Posted by Sawney Beane on January 07, 2007 at 03:29:36:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #93
YUMMY DINNER
by Sawney Beane
13 July 2002
4,131 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one is a bit mediocre and maybe a bit too sappy, but that's what came out, so what can I do?
----------------------------
"I know this isn't exactly the way you wanted it to be, darling. I don't like it either, but I don't have any choice."
You pout a little bit, but my hands are tied - figuratively. Yours would more appropriately be tied literally, but there's no need since you're here voluntarily. I know you wanted a private dinner, and I would prefer nothing more, but I've been a member of this club for five years now and have shared in the finds of other members, so I am obligated to share you with them. We have discussed it all before, and you still wanted to go on, but I know you aren't happy about it.
"Don't worry, darling," I say, "there will only be twenty people at the party, and I'll get all the leftovers, so almost all of you will be mine." I say this as if it should make a difference, but even I know it's a lame thing to say.
I look quickly at my watch and begin to worry. "The guests will be arriving in an hour, so we'd better get started on the starters. You know what to do." I motion at the long table in the middle of the room. "I'll go get the stuff." I leave the room, and you can hear me clinking jars in the kitchen.
When I return with my arms loaded with food, you are in position. It isn't the first time I've seen you nude, but every time is a delight. I dump the things I am carrying in a pile and pause to admire the perfection I find on my table.
You are on your back with your arms crossed under your head. I love the way you look in that position, but my eyes are frantic trying to decide which perfect part of your body they should gaze upon. I see your meaty legs and every perfect curve of them before flipping to your arms and shoulders, perfect specimens of beauty. Then my attention is drawn to your belly and the trim contours of an abdomen so perfect that I cannot imagine what could be done to improve upon it. There's not a single part of your body that doesn't make my mouth water, but finally I rest my eyes on your face.
Your eyes have a curious intensity, as if you want to drink in every second of this experience. This is a big event for you, but you seem quite calm. You smile as you watch me devour your body with my eyes. You know how sexy you are, and you know the impression you make on me. You know that no matter what you allow me to do to you, you will always be the one with the power.
Overtaken by the emotion of this pivotal moment in our relationship, I make a move to kiss you on the lips, but at the last minute I back down and place a reassuring kiss gently on your forehead. I see your look of disappointment, but I am unable to do more now.
Once the moment has passed, I try to speak. "My love, are you ready to prepare the starters? You'll have to stay here for three hours, so if you need to use the bathroom, now's the time.
"I'm ready," you say in a soft purring voice. "Let's get started."
I smile feebly and start to arrange you. First I place your arms at your sides, palms up. Then I place a small silk pillow under your head and brush out your long blonde hair and let it cascade over the edge of the table. Finally, I grasp your ankles and spread your legs slightly so that your knees are about a foot apart. You watch calmly as I rearrange you.
"OK, love," I say with another reassuring kiss on the forehead. "We have all the food groups represented in the starters." I'm showing off a little bit to entertain you, but you seem to watch with interest as I begin to cover your body with various finger foods.
"First the dairy group," I announce. This is largely cheese and, appropriately enough, will be piled on your chest. I start covering those sumptuous breasts with slices of Swiss cheese. Your nipples peek through the holes in the cheese, but they are soon covered as I arrange seven different types of cubed cheeses across your chest and upper arms. I smile as I complete this unusual shirt.
"Next, we have some fruits." The fruit is mostly watermelon, cantaloupe and pineapple and will be decoratively arranged across you belly. A large juicy cherry fills your navel. You wince a little bit at the coldness of the fruits, but you do a great job of lying still. The fruits eventually cover your entire belly and hips.
"The meat will go next to your best meat, my dear." I place a large bowl of ice and steamed shrimp in the space between your thighs. Then I dump the contents of a bowl full of cocktail wieners into the space between the shrimp bowl and your genitals. This, as we shall see later, will prove to be the most ill chosen of the lot, but it seems like a good idea. I place a bowl of cocktail sauce into each of your hands and move on.
"The bread will go here," I continue as I fill the space between you calves with various rolls and biscuits. I balance a line of wafers along the lengths of your luscious legs.
"Last step is the vegetables." I slide a large dish of raw carrots, celery, broccoli, cauliflower, and cucumbers under your feet and then I place a carrot stick in between each of your toes.
