His Castle

Posted by hisdinner on May 30, 2005 at 19:13:28:

For a certain gleeful, savage cannibal.

His Castle
5-30-05

"Yes. Yeah, Don, that's right, and make sure that Engineering gets the plans by Wednesday. Right. Good night. Yes. You have a good weekend, too." Gary hung up his phone and peered out the door of his corner office. Half the lights were off, the office was closed. Only his secretary, Sandy, remained at her desk, typing, intent on her headphones. She looked good, Gary mused. Cute little tilted head, so serious. She was a new hire and so far, she seemed eager to please him. Gary grinned and touched her shoulder. She jumped and twisted around to face her boss.

"That's enough, Sandy. Let's both get out of here." Gary loosened his tie and threw on his overcoat. Sandy typed one last line, closed the program, and darkened her computer screen. Her boss held her jacket open for her; and Sandy wriggled into it. What a gentleman, she grinned. How did I luck out and land this job? She wrapped the coat around her as they walked to the elevators together.

"Big date tonight, Sandy?" Gary pressed the button and the elevator opened. He admired the healthy flush of her skin, the way it glowed. She was a curvy, lovely girl, and efficient at her job. He wondered if she were as enthusiastic in bed. He bet she was.

"Yes Sir, I actually do!" Sandy's excitement bubbled over. "Blind date, Debbie in Personnel arranged it. I can't believe I said yes! But Debbie is so nice; I just couldn't turn her down. After all, she helped me get this job. He's loaded, she said. He's picking me up in a limo!" She giggled as the doors opened and they entered the parking garage.

"Have a great time, Sandy," Gary called as their paths diverged. Whew, he was so tired. His shoulders slumped as he walked the last few feet to his car. Gary felt the past week's workload in the small of his back, in his stiff neck, in his tired feet, all over. He'd been spending too much time at his desk, too many late hours with no slack. He could use some R & R.. So, Sandy had a date. Good. Gary grinned and shook his head. Dates—not interested. All he wanted was to head straight home. A man's home is his castle, right? The way he felt, Gary didn't think he'd even leave the house 'til Monday. Yeah, he'd spend the whole weekend in his easy chair. Man, he was beat.

He pulled into his driveway half an hour later, watching the garage door rise. The thing ran a little slower each day. Gary sighed. He'd have to get that fixed before it stopped midway. Always something. The motor ticked as he pulled himself out of the sedan. He eyed the briefcase on the seat, reached back in to grab it, and then shook his head. Enough of that. The head office wanted the Fibonacci contract by Thursday, they'd get it, but enough was enough.

He unlocked the back door, let himself into the kitchen. He slung his coat over the hook by the door, he'd hang it later. Gary reached inside the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He hesitated a moment, then grabbed another two. His tie was off now, and his shoes, too. Gary padded down the hall, past the living room and the TV. The staircase leading to his bedroom rose up to the right, and beneath it was a small alcove with a locked door. Juggling the three bottles of beer in one hand, Gary fished a key out of his back pocket, unlocked the door and flicked on a light. He stood on a landing with stairs leading to the basement trailing down into darkness. He closed the door behind him, turned the key once more. The deadbolt made a satisfying "clunk." Gary smiled and took a long draught of his beer and plodded down the stairs. It was so good to be home.

The feeble light at the top of the stairs did not reveal the surprising depth of the room that stretched out before him. Gary parted a heavy curtain that divided the stairwell from the main room. Strong golden light and a complex array of sounds and smells greeted him--as did the sight of three nude girls, kneeling just inside the curtain, heads bowed. Their bodies ranged from ripe, mature and voluptuous to sleek and trim, to downright elfin. Only tiny twitches and the rapid rise and fall of their breasts let Gary know that they'd scrambled to take their positions. The little elfin one fought hard to keep her gaze directed at his feet. Gary thought that later, he might show her the view from his lap, give her a few little whacks for training.

"Ice, Carla." The woman kneeling in the center scrambled up, her generous breasts jiggling. She returned a moment later with a bucket brimming with ice cubes. Gary held the beers out to her and she stowed them in the bucket, biting her lip as several ice cubes slipped out and fell onto the floor.

"Messy. Why don't you kneel on those 'til they're melted, then come tell me about dinner."

Carla's eyes remained downcast, and she tried not to wince as her knees pressed against the ice. "Yes, Master." Her voice was a little unsteady. The other two girls sneaked glances at her wobbly knees as Carla fought to balance on the crescents of ice beneath them. The little raven-haired pixie on her right giggled aloud and the redhead on Carla's left shushed her. "C2! That is no way to treat your mother!"

