that it would tighten a bit, but not enough to cause real harm to her, at least, not this time. She swung there, inches from the floor, in an agony so erotic that I could see her passions ignite like a five- alarm fire. My cock grew instantly; her torment was driving me to unknown heights of arousal.

I allow her to swing for about a minute. She was starting to weaken, so I let her down, cradled her in my arms and kissed her so passionately and with all the erotic lust that was within me.

“Master, did I please you? Why did you not let me hang longer, did I do something to displease you?”

What could I say?

The rest of the night was spent making the most beautiful and erotic love that I had ever experienced, Wendy was the most giving and insatiable partner that I could ever imagine.

Then, my inner voices said to me, “She’s ready.”

You see, 2 days from today, I am going to cook her alive for the main course dinner and feed her to her own family; unknown to them, of course.....For my added pleasure, she will obviously not know that she is to be cooked, or that she is to be executed in a most horrific, but pleasurable  way. . . . For me!

The big day was almost here. Tomorrow, the wedding of the year is happening, and it was time to get things started. I waited until the kitchen was empty, and sent a text message to her asking her to meet me. At once, she shot back her reply,

“YES master,” as I had expected.

I then texted her phone with details of an erotic evening that I had planned for her and to make sure that she dressed accordingly.

“YES master. I am yours to do with as you please. Your pleasure is my only desire,” was her reply.

Good, all was in motion.

Wendy arrived about an hour later, looking radiant as always. Her hair and makeup were done to perfection. She had never looked more beautiful than today. She had chosen a very small, bright red leather, pleated, school girl skirt that barely covered her shaved pussy and a white, sheer tie top that showed off her beautiful tits and erect nipples to their best, with a pair of unbelievably high, 3 inch platform, 9 inch heel, “fuck-me” shoes. My favorite kind of outfit for my slutty lover, indeed.

Too bad, she wouldn’t be wearing it very long.

I took her in my arms; I kissed and fondled her, just to set the mood. I then offered her a glass of fine wine from the catering hall’s own cellar. She accepted it and drank to my health. How ironic, indeed.

She had no way of knowing, but I had added just enough scopolamine to put her into a dream-like state, free of fear, but still very awake.

It worked quickly; within 20 minutes she was very relaxed, a bit tired, and no longer in control of herself. I ordered her to bend over the serving counter, she did so at once. Her lack of panties let me see the target of my lust. I dropped my pants and jammed my rock hard cock into her very wet and tight pussy. I pumped away for nearly 20 minutes, until I shot my load into her hot and slippery pussy for the last time. Tears streamed down her beautiful face as she screamed out,

“Fuck me, Fuck, me please,” over and over.

She then took her normal position on her knees and sucked my cock clean. “Oh, I’ll miss this one for sure,” I thought.

I then told her to stand up and take all her clothes off; she did in seconds with no prompting needed, leaving only her unbelievably sensual shoes on.

“Can you show me around the kitchen?” she asked. “I am so curious about the way you prepare your young, beautiful, volunteer foods girls.”

A bit amazed, I said “Yes,” and walked her from side to side of the kitchen. I showed her the horizontal spitting area, the vertical slide-down spit, the boiling station, and our new electric cooking chair. Wendy seemed especially intrigued by the chair. She ran her hands over the arms, the back, and the huge, cylindrical, stainless steel probe that protruded from the center of the seat in a most erotic and obviously sexual way. This was the microwave element that would impale the victims pussy, and along with the stainless steel ‘bra’ that would be tightened around the chest of the food girl, allowing  her tits to be cooked to perfection. 

The bra had several long, and very sharp, pin-like protrusions on the inside of each cup, they would impale the lucky victim’s tits, allowing the juices to flow freely as the internal boiling took place. I explained the operation of the devilish device in great and vivid detail. Her excitement was obvious as she picked up the stainless steel bra and touched the sharp needles, pricking her finger. She then took the bra and placed it against her beautiful tits, pressing it gently against them. She let out a small, “Ouch” as the very sharp pins touched her tender skin. A few seconds later, she closed her eyes and with a quick yank, pulled the bra onto her bare tits, piercing them with the pins. She gasped; partly in pain, part in obvious ecstasy.

