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Chapter 4: Punishment
Caitlyn struggled to keep her thoughts lucid as she was led out of the jail, across a strip of black parking lot pavement the temperature of a frying pan over low heat and up a ramp into the back of a van the size of a truncated bus. That her cloak flapped wide open as she shuffled along in her clanking shackles was the least of her concerns now. Jesus God Almighty! How had she gotten into such a fix? Where was that bastard Kevin? Did he know that the penalty for running up a gambling debt here was death? Worse: that they cook and eat the condemned!
The prisoner compartment of the van had two benches running along each side. The Matron nudged Caitlyn forward and told her to sit on the right, up against a wire mesh screen separating the prisoners and guards from the driver.
“Are they really going to kill me?” Caitlyn asked, her voice trembling with the terror simmering in her empty bowels.
“Oh certainly, dear. That's the law.”
“But I can pay them back if they'll just let me!”
“Too late for that, dear. This is why you were brought here.”
“Brought here?”
“Yes, by that lovely blue-eyed boy.”
“Kevin really did this?! He let me come here knowing I'd run up a bill and be sentenced to death?”
“Of course. And he certainly outdid himself this time. You'll be the loveliest girl we've cooked in months. Everyone will be so pleased.”
“All the time he was making love to me he was planning this?”
“Oh probably long before that, dear. He usually spots his girls in casinos and if they're pretty and unattached, he finds a way to meet them. Then it's all over. What normal girl can resist a spectacular hunk like that?”
“Well I sure didn't! But how can he do that? It's horrible!”
“For money, dear. We pay him a nice fee for each girl.”
“He betrayed me for money?!!”
“And because he enjoys girl meat.”
“That's worse! He sold me for meat!”
“Oh no, dear. We just paid him to bring you here. You were the one who broke the law. You committed a capital offense, dear, so it's out of our hands, now.”
A clanking of chains on the ramp drew Caitlyn's attention. To her amazement two more female prisoners were being led and pushed into the van, each accompanied by a Matron in a uniform identical to her own Matron. The two prisoners were shackled and cloaked the same way she was, except for the colors. The youngest girl — she could not have been out of her teens — had dark brown hair that fell straight to the center of her back. She had a deep tan, the kind of sexy puffy lips that movie actresses pay big bucks to acquire and huge brown utterly terrified eyes. She was draped in a burgundy cloak. The other woman was equally attractive in a more mature way and looked remarkably like her, except for lighter, auburn-tinted hair, a much larger bosom that the flapping cloak could not contain and a grimly set mouth. Her cloak was a royal blue. She sat with her Matron on the same side as Caitlyn. The younger girl sat across the aisle.
“Who are these?” Caitlyn whispered to her own Matron.
“The other two convicts for tonight's banquet. We always have three.”
“Three?!”
“Certainly, dear. These festivals are very popular. There'll be hundreds there. You couldn't feed them all just by yourself.”
Until now Caitlyn had assumed she was all alone in this deadly dilemma. “Did they just have their own trials, too?”
“No. They were convicted last week. We've been holding them in another cell block. It's quite a touching story, actually. Would you like to hear it, dear?”
“Should we be talking like this right in front of them?”
“Shortly they'll just be meat, dear. What difference does it make?”
Caitlyn shuddered. Shortly she would be meat, too. “None, I guess.”
“They're actually mother and daughter. The girl, Alissa, is sixteen, the same age her mother was when she had her. Her Mom, Danielle, is thirty-two. Anyway, Mom went off to do some sightseeing and left daughter Alissa to do a little gambling. She gave her a casino voucher, too, with strict orders not to charge more than five hundred dollars. Well, Alissa took advantage of her freedom to buy some drinks and soon got so hammered that she lost track of her tab and ended up charging over three thousand dollars. Mom could only cover twenty-five hundred of it, so Alissa was arrested, convicted and sentenced to death. The girl was devastated and terrified, of course; so her mother, realizing that it was all her fault for leaving a naive young girl where she could get drunk and run up an impossible bill, decided she owed it to her to stay with her to the end, and the only way she could do that was to get herself convicted. So she ran up her own unpayable tab and now they can die together.”
“That's awful,” said Caitlyn, remembering that the hotel brochure had listed the legal age for women to drink and gamble in a casino as sixteen. Now she knew why.
“I think it's sweet,” said the matron.
“Did they get to share the same cell while they waited for . . . for today?”
“No. Unfortunately, regulations require condemned females be kept in separate cells. This is the first they've seen each other since their arrests and I think Mom has decided she made a big mistake.”
Four burly guards, including the two that were assigned to Caitlyn, were the last to climb into the van. They slammed the double doors. The temperature inside the already hot passenger compartment instantly rose by thirty sweaty degrees. The van rumbled into life and lurched forward.
