Posted by Sawney Beane on July 21, 2007 at 09:49:33:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #117
CELIA'S FEAST
by Sawney Beane
30 October 2004
3,602 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: Emotions I have explored before, but a slightly different situation. It's a bit more sexually graphic than I usually go for, but it was written for someone who wanted it that way.
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"Celia," he said softly, touching her small shapely foot with a gentle nudge. "We should really be getting started soon; are you ready?"
Celia did not reply but remained quietly on her back nude with eyes closed on the centre of the long counter, which thrust out into the large kitchen like a stage. Only the gentle rise and fall of her attractive chest betrayed the life existing within her lovely body.
Ron was afraid she might be asleep, so after an appropriate pause, he placed a gentle hand on her silky thigh. "Celia, dear, are you awake?"
Celia's lips barely moved as she replied slowly. "Your question is not one to be answered lightly," she said, an almost undetectable smile crossing her lips.
Ron smiled knowingly and allowed himself the luxury of stroking her long slender thigh slowly while waiting for her to deign to answer him. He couldn't help thinking what wonderful culinary delights this body had to offer. It was at the same time a horrible and delightful thought. He and Celia had discussed this dichotomy endlessly over the last week, a week that would culminate in today's big event.
Finally, Celia replied, eyes still closed. "OK," she murmured, "I'm ready now." He could see that she was maintaining a slow rhythmic breathing pattern, forcibly restraining her body from expressing the nervousness and excitement she must surely feel.
"Is there anything I can get for you before we get started?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she replied, still sluggish but her bright blue eyes now open and blinking in the afternoon sunlight that bathed the kitchen and her prone body with angelic illumination. "Get me a glass of wine..."
"OK."
"...and a cheeseburger!"
He frowned at this request and paused in his opening a fresh bottle of Merlot. "I really don't think that's a good idea, dear."
"But I'm starving!" she moaned. "I haven't eaten anything in three days!"
"Yes, but, well, you know..."
"Yes, I know," she pouted playfully, "you want my guts to be all clean and neat for when you butcher me!"
He winced as she said this. She had, in fact, hit the nail on the head, but he always found the word so harsh and unpleasant, not at all like the gentle separation of her body parts that he had planned for her.
"I'll make you a cheeseburger if you insist, but you know what it will do," he said, handing her the full glass of wine.
"What if I puke it out right after?"
He winced again at this comment. She could be so graphic sometimes. "No, dear, if you eat it, I'd prefer it stayed in you."
"You're no fun," she said sipping her wine sullenly.
"Well, I could make some stuffing for you to eat, and that might work fairly well."
She smiled ruefully. "Well, maybe we should just skip it. But will you at least let me suck your dick?"
Again, her direct speech made him cringe, but he smiled nonetheless. "That's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, let's go," she said. With that she deposited the empty wineglass on the edge of the counter and, grabbing his shoulder lightly, she dragged him into the bedroom and relieved him of his clothing in record speed.
She was just about to take his attentive member into her starving mouth when he had a sudden terrifying vision. "Darling, I hate to offend you, but be careful you're not so ravenous you bite me, or I will be very cross with you."
She pouted again. "You're such a meany! I give you my whole body to feast on," she said posing her curvaceous flesh optimally to drive the point home, "and you won't even let me eat a little tiny bit of you in return?"
He smiled back, "You're not going to get on my good side by calling it tiny!"
"Shut up!" she commanded as she dove voraciously at his penis, devouring its entire length instantly, like a woman who hadn't eaten a bite in 72 hours. In a matter of seconds he was feeling the lightening in his brain and his eyes were rolling back in his head. She was so enthusiastic that it was a little bit painful, but when he came she sucked and sucked greedily getting the most out of her last meal.
When she had finished, he collapsed on the bed and she crawled up next to him, nestling her slender curvy body against his larger more muscular one. They remained there in the comfortable postprandial glow for a long time before she rolled over and faced him with eagerness in her shining blue eyes. "Do we have time for you to fuck me one last time?"
"We'll make time," he said gently, wondering if he had the stamina to do her justice after her fellatio feat. He determined to do his best to please her; it was the least he could do under the circumstances.
