Belinda 05: Belinda's Hurricane Hunt by Leo

Belinda’s Hurricane Hunt by Leo

Life was once again becoming interesting, here at Belinda’s South Florida ocean side mansion, a.k.a. Belinda’s Dairy and Meat Ranch. Of course, Sharon reflected, watching Janet finish up milking Carrie, it was frequently interesting. With Belinda in the mix, it was frequently bizarre! Not to mention appetizing, since Belinda’s order of the day was nudity for all including herself.

Of course, the ten or so voluntarily designated dinners, referred to by all and sundry as spit muffins, that made up the Ranch’s stock were pretty bizarre themselves. All of them had the fantasy of becoming a real cannibal meal and Belinda was pleasantly accommodating those fantasies. She was also making a tidy little income off the milk she got from the large breasted ones through administration of a hormone cocktail of her own invention, hence the ‘dairy’ part of the ranch’s title. Of course, when it came their time, the milkers tasted just as succulent as the milkmaids. It was just that muffins had a rather screwy (natural, given their fantasy) outlook on the whole business of being cooked and being milked. Those girls could really come up with some doozies of ideas, Sharon decided. Take this particular milking, for instance. Normally, a woman knelt on hands and knees while another woman milked her by gently squeezing her breasts. It made a lovely domestic picture, one naked girl happily milking another.

The muffins had added a twist, given their enthusiasm for being spit roasted. Carrie was mounted and tied on a two part hyper magnetic spit, the way she normally was for role play cooking, but without a rotisserie or heat. A hyper magnetic spit was two parts, locked into position by a strong, focused magnetic field. It acted as a regular spit, but didn’t penetrate the girl’s body totally. The front half rested in her mouth and the bottom half was about eight inches up her pussy or ass, depending on preference. The spit was resting on two stands here on the patio while Janet knelt and drained Carrie’s large breasts into a stainless steel bowl underneath. All of the muffins loved the combination of spitting and milking and claimed it was extremely sexually exciting, letting them experience both being milked and spitted at the same time.

Sharon, herself a plushly built woman and a milk giver due to Belinda’s hormone cocktail, had occasionally thought of trying the ride for herself, but rejected the idea with a shudder. Belinda had originally captured her for roasting - hence Sharon’s bare pussy, the sign of a meat girl - but had decided she liked her better as a close companion. Now she was designated matron/ supervisor/ lead cow to the muffins, with a permanent exemption from being the main event at meals. Sharon wanted to keep it that way, and didn’t want Belinda getting ideas from seeing her on a spit.

Belinda bustled out onto the patio, glancing first at Sharon in her patio lounger, then at the two women engaged in the milk/roast combo. Sharon liked the way Belinda’s spectacular figure jiggled in all directions with the woman’s habitual energetic movements. Belinda might be in her early forties, Sharon thought, but she had a smooth firm body a figure model would kill to get. “Ladies, ladies,” Belinda said, clapping her hands, “now what did I tell you this morning? We’re due to have visitors shortly. Please finish up your little game and join everyone else on the beach. You can play to your heart’s content down there while our guests are here.”

“How long will we be down on the beach?” Janet asked. Carrie couldn’t ask anything intelligibly since the front half of the spit was filling her mouth.

“Possibly several hours, dear,” Belinda answered, making little shooing motions as Janet began to get Carrie off her spit. “One can never tell quite how these things will go. Now hurry up, and you can go back to the playpen and take some of your toys with you.” Toys, in this case were understood to be such things as vibrators, a wide variety of strap-ons, anal beads, cuffs, gags, etc. There may even have been the odd Frisbee or two available, also.

Belinda now turned her guns on Sharon. “Sharon, dearest, I know you hate to do it, but you simply must be fully dressed before the ladies arrive. I’m certain there’s a bikini in the hall closet that will fit you.”

Sharon grumpily got out of her chair. As it happened, she DID hate to get dressed. After being nude 99.99 percent of the time here in the security of Belinda’s place, having anything on her smooth curves was almost confining, even one of the minimal thongs Belinda generously termed a bikini. “I’ll get dressed, Belinda,” Sharon replied as she headed inside, “but I hope these broads don’t take too long.”

Belinda got behind Sharon and shooed her along. “Possibly, possibly,” Belinda answered in a brisk fashion, “but one can never know.”

With her bustling boss behind her, Sharon didn’t notice the gleam that momentarily lit Belinda’s eye.

When the house security systems announced the presence of visitors on the front doorstep, Sharon was fully dressed, relatively speaking. Well, Sharon thought with a mental sigh, she was fully dressed according to Belinda’s standard. Her bikini concealed nipples, pubis, and damn little else. Belinda, for her part, was in a translucent skin tight silken sheath hemmed at mid thigh, obviously sans underwear. Sharon wondered how the businesswomen coming for an appointment with Belinda were going to react.

Sharon remained in her overstuffed chair in the living room while Belinda bustled off to greet the new arrivals and lead them back to the living room. Sharon spent a moment studying the ocean and the gorgeous day through the picture windows and sliding glass door that made up the living room wall facing the patio. Weather was great right now, sure, but there was a tropical storm turning into a hurricane east of the Windward Islands and Sharon was a bit concerned. Oh, the house was as hurricane proof as you could get, but the damned storms were scary, no matter where you were.

Her reverie was interrupted by the entry of Belinda and her two guests into the spacious living room. Both were already slightly shocked by Belinda’s apparel - not to mention the obvious lack thereof in strategic spots - and grew even more so once Sharon stood to shake hands, revealing the fact that her apparent nudity was only slightly less than a fact. Sharon was an expert in reading female reactions, and these two were surprised, but getting turned on already. As she sat back down, Sharon idly wondered if Belinda was up to her old tricks, capturing toothsome women for dinner. Woman did not live by muffins alone; the occasional meal of wild game was relished. Or was Belinda planning a little sexual conquest of someone new?

