Posted by Menagerie on July 13, 2004 at 05:47:18:
HOME EC
A murmur swept through the classroom as Miss Salisbury briskly strode in with an armful of papers. The attractive young brunette proceeded to the front of the room, dropped the papers unceremoniously on a desk, and waited for the noise to die down. "Frankly, ladies," she began, "I'm disappointed, I really am. These papers,"--gesturing--"show me some of you couldn't find the kitchen if it hit you with a spatula." Nervous titters. "Now, some of you did manage to eke out a passing grade," the instructor continued, beginning to distribute the papers. "Others did not, but may yet be able to pass this course with the help of the final extra credit assignment."
She paused amidst the rustle of paper, as 40 female students anxiously scanned their copies for the result. Miss Salisbury went on, "And, of course, one of you--"
That one was Liz. She swallowed hard, staring at the black mark on her exam. Tears forming in her eyes, the pretty blonde looked mournfully at the teacher. "But, Miss S--I couldn't have done this badly..."
The teacher's tone was icy. "Now, Elizabeth," she said haughtily, "you girls all knew how fierce the competition was before you came here. This is the finest school of haute cuisine in the country; those who succeed will be placed with the best dining establishments in the world. You, each of you, will not graduate until you learn how to create a magnificent meal, using all possible ingredients. All ingredients," she added for emphasis. The room was hushed. "Elizabeth," said Miss Salisbury menacingly, "come to the front of the room, please."
The slender blonde slunk to the front, tears trickling down her rosy cheeks, her shoulders heaving. She stood alone, looking at her shoes. All the girls were dressed in the uniform of the special prep school--plaid, wool skirts, green blazers and yellow blouses, nylons and black patent-leather flats. Miss Salisbury sighed. "Elizabeth, you simply never applied yourself during this entire term. Sometimes, you didn't show up for class at all. Well, at least some of your classmates may learn from this. Beverly, Shelley, will you help us, please?"
The two girls jumped from their seats and hurried forward. The room was actually a combination lecture hall and test kitchen; there were ovens and ranges, sinks and refrigerators, stainless steel tables for preparing perishables. The instructor continued, "There are corners of the world where the most exotic dishes are served; today, we will learn how to prepare them. Ladies, please remove Elizabeth's clothing, so we can proceed."
They did, relievedly--Shelley, a statuesque redhead, thought she would be the one who'd end up the focal point of the class' final lesson. She held Liz's arms while Bev, a petite, sassy Irish brunette, peeled away the struggling girl's uniform. Her unzipped skirt slid easily down her slim hips; the nylons hissed as they were peeled off her slender, gently curved legs. The vest and blouse were pulled away; her bra cupped solid breasts, jutting firmly out as the protesting blonde squirmed and fought. Miss Salisbury held out two sets of handcuffs; the unfortunate girl's ankles and wrists were shackled, and her panties were torn off. The nude young woman gazed up, a pleading look in her eyes.
The instructor said, "Now, Diane...what can you tell us about Elizabeth?"
The brown-haired, bespectacled girl rose from her seat, walked up to the writhing, bare blonde, and examined her closely. "The carcass will yield upwards of 70% lean," she said, running her hands along Liz's twisting frame. "Lack of fat could be a problem for any cooking method except moist heat. The breasts"--she squinted closely, and squeezed Liz's right boob, eliciting a shriek--"don't appear to be artificially enhanced. I'd say she'll grade out high #1."
Diane returned to her desk and primly sat, smoothing her skirt; Miss Salisbury nodded and made a note in her class ledger. "Shelley and Beverly, please place Elizabeth on...that table over there, to my right," she pointed. The two girls obliged, hoisting their unhappy classmate by her armpits and knees to one of the stainless steel surfaces. "Now, Monica," the teacher continued, to a bespectacled brunette in the first row, "identify Elizabeth's primal cuts for us."
Monica was Teacher's Pet; she eagerly accepted the marker handed her by the instructor. "Here," she said, outlining Liz's lower back from ribcage to pelvis, "is the loin--the sirloin is down here, above the buttock," as the naked blonde bucked and heaved in her cuffs; Shelley and Bev held her down, face against the cold steel, muffling her cries of protest. "The Boston butt is up here," Monica continued, circling the upper quarter of the nude girl's back; "there's the picnic," drawing a line from Liz's shoulder halfway down her arm. Miss Salisbury smiled and placed a mark in the ledger. "The rump," Monica added, and the pen traced Liz's bare buttock, "is good for that moist heat Diane was talking about; the ham"--her lean, soft thigh--"should probably be smoked."