Their lovemaking was long and loud, an act of sheer will on his part, and utter abandon on hers. She howled and writhed like there was no tomorrow, which was for all intents and purposes the case. His body slid rhythmically across her softer flesh, so well suited both to sex and supper, and he felt his love flowing around her in soft waves that would soon result in her drowning. It was all for the best.
After their final intercourse, she resumed her position pressed against the side of his body. After a long period of panting and gentle kisses on select body parts, he could feel her breathing gradually returning to that slow, self-imposed calm rhythm he knew she was fighting to maintain.
"You're so great," he murmured in her ear. "I love you."
"I love you too," she smiled back happily, a brief flutter of her heart interrupting the steady rhythm.
"You're sure you want to do this?" he asked, hoping she would but feeling a need to assuage his guilt.
She considered carefully for several moments before replying. "Yes, I really am," she said, as if the fact were a little bit surprising to herself.
"You know how it's going to be and everything, right?"
"Yes," she answered a bit more promptly. "I know."
"And you're ok with that?"
"Yes, it will be fine," she smiled gently, "It is for the best." She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself, but the terrible dilemma of her position was inescapable. When your greatest fantasy and desire is to be devoured by your lover but at the same time every physiological and psychological instinct is screaming at you to stop this foolishness, the choice becomes just a bit difficult.
"Celia, you're amazing," he smiled at her as he kissed her forehead. "I promise to make you delicious, and I will never forget you or what you are doing for me."
"You're very sweet, Ron," she smiled. "This is exactly how I hoped it would be." After another brief pause, she stood up reluctantly, "we'd better get cleaned up."
"Yes," he agreed, following her into the large bathroom. They showered together, and he scrubbed her body from head to toe, making her the cleanest she had ever been in her life. As he washed her hair, she ran her fingers though her short blonde hair, still unused to the boyish cut he had given her the day before. She mourned the loss of her long golden tresses almost more than she dreaded the loss of the rest of her body.
After their bathroom ritual, he put sandals on her and led her back into the kitchen where he lifted her back onto the counter and gave her another glass of wine.
The well-rehearsed preparations went quickly. She was very calm and cooperative throughout and seemed to enjoy the touch of his fingers as he massaged butter generously into every inch of her fair skin and then sprinkled spices on her flesh and spread them around with his fingers. She felt her body tingle with the stimulation and her complete surrender. The thought of his strong teeth tearing at her flesh made her quiver with desire.
After she was thoroughly spiced, he laid her out on her belly and retrieved the large carrot that they had selected specially for the purpose. She felt her body shudder as he slid the ten-inch long vegetable into her anus and deep into her vacant bowels. The green leaves were left on the vegetable leaving her the semblance of a stringy fluffy tail.
He then rolled her over and inserted a large ear of corn deep into her vagina. The bumpy vegetable dildo stimulated her already over-stimulated body with every millimetre of its journey.
Her preparations almost over, he placed the large silver roasting pan onto the counter and instructed her to climb into it. She knelt in the centre of the pan with her long lithe legs under her. The vegetables in her nether regions adjusted themselves to the position after stimulating more tingling sensations up and down her spine.
Ron found some string, which he used to tie her ankles and knees together and then to tie her arms behind her back with each of her wrists lashed to the elbow on the opposite arm. He slid the three-foot long steel spike into the mounting bracket in the centre of the roasting pan. The metal rod ran between her forearms and her spine, and he tied a final string across her chest, under her armpits and around the spike to keep her back straight and vertical throughout her oven odyssey.
When it was done, he took a step back to admire his handiwork, and she, with slow regular breathing still maintained, relished her new role as she progressed further down the journey from woman to meal. It felt exquisite to know that future she had arranged for herself, to feel her complete surrender to her fantasy, to feel all of her worldly worries floating away in the face of spectre of a stainless steel restaurant quality oven that would play such a pivotal role in her brief future.
And she looked marvellous. Her body glistening in its butter coating, she sat with shoulders pulled back and chest thrust forward, accentuating her shapely breasts. Her flesh looked gorgeous and delicious at the same time as she hovered on the interface between femme and feast. She was perfect in both roles, but she would soon have to become one or another, and Celia knew which it would be.