“Is it true that the girl receives unbelievable amounts of sexual pleasure and continuous orgasm as she sits here, with this beautiful probe filling her pussy, as she sits here, cooking? And that she controls how long she is pleasured, maybe for several hours, until she elects to finish?” she asked inquisitively.

“Well, that’s mostly true. They are told that, but in reality the chair is mostly automatic and reacts to her breathing and body temperature. Yes; they do have some measure of control, should they last longer than the average time, and yes, they could self terminate by pushing that large red button on the end of either arm of the chair, but most don’t last more than 30-45 minutes when they pass out from orgasmic overload and the chairs ‘brain’ takes over,” I told her.

“Do any of the girls ever try to get loose and stop the procedure?”

“It has happened a few times, that a girl panics as she feels herself cooking, but that is why you see all those straps and bindings. There is no way out, ever. Once it starts, that is it.”

“Wow; that sounds amazing, maybe we can try it sometime? You know, just to see how it feels,” she asked.

“Of course, anytime you wish, my darling,” I replied.

Wendy gently pulled the bra off her tits, allowing me to see the red marks where that pins had impaled her tender breasts. A few small drops of blood trickled out of them, she ran her fingers over them, and licked them clean.

“Yummy” she purred.

Then, I took her to the center of the room and showed her the main feature and newest acquisition of our kitchen, and the device that was to be her final stop on the tour.

The ‘Broil-a Matic’ is an all glass, computer controlled oven, about 3 feet by 4 feet in size, with a glass cooking tray on a motorized slide, built in. It is the deluxe model, with excellent temperature and time control. It can handle a full cook in as little as 45 minutes, or can be extended to almost 2 hours, if desired.

I could see her excitement as she ran her hands over the glass sides and door.

“How would you prepare me, if I were a food girl?” she chuckled.

I explained that she would first have had to taken at least 3 enemas first, then a good scrubbing and full body shave. Every voluntary food-girl comes to us already self-prepared at home, so we do not have to waste time with basic cleaning and prep work. She would then be oiled form head to toe with the finest olive oil and allowed to place herself voluntarily in the glass tray, as she was securely tied and bound, to prevent second thoughts and attempted escape. If the girl was to be served to a special VIP party, her vaginal cavity would be filled with a special stuffing made of expensive herbs and spices, to specially enhance her flavor. She would then be fitted with a hollow, expanding, metal butt plug, connected to a small pump, which would allow internal basting with our secret formula to take place as she lay there, slowing cooking.

Little did she know that this was closer to the truth than she realized, but all was going so well.

“Well, I did take my enemas, like you always demand, before we meet, and my pussy is shaved clean, just like you demand.” she answered with a laugh.

I chuckled along with her and asked if she wanted to see more.

“Maybe you would like to try out the vertical spit; it’s the thrill of a lifetime!” I laughed.

“You can stand over it, and with your legs spread wide open. Heavy straps attached to the floor are affixed to your ankles to keep your legs spread apart should you panic and try to get loose. Your arms are tied to a spreader bar above your head to keep your body aligned properly.  Mirrors placed around it allow you to watch as the sharp, steel tip ascends into you pussy, fucking you with tremendous vibrating motions as it finds its way through your body to your open mouth.”

“Hmm, maybe later, Sir. But can we play with this for a while? I would love to be prepared for cooking and then feel what it must be like to be willingly roasted in this terribly erotic oven, with everyone looking at me.”

I gulped hard... did she know that this was not going to be playtime?

I walked to the shelves and took a gallon can of olive oil from them and returned to her.

“Sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“OH, yes!” she replied at once.

I pushed the button that slid the glass tray out of the oven and let it stand there in the air. Wendy ran her hands over the sides of the glass tray like it was a fine icon, almost sexual in nature. I took the virgin olive oil and started to oil her beautiful, young, body from her head to her toes. She stood completely still, basking in the moment. My nubile lover had her fingers planted in her pussy much of the time. She was masturbating furiously and climaxing before I finished basting her body with the virgin oil. It was obvious that this was extremely sensual for her, the reddening of her face and short choppy breaths told it all, she was nearing climax just standing there being oiled.