There were no windows on the sides and back. The only light and air came from the driver's compartment. Caitlyn stared at the floor. She didn't want to see where they were going. But the thoughts that churned out of the silence became unbearable.
“They're really going to eat us?”
“Of course, dear. It's tradition. The festivals are every other week and they're very popular.”
“And he's going to be there? Kevin?”
“Of course, dear. He always stays for the banquet. The providers always get a slice of the tit meat and a nipple. Those are the best parts.”
“I can't believe this is happening.”
“It's an honor, dear.”
“An honor?! In that case, why don't YOU volunteer?”
She laughed. “I'm too old and fat, hon, or I would. They like the pretty young girls.”
“Why? You'd provide more meat.”
“Not really. When you cut away all the fat, there's no more of me than there is of you, and you'll look so much more beautiful on the spit or in the pot. But when I was young . . . ah! That was a different story.”
“So why didn't you volunteer then?”
“I did! When I was sixteen. The same age as Alissa. I was a heartbreaker back then. I didn't have your wonderful yellow hair, but my tits were bigger and just as firm. The boys were always trying to get into my pants. Some did.” She giggled.
“But you're still here!”
“Yes. The girl I was to replace became available after all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mostly we use foreign white and Asian girls because they look so exotic when they're cooked and are really tender. But if a foreign girl fails to run up a casino debt so she can be legally condemned, we substitute a local volunteer. There's always a waiting list and I was at the top of the list. I was really excited when they called me and ready to be spitted, but at the last minute the white girl went over her credit card limit by fifty dollars, so I was set aside. By the time another opportunity came along I was pregnant with my first baby and ineligible.”
“You really wanted to be killed and eaten?”
“I'd love to be in your place right now, dear, but it's not to be. I live out my dream through the girls I bring to the Dispatch.”
“And you say there's even a waiting list?”
“Always.”
“Why would a young girl want to be on a death list?”
“It's exciting! You're honored by the whole island. All your friends and relations come to see you off and share your meat. Besides, they pay you for every month you're on the list.”
“But I don't want to die!” Caitlyn wailed.
“Of course you don't, hon. I didn't, either. But that's part of the excitement, both for you and the crowd. Who cares if an old cow like me is slaughtered and cooked? But when they lay eyes on you — young and lithe and lovely — it will be exquisitely painful to watch you die, which will make eating you a wonderfully sensuous experience. It's a tremendous rush!”
“No it isn't! I don't want to be eaten!”
The Matron patted her knee. “It won't hurt, dear. You really impressed the Magistrate and the Cook. You're slated to go first. You get to choose how you'll be snuffed.”
“I don't want to go first!” Caitlyn wailed. “I want to go home!” She broke into soft sobs.
“You are home, dear. This is where your bones will stay forever. Even the ones they use for soup.”
Caitlyn wailed louder.
“You need to pull yourself together, dear, and start thinking about your choices. We'll be at the Dispatch Center in a minute.”
“What choices?” Caitlyn blubbered.
“How you want to be dispatched. You can make it quick, or slow, or decide to be cooked alive.”
“Cooked alive?! What kind of a choice is that?”
“It's the best. That's what I had chosen, before they set me aside.”
“O God!”
“You've already selected roasting as your preferred way of being cooked.”
“No I haven't! When did I do that?”
“I asked you, remember? You said you liked your meat roasted.”
“I didn't mean ME!”
“You, someone else . . . it's all the same. You said you preferred your meat roasted, so that's what they're planning to do. Personally, I think it's a great choice. You'll be absolutely delicious roasted. I can hardly wait.”
“YOU'RE going to eat me, too?!”
“Of course, dear. I've been looking forward to it since I first laid eyes on you.”
“This was all just a setup, then, wasn't it? That wasn't really a trial. It was just part of the scam.”
“Oh no. It was quite legal. We always stay within the letter of the law.”
“But the verdict was a foregone conclusion. And the sentence. I was doomed from the moment I set foot on the island.”
“Not necessarily. If you hadn't run up a debt you couldn't pay . . .”
“But dear old Kevin made sure that I did! Has any ‘provided' girl ever walked away from here?”
“Oh certainly. But they always come back.”
“Why on earth would they come back?”
“Because if they don't lose in time to be condemned, we make sure they're big winners. They can't resist coming back to do it again.”
“So once a girl is lured here, she will eventually be meat, no matter what.”
“Exactly. How lucky you are, dear, to have won that honor the first time around.”
At that point the van jerked to a stop. Caitlyn's eyes filled with terror.
“Now don't you worry,” the Matron said, patting her knee. “I'll be right beside you the whole time. It will be easy as pie.”
“Please don't let them kill me!” Caitlyn blurted. “There must be something you can do!”