Just as Ron was finishing with her pre-oven preparations, the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of the first guests.
Celia was unembarrassed by her nudity, but Ron scampered into the bedroom to get a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before answering the door. Two couples, each bearing a gift of a bottle of wine, entered and hastened into the kitchen to see the unusual main course.
Celia smiled and welcomed them as a hostess. "Al, Lori, Paul, and Alice! It's so great to see you," she smiled, "I was just about to get dinner into the oven." Everyone smiled at this last remark.
"Oh, you look so delicious!" declared Lori, one of Celia's oldest friends.
"You're a feast for the eyes, Celia, dear," remarked Lori's husband Al.
"I can't believe you're really going to do this!" exclaimed Alice, who wasn't sure whether or not this was a good idea.
"Thank you so much for having us over for dinner," said Paul formally.
"Thank you for having me for dinner," Celia smiled. "I'd be in the oven already, but Ron had to fuck me one last time. Considering that, you should probably let him eat my pussy, but I'm sure he will claim it anyway." She paused briefly before adding, "Come to think of it, I wonder why I didn't make him eat it earlier. Damn, too late now."
"Hush, silly girl," said Ron with mock severity. "I've got your apple ready and waiting for you if you can't keep that mouth of yours closed."
"Oh," Celia mocked, "you don't scare me!"
Ron brandished the ruby red apple threateningly. "You'd better behave or you'll regret it."
"Or what, tough guy?" she said defiantly from her helpless position.
"Or else I'll untie you!" he exclaimed driving home the victory. Everyone laughed, including Celia, and she closed her lips carefully to indicate she thought that was a punishment to be avoided. The lightness of the conversation masked the serious mental struggles existing to one degree or another inside the minds of everyone present.
While this banter was going on, and Celia was enjoying her last few minutes of womanhood in good-natured jousting, the doorbell rang several more times, each time one or two additional couples joining the party. Everyone, ten couples in all and three single men, was there when Celia suggested that they might want to think about getting dinner in the oven.
Ron responded by placing a strap around her forehead to secure her to the spike. "I'll give you your farewell kiss now, just in case," he said, leaning in to deliver a long passionate kiss, the last Celia could hope to experience. She took full advantage.
When it was done, Celia turned to the gathered crowd of middle class intellectuals and announced, "We should have the feast on the table in about an hour. Thank you all for coming to our party; it means a lot to me that you are all here." After this, Ron filled her mouth with the large red apple, which made her jaws feel stretched near to the point of breaking.
Several of the strong men helped Ron pick up Celia's roasting pan and deposit her on the oven. As she rode the pan backwards into the gaping maw of the inferno, not fully heated yet but warm enough to feel comforting and womblike, she saw her womanhood slipping away. With some regret but no small amount of excitement, she contemplated her future as a meal and felt the heat seep into her body.
The oven grew hotter by the minute, and the comfortable warmth soon became uncomfortable heat, and Celia felt the sweat glistening on her body. Discomfort became mild pain and then more severe pain as her ordeal marched on. She remained with eyes closed and her practiced steady breathing moving her chest up and down in slow calm rhythm. She blocked out the pain by an act of will, but felt it nonetheless. The agony was nothing compared to the realization of her dream, but still she hoped the oven would reach full temperature soon. She wondered if she would still be alive when she had finished roasting.
After twenty minutes, Ron opened her door and reached into her hell to thoroughly baste her steaming body with a long-handled baster. She felt the searing liquid splashing across her burning skin, but she suppressed her reaction to the pain and kept her squirming to a minimum. Nonetheless, her flinching ensured Ron that she was still alive.
The second time, twenty minutes later than the first, her movements were less jerky, and she felt much less pain from the basting. For the most part, the pain had faded into the background, and she just kept trying to think of who and where she was, but her brain was roasting like the rest of her, so she knew it would not serve her well for much longer. She smelled after many minutes a light flavourful aroma, and she knew it was the odour of her own succulent body roasting.