Either would fit Belinda’s usual pattern. Of course, Belinda made it a point of honor to catch only certified bitches for a meal. She regarded it as cleaning the gene pool and a duty. Things would work out nicely if these two happened to be the bitchy type, Sharon decided. Both were attractive mature blondes in their mid thirties, full breasted with shapely, well fleshed hips, legs and bottoms, and had the look of good roasting material. Sharon always enjoyed the rich flavor of a fully developed woman.

With a twinkle in her eye, Sharon wondered how things would go if she stood up and flashed her prominent all-but-bare buttocks at the pair. It might be interesting to find out, and she decided to do just that if the opportunity presented itself. Their eyes kept straying to her large breasts and bare thighs as they engaged in opening pleasantries with Belinda, so their reactions ought to be fun. Revealing, too.

About that time, Belinda’s cat wandered into the room. He went by the name of Pink, and was actually that color in the right light. Needless to say, the cat was hedonistic, opportunistic, and loved the taste of girl flesh. The muffins worshiped him. Pink often felt chance had put him in exactly the right place.

He jumped up on the back of Belinda’s chair and regarded the two clothed businesswomen with interest. Nice, he decided, but wearing way too much. It was much easier for a discerning cat to assess a woman’s meat when she was nude.

Dara, one of the two visitors, stopped what she was saying to gawk at the cat. “Is that cat pink?” she asked with amazement.

Sharon nodded. Standard first question.

Belinda didn’t break stride. “Of course, love. Now, you ladies had a proposal?”

Jenny, the second of the pair, had the feeling that the cat was appraising her in a manner that, on a deeper level, bothered her. She wasn’t quite sure why. She shook off the thought, telling herself it was only a dumb animal. Still, there was a feeling the look the cat was giving her was the same a carnivore gave its prey. Mild shudder.

Jenny served, opening the game. “As I’m sure your lawyers told you, we own major real estate development combine. We’ve been looking for properties to develop in the Keys, and it’s come to our attention you control a major family property on Dogsfoot Key. In fact, you own the island. We want to purchase the land for a world class resort development.”

For long term residents and natives of coastal states, Sharon thought, ‘developer’ was equivalent to ‘Satan’. People lived on the beach for a relaxed and laid back Bohemian lifestyle. Developers came in, overbuilt beautiful quiet properties with cheaply constructed condos, mega hotels and a wide variety of other people crammers that created everything from road gridlock to environmental destruction. At which point, the original developers blew town to strike somewhere else, seeing as how the place they’d just finished ‘improving’ was nowhere anyone with sense wanted to live.

To Sharon, these women were announcing plans for the imminent destruction of Belinda’s property, even if it was land she never knew Belinda owned. Sharon had a liking for the Keys, and hated to see another one fall to glitz and overbuilding. Frankly, she hoped Belinda told these broads to buzz off, delicious looking or not. Granted they were of the type she actively detested: the real estate harpy. She found herself wishing Belinda would either get rid of these women or make short work of them.

“…really, Ms leGacyl,” Jenny was saying, “the amount of money you stand to make off the deal is immense. We’re offering you a basic payment, plus a percentage of the final amount realized. That’s quite a sum.”

Belinda gave Jenny a brilliant smile. “Call me Belinda, dear, everyone else does…”

“Belinda, then.”

“Yes,” Belinda continued. “I can see we’re talking quite a bit. My lawyer explained things to me quite clearly prior to our meeting. Let me see the papers you have to propose. Of course, this property has been in my family for a very long time, nearly a hundred years, so it’s quite a decision.”

Dara dived in, double teaming with Jenny and alternating pressure tactics. Between the two of them, she was sure they could wear this ditzy broad down. The problem was, not matter what they said - and they were saying quite a lot - they could never quite pin Belinda down to a concrete statement of any kind. It was becoming quite wearing to the forebrain. In fact, she suddenly realized she’d lost track of where they were in the program and wasn’t exactly sure what was happening.

Sharon, no stranger to Belinda’s convoluted plots and even more convoluted verbiage, was quite content to sit on the sidelines, smile, nod occasionally, and watch a true mistress of the art of linguistic judo at work. Without quite knowing how, the two found themselves agreeing, without - it might be said - any signatures or anything remotely resembling a verbal agreement to sell, to go on a trip to inspect the property in question on the day after tomorrow. Next, they found themselves agreeing to lunch.

“Sharon, dearest,” Belinda chimed, “would you go prepare some cold cuts and drinks for us? I would certainly appreciate it. I would do it, but we still have to settle the details of the trip.”

Sharon nodded with an inner smile. She’d have to get up and walk over to the kitchen, giving the two real estate bitches (They were now confirmed bitches in Sharon’s book. Given that they were developers, they were bitches from hell.) a real eyeful of her rear aspect, broken only by the cords required to secure the patches hiding her nipples and pubis. Okay, one bottom flash coming up.

Sharon strolled to the kitchen, high heels clip-clopping on the tile, leaving Jenny and Dara gaping openmouthed, since Sharon put a little extra wiggle and jiggle into her magnificent butt while she strolled. Belinda smiled at their reaction, then at Sharon’s retreating, nearly bare, back. The dear girl was always so sensitive to what Belinda was trying to do, and so helpful in accomplishing the objective. Now back to these two quite attractive morsels.

Over sandwiches, Jenny exclaimed, “Oh, this meat is delicious! Where did you get it? I’m not quite sure I recognize the flavor, either.”