Gary hadn't stayed to watch Carla. He knew she'd follow instructions as ordered, or else his other slaves would tell on her. They loved tattling. Silly little girls, they had such gleeful smiles whenever they'd run to him and whisper tales designed to curry favor and set themselves above the others in his eyes. "Oh, Master, J3 forgot to baste the roast and it got too dry," or "A4 poked thirty needles into tomorrow's dinner and now she's crying and her nose is all stuffy and I know how you hate that, Master, a dinner with a runny nose."

Gary grinned and surveyed the whole of the room and finished his first beer. It was good to be home, home to his private dungeon and his sweetly devoted slaves. Annie and her daughter, the fiery A4, were busy in the larder. Gary noticed that they had two girls hung from their ankles at the moment. Aged meat had more flavor. A4—Now, there was a girl who bore watching, Gary mused. Annie was the most senior slave he'd kept, and A4 was her only surviving daughter. The others, A1, 2 and 3 might have been wonderful servants, but as meat, they didn't show much promise. He'd watched them from birth, of course, as he followed the progress of all his breeder's girls. (The boys ended up as mysterious bundles of joy left on doorsteps throughout the metro area.) Annie was a svelte, wide-hipped Scandinavian girl, but she bore the spindliest girls. At culling age, they'd gone into the stew pot rather than joining the ranks destined for the fattening pens. But that A4, with her Venus figure and her vixen's temper? She'd make a fine roast, for sure.

A commotion shifted his focus from Annie and her daughter to the opposite side of the room. Fattening pens ranged down the far wall. They were cages, really, one girl per wire cube, suspended a few feet from the floor for ease of cleaning. A cluster of naked lovelies stood outside the first cage, forcing feed into the mouth of the squirming, sputtering girl inside. She squawked and pulled as far away as the tight confines of her cage allowed. Jasmine, a mocha beauty raised her hands up in exasperation. "C1! You're meat now, meat now! You're Master's chow! So eat, eat up, you stupid cow!"

The other girls tittered and joined in the little song. They tossed C1 handfuls of the sweet feed, Gary's special recipe. Up in her cage, C1 bleated, "Stop it, stop singing, knock it off!" C1 wasn't doing so well. She'd only been forced into the cage that morning. Gary frowned. He'd expected sweet compliance from Carla's eldest daughter. Carla was his newest breeder. Her younger daughter had taken to his service as if she'd been born to it—as she had been, of course. C1, on the other hand—she needed punishment.

Gary raised a hand high in the air and gestured, a quick stabbing motion. Jasmine nodded and whispered to the three younger girls clustered around C1's fattening pen. They shrieked delight. J3 and J4 ran to the tool chest and grabbed the prod, their favorite toy.

"Teach YOU to tell us what to do, meatgirl," J3 squeaked. She was barely tall enough to reach the center of the cage with the cattle prod.

"Crispy nipple time, meatgirl!" J4 mirrored and mimicked her twin sister perfectly.

"Gimme that, Pipsqueak!" F4, a sturdy, golden skinned girl, snatched the prod from the smaller slavegirl and held it gleefully close to C1's averted face. "You can run but …oh wait, you CAN'T run, hee hee!" she gasped out her amusement, then flicked on the prod and fed it through the bars. "Now, stay still, or I'll turn the hose on you first!"

Inside the cage, C1 wept. She knew better than to move, she knew it best, she was the one who'd thought up this particular torture method. Master rewarded his clever girls. He'd fucked her in his own bed the night after she'd introduced the water and prod combination. Wow, that meatgirl had really shrieked, and her body writhed in ways she'd never seen before. Master loved to see what new games his slave girls could invent to season his meat through and through. "Pain tastes great!" He'd say, in his dinner jacket, carving off a strip of roasted girl. The lucky slaves at the dining table would all daub their mouths delicately, just like Carla taught them, and agree.

"Eeeeeeee!" C1 howled as F4 held the twin prongs of the cattle prod tight against her breast. "It's burning me! Oh god!"

F4 shushed her and pulled the prod back through the bars. She can't be done already? C1 thought. Sure enough, F4 repositioned the prod, this time aiming for C1's round rump. Little Effie poked C1 hard enough to dimple her skin, and the current jolted her hard again. C1 screamed and writhed. When F4 tired, she brought a stool over and let J3 and 4 take turns. The twins, so cute, they shared everything. Their shiny dark hair shimmered in the light as they passed the prod back and forth, and C1 howled. But she didn't talk back, anymore. Gary smiled and opened another beer. Sooner or later, they all learn, thanks to the clever hands of his little crew.

