The Society of Atreus

Part 8

Sexual excess had taught Ming Ming an interesting lesson. For all the tongues and fingers and cocks that had serviced her that evening, there was only one that gave her real pleasure. Only one set of arms and lips, only one perfectly familiar penis was able to calm her rioting emotions and bring a peaceful resolution to her conflicting emotions. Strange, she thought, how it can take a surfeit of lovers to make a girl realize that she only really wants one of them.

Does that qualify as love, she wondered?

The one man who made her happiest also turned out to be reluctant to take her to the next banquet a few months later — a “lesser banquet” in which a failed runaway would be punished before slaughter. Carver was afraid she would be upset by it.

But she insisted.

It was, in fact, quite upsetting to her. But she tried not to let on because she had been warned, and because Carver felt so badly about exposing her to it.

When they had arrived at the facility, the girl was stretched out lengthwise on a log at a point where everyone could pass by and spit on her. It was a segment of tree trunk with the rough bark still on it. She was naked and face up, her hands and feet nailed to the sides to hold her in place. Her legs were spread apart and bent at the knees to allow her feet to be nailed flat to the outside of the log. A large pine cone had been shoved up her cunt and blood from the torn vaginal tissue had crusted on the log. She was weeping and groaning. Ming Ming didn't spit as she passed by.

The girl was about five feet eight with a nice figure, a pretty face and ash blond hair. Ming Ming guessed she was probably in her late twenties and weighed about a hundred and forty pounds. How sad, she thought. If she hadn't tried to back out of her obligation, this girl could have had a beautiful presentation and enjoyed an exciting and stimulating roast. Instead, what should have been a pleasurable experience would be humiliating, demeaning and exceedingly painful.

When all the guests had arrived, the girl was taken off the log. It was not a pleasant procedure for her because wrecking bars were used to remove the broad-headed nails and her hands and feet were crushed in the process. Carver adamantly refused to let Ming Ming watch as the girl was gutted because no happy juice was used and her agony, he said, would be “much too horrible” for her to see and hear. Ming Ming pleaded, but to no avail.

“My darling,” he murmured in her ear as they cuddled that afternoon in their suite while the girl was being eviscerated and stuffed in the kitchen, “if you were some brainless piece of fluff like Michelle, I would let you see what happens to rebellious livestock, just as an object lesson. But you don't need such lessons. That girl is a victim of her own selfish stupidity; it got her addicted to drugs, turned her into a whore to pay for them and made her think she could steal from the Society and run away from her obligations. You, by contrast, are an intelligent girl who's happy with her circumstances and the path she's chosen to follow. Why poison your cache of inspiring memories with images of needless suffering brought on by mindless stupidity? ”

She was disappointed but loved him all the more for his sweet concern.

She could hear the girl's screams when the live roasting began, but Carver kept her tightly folded in his arms, kept her mouth busy with his, kept her love passage teasingly stimulated with slow and easy strokes, and wouldn't allow her to peek out the window at the roasting pit. The screams didn't last long.

The presentation of the carcass was far more pedantic than Katie's. The kitchen crew simply carried her in on the spit, set it on brackets and began carving her up. But the flavor was superb. Carver even let Ming Ming have his share of one nipple. It was pleasantly crunchy and tasty.

The interval between the lesser banquet of November and the Great Feast of February was filled with new sensations for Ming Ming. For one thing, Carver never tired of taking her on jaunts around the western states to take in the various natural attractions, national parks and celebrated nightspots. He took her on a fishing cruise in the Pacific, on a mule trek to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, on wine tasting expeditions to the famous California vineyards and on scenic hikes in the Rockies. He acquainted her with the California and Nevada bar scenes, both the glitzy and the dark, and even let her play prostitute for a day in a brothel outside Reno.