Belinda smiled. “It’s exotic game from my own ranch, dear.”

Sharon almost choked. The exotic game was Celine, and the two developer bitches were sitting in the middle of the ranch.

After lunch, and before Jenny and Dara could think of making an exit, Belinda piped up with another of her carefully thought out goofy ideas. “You know, we still have so much to discuss about the property and the trip, we really should continue. But that day is so nice, I’d prefer to do it in the sun. Why don’t you ladies join Sharon and me in getting a little tan?”

Stammered protest from Jenny. “B-b-b-but we really couldn’t. We don’t even have suits here.” Besides, she wasn’t rally sure just what else there WAS to discuss. On the other hand, (sneaky glance at the generous bare expanse of Sharon) maybe there was more than just pleasantry behind the offer. That might be fun.

Of course there was more behind the offer. Belinda just smiled and told Jenny, “I could probably provide suits from our wardrobe, dear, but Sharon and I never use them.” True. “Of course, I could get them for you, but it’s just girls here, after all. Why don’t you join us for an all over tan?”

A snowstorm of ditzy blarney followed, but the short form was that both Jenny and Dara soon found themselves in their birthday suits on the patio, sipping relaxing martinis. Pink looked on, curled up on a nearby table (it didn’t REALLY look like a cooking table) that stood near the covered rotisserie, speculatively appraising the now revealed new meat, and ruminating on the possibility of getting a toe for a snack. Sharon allowed as how she needed a little suntan lotion on her back, Jenny leaped to assist, look followed touch, Sharon got lotioned over more than her back, and things got erotically out of… or more properly, IN hand. Belinda didn’t even take that long with Dara.

After a brief intermission that included a discussion of swapping partners and several other variations on a theme, everyone adjourned to Belinda’s bedroom, there to discover her extensive collection of sexual toys and the imaginative use she made of them. For Sharon, it was the usual fabulous, exhausting experience Belinda made of sex. For Jenny and Dara it was eye-opening, not to mention aperture-opening, as well. Also exhausting.

Both business ladies departed a few hours later, sated and slightly bow legged. Plans were completed to meet at the little private airport where the plane would pick them up in two days.

TANGENTIAL EXPLANATION

It seemed the vote of an important congressman in the minority party was needed to pass a piece of legislation totally against the stated beliefs of said minority party (unless increased vote buying power, favors, prestige, women, or just plain money was involved). As it happened, aforesaid important congressman in the minority party hankered for historical immortality of his name. Thus, after a brief reshuffle of the name list, a certain tropical storm, pending hurricane status, was named Hurricane Cadwallader.

Now back to the story.

RESUME PLOT

The little twenty place Lear jet felt crowded to Sharon, as well it should. Belinda had insisted on bringing all ten of the muffins, as well as Sharon and herself. With Dara and Jenny, the total was fourteen, plus the highly irritated Pink. From a cat carrier in the back, a careful ear could pick out the steady rumble of feline obscenities issuing through the grill. Pink, needless to say, was not a big fan of the carrier. Sharon was certain the damn cat was declaring that there had better be a good meal of SOMEONE at the end of this indignity, or there would be hell to pay.

Getting everyone on board the plane was a hoot, as far as Sharon was concerned. The two real estate harpies were sensibly dressed for an overnight outing in less than five star conditions, with sturdy blouses and walking shorts, the latter a concession to the normal Caribbean heat. Belinda, for her part, was in her normal ‘street’ clothes of designer white silk blouse, perfectly tailored dark slacks, and jewelry valued in the high five figures. Dara and Jenny’s eyes lit up at that.

The lit expressions turned to astonishment when the second limo pulled up at the plane, disgorging ten muffins and a cat carrier. The number of attractive, well built women in their twenties and thirties may have caused the amazement, but Sharon more certain it was their state of dress, or lack thereof. Having renounced clothing when they signed on as stock at Belinda’s ranch, the spit muffins weren’t normally expecting to wear anything ever again in the time remaining before their date with the broiler, rotisserie, or oven. However, Belinda wanted them along on this ride. Her comment was, “Sharon, dearest, one must always plan for unexpected contingencies. A little emergency food along on a trip never hurt anyone. Besides, I’m sure they’ll enjoy the experience I have planned.” She said nothing more on the matter.

The muffins were more or less dressed in beach clogs and oversized T shirts. Under the shirts were versions of the minimal bikini Sharon had worn during the initial meeting with Dara and Jenny. The plan was to fly to a private strip on one island, then take a boat over to Dogsfoot Key. Sharon was mortally certain the shirts would come off on the boat, not to be donned again until whoever of them that was left made the ride back. The bikinis might not last much beyond the arrival on the island, either. Made her own mini shorts and sleeveless blouse combo look dowdy.

When asked by Jenny, Belinda had one of her short and totally uninformative answers ready. “Oh, love,” she answered with a tinkling laugh, “those are just my girls. I though they’d enjoy the trip.”

Once in the air, Sharon leaned over and spoke to Belinda in a low voice. “Belinda, I’m worried about the hurricane. It looks like it’s coming this way.”

“That’s why I left the interns at home, dearest girl,” Belinda answered. “They know what to do to shut the place up for the storm, and they’ll be perfectly safe inside the house. I hadn’t thought about the hurricane when I was planning this little adventure, but the old house on Dogsfoot is perfectly safe in any kind of storm, and it ought to add to the experience.”

Sharon snorted. “So it’s safe. Yeah, and Dogsfoot Key is about two square miles big. I’ll take your word for now, but one other thing is bothering me. Just what in hell ARE you planning?”