Gary nodded. His breeders taught their daughters well. From birth, all they knew was this world-- Gary's Underground Palace of Pain. He liked that. Maybe he'd have one of the girls paint it on the wall just beyond the dining table. That reminded him. Dinner. Those ice cubes must have melted by now. He glanced back toward the curtain for Carla. She was blotting the water off her lovely legs. Carla was cinnamon brown and spicy, his favorite amongst all his girls. She fucked like a demoness and anticipated his culinary needs. She was almost perfect. But clearly, she was troubled by her daughter's confinement. She kept her gaze downcast as she approached her master, not favoring him with her customary smile.

Gary was lounging in his recliner on a dais raised high enough for him to survey all his slavegirls as they worked. His mind flashed back to his workplace for an instant, the grid of desks, computer screens discoloring the faces of the office crew. He much preferred the appearance of his slaves to the sleekly groomed secretaries in their designer knock-offs. Sandy would look so much better like this, he grinned. Like Carla here, or Annie. The only thing his slavegirls wore was a little chef's hat at the table, when they served or dined along with their master. He liked the jaunty touch those hats added to a formal meal.

"Annie!" Gary's voice hardly rose. When Master was home, voices remained subdued, outside those shrieks that his discipline evoked. Annie dashed from the larder, her chef's hat askew by the time she'd reached his chair. Both women knelt as he pointed a finger to the floor in front of him.

"On second thought, Annie, come up here and give me a shoulder massage." Gary moaned as her expert fingers went to work. At a nod from Gary, Carla began to caress his growing bulge, and then she took out his erection and sucked it into her mouth. Gary leaned back into Annie's talented fingers and splayed his legs wider, welcoming Carla's ministrations. Behind her, the room's activity continued. Jasmine monitored her little girls as they finished their torture session and went back to kitchen duties. F4 and C2 giggled as they set the dining table with snowy linen and crystal and silver. C2 kept glancing up at C1 in the cage, frankly fascinated.

"I wish it was me," she mumbled.

"Me too, only…" F4 blushed.

"What?" C2 stared at her sister who huddled in the cage with her knees drawn up.

"When it's my turn, they won't even have to torture me because I want to roast for Master, I really do."

C2 howled laughter. "Don't you remember? Pain tastes great! There is no way he'll let you roast until you're hurting good." Acid, C2 was thinking. Amazing how just a few tiny drops landing on their perfect breasts or bellies made those meatgirls scream. Sometimes they even passed out. Master especially liked to fuck them then. Then he'd let the girls scoop them up and prepare them for the oven, quick, before all that deliciousness had faded. Yeah. C2 eyed F4 and nodded. That's just what she would do to this one, and Master would reward her for sure.

Back on the dais, Gary's body stiffened and his hands pressed Carla's head tight against him. Annie stood behind him, running her fingers lightly over his chest, bending close to whisper, "Master, will that be Carla's last meal?"

Gary sighed, relaxed his grip on the sputtering girl and let Carla lean back on her knees. She flicked out her tongue to find errant drops of Gary's seed. "Mmm, yum," she said, looking up at him. Just then, C1's cage was hit with a blast of icy water and she shrieked.

"J4, you little bitch, she's had enough for now!" Carla had forgotten herself. No one stopped the torturing of meatgirls but the Master himself.

And now he gazed at Carla, shook his head, then turned to Anne. "Her last meal. Yes. I want carne asada for dinner. Get her down there, prep her now."

Carla didn't understand. "Master, we have that little hitchhiker you brought in last week stewing with some fresh vegetables. You said—"

Annie put her arm around Carla and locked her strong butcher's hands around Carla's wrists. "Yes, Master!" Annie called out to the room, "Special request, hop to it, girls. Tonight, Master's dining on this luscious bitch."

And so they did. Jasmine and Annie walked Carla to the circle of waiting girls. The circle parted, revealing a long, channeled prep table with suitable restraints on each of the four corners. The eagerness showed on the faces of each girl. This would be a very special night indeed, the cooking of one of Master's breeder girls. Wow! Excited whispers echoed through the busy room as girls scurried around to grab their favorite preparation tools. The twins returned to the table carrying matching scalpels, and C2 brought a garrote. The redhead's eyes widened as she watched the girl circle around to the head of the table.

"You're meat now, Mummy," she hissed. The whole table broke into gales of laughter and the round of torturing began. Jasmine allowed her girls to slash dozens of slits across Carla's breasts and belly and thighs.
"Not fair, she always picks them first!" C2 grumbled.