One hour after her oven ordeal began, the light came on, and strong oven-mitted hands pulled her roasting pan out of the oven. With her roasted skin she could barely feel the influx of cool air on her steaming body, but the slow measured breathing brought in cooling drafts to her interior. It felt almost like eating ice cream.
Everyone gathered around Celia to admire her golden-brown body and steamy succulent flesh. She was really roasted, and everyone couldn't wait to taste the delicious flesh she had given her life to provide.
But Celia lived on, albeit slightly less animated than she had once been. Her head felt heavy and slow, and she felt as if her thoughts were somehow hindered. Her lips had roasted in place around the sizzling red apple, and refused to move, preventing her from talking or smiling. She had barely been able to open her eyes to slits, and as a result everything looked blurry and vague like a distorted dream. She could still hear fairly well, and the bustle of excited voices near her sent a thrill through her damaged but still gorgeous body.
Ron could see that she was still alive if only because her chest moved ever so slightly up and down as she maintained her slow steady breathing that had kept her calm and composed throughout the day. He drew the carving knife and prepared to confirm his love's new role.
The first morsel Celia lost was a thick slice of flesh from the back of her left shoulder, and she barely felt its departure. The meat came off looking like rare roast beef and sat steaming and delicious on a plate for several minutes before anyone dared to become the first cannibal in the room. At last, Ron put down the carving knife and used a steak knife and fork to cut a small bite from her first slice.
Placing the bite in his mouth, he closed his eyes and savoured the flavour of his succulent love. She was everything they had hoped she would be, and he told her so. She regretted her inability to smile as she heard to compliments from her lover and the clamouring murmur of the crowd eager for Ron to slice more meat off of her.
He finished her first small slice quickly and set to work feeding the masses from her body. He cut more slices from her shoulders and upper arms, filling plates as they were handed to him and passed around, each lucky recipient exclaiming in awe at the wonder of Celia's flesh. After most of the cooked surface of her arms and back was removed, Ron placed the blade of the carving knife against her belly and made a smooth upward slice to remove her right breast and repeated the motion to remove her left breast. These morsels gone, her slow breathing continued somewhat less visibly.
Ron saved one of the breasts for himself and served the other to his best friend Andrew before filling the remaining empty plates with slices from the exposed upper surface of her thighs and from her lower back and arse.
Celia felts faint and dizzy. The removal of large portions of her flesh had not caused much pain after the oven had roasted most of her, but she felt lighter and a bit dreamy. She knew that she would not be alive the next time they took her out of the oven. She wondered if she would even survive to see the next basting. The second course would have to go on without her.
The men carried her much-depleted body back to the oven, riding on its steel roasting pan. Ron knew also that she would not be conscious much longer so he made a tearful farewell at the oven door as she felt the welcome familiar sensation of the oven's searing heat. As they slid her back in to meet her fate, her breathing continued slower and slower, and she smiled inwardly at the thing she had become.
Although she was still conscious, barely, no one could mistake her for a woman anymore. She was almost completely the feast she had so long dreamed of becoming. She knew that outside the oven, in the cool air of the kitchen and dining room, two dozen happy people were having a party, and each and every one of them had a piece of her on his or her plate and some of her body in his or her belly. Each of these people was important to her, and she had never before felt so connected with them. And the best thing was they would all soon be waiting eagerly for the sequel, which she would provide in another hour. It was a shame she would not live to see their delighted faces again.
As she contemplated this glorious end, her brain continued to soften, and her thoughts became more confused and less coherent. Her body, now almost completely devoid of pain receptors, sizzled on, the pink flesh cooking slowly. It had been a difficult decision, but she knew she had made the correct choice. She forced her lips into a smile around the roasted apple.
When Ron reached in to baste her body once again, he noticed that the slow steady breathing had stopped, and he suppressed the tears that were beginning to well up in his eyes by thinking fondly of the culinary delights Celia would continue to provide for him and their guests until nothing remained but her bare bones.
Having slid her basted body back into the oven to continue her roasting, Ron picked up his plate and sawed the nipple from the scant remains of her left breast. It had been in his mouth many times before, but it had never tasted quite as wonderful as it did today. He chewed slowly and savoured this succulent reminder of his dear Celia.