Belinda gave one of her tinkling laughs. “Oh, my dearest one, it will be an experience you will most certainly find unique. Now just relax and enjoy the trip. I guarantee it will be fun.”

Sharon snorted again. Another goofy plot. Oh, well, relax and take it as it came.

The boat trip was enjoyable, although the sky had a funny look to it, the kind that happened before a big storm. The man running the boat was a big, bulky Cuban type that called Belinda “Miss Belinda”. Obviously not her first trip. He didn’t blink an eye, only grinned when the muffins stripped off the T shirts to reveal themselves nude except for bikinis that consisted of string and cloth patches here and there.

Both Dara and Jenny looked a bit uncomfortable at all the flesh on display. On the other hand, they did spend a good bit of the trip looking. To give them credit, they tried a little conversation, but it mostly fell flat due to visual distraction. They also got distracted as they started listening to the muffins’ conversation. Said conversation seemed to always drift back to methods of cooking a woman, personal preferences of the speaker on how she’d like to be cooked when her time came, and the meat quality of various nearly bare female bodies. Dara and Jenny looked at each other as they listened, wondering and beginning to get slightly worried. Just what was going on here?

When the boat rounded the tip of Dogsfoot key and headed in towards the dock, Sharon got her first good look at what Belinda blithely termed “the old family place”. It was a huge square blocky Edwardian style building, built of gray stone and four stories tall, sitting atop a hill nearly the height of the building. Sharon reckoned the mound had to be man made, since hills that size just didn’t occur on the Keys. Damn thing looked like some kind of blockhouse, especially since the windows were covered with dark shutters. It also looked ominous and scary.

“Oh, dearest,” Belinda remarked to her, “it does my heart good to see the old home place again.”

“Home place, my ass!” Sharon shot back. “That thing looks like a cross between a Disneyworld haunted house and a fort! Why in hell did your family build something like that way out here?”

Belinda smiled gently at her. “The old Baron built it, back when Flagler was opening up South Florida and the Keys. He liked solid construction. He certainly made if big enough for the whole family to come by and visit, and certainly, it allowed privacy for the family barbecues. People just weren’t as understanding in the old days about cooking toothsome women.”

“I’ll say,” Sharon said with a shake of her head. “Just how big is that thing?”

“Well,” Belinda said thoughtfully, finger to chin, “I haven’t counted them myself, you understand, because we mainly use just the ground floor these days, but I’ve been told it’s over a hundred and forty five rooms.”

“Wow!” Sharon breathed.

“Of course,” Belinda added, “we’ve kept it up and modernized the ground floor. The upper stories are mostly in storage, but they’re all ready for use. There’s a generator in the basement, and we have well water, so it’s quite homey as it is.”

She looked at her family mansion again. “I see the maintenance crew closed all of the steel shutters. I’m so glad they were prepared for the storm.”

That last remark started Sharon worrying again, but the ‘house’ looked strong enough to ride out any hurricane and high enough to be above a storm surge. “I take it we’ll be there during Cadwallader.”

“Not enough time to get anywhere else before it hits, darling. I’ve been listening to the radio. Gomez will be able to get back to his dock, but I much prefer to ride it out here. I’m sure we’ll be able to think of things to do during the storm.”

That caused Sharon to look thoughtfully at the two real estate women, up in the bow excitedly chattering about plans to turn the old mansion into a five star hotel. She had an inkling of what Belinda might find to ‘do during the storm’. On the other hand, she could never really predict what Belinda’s plots might involve. Things might just get very interesting.

Once Belinda opened the huge solid oak front door, she turned and looked past the group behind her, laden with overnight bags, coolers, and other luggage, to wave at the departing boat. “Uh, Belinda,” Jenny asked, “is he leaving us?”

“Of course, love,” Belinda answered with a smile, “he can’t very well leave it here during a hurricane.”

“Hurricane?!” This was accompanied by a gulp.

“Oh, yes, dear,” Belinda chimed back. “I’ve kept up with the weather radio, and it’s due here in several hours.

“Now don’t worry,” she continued, bustling everyone inside, “we’ll be perfectly safe here. We might even have a hurricane party.”

Sharon had never been stupid enough to host or attend a hurricane party, even though she’d experienced several hurricanes. To her mind, people that did that sort of things were ignorant fools. Belinda, on the other hand, was neither ignorant or fool. That made her wonder just what Belinda actually had in mind.

Belinda swung back a panel just inside the door and threw a huge switch. Suddenly, the house was alive with mellow light.

Sharon, looking around the huge front room, found herself wishing for the return of darkness. It was furnished in a grim sort of Edwardian style, with various uncomfortable looking couches, chairs and settees, painted portraits on the walls, and a variety of stuffed horned beasts and weapons hanging from odd spots. The room looked like something out of Steven King or an English murder mystery.

Pink, released from his carrier, strolled in like he owned the place. The damn cat looked like he enjoyed the decor, Sharon thought with a mental snort.

“Girls,” Belinda called, “just put your things over there and I’ll show you the rest of the house, starting with the kitchen.”

Jenny and Dara deposited their bags. The muffins, on the other hand, included their pathetic excuses for bikinis along with their bags. Pretty soon, naked girl flesh was bouncing in all directions. Belinda smiled maternally. “Excellent, ladies, just follow me in here.”

‘In here’ turned out to be an old Gothic style kitchen, with no real fixtures except several tables, a large cage-like barred cell with a cot in it, a series of hooks along one wall, and a huge fireplace with a chain driven rotisserie capable of handling a girl-sized spit. It took no imagination for Sharon to visualize several girls hanging from the hooks or in the cage while another rotated over the flames in the fireplace. In fact, there was even a huge wood box next to the fireplace, fully stocked with dry hardwood.