When I am finished I step back to admire my work. Remarkably little of you is visible except your feet and head, but that's the beauty of this arrangement. As the guests eat the appetizers, they are rewarded with more and more glimpses of your beautiful body. I am pleased that you are tolerating this indignity as well as you are, and I can hardly restrain myself from tossing all the vegetables aside and devouring you right here and now. The time for that will come soon enough.
"OK, remember, feel free to talk to the guests, but no matter what, you must not move a muscle."
I look at my watch again and see that it is only six minutes to five o'clock. We got you together just in time. I tidy up the dishes a little bit and straighten my tie. The first guest arrives at precisely five o'clock. I find that the cannibal club members are a very prompt group. They tend to be eager to see what's on the menu for the evening. The members this evening will not be disappointed. None of the four previous dinners I have been invited to enjoy have been half as yummy as you.
By a quarter after five, all twenty of the club members are present. They have come to my town from across the country for you. We go where the meat is. Everyone is loud, and you have carried on several conversations with various people, but these chats are always a little bit awkward and short. It's difficult for them to discuss much with you in depth because there remains under the surface the curious fact that they are conversing with a gorgeous woman on her back on a table covered in food and who is destined to become food herself in a few short hours. That's a difficult fact to talk around, and yet no one really wants to mention it, so they move on to giggle with their friends after exchanging a few pleasantries with you.
But there are some who, for better or worse, want to commune more extensively with you. The first one you notice is a youngish girl with large dark eyes and long dark hair. She stands a few feet away from you and stares into your eyes with her head cocked questioningly to the side. She seems to be trying to figure you out. She disappears into the crowd as I show up to have a word with you and see how you are holding up.
"Who was that girl," you ask. She seems a little bit spooky to you.
"Oh, that's Anna from Cincinnati," I reply. When referring to club members we all have fallen into the habit of identifying them by first name and hometown. "She's nineteen and just joined us earlier this year. You'll be her first, by the way."
"Why does she look at me like that?" you ask.
"Well, she just wants to know how you're feeling. She wants to be a meal herself and has promised to give herself to the club on her twenty-first birthday."
"Really?"
"Yeah, some people like to get drunk on their twenty-first birthday, and others like to get eaten." I smile at my lame joke, but you are distracted enough not to notice, so I wander off and leave you to the small-talking cannibals.
Now it's an hour into the party, and much of your food covering has been removed. You've been amazingly patient through it all, despite the insensitivities of many of the guests. The toothpicks they use to pick up cheeses and fruits have often been stuck painfully into your skin. Sometimes it doesn't seem entirely accidental, but you have admirably resisted the urge to stand up and rip their arms off.
Even more annoying have been the cocktail wieners. I guess I hadn't thought that through well enough, but it didn't take someone long to get the idea of impaling one of the wieners on a toothpick and sliding it into your nearby vagina to dip them in your "special sauce". The first few time you seemed to find this amusing, and maybe you even enjoyed it a little bit, but after everyone started doing it, I could tell your patience was wearing thin. Once again, I admire your fortitude.
A few minutes later, things get a little bit worse as a short balding man in his late forties walks up to you and takes a shrimp from the bowl. He leers at you a little bit before dipping the shrimp into the cocktails sauce bowl in your right hand and then casually drawing a circle of cocktail sauce around your navel. Then he speaks to you.
"Darlin', a pretty little thang like you don' wanta be goin' in the oven without one last ride, do ya?" He really seems to think you might find his offer appealing, but then he has clearly had too much to drink. "What say we slip inta the bedroom fer one last fling before they gets you trussed up for dinner?"
Before you can reply, I glide over behind the man and forcibly turn him around to face me. He's a fairly heavy guy, but I'm a foot taller than he is, so I can be intimidating when I need to be. "Gary," I say (that's Gary from Dallas), "You keep your dick out of my dinner or I'll serve it at the next party!"
You stare at me a little bit shocked as I say this. I think you are surprised to hear me refer to you quite so bluntly as meat. You also seem to see something more wolfish than you have noticed in me before. But almost immediately I return to my gentle self and give you another reassuring kiss on the forehead. You are confused, but you remain calm and composed.
Gary is suitably intimidated and apologizes for his indiscretion. "Go get another drink and leave her alone," I command, and he scampers off to obey.
"I think he's already had enough to drink," you say.
"I know he has," I say smiling lovingly at you, "but I was hoping he would pass out so I won't have to share you with him."
I wander away and you have plenty to think about.
