As I looked into her eyes, I knew it was true, and there was nothing I could do about it. Her eyes locked onto mine, conveying everything. But still i stood there, my cool brown locks wafting in the slight breeze and my rosy glare locked on to hers, the connection still there.

Both she and I had waited so long for this moment, and both of us were hesitant.

Neither of us wanted to take this step. Neither of us wanted to do this now, and maybe not ever, yet both of us needed to. Not by law, nobody was holding a gun against our heads, but we both needed to do it, that was just the way it had to be.

So there I stood, as I stated to strip off my street clothes, pulling my long, black comfy cable knit jumper over my head, being careful not to disturb my soft locks, rapidly followed by my plain navy knee length skirt, an electric crackle coming off it as the charge from its polyester fabric dissipated. The charge from the room, however, would not dissipate as easily.

I hesitated at my shoes.

I loved to wear them, their red patent leather gleamed in the light, and the long, spindle like 6inch heels, and the pain they gave me reminded me of my mistress. But they, too, came off.

There was no hesitation with my bra and panties, and they too were soon piled upon the chair with the other artefacts of my former life.

“You understand what is going to happen?” my mistress asked, the words drifting effortlessly from her mouth, yet their weight almost crushed me, forcing air out of my lungs, whistling out of my mouth in the form of a sentence.

“Yes,” I replied, as defiantly as I could, but the quivering tone in my voice gave me away. I wasn't sure that I wanted to do this, I honestly had no idea, but the one thing I did know was that I needed to do this. She had a hesitant look in her eyes, and was about to ask me again, and I grew impatient.

“Yes, I know, and yes I'm sure! Now gag me before I change my mind!” I said rapidly, the adrenaline taking over. There was no earthly force that could stop this now. A faint smile stated to grow from my decision, and the fact it was finally taken.

She went behind me, and held out the large ball gag in front of me. She slid it slowly over my toned stomach and gently over my perky breasts, the leather strapping grazing my nipples softly as I opened my mouth wide to accept the red rubber offering. I was wet with anticipation. She buckled it tightly to make sure that it wouldn't fall out, although we both knew it couldn't. My jaws tight embrace gripped it, and would refuse to let it go until the time was right.

She came back round and kneeled down in front of me, put her head forward and started sucking my rose bud, and I stated to moan. I stated to climax as she played her tongue across its sensitive surface under the hood. My mistress had been practising! There was little I could do to resist her, and I was totally under her control. Then she suddenly stopped playing with it. Quickly a piercing gun was pulled out and a plastic tag was forced though my engorged clit with a force and power that few were lucky enough to feel.

The pain was enough to send me over the edge, and the thought that I was now finally meat sent me to a second shuddering orgasm.

My mistress gently placed the padded leather cuffs on my ankles, and chained them to the floor, afterwards rising up to face me. As the locks on my wrist cuffs locked and clicked shut, the sound of eternity ringing around the room, she put her lips against mine and kissed me, embracing the gag and forcing upon me the permanency of our love.

The cuffs were connected to a chain that went over a steel beam on the ceiling, and my arms were quickly raised high above my head, pulling my body taught, at which point she walked over to the table in front of me and picked up the harsh rawhide flogger.

“Are you ready to be tenderised, Meat?” she stated in a business like tone, cold and self satisfying, and without even waiting for an answer, the tails lashed out and came crashing down upon the soft, tender flesh of my breasts, leaving deep, red marks, and tareing at me.

Lash after lash was delivered upon my body, concentrated mainly upon my breasts, upper thighs and ass.

Finally she put her favoured tool of pain down, and picked up something far worse off the strong oak table full of toys.

A shock rod. I was wet with anticipation. We had talked about this toy for years, never daring to take it out of its box for fear of doing permanent damage to me, but that wasn't a problem any more. This was forever.