It was no trick for Dara and Jenny to imagine the same scene, either. The muffins’ comments didn’t help.

“Ooh, that’s such a neat way to roast a girl!”

“I wonder what I’d feel like cooking in that?”

“Imagine hanging by your wrists from one of those hooks knowing you’re next. Wild!”

“You know, Missy, you’d just look fabulous on a spit in that fireplace.”

“Thank you, Lea. You’re so sweet.”

Dara and Jenny were REALLY becoming uncomfortable, now. “Ah, Belinda,” Jenny asked, “does your family really use that fireplace to cook?”

Belinda smiled at them. “Of course, dear. That’s what it’s for, cooking women.”

“W-w-w-women?”

Belinda nodded. “Oh yes. Why else do you think I brought the two of you here?”

The two real estate developers stood there in shock for a moment, then Jenny, quicker on the uptake, turned with a scream to run. She didn’t get far, since Sharon and several of the muffins were standing behind her. It only took a few moments for the tussle to resolve itself into Jenny cuffed and gagged. Dara was easier. She was still standing in shock when she was grabbed.

A few moments and some deft knife work later, both were efficiently shucked and nude. They alternated looking at Belinda with wide, terrified eyes and staring at the fireplace as they trembled in fear.

“Ladies,” Belinda said once the preliminaries were adequately taken care of, “please take Jenny and Dara through that other door and get them cleaned and depilated. I want them ready to cook when we decide to do so.”

The other door, when opened, revealed an ultra modern kitchen set up to cook women in all the most current ways. Sharon remarked, “Looks nice, Belinda. Any more like this in this spook palace?”

“Certainly, darling,” Belinda replied. “We’ve redone the whole bottom floor except for the main hall and the old kitchen. They were kept in their original state for historical purposes.”

Belinda looked at the huge fireplace with a sentimental expression. “You get such a nice, traditional feeling of family, watching a girl turn over a toasty oak fire in the fireplace. It really warms your heart.”

Sharon opened the big kitchen window and threw open the steel shutters. “As long as it’s not my butt,” she commented absently. “It looks like the hurricane is really coming on hard. It ought to be here in another hour or so. It’s already raining and the wind’s picking up.” She looked with interest at the deep window sill and realized the walls had to be over two feet thick. No wonder Belinda wasn’t worried about the hurricane.

Belinda glanced out the window with her. “So I see, Sharon darling. Perhaps you’d better close the shutters and the window again. We really don’t need a blown tree branch or some such thing crashing through the window. I understand Cadwallader’s already up to Category Four.”

A little over an hour later, the muffins had finished exploring the ground floor and had bedrooms assigned for their stay. Sharon had to admit the rooms were nice, comfortable, and much better lighted than the main hall. She figured Belinda’s family kept the hall poorly lighted for effect. In addition, the two designated meals were back in the old kitchen, looking clean, defurred, washed out, and tense. Sharon was willing to grant them the last two. Having a two inch thick hose shoved three feet up your ass then undergoing an industrial grade flush did absolutely noting for a woman’s poise.

Belinda, by now as nude as everyone else, stood in front of Dara and Jenny and examined them critically. “You both really have top grade flesh,” she said. “Those nice round bodies will provide excellent meat, and I already know you have very plump and tasty pussies.”

She turned each woman around and squeezed a buttock apiece. “Um, yes, loves, your asses will make wonderfully tender roasts. Of course, your little bottom holes will have to be further opened for stuffing, since I don’t think we want to spit either of you through the ass. That plump buttock meat really demands direct roasting.”

Stepping back, she again examined the women’s rumps and thighs. “Yes. I think we ought to have you stretched out on the spit.”

As Dara and Jenny were turned back to face Belinda, Sharon could see they were frozen in wide eyed terror. Too bad, ladies, she thought. You are just two more of a breed trying to destroy these beautiful islands for personal profit. Ordinary or garden variety bitches operated their bitchiness on a small scale. These two bitches were into wholesale destruction of natural beauty. She had no sympathy for them whatsoever.

Pink, watching the whole thing from a perch on one of the tables, yawned. Judging from the signs, they were going to cook someone soon. Good. He was getting hungry.

Belinda squeezed both women’s prominent breasts. “You know,” she mused aloud, “either of you would make excellent additions to the milk herd, and we really don’t need to cook both of you at the moment, not if we’re going to only be here a few days. I do so hate to carry a lot of meat home or waste it. I really need to think about this.”

She turned to the watching group. “Ladies, let’s put these two in the cage in the old kitchen, then get that thigh out of the cooler we brought. There’s plenty of freeze dried food in the pantry to make side dishes. I suggest we all sit down to eat while I consider what we ought to do with Jenny and Dara.”

Sharon was in favor of that. Watching Belinda squeeze and examine the two had made her hungry. Everyone else was probably getting that way also. Pink certainly wasn’t going to turn down a meal.

Outside, they could hear the sound of the wind, dimly through the thick shutters and windows. The sound of the rain battering the steel shutters was beginning to make a metallic undertone white noise in the background. The hurricane had arrived.

As they were sitting around after what Sharon had to admit was a very good dinner, Belinda leaned over and whispered to Sally, a short, stocky brunette with a pleasantly rounded face and a spectacularly rounded body. Nodding, she gathered up four more muffins and left the kitchen. Sharon, watching the byplay while she chatted with a couple of the other girls, nodded to herself. Belinda was up to something again.