By now it's a quarter 'til seven, and most of the food on the table is gone, leaving you exposed and a little bit sticky. An older woman you haven't noticed before walks up to you with a critical eye and looks you over. She's about sixty and well dressed. You can still tell that she was once quite a beauty herself, but, of course, this has largely faded over time.
When I walk over, she speaks to me as if you aren't there. "Well, you've found us quite a nice one this time! I don't think we've ever had an entree this lovely, and I've been to all twenty-eight club dinners."
I thank her for her kindness and then introduce her to you. "Darling, allow me to introduce the only surviving founding member of the Cannibal Club, Susan from San Jose. She and some of her friends started this club almost forty years ago!"
"Yes, my dear," she says to you, "and you're going to be the best meal we've ever had."
I continue telling Susan's story. "There were ten members for the first dinner, and Susan and her twin sister Helen flipped a coin to see who would be the club's first meal."
Susan gives you a conspiratorial smile. "I lost."
"You give her a curious look."
"I was very upset that day, of course, but it will be worth it to see your performance. Well, nice to meet you; I wish you the best of luck."
She wanders off into the crowd, and I give you another of those excruciatingly inane kisses on the forehead. "It's seven," I say as I help you to sit up. You are stiff after your two-hour pre-meal ordeal, but you quickly return to normal. "We have an hour to get you cleaned up before we have to start preparing the main course."
I lead you into the bathroom and into the shower. I watch with interest as the last remnants of the sauces are washed from your tanned skin. You become a girl again after being a table decoration, but only briefly, of course, as you will soon be something else entirely.
Every time I look at you, I seem to find something else to admire. Now I am watching you wash your hair, and I am enthralled by the particular curve of your side as the muscles of your raised arms and shoulders blend into the muscles of your loins and hips. Every inch of you is delicious. There are so many things I can do with that body, and I'm so pleased you have decided to let me do my favourite thing with it. Fantastic!
I leave you alone to your showering. I'm sure you have a lot to think about. Your date with the oven draws ever closer, and it must feel strange to know that there is a room full of people nearby, and every one of them is thinking about how you will taste. To be honest, though, and you may not know it, but you've been in a similar situation many times before. Maybe the eating wasn't quite so real and literal, but I'm sure with a body like yours that many rooms full of people have wondered how you would taste. Those same people would be horrified by the roomful of cannibals you have near you now, but they are not so far off as they think.
A while later, you emerge from the bathroom a sparkling bronze goddess, ready for the sacrifice. You are the definition of beauty at this moment, and everyone applauds as you enter the main room. How strange it must be to receive this applause as you leave the shower, but then how often do you walk nude from the shower into a room full of twenty hungry modern cannibals. Not very often I'll bet.
The time is eight o'clock, so we are just on schedule, but there is much to do before we get you into the oven at nine. I help you onto the long counter that thrusts itself into the centre of the kitchen. When I selected the house this counter was one of the selling points. The large oven was another.
I roll you onto your belly and you feel the prick of a needle in your lower back and another between your shoulder blades. I don't want you to feel any pain, so we will take care of that right away. Before long the anaesthetics are flowing through your body, and you feel numb from the neck down. I kiss you again on your forehead as I see you are showing some concern.
I look you in the eye to study your emotions. You seem concerned, but you also seem a little bit excited and even turned-on. "You're sure?" The monumental question seems mild as it passes my lips.
"I'm sure," you murmur and force a nervous smile.
"I'm going to blindfold you now because you might not like seeing some of this."
You allow me to tie the ribbon around your watchful eyes. The world is dark for fifteen minutes. There are a lot of confused noises, but you can't make anything out clearly. There is no pain, but you know we are doing something bad to your perfect body.
Then I remove the blindfold, and you blink in the lights of the kitchen. You look down at your gorgeous belly and find it decorated by four "X"-shaped stitches. Each is about four inches across, and the closest one begins just below your breasts in the centre of your chest. The others are directly below it and run in a tight row down to your waist. You look at me questioningly and with a little bit of alarm.
"Darling, there are some things in you that we had to remove before the oven. We'll clean them up and make some very nice sausages later, so don't worry. I hated to do it, but we had to slice open that lovely belly of yours. "
You notice beneath the stitches the long red line where my scalpel has violated your body. Then you notice the worst thing of all.
"You made me fat!" you exclaim indignantly as you survey the slightly convex curve of your stuffed abdomen.