The pain I had suffered from the flogger was nothing compared to this. The bolts of harsh, searing electricity coursed through my body, making me shake and my pussy flood with juices. I soon cummed from the current marking its path through my body, the orgasmic shockwave bigger than anything I have ever experienced.

She then wrapped a corset around my waist and forced my heavy, tortured breasts into the nettle lined cups as I struggled, pulling more of the venom into my tortured flesh. Then the laces tightened, squeezing out my breath bit by bit, its tight embrace reminding me of her.

The shoes came next, their towering 5inch heels giving me a strong charge. The innersoles though, gave even me fear. They were impregnated with 50 or so thumbtacks each, ready to stab into my sensitive feet.

My left foot was slowly lifted up, and slid into the shoe, and she started to buckle it up. I screamed as loud as I could into my gag, the pain only increasing as she buckled it up tighter, forcing my foot into the pins. Then she let go of my foot and I tried to keep it off the ground, but it was in vain. She pulled my right foot and I had to put my left down, with the full weight on it. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. Then she let go of my right foot and it joined my left in agony.

She grabbed a carrot from the bucket and lubed up my ass before taking my anal virginity with it, before she forced it in one final time and sealed it in with liberal amounts of super glue.

My Mistress then opened a bag of peeled charlottes and proceeded to push them into my wet pussy until it was full to bursting point, at which point she took out a darning needle and some rough twine, and began to sew up my abused and tender pussy lips. I could scream no longer. The thick twine quickly soaked up the blood from the wounds and was stained red with my blood.

She removed my cuffs lovingly, and I almost collapsed into her arms. “there is still more yet, although not much more” she cooed softly. I simply nodded, knowing that not even that was expected at this point.

She led me across the room, every step I made was agony, blood seeping from the many wounds in my feet puddling on the floor, until she made me kneel in the roasting tin. I was given a glass of red wine to help with bath the final moments and my taste, then my feet were relieved of their painful burden and she once again brought out the twine.

Soon, I was trussed up like a turkey, and ready for the final step, and she removed my gag, and I opened my jaw as wide as it would go. She forced in a giant Granny Smith, and strapped my jaw shut onto it with a leather belt, before wheeling my roasting tin into the kitchen, where my oven waited.

I was slid slowly into the specially built gas oven, and it was set to 200C. I sat there while it began to heat up, sweat stated pouring off me in droves. I needed something to drink, but knew it was not going to happen. Then she took me out, and stated to baste me.

“We don't want you burning now, do we?” she said. Through the doorway I could see the rest of the gang had arrived, and were chatting, waiting to savour my tender meat. I had been told there was nothing quite like girl meat. She stated to play with me with the fine bristles of the brush, massaging the juices into my pussy lips and onto my breasts. I was already beginning to brown off, and she began to lay long strips of streaky bacon onto my back. Suddenly there was a prick in my back.

“that epidural should stop the pain, and give us a better meal! After all, it was said once that the tenderest meat was killed at the last moment...” The doctor said, drawing the needle away as I attempted to smile a thank you around the apple, my red lipstick cracking up as I did so, the skin underneath dehydrated and peeling.

I was put back into the oven for the final time. The heat was intense, like the heat of a thousand candles all over my body, the flames licking the sides of the tin. My flesh started to blister, and i started to fall asleep. I struggled to stay awake as my eyes started to dry up. Soon, I was gone.

Before this, I had been a primary school teacher in Cheshire, before I had met my lover at a teaching conference down in London, and her eyes, just as they did that night that I became food, connected with mine, across the room. There was little I could do, and even less when I found out she was a teacher in Manchester, not far from where I lived. There was nothing I could do when she invited me to “The Club Of Human Desires”, where all of us became who we wanted to be, and left our lives at the door. Here we were immortal. Here, everything lasted. Here, there were no rules.

In this soundproofed basement in South Manchester, anything could, and would happen to anyone who entered willingly. That was the only rule. The person had to be willing. As I was. As is everyone in this chronicle.

The Chronicle of Human Desires.