But the guards had opened the doors, climbed out of the van and were setting up the ramp. One by one the three prisoners were off-loaded and made to stand on the hot gravel until the van was empty, shut and driven off.
A huge stage the length and height of a ranch house loomed in front of them. Through its concrete supporting legs Caitlyn could see the front ranks of a vast throng of people gawking back at them from the other side. A deep male voice suddenly erupted from an enormous pair of loudspeakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Island Dispatch Center and our bi-weekly Luana Beach Festival! Our convicts have arrived and the show is about to begin. This is shaping up to be a fine day and fabulous evening for all of us. We have three beautiful young ladies to dispatch and I know they're gonna give you great performances. If you haven't already purchased tickets for the feast tonight, you'd better do so right away. There's lots of us and only three of them.” He chuckled and the crowd made appreciative but impatient noises. “Are you ready?” the unseen voice shouted.
A giant cheer went up from the crowd!
“Then here we go! Bring up our first convict, gentlemen.”
The mother, her hands trembling visibly threw a quick, accusatory glance at her hyperventilating daughter as she was hustled up a long flight of very shallow stairs on the left side of the stage. The steps were shallow enough for the prisoners to navigate in spite of the twelve-inch chain connecting their ankle cuffs. When she reached the top another cheer went up from the crowd. Her attending Matron followed closely behind her. Caitlyn, who had edged somewhat under the stage to take advantage of its shade from the blistering sun, lost sight of them just as another, louder cheer went up.
“This is Danielle,” the voice went on. “She's five foot seven, one hundred forty delectable pounds and still in her tastiest prime at thirty-two. Turn around, Danielle, so the folks can appreciate what they'll be biting into tonight. Turn slowly, now.” A minute went by with nothing more from the announcer but a groundswell of mostly obscene remarks from the audience. “Nicely done, Danielle. Now go stand over by your robe while we bring up the next young convict. Gentlemen?”
The girl Alissa, now openly weeping, was hustled to the foot of the stairs and up to where Caitlyn could no longer see her. The crowd greeted her appearance with a solid cheer.
“This is the pretty Alissa, who is, by the way, the daughter of Danielle. It's a rare treat to have a mother–daughter combination to dispatch and cook, especially when they are both so beautiful. Take a look!” Suddenly the crowd erupted in a great cheer, much louder than any before. “Sensational isn't she? This lovely creature is sweet sixteen — and I know she's going to be as sweet on the plate as she is to look at!” A roar of agreement. “She stands five foot eight, weighs in at one hundred twenty nine pounds and is a genuine, certified virgin! The gods will be happy tonight!” Much laughter from the crowd. “Now then, Alissa, your tears are most charming, but the good folks who are going to dine on you tonight want to see more of your lissome young body, so give us a nice slow turn. Come now, you don't need encouragement from the guards, do you? No, I thought not. Go ahead, then.” Another long clamourous roar from the crowd filled the announcer's gap. “That very nice, Alissa. Very sexy. Now go with the Matron and stand by your robe.”
Caitlyn's heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest as two guards grabbed her arms and moved her toward the stairs.
“And last, but far from least, is our star felon for today's festival. Bring her up, men!”
She hardly felt the wooden steps under her bare feet as the guards rushed her upwards, her leg irons clinking on the risers, her cloak flapping open as her knees knocked them aside. She kept her eyes down so she wouldn't stumble, raising them only when she reached the top. What she saw staggered her. A sea of mostly black faces staring up at her expectantly, separated from the vivid blue of the ocean behind them by a wide expanse of gorgeous white beach. The same beach she and Kevin had explored between fevered bouts of sexual frenzy and long hours of fateful gambling in the Casino. She spotted several white faces among the hundreds and studied each one. Sure enough, there he was. Smiling up at her! Here to watch her die before pitching in to eat her later! “This, ladies and gents, is the lovely Caitlyn, condemned just this morning and rushed here for our ultimate enjoyment. She's a petite five foot three, weighs in at a cuddly one hundred fifteen pounds and is at the perfect age of twenty-two: young enough to be tender and succulent, old enough for maximum flavor. And not only that, wait'll you get a load of this.”
The Matron's voice from behind her murmured, “Be proud, now, honey. We're gonna show them how exquisite you are.” With that she unhooked the one clasp holding the cloak together and slipped it off.
Caitlyn gasped in horror, barely aware of the huge cheer that went up from the crowd. She was stark naked in front of hundreds of gawking men, women and children. She thought her heart would stop. But it didn't.
A prolonged, throaty cheer went up. “As you can see, she's adorable. Truly lovely! Look at those perfect tits, that wasp waist and firm tummy, those elegantly tapered legs! And that spectacular blond hair! As a result of her beauty and cooperation with the criminal justice system, she has been granted first choice this afternoon for dispatch and cooking. Turn around, my dear, and let your admirers see how truly blessed we are today that you have been delivered to us.”
