"the Party"

Posted by Menagerie on September 13, 2004 at 19:34:22:

THE PARTY
Milly had pretended to be excited when her mum told her to be prepared for a special surprise at her birthday. She really wasn’t excited, not as much as she used to be. And truly, she did like birthday parties…but not as much as Her Secret.
When she awoke on the big day, the blonde girl tottered sleepily over to the computer, and started once again looking at all the strange, new things she’d found. There were pictures of women being impaled…pictures of women being roasted over hot coals. The women were naked; their eyes were pleading. Their flesh was glistening, shining in the light of the fires. Milly’s eyes widened as she saw a picture of a girl who looked just like her; the blonde hair dangled over the fire, the skin was reddened. The girl seemed to looking at her; Help me, her eyes said.
Milly licked her lips, stared at the picture. She imagined what it would be like, the steel rod thrust through her, cutting through her innards, emerging from her openings. She could feel the cruel flames licking at her, toasting her skin where they touched, searing her, hurting and yet feeling wonderful. She imagined herself looking out at her tormentors. Would she plead for help, if she could? She didn’t know; she felt that magnificent stirring, a flush creeping over her breasts and cheeks, a tickle, then an itch, in her crotch. Unconsciously, she touched herself, then deeper…her eyes still fixed on the suffering creature, glowing softly on the screen before her.
A few mesmerizing seconds, and then she read the words. She’d seen the tale on the Internet, in a different place than the haunting picture of the young woman who looked so much like her. A tale of another girl—like her, a student, living with her folks—who’d eagerly given herself to friends, to be used. To become meat. The girl had enjoyed her spitting, had savored her preparation, the oils rubbed into her skin, the delicate basting as she broiled over a fire; she was on the verge of being able to enjoy it no more, when a sliver of her own body, her own meat, was popped into her mouth. She could no longer chew, but sucked on her roasted flesh, closed her eyes, smiled as she realized how good she would taste.
Milly read that story over and over, digested every last bit of its importance, for it had become her surrogate life. And then she met friends on the ‘Net, friends who sympathized with her desire to become as the girl in the story; they assured her she would be wonderful meat, but… She understood, and sighed. It wasn’t real. But she saved the messages from her new friends, the words that talked about how much they would enjoy devouring her flesh, how they wish they could watch as she turned, naked, over the hot fire, as she felt a combination of agony and delirium…she read those messages too, over and over and over again, and again felt that twinge in her loins.
She stood, sighed. What did Mum and Dad have planned for her? Cake, maybe. A trip somewhere, or perhaps nice, new clothes. They wouldn’t give her what she really wanted, after all…or would they?
She thought about it, some more, as she changed. The flimsy nightie came off, full breasts in the dimness of her room, shades drawn. A tight T, some hip-hugging slacks, flip-flops…there, she was dressed for the party. She wished Dad would scold her for dressing like a tart, punish her…take her across his knees, savage her bare bottom with a doubled-over belt, Milly shrieking and begging for mercy. Then push her to her knees, force himself into her mouth, a gnarled grip on her long hair, Milly with her nearly-closed eyes boiling tears as the throbbing member tensed and then erupted into her sucking mouth…Reflexively, Milly licked her lips, examined herself in the mirror, then creaked her door open and slipped out.
The scene was not as she expected. The room was decorated, not as for a party, but for a formal banquet; expensive plates and cutlery ringed the old dining room table, which was covered with the fine linen Mum had gotten when she went to Dublin. Dad and Mum were waiting for her, proudly; her sister Leianne sat casually on the divan, legs crossed, a small smile on her face. “Happy B-Day, Hon,” she purred.
“Why—thank you,” said Milly, a bit puzzled. She looked around; Mum had her apron on, and Dad wore old clothes. She put on a smile. “What have you planned for me, then?” she asked coyly.
Milly’s mother giggled, looked up at her husband. “I don’t think we should tease her, do you, John?” she smiled, eyes fluttering.