"If I had you strangle your Mommy first, we'd lose half the show. Now, think, girl!" Jasmine chided.

C2 stood, blushing and abashed, but the garrote never stilled in her hands. She played with it, twisting it around her wrist, letting it go, and tugging it tight again. She could hardly wait to feel Carla struggle beneath her. It could only be a few minutes longer—surely they were getting tired of this game by now.

The twins had climbed onto the table to perform their work. J3 and J4 sang a little made up song as they covered Carla's body with deep crimson lines. "Slish-slash, I was taking out the trash!" Their thighs were parted, and each girl rode atop one of Carla's legs as she screamed and struggled. They rose up and down, rubbing against her as they slashed and sang, and began to purr. Back in his seat, Gary had to admit he'd never seen a finer show: twin lovelies bringing themselves to orgasm as they were splashed with the meatgirl's blood.

Jasmine watched her daughters wriggle and gasp and howl their pleasures. When they leaned together for a kiss over the sobbing Carla, she gently pried them away. She held a bowl of spices. "Perfect, girls. The meat will be so flavorful. Jasmine scooped up a handful of coarse salt and fiery ground chili and began to rub it vigorously into Carla's wounds.

At her mother's head, C2 cried out, "Enough already! She's going to pass out before I can even strangle her!" Everybody laughed, but Jasmine didn't stop until the last of the spices had been worked into Carla's every crevice.

Gary shifted, almost unbearably aroused. Take her now, one last time? Why not. He ambled down to the prep table and stepped on a lever that dropped the center section of the table away, allowing him to brush his hardness up against Carla's well-spiced sex. The assembled slaves watched raptly as he gripped Carla's upper thighs and thrust inside her. C2 cleared her throat, and sure enough, Master raised his head long enough to mutter, "When I give the nod, and not one second before." He grinned and panted and buried himself in the writhing girl.

His motions became more frantic, and suddenly he grunted "Yesss!" and that was when Carla whipped the garrote around her mother's neck and pulled and twisted it with all the strength she had. Carla's body arched and undulated, her motions jerky, spasming in wet squelchy sounds as her cries were reduced to liquid gurglings. Gary's body relaxed, and he stepped back to survey the sight. Spectacular. He flicked a finger up and gestured to himself. J3 and 4 accompanied him to the dais where they bathed him with their tongues.

"Such talented twins," Gary said, smiling down on the busy pair. Their firm flesh hardly jiggled as they licked him clean.

Jasmine and Annie cleaned out the body of tonight's dinner, sliced her meat into generous portions and began to roast that lovely woman, asada style. They trimmed her flanks, made lean steaks and smothered them in pickled jalapenos. Annie giggled as she stuffed Carla's sex with more of the hot peppers. A special variation, just for Master. The naked chefs were meticulous in their techniques, and soon, an incredibly complex scent began to fill the room.

Dinner in Gary's Underground Palace was always a formal affair. As a gentle chime let him know that the girls were ready, Gary rose from his lounge chair and took his seat at the center of the dining table. The candles were lit; two bouquets of fresh flowers offset a large silver platter in the center of the table. J3 and 4 sat on either side of their Master, their chefs' hats almost too large for them, but their manners impeccable. Jasmine hovered nervously in the kitchen doorway, eying her daughters for any slight faux pas. Annie emerged with C2, carrying Carla Asada on a serving tray. The scent was seductive, addictive, and it was all that Gary and his girls could do to maintain proper etiquette. Up in her cage, C1 watched the feast and her belly rumbled. She hoped he'd roast her whole.

An hour passed of muted conversation and several servings apiece. J3 and 4 were almost nodding into their desserts, a sweet sorbet laced with Carla's own milk. Gary sat in a weary, happy haze when his intercom sounded. Annie jumped up and responded. She whispered, "Yes, I think so. Just let me check."

Gary lifted a brow as Annie approached. "What is it?" He blotted his mouth to hide a smirk.

"It's the chauffeur, Master. The girl you ordered? Shall I tell him to send her down on the dumb waiter, as usual?"

Gary nodded. He never lost his enjoyment of fresh meat. Even on a full stomach, the sight of their faces when they first viewed his palace? It was priceless. Well, not priceless, really. Tonight, it amounted to the cost of a fresh young secretary's weekly wages.

The dumbwaiter rumbled to a stop and the door flew open. Gary smiled at the naked girl who tumbled out.

"Good evening, Sandy. Hope you enjoyed the ride."