"Head of the class," snickered Shelley, to which Miss Salisbury coldly responded, "I wouldn't laugh, Shelley; a few demerits, and you could well replace Elizabeth." The redhead paled and swallowed, hard. "Come to think of it," the tutor went on," the class may benefit from a carcass comparison. Undress, please."
Shelley responded, at first hesitantly--then, as Miss Salisbury reached for her grade book, she hurriedly stripped. Tall, with piercing green eyes, she took off her skirt so quickly a button popped off. "Damn!" she said...then, frantically, as the teacher lifted her pen, "I didn't mean it, Miss S, honest!"
"Continue," said the teacher, sternly. Shelley finished disrobing in record time to the sound of her classmates' catcalls, dropping her bra and panties in the pile of clothes. "Well, Diane," said the instructor, smiling again, "how would you prepare Shelley, here?"
The mousy brown-haired girl got up again; Shelley stood still, barely breathing, as the other young woman fingered and prodded her flesh. "A slightly higher fat content, maybe an 85% yield; a softer muscle tone; smaller breasts--"
"Bullshit," muttered Shelley--then eyes widening in horror, clasped her hands around her mouth. Miss Salisbury pretended not to hear.
"--and more meat to the rump," Diane finished, concluding, "I think you could grill Shelley if necessary, Miss S."
"Thank you again, Diane," said the teacher, a small grin on her face, as the nude redhead blushed and the room erupted in laughter. "Shelley, unless you want to join Elizabeth up there, you will return to your seat. No--don't get dressed, in case we need you for another side-by-side comparison," as the class snickered again. "Karen," and a boyish, bespectacled blonde looked up from her seat, "please help Beverly in restraining Elizabeth."
Karen joined the little brunette in holding down the unlucky coed, her tanned skin marked in black ink where her cuts of meat would be separated. She kicked her bound feet up and down, the muscles in her calves flexing; she rolled back and forth, first one breast coming into view to the other students, then her trim derriere. Miss Salisbury shook her head. "Well, somebody has to be the Final Project, Elizabeth; if you had spent more time studying and less at campus beer halls, you would be watching Shelley being used for this demonstration. Beverly! What has all that beer done to Elizabeth?"
The Irish girl was cautious. "It's probably made her a little fatter, a little slower; her meat might be a little sweeter, less acidic."
"How will she kill?" Bev shrugged.
Said Miss Salisbury, "Well, let's find out," and handed her a large, sharp knife.
Bev had done her homework in the previous livestock slaughter courses. A deft slash to Liz's jugular and her blood poured out onto the steel table, running in rivulets along the side gutters into fresh containers. The blonde's eyes glazed over as her life gushed out; her frantic thrashing slowed, and finally stopped. "Now," said the instructor, "remove and identify the offal."
Bev split Liz open and took out her kidneys, liver, and heart. Each was wrapped in plastic and waxed paper, and removed to one of the freezers. As the tiny brunette continued gutting the hapless girl, Miss Salisbury began handing out assignments to the others. "You will form two-woman teams; you will be judged on preparation, presentation, and your knowledge of the cuts of meat you will be working with. It is now 10 o'clock; pair off, butcher Elizabeth for the cuts you need, and I'll see you at five!"
Before she collected her books and departed, the teacher pulled down a chart in front of a blackboard; it showed a naked young woman, marked as Monica had marked Liz--rump, ham, loin. The girls swarmed Liz's carcass, blades flashing; when they retreated, just her hands, head and feet were left.
Late that afternoon, Miss Salisbury visited each girl's project --the choicest cuts of Liz, surrounded by a cornucopia of garden delights and garnished with fresh herbs--to determine her final grade. The teacher offered helpful comments--"That thigh should have been cut higher toward the buttock"; "An expert would have trimmed the fat from that loin more closely"--and finally came upon Shelley. She was disheveled; in her haste to undress, she had ruined her clothes. And she was pouting. "Miss S!" she complained, gesturing toward her dish--Liz's steaming buttocks, framed in a bed of mushrooms and onions. "How come I got the ass?"
"Shelley," she replied gently, "it takes one to cook one.”