I left her head for last; her body was glistening from the fine oil.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want to continue? We can just spend the rest of the night rolling around, enjoying your oiled body together,” I asked.

Her speech was choppy. The intense sexual pleasure she was experiencing was driving her to her final climax, something that only I knew.

“Yes, master, I am ready now,” she whispered.

I took a handful of the oil and rubbed it into her beautiful blonde hair, slicking it down to her scalp. Wendy moaned and cried out in pleasure as I finished attending to her silky mane.  I gently massaged the oil into her beautiful face, and finally, I poured about a pint into her long, sexy mane, leaving it to drip down her head and onto her body.

“Does the way I look please you, master?” she asked in a halting voice.

“Yes, my love. You look more beautiful than ever before,” I replied.

I gently massaged her face with a full handful of oil, kissing her tenderly as I did.

She was now fully oiled and ready for the next step.

“Into the tray, food girl!” I commanded.

I took her hand and helped her climb in to the tray. Her excitement was so obvious; her nipples were like rocks, her pussy gleaming wet and dripping.

I helped her to lie down, I instructed her to pull her legs upwards to her thighs, and I fastened them together with strong fiberglass bands we have for such occasions. I explained the as the cooking process proceeds, the girl may weaken and her legs slip out of the tray, the bands keep them steady and make her job easier, not having to hold them tightly against each other as she cooks. I took the very large butt plug nozzle and slid it into her waiting ass, she moaned a small pleasure sigh as it filled her to the brim. I connected the pump hose to it and made sure the basting fluid was flowing.

“Oh, master, it feels so erotic, like a wonderful enema that is filling my tummy. Look at how it is growing larger and larger,” she moaned.

Wendy was amazing, so calm and so excited. If only she knew what was to come next.

I placed her hands in front of her tummy and tied a strong cord around them with several turns. She moaned with delight as the knot was pulled tight.

“See, that’s what we do to keep our lovely ladies from trying to slip away when the fun really starts,” I replied.

“But, what is that steel band for, next to my head?” she asked.

“That locks tightly around the neck, so that she can’t get loose, in case she starts to panic. It also is the interlock for the oven; it won’t start without it being closed.” I answered.

“Well shouldn’t it be closed?” she asked. “I want to feel the whole experience,” she said.

“The whole experience?” I asked her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, shouldn’t I be stuffed, and then can’t we slide me in, and just put the heat on for a short while, so I can feel the sensations of cooking begin? I can already feel my tummy expanding from the basting juices, so lets’ keep going,” she pleaded.

My cock grew to rock hard; this was going to be easier than I had dreamed. I thought that I would need to hog tie her, and knock her out first... But this...

“How hot can you make it, and still be safe?” she asked.

Chuckling to myself, I answered,” I guess about 140* or so will be safe.”

Her hands were busy with her clit, she was climaxing over and over as we talked. I almost felt sorry for her.

“Ok, let’s go for it, but only to 140*,” I replied.

“Now when do I get my stuffing?” she asked.

“Are you sure? The stuffing process is rather extreme, and it hurts quite a bit. The stuffing machine shoots the wet, bread- based stuffing, deep into your pussy and abdomen.  It fills your tummy up to its absolute limit, leaving you looking like you are 9 months pregnant. When you are filed, I have to put this large, sharp toothed clamp on your pussy, to keep the stuffing inside as you cook.  Are you sure?” I asked.

I showed her the polished steel, spring loaded, clamp. It was about 4 inches long, with sharp, pointed teeth on its edges. The design was for function, not comfort. It would clamp her pussy shut, digging in to the skin as it pressed her labia together.

“Of course, if I am going to experience it, I want it all,” she chuckled.