Sharon found out when she and the others joined the muffins and the meat in the old kitchen. Dara and Jenny were no longer in the cage. The mouth watering women were laid on their backs on the tables, bound into a roasting position with their ankles crossed and their legs pulled back and tied to their wrists to expose their asses and cunts. “Thank you ladies,” Belinda told Sally and her group. “They are very nicely displayed.”

Sharon had to agree. Both women had very meaty cunt steaks, sure to be juicy eating. The position also emphasized their large thighs and the meat of their buttocks. The way their arms were pulled forward also compressed and uplifted their large breasts. In all, an excellent display of very succulent roasts. Sharon squeezed Jenny’s pubis, then oiled up her index finger from a nearby jar and began to check out her pussy meat from the inside. Jenny, already quivering, began squirming as she felt the penetration.

Belinda also oiled up her finger, but inserted it into Dara’s ass. “Hm,” Belinda commented, “quite tight. She’ll certainly need to be stretched a little before stuffing. Sharon, dearest, would you check Jenny?”

Sharon pulled out of Jenny’s juicy cunt and pushed her finger up the wriggling woman’s ass all the way. “Same here, Belinda,” she replied. “Maybe we ought to use butt plugs on both of them for a while. It’s too late to cook them tonight, and, besides, we’ve just eaten. Plugging overnight ought to do the trick.”

“I’m certain of that, my dear,” Belinda said as Dara moaned through her gag and bucked against the finger fucking her ass. “On the other hand, I really haven’t decided which one we ought to cook and which one we ought to keep around for a while to milk. Let me think for a minute. They both look quite tender and flavorful, and there’s a good bit of meat on both. I like their reactions, too. Either one ought to put on quite a show on a spit.”

The hurricane made its presence known right then, with heavy gusts that caused a mild vibration of the walls and the loud bang of something hitting a shutter. It wouldn’t be long before the storm was at full force. Even though Sharon knew she was in the next best thing to a bomb proof bunker, it still made her edgy. Everyone else was showing some apprehension, too. Dara and Jenny were so terrified it was hard to tell what they thought about the storm. Feeling Jenny squirm around her finger, Sharon decided the woman probably didn’t care about the weather at the moment.

“I know,” Belinda said decisively. Pulling her finger from Dara’s ass, she marched up to their heads and pulled the gags from their mouths. “Ladies,” she continued, watching their wide eyes fastened on her face, “we’re going to have a little contest. I like hunting, and Sharon enjoys exercise as well. I’m going to release you into the house for a little hunt. You two are the quarry and Sharon and I will be the hunters. Whichever of the two of you is caught first gets to try out the fireplace tomorrow. The other one we’ll keep for milking. Would you be willing to try my little game?”

The screamed agreements and pleas were immediate.

So were muffin pleas. “Can we play too? Please? It would be fun!” Sharon decided, for the umpteenth time, the bunch were nuts.

Belinda, however, was more considerate. “Well, ladies, I’ll let you, but only three of you. Mia, Kelli, and Anne, you can be quarry. The winner will be the first one cooked when we get home. I won’t take the first one caught, however. Unlike Dara and Jenny, the winner will be the last one caught.”

Sharon grinned wryly. If Belinda hadn’t said that bit about the last one caught being the first one cooked, that trio would have trampled each other to lay at her feet immediately.

Sharon had her own thoughts on the hunt. For one thing, she wasn’t a hunter, although Belinda was a natural predator, no mistake about that. For another, she noticed Belinda didn’t emphasize the fact that even the milk girls had an eventual date with the kitchen. Hm, perhaps Belinda saw the makings of a spit muffin in one or both of them? Interesting thought.

Belinda, for her part, looked thoughtfully down at Dara’s pussy, exposed before her. Hm, decisions, decisions. Glancing over at Sharon, she noted her finger was still industriously at work in a squirming and panting Jenny’s bottom. Well, both of these dear girls were a bit excited. Perhaps she ought to give them a little release for their tension before she started the hunt. It would help them concentrate. “Sally,” she called, “would you please get two strap-ons from our equipment bag? I want to introduce these ladies to our little game of stuff-the-roast.”

“You’ll like the game, loves. To play, one girl is tied into oven roasting position just like you are and another one uses a strap-on to stuff her little bottom hole. Since you’re both rather tight, this will do you some good,” she said to the two confused and apprehensive women. Then she knelt down to get her mouth within easy reach of Dara’s pussy and inserted her finger back up the woman’s ass, moving it around to relax the sphincter. “As soon as Sharon and I finish nibbling your pussies, we’ll replace our fingers with long soft plastic shafts. You’re both truly delectable looking roasts that deserve to be properly stuffed, and we’ll certainly try to do a good job of it.”

Dara and Jenny’s frantically squealed pleas didn’t change the program, but they did add a bit of kinky appeal to it. Said noise changed from panic to passion shortly after Sharon and Belinda got busy with their tongues.

A short - but highly energetic - time later, the quarry gathered at the base of the huge stairs leading to the upper three stories of the old mansion, wearing nothing but tennis shoes for foot protection. The hurricane was now in full fury. Its heavy wind impacting the old building at nearly a hundred and fifty miles an hour created a subtle vibration in its fabric that was sensed, rather than felt. The sound of the wind and the impact of the occasional storm driven odd or end was a continuous background wailing and crashing. Given the very low lighting above the ground floor, the whole effect was eerie. Dara looked up the dimly lighted stairs and shivered, flexing slightly stiff legs and hoping her bottom hole would close up soon. Jenny was harboring identical wishes.

“Now, ladies,” Belinda announced, “you all know the rules of the game. Dara and Jenny, Sharon and I will be carrying air pistols with tranquilizer darts, but we’d really rather not to have to use them, so behave accordingly. I will give you the word to go, then we will follow in twenty minutes. As a sportswoman, I want to wish all of you the best of luck, and I know the winners will be just delicious. Now… go!”