“Why, no. Young lady, we’ve a special treat in store for you. You see, Mum and I—”
“We’ve read your computer stories,” Mum broke in. Milly became ashen; looked again at Leianne, whose smile had become truly demonic. “But—” she started, looking bewildered from one to the other. Her face fell. “I’m to be punished, then…”
“Not at all,” her father sternly interrupted, striding forward; she felt his strong hands gripping her, turning her; her arms pulled behind her, something scratchy being wrapped around her wrists. “We’re going to give you your wish—you’ll be roasted alive, just like the heroines in your stories!”
Milly was dazed; as her father continued to talk, pulling the twine tight around her wrists, she again felt that flush on her most tender skin. “We’re going to prepare you for a fine feast; your friends have been invited, and they’ll all be able to enjoy your meat. Mum, here, will cook you as if you were a roast pig; all the supplies are ready, and the oven is hot…You’ll soon be popped in, and there’ll be a special surprise there, as well.”
He spun the girl; she looked up at him, gnawing her lip, eyes grown dewy. He waited; then, letting out a sob of job, she threw herself against him. “Oh—Daddy!” she sobbed. “Oh—thank you! Thank you!”
Dad held the young girl, winked over her to Mum. “Told you, Susan—taking it like a champ, she is! That’s my little girl. But we have to get you ready, first. Mum, prepare that extra gift, while I see that Milly is clean for the oven.”
Milly was in such ecstacy, she couldn’t move; bawling with pleasure, she let Dad scoop her up and carry her into the bathroom, where he got the shower gusting, good and hot. She stood, motionless, as her father slid the tight pants down, pulled off her shoes. “Don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore,” he laughed, and with one strong paw he shredded the flimsy shirt; Milly stood in the buff. Her excitement grew as she watched her father also disrobe. “I’m going to clean you out,” he laughed; “But first, I’m going to fill you up!”
And he did; he stood in the shower, water caroming off his bare back, as his delighted daughter licked and suckled his organ. Milly felt herself starting to cum, even as her daddy’s juice came spurting out into her mouth and down her throat; her pussy was absolutely itching, she longed to have him in her. “Now comes the hard part,” said Dad, brandishing a rubber bag and tube.
Milly lay in the shower, feeling herself fill with the sudsy water, and then her bowels empty; it was almost like orgasm, as the dirty water burst out of her in spasmic waves, gurgling down the drain. It was lighter and then clear; Dad, rinsed the floor. Milly gasped, emitting little cries of delight; she was all clean inside. “Daddy--?” she asked, sprawling, her legs spreading.
Dad complied, mounting the girl; Milly sighed under his weight, his slick, furry skin against hers, smooth and warm. Her back and buns flattened against the hard, cold tile, the girl gasped as the man filled her, driving into her. Her eyes shot wide open as he leaned down, locked his mouth over hers; they twisted and turned in the little stall, the young girl and the strong man, knotted together, a bundle of damp flesh. It took Dad a few minutes, but his load passed into her, swallowed deep in the folds of her young vagina. This time, it was she who reached up, wrapped lips around his, felt her hard nipples press against his hairy chest. “That was wonderful, Daddy,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Milly’s dad grinned, propped himself up over his naked daughter. “One more chore,” he whispered, ducking out of the stall. He returned with a razor; Milly shuddered at the sight of the wicked blade. “We need to see more of that pretty hole of yours,” he told her.
Within minutes, Milly’s pudenda had been shaved clean; she was transfixed, staring at the pink, neat cleft, the budding lips…then looked back at Dad. “One more?” she begged, but he shook his head. “Maybe later,” he grunted, tossing the girl over his shoulder as lightly as a pillow, and straightening. “Let’s see what Mum has cooking.”
Mum had been bustling about the kitchen; Leianne sat idly, chatting, one leg curled under her rump. They barely acknowledged Milly as the birthday girl, wearing just a birthday suit, padded sheepishly into the kitchen. “Did you have a good time, dear?” Mum smiled.
Dad followed; he wore a robe. “I sure believe she did, Honey,” he leered. “Those long legs were working hard. And you’ve raised yourself quite a little cocksucker, too.” He sat, pulled Milly onto his lap, and set to work binding her ankles. The naked girl smiled down at him, then looked worried. “You surely can’t fit me into our little stove, now?” she said, her excitement starting to drain. Was the most wonderful part just a dream?