I took the nozzle of the “Stuff-o-Matic” and pressed it against her pussy, then I told her to take a deep breath, she did. I pushed the nozzle deep into her and pressed the button, the stuffing began to fill her cavity. I offered to stop the filling, but she protested loudly,

“NO, I want to be filled to the max. Please don’t stop,”

Wendy winced and grimaced as it most surely hurt a lot. We both had our eyes on her beautiful, oil soaked tummy, as it slowly grew in size, giving her what looked like a huge baby-bump.   The machine finally stopped automatically, knowing that she could take no more.

I took the clamp, pressed the handles together opening it up wide. I took her labia in my fingers and let the clamp bite down, its points digging into her tender flesh.

She cringed and let out a small cry, “Ouch.”

“Are you alright, my love?” I asked.

Then, I removed the basting nozzle and placed the stuffing machine’s nozzle against her beautiful ass and jammed it inside, just a bit.

“Here it comes, my love,” I said as I pressed the nozzle trigger again.

Quickly, her basting juices soaked anal cavity filled, causing more pain and considerable bloating. She moaned with delight as she filled to beyond what I had thought she could tolerate, but she was not complaining. She looked amazingly sensual, all stuffed and ready for me.

Finally, I took the large, aluminum, butt plug nozzle and re-inserted it into her rear, explaining to her that it was to keep the stuffing from pouring out, as her body would eventually swell as it boiled.

I was shocked that she only smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“Oh yes, master. I am sorry for crying out. I feel amazing, this is so wonderful. Do I look satisfactory for your approval? My tummy is so huge it is almost bursting, I hope that I don’t, until I am all tender and juicy,” she said sheepishly.

“Of course, you look good enough to eat,” I joked.”

“Then, let’s get this food girl in the oven, time’s wasting!” she said in an excited and anticipatory voice.

“Very well, then, let’s get this started,” I answered.

I took the bottle of oil and poured some more over her body, and her head. I then took a large, half-liter cup, full of the oil and held her head up as I put it against her trembling lips.

“What is this for, master?” she asked.

“The oil you are about to drink is to help you cook nicely from the inside and well as the outside, we don’t want your insides to dry out, do we,” I said.

“Very well, master,” she replied.

I told her to drink it all down, and quickly.

She did without question, gulping it down like she had not had anything to drink for a week. How a girl can swallow a pint of oil without gagging or vomiting, is beyond my ability to understand, but she did.

I then took the stainless steel band and adjusted it to fit her neck very tightly, so she could not thrash around when time came. I fastened it over her neck, effectively keeping her motionless.

“What are these 2 wires hanging here for?” she asked.

“They are to be clipped to the food-girls nipples, they give special electrical impulses that are supposed to provide immense sexual pleasure as she lays in her try, cooking. It is supposed to take her mind off her fate.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Clip them on!” she joked.

The pins on the electrodes pierced her nipples, protruding from the other side, Wendy let out a cry as they were fastened tightly. She looked more beautiful and radiant than I had ever seen her look.

“Ready?” I asked.

“YES, PLEASE!” she cried out.

I pushed the button for the tray slide to activate.  It slowly slid the tray into the oven as I set the automatic controls for 350*, with a long pause at 140*, just to make her happy. I want to keep her in the dark about her fate until the last possible minute; this suits my sense of revenge so well. When she was fully inside, I blew her a kiss as I closed the oven door, and locked it. I could see her reaction as she heard the door lock click closed. She closed her hands tightly; her fingers digging into her palms, and then quickly relaxing them. Her spontaneous reaction was a mixture of fear and acceptance, something that I had not expected.

I pushed the button to activate the pleasure impulses in her nipples. I could see the reaction immediately, Wendy’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees; she was really enjoying it.

“Oh, fuck, she moaned, this is amazing. I think I’m going to cum already.”

I had figured that at this point, I would have had to knock her out with drugs, or at least subdue her physically. Even the most willing volunteer girls need some kind of restraint at this final point, when the reality of their fate is before them. Usually some heavy duty drugs to calm them are needed, but not for Wendy.  Her back was arched in pre-orgasmic bliss, riding the wave of pleasure from the tit electrodes.