There was a flurry of long bare legs and the twinkling of juicy plump buttocks as the contestants took off upstairs. Jenny and Dara swiftly outdistanced the three muffins, to nobody’s surprise.

Gazing after the swiftly departing nude women, Sharon thought for a minute, then turned to regard Belinda, tastefully attired in gunbelt and a smile. “You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”

Belinda nodded with a quiet little smile. “Chasing down dinner is one of my favorite games whenever the family gathers here at the house. I enjoy it so much, dearest, and I immediately thought of how much fun it would be when I saw those two developers. They really ought to provide a good hunt, and, of course, the muffins will have a really fun time, as well.”

“Why the bare feet, Belinda? I don’t fancy running all over this house without shoes.”

“Oh, I’ve done it before and I really don’t plan on running, lover. Bare feet are much more silent.”

Sharon nodded at that little bit of hunter’s wisdom. “I’ve never done anything like this, you know.”

Belinda nodded. “I’m sure you’ll pick it up, dearest. In any case, I’ll go to the top floor and you start at the head of the stairs. We’ll have them between us that way.”

Sharon nodded. She, being the least stealthy of women, would naturally drive the game higher in the house, straight towards the very stealthy Belinda. Good plan.

At that moment, two of said game were also conferring at an out of the way corner of a dimly lit third floor hall, if in a somewhat out of breath manner. “We’ve got to have a plan,” Jenny said, absently rubbing her bottom. “Damn! That stuff-the-roast’s-ass thing was hard to put up with!”

“And that’s why I heard you screaming and moaning?” Dara shot back cattily.

“You weren’t exactly silent, either,” Jenny fired back, then waved down the return salvo. “Forget it. We still have to survive this hunt. I have no desire to be in that fireplace tomorrow.”

“The way some of Belinda’s girls talk about it…” Dara said with a shudder. “Anyhow, hearing them talk, about half of them are in the milk herd, and that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Beats being pussy on a platter,” Jenny agreed with a grim nod. “Look, I think our best bet is to hide, then move every so often and hide again, hoping they’ve already searched the spot where we’re hiding. If we keep out of their hands long enough, maybe they’ll get tired and go cook one of Belinda’s women. After the storm, maybe we can slip out and hide long enough to escape.”

Dara thought the idea sounded desperate, but then, she WAS desperate. Ergo, go with whatever you can in this situation. “Stay together?”

Jenny shook her head. “No. I think we’ll have a better chance if we split up. Let’s get going, ‘cause time’s wasting.”

After mutual good luck wishes, Dara crept down the hall and carefully opened one of the doors, discovering a bedroom on the other side. As she silently closed it after her, Jenny leaned out from a concealing doorway and made careful note of which room Dara was using to hide. It had struck her earlier that only the first one caught would be cooked tomorrow. If Dara was the first one caught…

Suiting action to thought, Jenny crept down the hall and rumpled the hall runner in front of the door Dara had entered. She was sure someone would notice and look inside, looking for whoever had entered. With luck, this nightmare would be over quickly. Now to find a place to hide.

Dara, while sometimes a little slow on the uptake, eventually got where she was going. Therefore, it only took a few minutes of scanning the dusty, spooky room with its sheet covered furniture for her mind to arrive at the same place Jenny had gotten to some time before her. If Jenny was caught first…

Getting to the second part of the problem took no time at all. The question was how to get Jenny caught first. One of the doors in the room proved to be a connector to the bedroom (also dusty, ill lit, and containing furniture covered in sheets - a trend is developing here) next door. She silently (almost) padded over to the hall door and opened it a crack, to see Jenny creeping down the hall. Suiting action to thought, Dara followed her, evil thoughts of self preservation, the possible pleasures of living in a dairy, and really tasty Jenny chops wandering through her mind.

On the second floor, Sharon had already poked into a good number of dusty, empty, poorly lit bedrooms full of sheet covered furniture. Brr. The decor went with the howling wind and other storm effects from outside. Spooky this place was, definitely. She was still glad to be inside with the hurricane outside. Good thing the house was self contained with a generator, well, etc. She’d hate to be without even the feeble light upstairs. She decided to rest a minute and plop her nicely upholstered bottom on that carved chest resting against the hall wall.

Sitting on the chest, Sharon could feel the motion of the storm even more than when she touched the wall. Wow, that must be some blow out there! Then she realized the motion was too irregular and intermittent to be the hurricane. For an instant, panicky dread surged up in her as she realized there was something in the chest! Ghost?!

She leaped off the chest and threw back the top, jamming her unimpressive dart gun at the creature inside. Then…

“Anne! Would you get the hell out of there? You nearly scared me to death!”

The muffin crouched inside gave Sharon a tremulous little smile and answered in a tiny voice. “Hi, Sharon. Uh, has anyone else been caught yet?”

“No!” Sharon said gruffly. “You’re my first. Get the hell out of that box and back down stairs! Now MARCH!”

Meekly, Anne climbed out of the chest and smiled timidly again, then wandered disconsolately back to the rest of the gang . Once she was out of sight, Sharon leaned a hand against the wall and tried to get her heart to stop its rumba beat. Settle down, she told herself, you’re letting your imagination get the best of you. You’re supposed to be the hunter in this spooky comedy.

Then she noticed something. Anne had left footprints in the dust on the floor as she left. She’d also left them approaching the chest, too. Hmmm. Shoving her dart gun back into its holster with Hollywood assurance, Sharon moved off to follow tracks. After a few minutes, she realized there weren’t any, except hers and, presumably, Anne’s. Checking the main stairwell, she saw what looked like the signs of a female stampede, along with another set of prints. The damn cat was in on this, too. In the words of Dirty Harry, marvelous.