The Matron spoke in her ear. “Turn around slowly, hon, or the boys will use the cattle prod on you. You don't want that, dear, in front of all these people. Turn all the way around now. Nice and slow.”
Caitlyn did as she was told. What was the point of inviting the terrible pain of the cattle prod if they were just going to kill her anyway? She turned slowly so that the appreciative crowd could ogle every part of her nude body. But she couldn't prevent her eyes from welling up with the tears of her humiliation and fear. As she turned she saw Danielle standing at the back of the stage, her own cloak a little pile at her feet. Several feet away her daughter stood, equally naked and sobbing.
“Wow! What a superb body!” the loudspeakers said. “I don't know about you, but I can hardly wait to sink my teeth into a slice of that!” More cheering. “Festival goers, you'll be delighted to learn that Caitlyn has elected to be roasted.” Another cheer! “Now, Caitlyn, it's time to make your choice of dispatch so our Cook can get to work turning you into a memorable dining experience.”
The guards seized her bare arms and forced her to the right side of the stage in a fast, clanking shuffle where an ominous trio of frightening equipment waited. The first was a heavy, angled blade suspended in a frame. Caitlyn didn't need any help figuring out what that was.
“If you're looking for a quick, probably painless way to be snuffed, the guillotine is the ticket. Most heads remain alive three to five seconds after being severed. A girl gets to see what her body looks like with her head freshly chopped off. On the other hand . . .”
The guards urged her further along to a noose dangling from a scaffold. “. . . if you'd rather not go out in a spray of gore, you could create a lovely death scene with slow hanging. It usually takes about twenty minutes and is wonderfully entertaining for us to watch. We simply loop the noose around your neck, pull you up gently to the tips of your toes and watch you dance while you struggle to breathe. Some girls actually get off on it before they die.”
They pushed her to an evil looking contraption at the far end of the platform. “Now this is the Cadillac of dispatch methodology. If you want to give yourself a real treat as well as us, this is the way to go. You'll be put on a spit, massaged with spiced oils by handsome young men, carried around the beach in a Grand Procession with music and dancing, then placed over the fire to roast, all while you're still alive and all totally without pain or discomfort. You can easily last two or three hours.
“So . . . take a few minutes and decide which option you prefer. Meanwhile, let's have Danielle and Alissa do a few turns around the stage for us so the good folks out there can have a nice preview of where tonight's meat is coming from while it's still sexy, alert and full of life. Go girls!”
Caitlyn felt caught in some sort of time warp. Trapped in a horrid dream from which she could not wake up. She felt the Matron's soft tap on her bare shoulder.
“So, dear, which one . . .”
Caitlyn spun on her. “He's here! He's out there!”
“What?”
“Kevin! That deceitful slimeball! He's out there in that mob, grinning at me! Grinning, for chrissake!”
“Well, of course he's here, hon. You don't think he'd abandon you at this point?”
“Abandon me! He fucking tricked me into being sentenced to death! I'm up here naked and shackled and being told to pick the way I want to be killed, and he's out there grinning!”
“And you want to get back at him?”
“Damn fucking right I do!” Caitlyn was so furious and so frustrated and so frightened she would have thrown up if there'd been anything at all in her entire digestive system.
“Then you have to chose the method of dispatch that shows him you're not going to go out with your tail between your legs.”
“How's my dying up here going to wipe that shiteaten smug grin off his face? That's why he tricked me into coming here in the first place. To have me killed!”
“Exactly. That's why you can't choose to crawl on your belly into the guillotine to have your head chopped off, or hang by the neck and slowly strangle to death while everyone drinks beer and watches you hop on your toes. You have to choose the one way that lets you look him in the eye and grin back because you're having a more exciting time than he'll ever have in his whole life.”
“You want me to tell them how to kill me? I can't! I can't do that! I don't want to die at all!”
“But you are going to die, love. One way or another, you'll be dead in a few more minutes or a few more hours. Do you want to spend your last twenty minutes doing a lewd dance for Kevin while you gasp hopelessly for air? Do you want your last living memory to be the sight of your headless body lying in a guillotine spouting blood from the neck stump?”
“Noooo!” Caitlyn wailed pitifully. “But to be cooked alive! Jesus Christ! That's horrible!”
“It's painless dear. You won't feel a thing.”
“How do you know?”
“I've talked to lots and lots of girls while they were still alive on the spit. They all told me the same thing. It doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels good. Their only regret was that it wouldn't go on for days and days.”
“Really?”
“Really. Come on. They're running out of patience. I can tell you this: if you don't choose the live spitting, they'll give it to Alissa, because she's the next most beautiful.”