I try to reassure you and hand the empty stuffing bowl to one of the other guests. "I'm sorry, dear, but don't worry. The stuffing will get smaller in the oven, so we had to overstuff you a little bit. When we're done, you'll be perfect again."
You seem to calm down, but I think you don't trust me quite as much as you once did. But you don't protest as I rub butter and spices into your skin. I begin with your feet and calves and work my way up. I make sure to cover every last inch of your skin. Anything I miss will be charred in the oven, so I make sure to be very thorough. I think you are thoroughly enjoying this as I massage your thighs, belly, buttocks, breasts, shoulders, arms, face, and everything in between. The anaesthetic is somewhat limiting the enjoyment you can get out of it, but I see you are making the best of it.
I have chosen to do most of the preparation by myself, so I think you are beginning to forget the other nineteen cannibals watching nearby. Your focus is as much on me as mine is on you. That's how I wanted it. We can be together alone for the last few minutes before you go into the oven. You'll be a private banquet in the middle of the crowd.
Now it is time finally to truss you up. The oven isn't big enough for you to go in all stretched out, so I have to get the ropes. I first tie your ankles together. Then I tie your knees together. Finally, I pull your legs up and tie your wrists together under your legs and tie your wrists and ankles together. Now you are truly my yummy piggy, almost ready for the oven.
I think by now you have given up all of your misgivings and have fully become my delicious dinner. I show you the large red apple I have painstakingly selected for you to take with you. You smile coyly.
"Do you have anything to say before the final step?"
You close your eyes for a moment and then open them and stare into mine. "I love being your piggy; I've had a great time. Just make sure you make me delicious!"
"Don't worry, darling, you'll be delicious all by yourself." I begin to give you one of those kisses on the forehead, but I alter course at the last minute and find your mouth with my lips. You are surprised but pleased, and I find the quick kiss turning into a fit of passion. It's your final passion, so you're making the most of it. I've never been kissed quite this way before, but you envelop me, and this kiss becomes more intimate than anything that has been seen before. We are united now as no one has been before. It is as if I have already devoured you. Above all, you are showing how much you want to give yourself to me, how right you feel in this final sacrifice.
By the time the kiss is over, we are both out of breath. By now even I have forgotten the other people in the room. It is just the two of us, as it should be. I place the apple in your sensual mouth, and you embrace it as if it were more of me. I find it so alluring to watch your perfect shiny white teeth embed themselves into the sides of the apple. It will stay with you until the end.
Your eyes are still closed as I lean close to your ear and hoarsely give you your final instructions. "Darling, the oven is pre-heated, but the anaesthetic will keep you from feeling any pain. The heat will make you feel sleepy almost immediately. Just relax and let yourself fall asleep, and everything will be fine. Thank you for doing this; I can't tell you how much I love you." The love I feel for you at this moment is an unusual, horrible, destructive love, but it is very strong. The woman who gives herself so completely deserves anything I can give her.
I start to slide you onto the large platter and then I slide the large platter into the oven. My heart is heavy as I do this. It always is. That's the nature of my destructive passion. I consume you; I destroy you, but I do it lovingly, and you have willingly become my delicious dinner date. I am overcome with simultaneous joy and sadness.
You haven't opened your eyes since the kiss. Once in the oven you let out a long low sensual moan. I close the door slowly and watch you through the glass with tears in my eyes. I'm still not sure if they're tears of joy or sorrow, probably both. After a few minutes you are still, and I know your sacrifice is complete. Suddenly, I realize that there are other people in the room waiting for a piece of you. I can hardly bear the thought of others consuming the flesh you have given to me.
Three hours later, you come out of the oven. It is midnight, and the feast is about to begin. You remain gorgeous and sexy, despite all you have been through. Your tan is somewhat more golden, and steam rises from your delicious body. But otherwise, you remain the beautiful woman who stirred my appetite. We will have to carve you, of course, but for now it is great to look at you and touch your skin. You burn my fingers - you are even hotter than you were before! Most of all the smell! It's a perfume better than any ever invented. I smile. Even now you are perfect.
In the end, the club members and I consume only a third of your body. Gary did, indeed, pass out and has missed the chance to partake of your culinary charms. Everyone else raves about the delicate flavour of your well-built limbs. Best of all, I keep the rest of you, including almost all of my favourite parts and enjoy you for several months after. Eventually, you will be gone, but I will never forget you. You will always be my very own yummy dinner.