I pulled a stool up next to the oven and sat down, the show was about to begin. Wendy turned her head toward me, as well as she could, and said, “I love you.”

I felt terrible. She had no idea that my interest in her was simply a ploy to trap her into this, her final act of sexual abandon.

The temperature control and the thermometer on the ‘Broil-O-Matic’ are not visible to the occupant of the oven, for obvious reasons. I looked at the gauge, it was 90* inside the glass cooker.

“How are you doing Wendy?” I asked. “Its 90 degrees, the temperature is starting to rise now.”

“Great, this is so exciting, just like being a real food girl,” she exclaimed. ”I think I’m cumming non-stop, this is beyond belief.”

I could see that she was enjoying the ride. She was so beautiful, lying there in her oil filled tray, coated with a thick coating of oil that made her flawless skin so slick and sexy looking.

“Oh, if I could only fuck her sexy young body just once more,” I thought.

Her bound hands were still furiously manipulating her clit, and her orgasm seemed to be endless. Several minutes later, the slow heat rise of the oven had brought it to 110*. I could see that sweat was forming on her body, she was still Okay, but feeling the first effects of the heat.

She was smiling at me, “What’s the temperature now?” she asked.

“110*, are you doing Ok, Wendy?” I questioned.

“Oh, yes, it’s really getting warm, I feel the heat now, this is so erotic, it’s like I’m really being cooked,” she answered.

“OK, keep up the good work, you are doing great!” I reassured her. Oh, if she only knew.

“I think it’s time to rebaste you. The oven will spray oil all over you, so close your beautiful blue eyes for me, ok?” I asked.

“Yes sir, I am,” she obligingly replied.

I pushed the ‘Auto-Baste’ button, a fine mist of oil sprayed all over her, from head to toe, dripping down her body and into the tray.

“You can open your eyes now, Wendy,” I said.

“How do I look, master?” she asked.

“So beautiful, my love, absolutely beautiful,” I choked out. I knew that her time was running out, and that she had no clue as to her impending fate.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw that the temperature was at 127*, Wendy was sweating profusely, her face was bright red, and her breathing seemed to be a bit labored, the heat was now getting to her, and her masturbation had slowed considerably.

Her chest was moving up and down more animatedly that normal, I think she was getting scared. She had been inside the oven for almost 45 minutes now, and it was starting to take its toll. I could see that her nubile, young body was beginning to redden.

“Wendy, my love, are you doing Okay? It’s 127* in there, you have 13 more degrees to go, can you make it?” I asked.

“Yes, I am Okay, it’s very hot, and breathing is difficult, but I want to feel it all. Please don’t turn it off, I want to make the 140*, please,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s difficult to talk, my mouth is so dry and my tummy is bubbling more and more inside and it hurts a real lot now. I can see and feel my tits enlarging too. Is that okay?”

“Yes, my love you are beginning to feel the first real effects of being cooked alive. Your body is beginning to boil, the juices inside are cooking you, are you okay so far?”

“Yes, sir, I am fine, let’s continue, please,” she asked. ”But, may I have some water, I am so terribly thirsty.”

“Well, I’ll rebaste you one more time.  Remember; keep those sexy eyes closed for me. I cannot give you any water; it would be dangerous and terribly painful when the cold water mixed with the hot oil inside your tummy.” I told her.

“Yes sir, I am sorry for asking. I know that you love me as much as I love you.”

She had no idea that I had no intention of stopping, regardless of what she said.

Wendy tried her best to look happy, but I could see that she was in distress. I basted her, and as the oil hit her body, it smoked and fumed. Wendy coughed from the oil smoke, but tried her best to smile. She was cooking for real now. Did she have any idea that she was nearing her end? Would I have the courage to tell her why this was being done to her, as I had planned to do?

I started to shake inside, was I doing the right thing?

I tried my best to smile at her approvingly.

She had been in there for nearly an hour, the slowest that the cooker could be set for, and she was starting to feel it. Her tummy was cooking; the liquid in her stomach was cooking her from the inside, as was the wet stuffing which was starting to boil.  I did not say anything; I just looked at her beautiful face, she tried so hard to manage a smile, but could not. I smiled and shook my head, “OK.”