She also made a new friend, a girl named Meagan whom Roy had met at a nudist spa in southern California and quickly recruited into the livestock inventory. She was a lively twenty-one year old with hazel eyes, a slim, nicely shaped body and long, straight, chestnut hair. Meagan was a junior at UCLA and had recently been making a decent living working as a model for various on-line bondage sites, an occupation she had taken up the instant she discovered they would actually pay her for indulging her secret and insatiable lust for ropes, chains, whips and pain. Now she was eager to take her fresh young body to the maximum level of submission, the ultimate thrill!

With Roy once again in charge of a beautiful and seriously oversexed meat girl, Carver and Ming Ming once again had a wonderfully compatible couple to help them slake their common thirst and to accompany them on their various and extremely improper excursions. Ming Ming's acquired taste for orgies and sexual variety grew more zealous with every new adventure. She was open to practically any activity, position or combination of bodies that resulted in sensual pleasure, and the more the merrier! — although she preferred to begin and end all her sexual free-for-alls with Carver. Finding others to join them was never a problem and she loved it! She adored having every part of her body, inside and out, exploited by multiple partners, male and female. She savored the contrasting tastes and textures of skin, the feel of stiffened nipples on firm breasts, the differing girths and lengths of rock-hard cocks. She was in heaven when two or three men invaded her at the same time, even when a massive rod was thrust far down her throat, making her gag. She relished the sight of a man in the throes of orgasmic spasms, jaws clenched as he thrust deep into her cunt or spurted hot jizm on her face and into her mouth. She cherished the distinctive taste of all love's wondrous excretions.

By the time the February Feast of Atreus rolled around, Ming Ming was hyped up, sexually afire and eager to fly to Florida. This was Brooke's Feast and she was excited to see how the spunky little blonde had planned to have herself cooked.

She now thought of Carver not so much as her “Master” (although she liked to call him that) as her lover. As property of the Society and part of its meat inventory, it was obvious and appropriate that she would never be his wife, but she could no more deny her deepening feelings for him than she could deny her own gender. She wasn't sure how he felt about her, but it didn't matter. She took clues from his behavior. For example, he didn't need to treat her tenderly since she was only reserve livestock in his charge, but he did. He didn't have to take pains to see that she was comfortable and happy at all times, but he did. However, he also made sure she remembered her status by requiring her to spend twenty-four hours every week — a full day and night — naked in the “cage.” The cage was a seven by five foot cinder block cell with a single twenty-five watt light bulb and a double door. The inner door consisted of rugged steel mesh (hence the term “cage”) and was secured with a heavy padlock. The outer door was constructed of thick sound-proofed steel disguised as part of Carver's workroom wall. The tiny cell was furnished only with a small, thin mattress (no sheet or blanket) and a toilet with no seat. The only other artifacts in the room were a bottle of water, a bowl of oatmeal and twenty-four squares from a roll of toilet paper. It was not her favorite place to be, but those weekly lockups and the fact that Carver could choose to confine her there indefinitely at any time, convinced her that a sweet temperament and complete submission to his will were in her best interest. The hours spent staring at the two doors, praying for them to open, also gave her plenty of time to consider an even less pleasant possibility: that one day she would have to spend six full months there as designated meat. Unless she volunteered first.

The Florida facility turned out to be as gorgeous as Katie had said. Where the August facility had been artificially spawned in the midst of a desert, the Florida grounds and gardens were naturally lush with dark green subtropical vegetation emblazoned with vividly colorful flowers.

Carver, Roy, Meagan and Ming Ming were the second and third of eight couples to arrive as dinner guests. Ming Ming recognized all but one of the other girls from the August and November banquets so there was a good deal of squealing and hugging as each blindfold came off. The newcomer was a tiny Philippino girl of eighteen, a new recruit brought in by Lara who had found her at a bdsm club in Manilla and signed her up. She had been assigned to a wealthy insurance executive named Claude who introduced her to Carver and Ming Ming as Jen, the foreshortened form of a name that tended to trip up English speaking tongues. Jen's English was somewhat limited and her efforts at pronunciation a bit skewed, but her breathtaking figure was eloquent in any language. Her hair and eyes were dark chocolate, her complexion much more dusky than Ming Ming's. Her face was somewhat scarred with the legacy of an acne breakout during adolescence, but it was a cute face, a sweet, almost childlike face. Even her errant pronunciation was endearing. She and Ming Ming hit it off immediately.