“But I can't just . . . tell them to . . .” She choked on a sob.”
“But you want this to be your choice, dear, not theirs. Would you like me to help you tell them?”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice, giving in to the inevitable. “I can't tell them how to execute me. I just can't.”
“Then we'll do it together, dear.” The Matron raised her hand for the announcer's attention.
The voice crashed out of the speakers. “Well, it looks like the lovely Caitlyn has made up her mind. Which will it be, Caitlyn: the guillotine, slow hanging or live spitting? Walk right over to the dispatch machine of your choice.”
Caitlyn froze, but the Matron took her elbow and guided her over to the live spitting display, then spoke for her. “She has decided to be spitted and cooked live.”
“Is that true, Caitlyn?” the amplified voice asked. “Have you chosen live spitting for your method of execution?”
Caitlyn nodded her head miserably.
An enormous cheer exploded from the crowd.
“Excellent!” said the voice. “Cooks, begin setting her up immediately.”
She felt more than saw movement under the stage where she stood naked and shivering in the heat. Strangely, now that there was a name to her fate, now that her “method of execution” was established, she felt a certain relief. The hammering of her heart had not diminished, but suddenly her mind was free to begin letting go of life. As she waited for the cooks to arrive (whoever they were) to begin setting her up (whatever that meant) she listened and watched with a detached curiosity as the announcer turned his attention to the other two condemned women.
“As to our other two comely convicts, Danielle and Alissa, the court has instructed that Alissa is to have second choice for the method of dispatch. Alissa, please move at once to either the guillotine or the scaffold.”
The girl looked guiltily at her mother, then shuffled over to the noose.
“An excellent choice!” said the announcer. With any luck we will get to enjoy to sight of your lovely body flailing about in a delightfully obscene dance for another twenty minutes or so. That means, of course, that your mother, the beautiful Danielle, will be executed by the guillotine.
A milder, but still enthusiastic cheer went up as mother and daughter were led to the devices that would shortly take their lives. No one had yet come for Caitlyn, so she stood quietly next to her own death machine (the Matron holding her hand for comfort) and watched.
Alissa was tended to first. One guard held her in place as her Matron dropped the noose over her head and snugged it around her neck. A second guard removed her leg irons and replaced them with a spreader bar that forced her legs well apart and opened up the cleft of her sex for public viewing. They then simply backed away as a winch drew the noose upwards, tightening it around the girl's pretty neck and lifting her slightly off the stage floor. She could still touch it with the toes of one foot or the other by rocking her body to that side and pushing down, which provided a second of relief from the grip of the noose, but her breathing distress was immediate. She hopped back, pushing off from the left, then the right, dragging in small breaths.
Danielle had been allowed (forced?) to watch the beginning of Alissa's ordeal, and it's effect on her was palpable. Her face, until now hardened in resentment, crumbled into tears as she watched her daughter begin a struggle for life that was already doomed. But after a few moments, she was ordered to kneel down before the guillotine frame and bend over, placing her neck in the U-shaped slot. Her Matron pulled her hair out of the way and the holding bar was brought down over the back of her neck to hold her in place. She was trembling noticeably as the safety bolt was withdrawn that kept the heavy blade from accidentally sliding down at an inappropriate moment. The Matron took a firm grip of Danielle's hair at the scalp and nodded to the guards. The guard placed the trip rope in Danielle's handcuffed right hand behind her back. Her Matron spoke up loud and clear. “Pull the rope, Danielle!” The condemned woman began to shake but did not pull the rope that would drop the blade. “Pull it now or the guard will give you a long dose of the cattle prod,” the Matron warned. The woman sobbed, drew in a deep breath, held it, and tugged on the rope. The blade slammed down and her head swung free, suspended in the Matron's hand. She turned it so the dying woman, now only a head, could see the blade pulled quickly back up, revealing the gory stump of her neck spurting blood. The crowd emitted an appreciative howl. Caitlyn nearly fainted. The Matron turned Danielle's head toward the audience for a final look, then after seeing her eyes glaze over, dropped the head in a plastic bucket.
A moment later hard masculine hands grabbed Caitlyn and forced her closer to the death machine she had chosen. A gleaming metal shaft about two inches thick with a sharp point jutted vertically out of the stage floor, centered between two small metal plates angled like the peak of an A-frame roof that did not quite come together at the top. To Caitlyn it looked like some kind of fiendish saddle, an impression that was confirmed a moment later when the guards removed her leg shackles and sat her astride the plates directly above the pointed shaft. Her ankles were inserted into a pair of metal cuffs bolted to the floor at least three feet apart in a direct line with that same shaft.
At this point she realized just what the shaft was and where it would be going. How was this not going to hurt? Had the Matron gulled her as Kevin had?