Wendy tried in vain to look happy, and manage a furtive smile, but it was not to be. She was really cooking; I could see her tits, tummy and legs beginning to swell from the fluid in her body expanding.

I pressed the rapid increase button, the temperature would hit 140* in just a few minutes.

Less than five minutes later, I saw the gauge hit 140*, Wendy was having trouble breathing, her body was turning a bright red, her eyes looked glassed over and she was not able to speak except in a very low, halting voice. The sweat was pouring from every inch of her beautiful body. Her breasts had begun to pour out milk, as they became visibly enlarged to nearly twice their normal size, due to the fluid expansion within them.

“Wendy, my love, its 140* now, you have reached your goal, are you Okay?” I asked in a mock sincerity.

“From now on, it’s not playtime, she will be cooked and served to her sisters guests.” I thought to myself.

I looked at the gauge again, it had reached 155* and was climbing quickly.

Wendy smiled at me shallowly and spoke in a soft, halting voice, “Yes, my love, I am fine,  May I please stay here until I am finished cooking?”

My spine chilled at once; did she know what was happening to her all the time? Why did she allow me to do this? I felt panicky and frightened.

‘WHAT?” I screamed.

“My love, I have known all the time that you were going to cook and serve me to my sister at her wedding. I know that my family ruined yours, and that we have never acknowledged or shown any remorse for your being so unfairly victimized. I am willing to be that recompense for you. I fell in love with you the first minute we met, I cannot lie about that. There is no one that I would rather be taken by than you, our love and time together has been the best time of my life, and now, please take it from as my gift to you.”

“Remember when you invited me to your house, and I wore my pink latex catsuit? I willingly stepped onto the box to hang. I believed that you were intending to finish me that very day, and I was willing to let you. That is why I stepped off the box and swung for you. Since then, I have been in a constant state of arousal, anticipating when you would decide to take me. Now, here today, I am fulfilling not only your desires, but my wish as well. When I lay down in this tray, I knew it was to be my end, so please allow me my desires.”

Pure panic set in, I was destroying the woman I love, and for nothing but an old grudge. I hit the ‘STOP’ button on the oven, the temperature gauge was now at 160*. Wendy was drifting off into her final sleep. I grabbed the door and ripped it open, and pulled the hot tray out of the glass cooker, burning my hands in the process. I grabbed a pot of cold water and slowly poured it over her bright red skin. I ripped the neck brace off of her and pulled the leg bands apart. I cradled her in my arms and lifted her sizzling body up and placed her on a nearby table.

I poured more cold water on her, and gave her water to slowly sip. Slowly, she began to rally. Her hugely enlarged breasts were still pouring milk down her body; her beautiful blue eyes were nearly closed, her face was swollen and bright red, as was the rest of her body. I brushed her oil soaked hair away from her face and kissed her lips tenderly.

“My darling, forgive me, I love you so much,” I begged.

She tried her best to open her eyes and with a low voice said,

“Are you going to serve me up now? I’m ready for you to start carving me.”

“No, my darling, I will never harm you again, I love you with all my heart. I am going to marry you if you will have me. Please forgive me.”

She smiled and did her best to sit upright, her bright red skin looking like terrible Florida sunburn.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I beg you to forgive me and marry me. I am so sorry for this; you are the love of my life. I want nothing else then to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Smiling, she said, “My darling, of course I will marry you, but only if we can get one of these marvelous ovens for our home.”

“Oh yes,” she added. “If you’ll take that horrible clamp off my pussy and pull the butt plug out of my ass, and go get a plate and some spoons, then if you’ll give a good, hard push, down on my tummy, we can have some of your famous stuffing for dinner. I haven’t eaten all day.”

She looked down at her huge, lactating tits, “You don’t suppose that there is any way I can keep them this big, do you?” she quipped.

That’s my girl!

“When can we try out the chair? I’m dying to experience it,” she laughed

Life was going to become very interesting, and quickly.