Brooke was the last to arrive, as was the tradition. Her handler helped her from the front seat of a late model Cadillac. She was wearing a bright red sun dress and was barefoot. Her wrist cuffs were locked behind her and a red ball gag that matched her dress filled her mouth. Like all the females, she had arrived with a blindfold; but unlike all the others who preceded her, hers was not removed. She was led through the crowd, wincing as her bare feet made contact with the hot pavement. Her long bright hair flowed smoothly down her evenly-tanned back like a river of gold, her full breasts swaying slightly and the muscles of her perfectly shaped legs rippling gently as she walked, promising juicy steaks to be served in another seven hours.

When she emerged from the kitchen an hour later at the end of the Chef's leash, her hair had been bound up into a tight yellow bun. As with Katie before her, she was paraded through the crowd and put on display for hands-on inspection by the crowd. While ostensibly testing the firmness of her breasts, Ming Ming took the opportunity to whisper the same questions in her ear she had asked Katie.

“Are you scared?”

Brooke nodded emphatically.

“Are you happy?”

Another emphatic nod.

Satisfied, Ming Ming kissed her cheek and stepped away.

After everyone had copped their feel of the new meat, the chef reattached the leash and led Brooke to the evisceration table. This cooking scene was different from the previous two, however. The roasting pit had been covered over and a giant caldron had been set up over a gas-fired burner. It was filled close to the top with water. While the Head Chef and two assistants removed Brooke's intestines from the slit in her belly, three other members of the kitchen staff dropped a basketful of various chopped up vegetables into the pot and stirred them. As the Chef was inserting her needle into the top of Brooke's spine, the caldron attendants were adding spices to the mix and lighting the gas fire under the caldron.

Brooke was lifted from the table by her armpits and ankles by two assistants and brought over to the caldron. They slowly lowered her limp body into the tepid water as other assistants scooped vegetables out of the way, then clamped her ankles and upper arms into shackles built into the inside wall of the caldron. Her gag and collar were removed and the two halves of a hinged grid were closed around her neck to keep her face from slipping under the water. She had asked to be live boiled and it wouldn't do to let her drown before she had enjoyed as much of the experience as her heart could survive.

In a few more minutes the water, now a frothy stew, was beginning to emit a pale cloud of vapor. By the time bubbles began to rise Brooke had started to squirm and show distress. Curiously, the expression on her face was more appropriate for a girl in rapture than agony. Nevertheless, her squirming turned to thrashing as the water began to boil in earnest. Her mouth and eyes were wide open, her lips twisting. She moaned softly.

Ming Ming had to ask her one last question! She went as close as the Chef would allow and called out over the noisily boiling caldron, “Is it good, Brooke?”

Brooke's mouth widened into a smile and she nodded.

“Are you in pain?”

Another slow nod.

“But it's giving you orgasms?”

For answer she got a definite nod and a clearly mouthed YES !

Ming Ming didn't know quite how to reconcile pain with orgasms, but Brooke was in obvious ecstacy and it was too late to ask more questions. Her eyes had rolled up into her head and she seemed to be struggling to breathe. Her twisting and writhing gradually lessened until, a half hour from the time of her initial immersion, she lay quiet in the vigorously boiling water, her lips parted, still touched with the hint of a smile. Her eyes stared unblinking into the bright Florida sun.

The presentation at dinner, though beautiful, was slightly disappointing to Ming Ming. For one thing, the exquisite, carefully cultivated tone of her skin had blanched during the long hours of boiling, leaving her a sallow white. For another, Ming Ming missed the distinctively delicious aromas given off by freshly roasted meat. There was no question, however, that Brooke's meat was savory. It was also, needless to say, extraordinarily tender. Every cut literally melted to pieces in the mouth. The veggies, too, had absorbed strong hints of her flavor combined with the spices. Ming Ming was not given the opportunity to taste the separately deep-fried teats and cunt lips, but those who did pronounced them delightful.