“Of course, not, dear,” Mum laughed. “We’ve rented a pigcooker; it’s fired up, right outside the door. An extra large one, for you see, you’ve a visitor. Leianne?”
Triumphantly, Leianne stood, airily opened the door to the pantry. There, trussed, gagged, helpless, and as naked as she, was Milly’s best friend, Katie. The darkhaired girl stared at her, and her muffled complaints through the cloth that filled her mouth became more pointed.
“Why, Mum!” Milly laughed delightedly, still gazing at her friend; Katie was a bigger girl, with a fuller body, and her flesh jiggled as she fought her bonds. “Don’t tell me Katie is going to join me in the cooker!” The other girl vigorously shook her head, thrashing about in her ropes.
“Yes, indeed,” Mum piped up. “We’ve quite a large party planned in honor of your birthday and roasting—all your school chums, and relatives, too—and it’ll take both of you just to feed them.” She was gathering spices from the cupboard, unloaded them with a clumsy clatter on the table; Milly saw her open a drawer and withdraw a small, glistening filet knife, and she shivered with delight.
Dad was cuddling her on his lap; with her hands still bound behind her, Milly ached to relieve the rising tension in her slit. Dad seemed to understand; the hand around her waist crept lower, a finger jutted out, and Milly felt a twang run straight through her as the finger penetrated her orifice, prodded deep inside her. She hummed, an agitated, herky-jerky sort of hum, as Dad’s finger went to work on her; through partially closed eyes, Leianne watched with satisfaction.
“Come, come, lazy!” Mum called to Leianne. “Katie goes on the fire first; give me a hand, and we’ll get her ready!”
The two women wrestled the struggling, sobbing brunette onto the kitchen table. Milly saw with satisfaction that Katie’s thatch had already been trimmed; her quim was darker, heavier than Milly’s, and Leianne pried the lips open, jammed a fresh summer squash in there. Katie eeped through her gag. Mum brandished the filet knife, hovered over the girl; Milly heard her friend squeaking in pain.
Mum finally straightened up and started rubbing all over Katie’s skin with a mixture of oil and herbs; the girl glistened, the overhead light catching her with a flash here and there as she rolled back and forth in her distress. “John—come give me a hand with this ‘un,” Mum called out. “I believe Leianne has a special going away present for her sister.”
She did, in two parts. The first was a small, thin whip that formed red lines as it landed across Milly’s back and buttocks. The younger girl screamed in pain, then cried out in satisfaction as her sister laid into her; she found herself arching to catch the next blow, and imagined the slender line cutting right through her, to the bone. Milly raised her buns in the air, and the whip cracked between her legs, wrapping clear up to her navel; she shrieked, a sound of utter delight, and collapsed panting onto the living room carpet.
The sting of the whip was replaced with a smooth, soft, warm blanket of flesh—Leianne had stripped naked and was mounting her. Something hard was forcing itself into her. “Twelve inches,” giggled Milly’s big sister. “Bought it just for you.” The massive toy ploughed her in two; Milly gasped out in pleasure. Leianne rode her slowly and surely, rocking back and forth on the prostate girl, till she felt the young blonde jerk beneath her and begin bucking frantically, trying to get every last bit of that plastic into her.
Through the frenzy of her orgasm, Milly became dimly aware of Katie’s voice; the girl was pleading for her life, and Mum and Dad were laughing. The very thought sent Milly into a second set of spasms; fancy, she thought—Kate and I will soon be cooking together! Then it was just Dad’s voice—Katie must be tasting his member, she figured. Slender hands rolled her over; she stared at the ceiling—and then at Mum.
“Hello, dear,” she cooed. “I trust you’re enjoying your big day?” Milly’s eyes were wide as saucers; she nodded, vigorously. “I took a break, while your father softens Katie up,” she laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “Do me a favor, and help me relax.” And with that, Mum lifted her apron—she was totally naked beneath it—and squatted down, directly on Milly’s face.