With the turn of a crank the metal “saddle” rose upwards, carrying her with it, straightening her legs and stretching them into an inverted V. Another guard showed up carrying a long broad bar that looked like a metal 2x6. He inserted it into a slot just behind her rump and dropped it down until the top as at about the level of her shoulders. While one guard attached two wide nylon straps around her hips and just below her breasts and cinched them up with slip buckles to pin her tightly against the vertical 2x6, the other attached a cross beam to the top of the 2x6. Her handcuffs were removed and her arms stretched out along the cross beam and strapped to it at the shoulder, elbow and wrist. She was now transformed into a T atop an upside down V and completely immobilized, except for her head and fingers.
Apparently satisfied with their work, the guards stepped back and the Matron moved in behind Caitlyn. She began twisting Caitlyn's long hair into a single golden braid. Caitlyn, who wouldn't have dared talk to a guard, muttered in a low voice, “I'm scared. There's no way that . . . thing . . . isn't going to hurt when they run it through me. Can you please ask them to knock me out first?”
“Now don't you fret about that, hon,” the Matron said. “It won't hurt a bit.”
“But it's so big!”
“It's designed to numb you on the way through, dear. Just relax. Look at poor Alissa over there. I'll bet she's wishing right now she was as beautiful as you so she could have chosen first. She'd be over here in your place getting prepped for the grandest joy ride of her life, instead of hippity hopping at the end of that rope.”
“Will she actually last twenty minutes like that?”
“Oh she'd last for hours, dear, but when they're ready for her they'll just pull her up a little higher so she can't touch the stage. That's when they go into a really wild air dance for about two minutes before they die. Just be happy you didn't choose slow hanging. And look what they're doing to Danielle's carcass.”
The mother's body had been pulled out of the guillotine. Her wrists, no longer cuffed behind her, were now tied in front with rope. Her leg irons had also been removed and her ankles were similarly tied with rope. A six foot pole had been inserted between her arms and legs and she was being lifted and carried down into the crowd slung from the pole like game carried from the forest.
“That's not how a lovely child like you should be displayed. Carried through a bunch of drunken revelers so they can stick fingers up your hole. And with no head. How pretty is that? They won't be sticking no fingers up your pussy, hon, because it's gonna be plenty occupied by that spit. What they're gonna do is drool watching you turning over that fire.”
“O God!” Caitlyn squeaked.
“Now, now, don't get upset. I told you, dear, it ain't gonna hurt. You'll hardly feel a thing. Just relax and enjoy it. Show that mean old Kevin you got the last laugh.”
The braiding finished, the Matron reached up for a thin rope dangling from a pulley in an overhead beam and tied it into the braid. A gentle pull on the rope brought her head up stiffly. Caitlyn was now a straight line from the top of her neck to the base of her spine. Only her fingers remained free to wiggle.
Unable to turn her head without pulling painfully on her scalp, Caitlyn stared out into the crowd, most of whom were engrossed in watching either her or the struggling Alissa whose face was now beet red, her eyes bulging. Caitlyn knew she must present quite a spectacle herself and that it would get even more so. She spotted Kevin, still grinning up at her. She glared at him, unable to pretend she was having a last laugh. How she wished they could magically trade places, let him find out what it feels like to be stretched out bare naked on a stage in front of a zillion gawkers waiting for you to be skewered for dinner!
A fat man with multiple chins came into view from behind her. She recognized him as one of the quartet who had observed her being showered then pawed her all over. He was the one who squeezed her arms, thighs, calves, butt, boobs, and even pinched the flesh around her belly (even though she was nice and flat, for godsake!) like she was a side of beef. Which, as it turns out, she was. In his left hand he held a small box, like a TV remote, trailing a cable. He crouched down in front of her and with his right hand touched her pussy with his thumb. What the hell was he doing? He pressed a button on the TV remote and the saddle moved smoothly forward a fraction of an inch. He stood up, gave her a friendly smile and pushed another button. A motor hummed to life. Seconds later she felt the cold tip of the metal spit touch her outer labia. She stiffened. This was it! The man walked off and out of sight. The metal was turning, worming its way deeper into her.
The loudspeakers crackled back to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, the spitting of our live roaster has begun. The spit is about an inch into her love canal and heading on up. Every few minutes our chief cook will give you a progress report by marking off the point in her body the point has reached.”
It was a queer sensation. The spit was much bigger, harder and colder than the warm human flesh that had occupied that space many times before, and instead of thrusting in and out it turned lazily. But it wasn't painful. It was even oddly pleasurable. Of course, the sharp point had not yet ripped through her cervix and womb. As Caitlyn nervously prepared herself for that inevitable pain, another strange thing happened. Something liquid splashed against that very cervical wall. She was familiar with the exciting sensation of a lover's spurting jizm. This was similar yet very different. For one thing it was cold. For another, all feeling at that point quickly dissolved, leaving a kind of blunt rubbing sensation that was not at all unpleasant. It was as though she were being massaged from the inside out.
