They Fall When They're Ripe


Posted by hisdinner on May 05, 2002 at 19:29:51:

They Fall When They're Ripe
by hisdinner

I was wrenched awake by twin pains, as my head was pulled back, my neck choked in the grip of a thick leather collar. My body was bent as my legs were bound and pulled up until my toes nearly met my head. I formed a rough, squealing O. Not content, he hoisted on the overhead chain just enough to raise my belly off the bed. He casually grasped my arms and bound them behind my back. My wrists chafed against cook's twine at the small of my back as I struggled, bleary from sleep and confused, twisting slowly, a foot above the bed. I sucked in one good strong breath, then asked, "What's going on?"

Mistake. He put in the gag. He spent the next five minutes running his hands hard along my thighs, feeling my quivering muscles, gripping my ass, squeezing, pinching, prodding. He pulled hard on my nipples, he cupped and weighed and kneaded my breasts. He ran one sharp nail down the mid line of my belly. He tested my flesh. I whimpered, but he ignored my noises, frowning, shaking his head. Finally, he stepped back to the tie down, and said, "No, girl, you're not ready yet." He smacked my ass hard enough to send me reeling, my neck feeling about to break. Then he chuckled and said, "Another month or two."

I couldn't control the threads of fire that ran through me. Even as he lowered me to the bed, I pictured myself suspended over his catch pans as he slit my belly and my throat, blood pulsing out, being readied for his oven. My imagination put me into the bodies of all those girls who'd cooked before. How many times I'd lived it vicariously, projecting myself into their writhing forms. I'd felt the cold bite of the blade, the scorching heat, watched them fight and finally surrender to the fires. It was exhilarating. But now it was my turn. He would butcher me, and soon.

He'd unfastened the hoist but left me bound. I rolled onto my side, muscles spasming, my back on fire. My head pounded with some perverse elation; I was not yet food. He gripped my hair, coiling it around his hand twice as he wrenched my face close to his. "Bring me two ripe girls today," he murmured, nuzzling my neck, "Just as ripe as you're about to be." He pulled me closer and his teeth grazed my neck. He seemed amused at the look of panic in my eyes. He flung me down, and watched me fall. I hit the bed with a soft thump.

I was released to hunt in the morning, and by two, I was shaking as I strolled the little square. Still no girls. It was harvest festival time on the mountain. Tourists came to escape the city, to buy a pumpkin, to see the colored leaves falling. I had been so confident that I'd have two girls by noon. He'd beat me if I took any longer. Two girls take forever to prepare. And now, I worried that, if I failed, if I couldn't find two girls for his table, he'd take my meat instead. I sat on the low ledge of a wall surrounding the outdoor cafe and stared at my feet. I pictured him sucking in my toes, biting right through those delicate bones. I shuddered and looked up. And there they were.

They were so obviously sisters, their honey blond hair shining as they argued over what appeared to be a money problem. The waiter stood, twitchy with impatience, knowing he'd be stiffed. The shorter of the two girls dug once more into her backpack, then smiled as she drew out some crumpled bills. The waiter stalked off as older sister continued her tirade. I heard something about forgetting the credit cards, and how could anyone be so lame. They stood, and I smiled as I saw their bodies clearly for the first time. The girls were toned and tanned, but both had generous curves softened with a trace of babyfat. I imagined his hands on their heavy breasts, how he'd nod and smile as he cupped them. He'd love their long legs, and their barely rounded bellies. Such perfect roasters, and they were headed right toward me. Big sister said, "We have to drive back! We can't stay over, not without the cards, you idiot." Little sis pouted and then, I caught her eye. I waved and smiled, and nodded to the "Free B&B! Bartered for your Elbow Grease" brochure in my hand. I laughed softly and said, "Are you two looking for a room? We need some extra help tonight!"

The sisters stopped bickering long enough to read the little ad. I'd prepared several versions, and prided myself on matching the literature to the situation. Sure enough, they were sucked in. I think it was the picture of the burly wait staff, and the chance to flirt with them for free. Pity those muscled fellows didn't exist, at least, in the vicinity. "What would we have to do?" Big sister looked at me, drawing closer to the little girl, allowing me a fine glimpse of their round breasts nearly touching as she put an arm around the shorter one. I smiled, and said, "Assist the chef. We're short handed. Do you know your way around a kitchen?" They nodded, grinning, and I spun out a work agreement while we loaded their packs into the car and drove to the cabin.