Milly slurped and sucked at her mother’s snatch, the dark, bitter juices trickling into her mouth and nose; meanwhile, Leianne was rhythmically stroking the dildo into her, again and again. Milly went into a trance, as contented as a cat; she finally realized the stimulation had ended. She was lying, face up, on the table.
“Your friend has started to cook, Hon,” Mum told her, brightly; as she had with Katie, Mum was rubbing oil and spice into her. Mum had used the little filet knife to score her skin, barely scraping the surface, so Milly’s abdomen, thighs and upper arms were cross-hatched with little pink lines; the pungent spices now being rubbed into her irritated the many scratches, and she squirmed. “You’ll be on the fire, soon. Here you go!” And Milly’s vagina, assaulted in so many ways on this day, was invaded by a second squash. She whimpered a bit; Mum pinched her cheek. “So cute!” she exclaimed, taking a length of twine to tie Milly’s long, blonde hair into a bun atop her head. “We’ll serve the two of you in a large carving pan Dad picked up from the barbecue people,” remarked Mom. “You’ll be quite intact, until you’re carved.”
The very thought of being sliced up for food, combined with that intrusive gourd, sent Milly into yet another sexual explosion. It was all her mother could do to hold her down as she applied the finishing touches—sticky, wet apple rings that stayed on her breasts and belly as if glued. “John!” Mum called out. “She’s ready!”
The hot wire rack seared Milly’s calves, butt and shoulders; she was nestled, snugly, against Katie. In the dark of the cooker, Milly felt the other girl’s blistered, roughened skin; soon, she thought with satisfaction, mine will be the same way. Milly heard her friend sob. “Please,” she whispered, choking on tears, “please, tell them to let me go!”
“Think of it, Kate,” Milly said back to her, “we’ll be heaped together, chopped up, on a single platter! The two of us will be mixed up, we’ll be going down everyone’s gullet!” The thought gave Milly another twinge, offsetting the way the hot steel bars were eating into her backside. Katie gasped, “I don’t want to go down someone’s gullet—a-a-a-aaaah,” a howl of pain.
Suddenly, the blackened top of the pig roaster was replaced by the treeline, sky…and Dad. “Comfy?” he grinned, and commenced to lather the two naked girls with a buttery sauce.
“Oh, yes, Daddy,” Milly cried out. “This is just the most wonderful birthday of all,” as her father’s brush smeared the greasy baste on her thighs and belly.
“Your friend is coming along quickly,” Dad commented; Katie’s breathing had grown labored. “She’s about half done. Care for a taste?”
“Really?” cried Milly. Dad poked a fork into Kate’s thigh; juices, half pink and half clear, trickled out, as he applied the business end of a long carving knife to the leg. Katie made a drawn out “uh-h-h-h” sound, and Dad presented the sliver of meat on the end of the fork to his daughter. Milly eagerly took a bite; the meat was soft, sweet, chewy…“Will I be that good?” she sighed.
“Honey,” said Dad, “you’ll be wonderful.” And the lid was closed.
And she was. The blonde and brunette girls were laid out side by side, steaming and shimmering with a fruit glaze and their own fat, on the huge carving tray. Dad had placed apples in their mouths, for that special young suckling touch, and had split them open to remove their viscera; Mum had filled in the cavities with simply quarts of her holiday dressing.
As the guests poured in, from Milly and Katie’s young friends to older relatives, Dad did the honors, carving great chunks of the girls’ soft, juicy flesh and plopping the meat on large platters, to be passed along the ornate table. They devoured the two girls with great appetite and humor, some of them joking about the sizes of Katie’s versus Milly’s breasts and complaining about getting smaller portions. A male classmate swallowed a sizeable hunk of Milly’s buttock and cracked, “I always wanted a piece of her ass!” to the delight of his buds.
Dad finally sat and joined them, digging into a rack of his daughter’s ribs. As he separated the greasy bones and gnawed on the meat, his wife sat beside him; she delicately nibbled on a slice from Milly’s shoulder. The spongy, pink meat glistened as her knife plunged through it. “Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked, popping a forkful into her mouth.
Dad grinned, his mouth full of rib meat. “She certainly,” he said, “was a sweet thing.”