The Matron's voice brought her attention back to the world outside. “How you holding up, hon? Not so bad, is it?”
“No. I'm okay. So far. It's like you said: doesn't hurt. So far.”
“And it won't, dear. My own daughter was done this way and she loved every minute of it.”
“You had a daughter who was eaten?”
“Honey, I had five daughters and one son. How'd you think I got this heavy? Two of my girls signed up as volunteers as soon as they turned fifteen.”
“Fifteen? I thought sixteen was the minimum age.”
“It used to be, when I was a girl. Still is for drinking and gambling. But they lowered the minimum age for volunteers to fifteen about eight years ago.”
“But why would your daughters volunteer to be eaten?”
“Same reason I did. Honey, they'd been coming to these festivals their whole lives and saw how exciting it was to be up on this stage and how the crowd worships the girls about to be cooked. These bi-weekly festivals are the biggest deal on the island and when local girls are added to the menu along with the visiting white and Asian girls it's a huge honor. Nothing else a girl can do here on Paradise Island comes close. It's also a terrific feeling knowing how delicious you'll taste! Girl meat is fabulous. There's nothing like it. Unfortunately you won't have a chance to taste it, but take my word for it: girl meat is the ambrosia of the gods. Besides, you know how teenage girls are. Looks are everything and there's nothing more sexy than a pretty girl on a spit.”
“So both your daughters went through this?”
“Well, Raylene did. But Savannah was up against a gorgeous seventeen-year-old L.A. starlet and got bumped to second choice, so she chose slow hanging. She made the best of it, though. She came at least seven or eight times before she died. Also, the Cook oven-roasted her. They got this great see-through roasting oven they can set up on the beach right next to the live-roasting pit. They can roast a whole girl carcass in it. Savannah looked really sensational cooking in that oven.”
“You don't mind that you lost two daughters? That they were eaten?”
“Of course not, dear. We all have to go, and that's the best way. If I was young and pretty enough to volunteer again, I'd do it in a heartbeat.”
The fat man was approaching again.
“Here comes the head cook, hon. He'll show us where the spit is.”
The cook unrolled a measuring tape and used a chalk marker to draw a horizontal line just above Caitlyn's navel. The crowd made appreciative noises.
“It's that far up?” Caitlyn marveled to the Matron when the cook had left. I felt something kind of tickling in there, but there's no pain at all. Will it stay like that?”
“Yes, sweetheart. It's just like I told you. Painless. So enjoy it. Now when it gets up to your throat it will be hard to breathe for a little while, but don't panic. We'll fix it and you'll be just fine. Shush now. I'm going to step away for a little while so the crowd can enjoy watching you. You're such a lovely visual treat!”
Caitlyn's nervous system seemed to have zeroed in on the point of the shaft and the surface of her clit. The lump-like, tickling sensation working its way up the center of her body was as vaguely pleasurable as it was odd; but the thick, slightly ribbed and very hard cold metal of the deadly shaft relentlessly turning and rubbing against her sexual apparatus was becoming a great deal more than merely pleasurable. Whatever miraculous chemical concoction the spit was excreting that was mercifully numbing its invasion route through her body had blessedly spared everything south of her cervix. While the highly evolved part of her cerebrum demanded that she not allow any part of this appalling process to give her pleasure, her primal animal brain stem paid heed only to the sexual currents radiating from her vaginal walls, labia and clit. Much to her intellectual annoyance her body was increasingly in the grip of responses that were wildly unseemly in her present circumstances, her nerve centers on the brink of a full fledged, high voltage orgasm! All it took was a glance over at the frantically hopping Alissa with her starkly revealed cunt, and another down at the body of Danielle slung from its pole being circulated through an openly horny, hands-on crowd, and her sensual command center went on overload!
At the same moment she felt a hand on her shoulder. Hoping it was the Matron she pleaded, “Help me! O God! I'm going to come!”
“Of course you are, dear,” the Matron said in her calm, comforting tone. “I told you, didn't I? And this is only the beginning.”
“But I can't do it . . . here in front of . . . all these people!” She was taking in heavy ragged breaths, trying to stave of the inevitable.
“Of course you can, dear. All our girls do. That's what everyone is waiting for. You'd better do it now, though, because you'll have to be still when the spit gets up between your lungs.”
“No! I can't! . . . It's too . . . They'll all see . . . Ahhhhh!” Her body squirmed on the saddle like an eel stretched between two hooks as she let out a long, distinctly unseemly cry of ecstacy. The crowd cheered and applauded.
