Posted by Ay-Wun on September 28, 2006 at 20:47:29:
This was going to be birthday of my hubby's life. I'd taken a whole week off work to get everything ready for Friday night. Of course I didn't tell him, but I'm sure he guessed, and I didn't try too hard to conceal it. He just wouldn't know the details 'til the party.
on Friday morning, the cake was delivered, the tooled leather briefcase was wrapped and ready to be opened. The doorbell rang and the two guys I'd hired said they had the package for me. I opened the garage with the remote, and they drove the van inside, then I keyed it shut behind them. Closing the front door, I walked through the kitchen and opened the door into the garage. They were just lifting her out of the van as I stepped out.
She was all trussed up exactly as I had ordered and still unconscious. As I took a closer look, I said,
"Ooh, she's really gorgeous!!"
"She's just what you ordered," said the tall one, "Here's her purse, if you want it."
I looked inside and finding a wallet I checked out the I.D., and seeing a lot of cash and several credit cards, I kept two of them, and handed all the rest back telling them it was a bonus if they'd dump what they didn't want somewhere across the state line. The one with all the muscles said that wouldn't be a problem. After they put her on the kitchen table, I opened the garage and they left.I looked her over as I hooked her to the restraints I'd rigged the table with. Hearing the doorbell again, I looked at my watch,
"Ah right on time." I thought as I opened the door to find a tall burly man with a chef's hat on, and a sports jacket on over his apron.
"Chefs To Order." he said as he made a half bow to me.
"Come on in to the kitchen," I said, "Everything's ready for you to start."
"Ah," he said as he saw her on the table, "She is perfect for spit roasting, as you ordered." So saying he took off jacket, handing it to me, and got right to work.
First he took a large knife from the bag he had carried in with him, and cut all her clothing away. When he finished, I took them out to the patio, and tossed them on to the already glowing coals. In just moments, they were all reduced to ashes. Her shoes were probably still in the van. I brought the spit with me as I returned inside. By this time the chef had put a special ring gag in her mouth. He me told its inner diameter was slightly larger than the spit, and was tapered to act as a guide, besides, preventing damage to those perfect teeth.
Just then she came to and opened her eyes. They almost popped out of their sockets when she saw her predicament. She tried to speak, but found it impossible to do more than make futile noises.
The chef paid not the slightest attention, as removing a smaller knife from his bag, he proceeded to slice her open from her sternum to her mound of venus. Her head shook from side to side with tightly closed eyes, and a look of incredible pain on her lovely face. The chef spread the incision apart and expertly removed most of her insides, placing them in the large Tupperware bin I had provided. After deftly snipping off the ends, he reached once more into his bag coming out with a propane torch, with which he cauterized everything that had been bleeding. I was very surprised, actually, at how little blood there was. He turned to me and said,
"Now madam, I am ready for that." as he took the spit from my hands.
Inserting the spit into her anus, ignoring her writhing, he shoved in about a foot, before he asked me to please guide the rounded point into her esophogus, which it smoothly entered. He then said,
"If you would be so good as to tilt the young lady's head back, I shall complete this spitting."
I took hold of the hair at the top of her head and tilted it back. No sooner had I done this than the tip of the spit popped out of her mouth through the ring of the gag, as her eyes flew wide open, and filled with tears. Two gory feet of the spit now protruded from her mouth, and she was unable to breath until the chef adjusted it so she could get air through holes leading into the hollow core.
"Now," he said, the stuffing you have prepared, I believe you said it was a traditional recipe of your husband's family?"
"Oh yes, my husband would want no other." I answered, as I handed him another Tupperware container.
He removed the lid, and as he sniffed the mixture said,
"Rosemary, Basil, garlic, and is that morel mushrooms I smell?"
"Why yes," I said, "How very perceptive you are!"
He smiled as he began filling her emptiness with the savory dressing, after which he neatly sewed her back up, and tied it off with a flourish.
The chef now took her arms, one at a time, and inserting a six inch screw skewer into the back of her wrist, secured them by screwing them into her buttox just behind her pelvis. he then inserted 'S' shaped hooks behind each achilles tendon and hooked the opposite end through eyes on the ends of skewers protruding from her wrists. That done, he tied her hair up in a bun, then put an asbestos hood over her head.
"We wouldn't want to destroy this wonderful trophy by exposing it to the heat." he said.
After thoroughly basting her, and inserting the stabilizer spit deeply into her pussy, he said,
"I believe madam that your roast is now ready for the coals, if you would be so good madam, as to take the foot end, I shall carry the heavier head end."
I was amazed at how little weight there was at my end, as we carried her out, and set the spit in place over the heat of the coals. He started the spit rotating, and said,
"Just one more thing, and I shall leave her to you to finish."
As he said this, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a remote control and activated it.
"This controls a vibrator in the stabilizer, we may as well allow her a little fun, in this final process she is undergoing."
"Why, how thoughtful you are." I responded, as he handed over the control. I retrieved his coat seeing him to the door, I thanked him for his service.
I sat out by the barbecue pit as she twitched and trembled over the coals, periodically spasming with an orgasm. The last of these came about half an hour after she was put on to roast. There was a small amount of twitching for about ten more minutes, then nothing more as she rotated and roasted, browning nicely. So, I went back into the kitchen to prepare the rest of the meal, going out now and then to baste her.
At around four-thirty, the gauge on the thermometer that extended through the stabilizer, indicated that she was done. I wheeled out the cart I'd prepared and, with some difficulty, maneuvered the spit on to its rack. I lowered the rack on is screw jacks until she was resting on the platter below. With her weight now off the spit, I removed it. Then I took the asbestos shroud from her perfectly preserved head. Her eyes were closed now, as if in sleep, and without the spit or the gag to hold it open her mouth closed, and to my surprise, formed an enigmatic, Mona Lisa like smile.
I pushed the cart into the dining room, and shifted the platter on to the table, with her propped up head toward the doorway. I brushed and arranged her hair,and renewed her makeup , so she looked quite nice.
None too soon, as I heard hubby's car pool letting him off out front. As soon as I heard him close the front door, I called,
"In here dear."
He stopped at the dining room entrance, and a stunned look came on to his face.
"Happy birthday darling." I said, "You, of course, already know Tish, your mistress."
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