By the time the meal was finished and the diners invited to move to the special Dessert Room, Ming Ming felt so stuffed she could barely move. As small as Brooke was, she had yielded a surprising amount of meat and Ming Ming had consumed far too much of it. The Dessert Room, a smaller venue with cozy booths on all four walls, offered a stunning array of rich desserts and high end liqueurs. It was, Ming Ming was sure, a dessert connoisseur's delight, but the only thing she could bear to add to her overwrought stomach was an elegant brandy that she happened to know was obscenely expensive.

In no time she was into her third refill and buzzing pleasantly. She and Carver were sitting in one of the intimate booths and she snuggled close to facilitate the naughty things he was doing to her under the table. His fingers, having snaked their way under her panties, were busy sending jolts from her clit to the top of her head. At the same time, her own fingers were equally active under his napkin testing his resistance to the sensations she could produce to the tip of his manhood through the fabric of his dress pants. She had no idea what affect her finger play was having on him, but each zap he produced from her clit sparked erotic memories: proud Katie being led around on a leash; a pretty girl nailed to a log and weeping; Brooke and Lara twisting side by side at the end of ropes, struggling for air; Brooke boiling in the caldron; Katie turning on a spit over a low fire. Ming Ming kept hearing Katie's contagious excitement the day before her appointment with the Chef. “I wouldn't trade these last six months for anything! Or this moment, for that matter. I'm scared silly and I can hardly wait all at the same time! Just thinking about what's going to happen gives me an orgasm. There's nothing like this in the whole wide world! Not even close!”

She was riding a rush of these clitoral thrills and exciting memories when Jeb, the Society's CEO, stood up and clinked his glass of Poland Spring Water.

“Gentlemen and girls,” (Ming Ming had long since noticed that the Society never referred to its females as women), “I'm sure you all agree that this was another wonderful Feast. I believe a round of applause is due to Coltan for contributing such an excellent and well tended specimen, and to Chef Boisvert for another magnificent presentation and banquet.” Hearty applause and raised glasses. “Now, it's time to move on to the future. It's time to name our star for the next Great Feast of Atreus in August. Which of you gorgeous girls would like to vol . . .”

“Me! I will!” Ming Ming had jumped up and was waving her right hand high in the air, preempting any competition.

Surprised by her fervent response, Carver let his hand drop away from under her skirt and glanced at his fingers. They were dripping wet. The girl was obviously in a sexual lather. Until this moment he had thought it entirely the result of his expert finger work; now he realized she had been planning this all along. All the while she had been dining on Brooke and secretly playing with him under the table she had been working up the nerve to volunteer as meat for the next Feast. He felt an immediate pang of regret, knowing that she had set in motion an irreversible process. But he quickly reminded himself that this had become her sole purpose in life, her identity, and that he had helped her find it.

“Marvelous!” the CEO was saying. “This will be a very special treat. Asian girl meat is a real delicacy. In my opinion it has a special quality all its own. Something in the genes, I guess. Super tasty! It is my pleasure, therefore, to officially designate the beautiful Ming Ming as the main course for our next Great Feast of Atreus. Accordingly, I hereby remand her into the custody of her handler . . . that's you, Carver, you lucky man . . .” A pause for lecherous chortles. “. . . to be confined according to Society bylaws as Designated Livestock until shipment to our western site in August. With all due perks arising from her volunteer status, of course. Congratulations!”

Ming Ming wasn't sure whether Jeb was congratulating her or Carver. But it didn't matter. She had done it! She had officially turned herself into meat and set the date for the last day of her life. “I'm scared silly and I can hardly wait, all at the same time!” Katie had said. Ming Ming, her heart pounding, now understood precisely what Katie had been feeling. Suddenly she needed to be fucked until she went blind! She turned and threw herself down on Carver, hugging him fiercely and grinding her skimpily veiled bosom into his face. He placed both hands on her bottom and tapped one of his wet fingers on her clit to let her know he got the hint.