He was chopping huge piles of vegetables in the kitchen when we arrived. There were mounds of carrots, celery, leeks and garlic, parsley, and tubers heaped on the counters. I noticed that he'd not yet fired the oven. The girls wasted no time sightseeing. They introduced themselves and were competing for his attention. He grinned and kept up the rhythm of his chopping as older sis moved in and whispered something low and sultry. I found myself getting a trifle jealous as he stopped work long enough to grip her wrist and murmur back in that same low, lover's tone. I heard him say, "The both of you?" Little sis moved closer to him, slipping her arm around the taller girl and nodded, "Yes, we like to share." They giggled and then stood, only slightly startled as he ran his hands up from their waists, stopping to weigh their breasts. "Two at once, hm?" They giggled their assent, as he nodded, his hands lingering, kneading, testing.

"I'll just fire the oven then," I said, a touch shrill, judging from the frown he shot me, as he shook his head, no. "There isn't time," he said. His words sent new shards of fear through me.
"Besides, these two girls give me an idea." He put down his knife and told the girls to go explore the hot tub while he discussed dinner preparations with me. They smirked and grinned, and raced out to the pool, shucking tank tops and shorts at the top of the redwood deck. They clambered, naked and voluptuous, into the bubbling foam. We watched them from the windows. As their breasts tumbled free, my body throbbed, and despite my earlier jealousy, I longed to join them. I wondered at this response. Join them, how? Now, for play, yes, certainly, but did I also want to be prepared as they would be? To have that sharp knife slit me wide, the way he'd split them? I shook myself, the images so vivid, my belly tingled where the knife would pierce me.

He wasn't watching them at all. He was regarding me. "You've brought these girls an hour too late to properly roast them," he said. He seemed to move in slow motion as he backhanded me, twice, then gripped my arms tight. He laughed as I blanched around the deep red marks on my cheeks. "You, I'll fatten awhile longer. But those little apples look so good, bobbing in the tub. Let's make a stew."

We left the house carrying a deep pot, made for Japanese baths, and big enough for two. The girls called and waved from their perch, splashing and giggling. They showed only mild interest as I helped him lay a fire in the pit, wood and coals blazing around the pot. The vegetables in the bottom sizzled and steamed as he filled the pot half-full of water. Then he turned his attention to the girls, who'd emerged from the hot tub and were making a show of drying off. "Get us drinks," he said, walking past me and mounting the steps to sit between the girls on the redwood deck. "Oh, and restoke the fire in a few minutes. I want those coals banked high." He had stripped off his shirt and pants by the time I entered the cabin.

As I mixed a pitcher of drinks, I fell into a reverie, watching the three of them wriggle and slide over each other. Little sis had sunk to her knees, and as he fed his cock to her, he made a feast of the tall one's breasts. Then both girls knelt before him, taking turns as he gripped their hair and urged them on. I wasn't seeing them. Inside the cool dark kitchen, I stirred the pitcher, ice clinking, and what I saw was me, down there, pushing my way between the two blonde sluts, claiming my place, taking his cock into my wet mouth even as he wrenched my head up and slashed my throat. The stirring rod slipped from my hand. I nearly upset the pitcher, disturbing a pile of limes which began to roll and tumble onto the floor. Each lime made a satisfying juicy, heavy, plumping sound as it fell and hit the tiles. I took the pitcher to the patio, goose bumps covering me.

He had the tall one down, fucking her round tight ass as her sister watched and stroked herself. I crossed to the fire and piled on more fuel. Apple wood and charcoal blazed up, while inside the pot, the water was already simmering. I could hear them grunting and exulting as I finished tending the fire. The three of them were splayed out, draped over and under each other as I reached the steps. "Drinks ready now, and the fire in twenty minutes," I said. My body ached. I needed release, I needed to feel my body used. I stood there, quivering. He rose and pulled his jeans on, then shook his head as the girls reached for their clothes. "Why don't you air dry a bit longer?" he said, as I served the two blonde beauties their drinks in special mugs.

We sat together on the patio and my leg wouldn't stop twitching as I eyed their sated smiles. I watched him, watching me. He seemed to take delight in my tension. "You should have joined us," he winked. "Next time, don't take so long fetching the drinks!" The sisters giggled, and I loathed them, and their breasts leered at me. I wanted to take the fillet knife and carve into their bellies, myself. I sat and squirmed under his gaze and pictured their destruction. It made me throb. Ten minutes passed, then, almost in unison, their heads bobbed down and fell onto the table. Soft fleshy thumps. I took a long sip of my drink and smiled, hoping that they'd wake enough to scream and howl before the fire took them. And then I shook myself one last time, wondering why I felt this animosity? Because I wasn't them? They were nothing but meat to him, to fuck and eat. I'd be that soon enough, now, wouldn't I.