When the sizzle subsided, she opened her eyes in time to see the fat Cook make a chalk mark on her belly half way between her navel and the undershelf of her breasts. Another man stood next to him. It was the greying older man with the gold-rimmed glasses from the shower room observers. He was now surveying her carefully from several angles. He gripped her narrow waist with both hands and pressed his thumbs into her abdomen, apparently feeling for the shaft. Then he stepped back and said in a mellifluous voice, “It's going very well, pretty lady. Exactly on target. Now don't you have any more orgasms like that until it's out your mouth. Little ones are okay, but not big ones. You don't want it to tear your heart or rupture your lungs.” With that, both men wandered out of her line of vision.
The Matron was back at her side, being careful not to obstruct the view of her audience.
“I can't believe I did that,” Caitlyn told her. “That was even more humiliating than being stripped naked and raped by a spit in front of a beach full of men and women.”
“But it felt good, didn't it?”
“Lord yes! God help me.”
“And you're wanting more, I'll bet.”
“It's building up again right now!”
“Well, you do what the doctor said, dear. Come a little at a time. Don't hold it back. Once the spit is past your heart and your lungs and is sticking out your mouth, then you can let those little rushes grow into great big volcanic orgasms and it won't matter. But you don't want to die before the real fun begins. I promise you, dear, before this is over you'll understand why all the island girls would rather ride that spit than any man ever born.”
It occurred to Caitlyn that once the spit did fill her mouth she would probably not be able to talk any more. She would no longer have the Matron's comforting voice to help her through her ordeal. Desperate to keep her talking, Caitlyn said, “What I don't understand is how you keep from depleting the island of girls if you keep eating them. I would think the boys would object.”
The Matron broke into a high-pitched cheerful laugh. “Oh the boys love to eat pretty girls. We only use five or six volunteers a year because there's a plentiful supply of pretty white girls who like to come here to gamble, especially when it's all free. Besides, for some reason there are many more girl babies born on Paradise Island than boy babies. Believe me, the waiting list is always a long one. Most girls become too old or get pregnant before they're selected.”
“How old is too old?”
“Seventeen.”
“So I guess I'm kind of old to be cooked.”
“Not at all, dear. You'll be very tender and tasty. And you'll look wonderful. White girls' skin turns a sexy shade of bronze when it's fully roasted.”
“I'm scared.”
“About what, dear.”
“The fire. I'll be alive when they put me over the fire!”
“And it won't hurt a bit. Look out at the crowd, dear. So those babies sucking at their mother's tits, and the little toddlers and young girls? Do you think their mommies and daddies would let them come and watch this if you was being tortured? Every female out there, young and old, is envying you right now.”
“Even though I'm staked out here naked with my boobs and cunt exposed and everything?”
“Hon, didn't you notice that half the shoreline of this island is nude beaches? For us locals, tits and pussy ain't nothing to hide. They're natural. At home me and my daughters are nude half the time. And a lot of the tourists don't mind stripping off those silly bikini bits when they see it's officially approved and no big deal.”
A flurry of activity on the stage to her left drew Caitlyn's attention. Alissa had been raised several inches higher and was no longer able to touch the stage with the toes of either foot. She was thrusting her legs at the floor in a chaotic and desperate attempt to relieve the deadly clutch of the noose. The spreader bar holding her ankles apart turned her hopeless efforts into an exceedingly obscene dance. At the same time Caitlyn could see a rivulet of liquid running from her pink cunt down both inner thighs. The girl, in the midst of her final death dance, was coming like crazy! After a few minutes, her body froze, twitched in a final few spasms, and became still. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, her tongue protruding, drool dripping from the corners of her lips. Much to her shame, the sight pushed Caitlyn over the edge once more and she shuddered in a rapid fire series of small orgasms as the crowd applauded Alissa's final performance.
Then she began to suffer her own distress. The tip of the spit, as gentle as a bubble, had touched the part of her throat that enabled her to swallow. It was also beginning to cut off her breath. Her body bucked in protest, a more restricted version of Alissa's last throes, and her mouth was open to scream for help, but her voice no longer functioned. In a total panic, she felt her head snapped backward by the hair so she was staring straight up. Pleading silently for a gasp of air, she felt the metal shaft push quickly into her mouth, slide over her tongue and ram past her teeth. She saw the bloody tip emerge from her mouth and at the same moment felt a life-saving rush of air blast into her desperate lungs. The relief was so tremendous it took several seconds for it to sink in that she was now fully spitted. She didn't know how she was still able to breathe with this huge shaft filling up her throat and mouth, but it was irrelevant. Her body was beyond salvage now. She was just a skewered morsel of girl meat ready for the fire.
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