He had me drag the smaller girl down to the prep table first. We bound her ankles and wrists behind her, and slid a long pole under her bindings, hoisting her up and resting the ends of the pole in twin supports, with catch pans beneath her. Her breasts dangled, and she whimpered as he approached her with his gutting knife. He was working against time now. No time for prettiness. He started at her breastbone and made one long slice, right through skin and fat and muscle, down her midline to her pubis. Her eyes flew open and she howled, her body spasming as he grasped her ribs and wrenched them apart, allowing her entrails to stream from her. He reached in and roughly tugged and cut her slick organs free, and they fell with wet smacking sounds into the catch pan. Her wailing shrieks diminished as the pans were filled. I wondered if she knew she'd become his meat now. I searched her eyes. I wondered if she thought she'd won, or if I had. I didn't know.

We used the garden hose to clean her, then placed her on the tarp next to the fire. We brought Big sis to the table, drunk-walking her there. She giggled in her sleep and did her best. I was about to put her on the table, when he stopped me, taking her weight. He smiled and looked at me, and said, "Strip. You get on the table first."

I couldn't take my eyes from his as I wrestled my clothes, my hands not working right on buttons, fumbling on shoes. I trembled as I climbed onto the hard plank table. His eyes recorded every twitch, and he feasted on my shuddering. I sat on the edge of the table. He shook his head and motioned for me to lie down. I did. My heart pounded, my stomach fell. My mind spun out, and all I did was feel. And I felt released. Hot and throbby and open to anything he did. He said, "Hold her." He draped the limp girl's body right on top of me, her head lolling next to mine, her shoulder blades digging into my breasts, her ass cradled against my hip bones. He slapped and pushed our thighs wide apart. He chuckled as he ran his fingers deep inside my folds and right up through hers. "Twin cunts for fucking, mmm. But how to do this at the same time?" He reached behind him for his favorite knife. I tensed, not knowing where the cut would come. My throat? Hers? My neck pulsed, and I felt her warm breath on me. At that moment, I wanted to be first.

He surprised me by turning, and cutting off several lengths of coarse twine. He bound us together, our wrists and ankles spread wide and tied tight to the legs of the table and to each other. He smiled and then he jammed her pussy tight with a bulbous leek and then he entered me, forcing himself deep. Each thrust inside me drove the phallus deep into her, above me, as he slapped hard against her. She stirred and moaned and begged for more. His cock hurt as it stretched me, pounding hard, relentless, brutally. She undulated on top of me, pressing hard against my mons, grinding into each of his thrusts. And then he reached forward, his cock still buried deep in me, and pulled her head sideways, and slit her throat. Her eyes opened wide and she gurgled, and she sputtered as he leaned away, groaning as he came deep in me. I moaned as her hot blood spurted out and covered me. Her body spasmed and jerked as each pulse of her jittering heart expelled her red wetness over her, and onto me. She shook and trembled and I sobbed as a warm pool formed beneath us. Her blood fell soft and silent into the grass below.

His knife split each set of bonds, and he pulled her warm body away from me. I curled up, shaking, my nakedness mottled with swirls of crimson and garnet. I tried to get up, but I lost myself, and fell. The cool grass accepted me. But I didn't belong there. As he gutted and cleaned her, I gathered myself together and went to him. He tilted his head, appraising me. I shook, my eyes unable to meet his. I stared into the red lips of her slit belly, and shivered. He took a cloth and gently cleaned my face, and kissed me. I beamed. "Let's get these two apples bobbing," he said, "It takes at least three hours to stew sisters." He grinned and hoisted up big sister and I took her legs, following my master to his cook pot. We placed her in the bubbling broth, arms and ankles bound with twine, and propped her head against the lip of the pot. Her sister fit so neatly in between her thighs, the girls' breasts pressed tight together as we bound them. Their bellies together formed a chalice for fresh herbs and plenty of deep red wine. I held them apart as he poured the wine over their nipples. When he'd filled their bodies with the wine, I gently released their heads, and they fell together, soft, plump lips nuzzling tender necks. The bobbing vegetables prodded at their breasts and slipped between their open pussies, softly pummeling and tenderizing them as they cooked. Soon the simmering broth around them took on the spicy scent of burgundy and girlflesh.

Over three hours, their transformation held me enthralled. We watched their bodies steam and turn a rosy pink. Their breasts swelled round and glorious as beads of milky sweetness slipped from their darkening nipples into the pot. Their faces glowed, slight smiles on their lips. The first hours passed so quickly. He held me in his lap, and bent me low to use once more, and fucked me slowly as we watched them simmer. As their flesh boiled, the lovely girls sank lower, their faces hidden in each other's arms. At last, they fell, ripe and juicy, beneath the fragrant stock. I watched them go, wishing I had seen their faces one last time. I pictured their pure elation. But no, it was my face that I saw. I stared into the pot once more. He held me there, facing the pot, and he caressed me, and he told me how much sweeter these girls would be for their stewing. But not as sweet as me. I knew it.