Meanwhile, Jenny had about decided to try hiding in one of the bedrooms, when she thought she heard footsteps behind her. Stopping, the sound went away. She started again. So, thirty or so feet back down the darkened hall, did Dara. Jenny stopped. Dara stopped. Jenny shook her head, figuring she was imagining things, what with the ghost story atmosphere of this house and the howling wind outside. She straightened up and noticed one of the occasional chests that dotted the halls. The very thing! She walked with a more assured stride to the chest. Lifting the lid, she looked around carefully, not noticing Dara, standing frozen in a doorway further down the hall. As a careful check of the surroundings, it was a dead loss. She also didn’t notice Kelli, already crouched inside.

Chests were popular tonight.

Jenny quickly couched inside the large chest and carefully closed the lid. As soon as she did, Dara tiptoed up and drew a large arrow and the words LOOK HERE in the dust, then tiptoed silently away.

Inside the chest, Jenny’s imagination was playing tricks again. She thought she heard breathing close by. Nonsense! It was her overwrought imagination at work. She had to admit it had plenty to work with, too. Big, spooky house, huge storm howling outside, and here she was, naked, pussy shaved bare, hiding to avoid having a ten foot cooking spit shoved up that same pussy. She shifted slightly as her cunt tingled with the uncomfortable thought and her hip came in contact with warm, bare flesh. It only took an instant for her mind to awaken to a dreadful suspicion. She Was Not Alone.

A soft feminine hand placed itself on her shoulder. “Hi,” a soprano voice whispered.

Jenny screamed and shot out of the chest like a jack in the box, slamming the lid back against the wall as she leaped out and dashed madly for the stairwell.

Kelli looked after the (very) rapidly retreating woman with some confusion. She was just trying to be friendly. Next to the chest, Sharon’s voice came in irritated tones. “Kelli, would you please get out of that box and go downstairs. No, you are not the last one found. Now, go!” Kelli went. Sharon followed Jenny, as quietly as she could.

By this time, Mia, Dara and Jenny were all on the fourth floor, which didn’t make things that much easier for Belinda, who was already there. There were, after all, over thirty rooms along a variety of corridors on that floor. On the other hand, nobody but Belinda knew there was anyone else on the floor.

Jenny carefully crept around the fourth floor corridor, only to see the inevitable rows of closed doors and a chest or two lining the hall. She shook her head. Chests, after her last experience, were out. Try one of the rooms.

Jenny eased one of the closed doors open and slipped inside. Next door in the connecting bedroom, Dara heard the quiet sound of a door opening and closing nearby. Leaving her hiding place behind the drapes, she slipped to the hall door, opened it, and stepped outside to look. Jenny, still seeking a hiding place, heard another door opening and opened the connecting door to the next bedroom, leaning in to check. Empty.

Both women, seeing nothing, turned back into their respective bedrooms and gently closed the doors. That sound concerned Mia, hiding in the bedroom next to Jenny. She opened her door, checked the hall outside, then decided the bedroom across the hall might be a better place. She silently slipped across the corridor and into it, closing the door gently.

The continuing sound of doors opening and closing concerned Dara, so she opened up again, checked, found nothing, then made the same decision as Mia. As Dara closed the door in her new refuge, Jenny looked out again. She still saw nothing, but decided to check the next corridor.

As she watched Jenny tiptoe down the hall, Belinda remained still in the shadowy area of the hall where she’d watched the activity. She spared a moment to admire Jenny’s nicely formed and fleshed nude figure, then came to a decision. Time to get going. As Jenny reached the end of the hall and stood there, obviously trying to screw up her courage for a look, Belinda thoughtfully tightened the hall light bulb she’d loosened to create her well of shadow, then slipped down the hall and through the door Jenny had left open.

Greatly daring, Jenny looked around the corner, but, to her immense relief, saw nothing but more closed doors and chests. For a moment, she debated trying the next hall. There were entirely too many door opening sounds for her comfort. Then she figured one bedroom hiding place was as good as another.

Returning to the bedroom, she stood for a moment, trembling slightly and trying to relax. Too much tension. The storm and the house were just too spooky a combination. She decided to sit and rest for a moment, then she’d either hide in here, or try another place. After all, there were plenty of rooms to hide in, and there was really too much going on her on the fourth floor for her comfort.

Suiting action to thought, she plopped down on a sheet covered chair. For a moment, she squirmed slightly. The upholstery under the sheet was soft, but not quite shaped right for a chair cushion. Then the sheet shot its arms around her. It was a ghost!

Belinda, who was under the sheet, wrapped her arms tightly around her prey, but Jenny was too far into the ghost thing to realize who’d grabbed her. She screamed and fainted.

Sharon was creeping along a fourth floor corridor as Belinda calmly walked out of a bedroom, carrying a naked woman, bound hand and foot with plastic ties like police used, draped over her shoulder. The sight didn’t surprise Sharon. Belinda was immensely strong. “Caught one?” she asked.

Belinda nodded. “It’s Jenny, dearest. I’m going to have to carry her down stairs. It seems she’s fainted, although I haven’t the slightest idea why.”

Sharon nodded wordlessly. Given the atmosphere of this place, she could think of a few reasons offhand. She took a moment to study Jenny’s plump pussy, framed by nicely fleshed thighs and hams, and enticingly displayed by the way she was draped over Belinda’s shoulder. The woman would provide quite a few nice meals.

“Dearest,” Belinda continued, “I believe Dara and Mia are in two of the rooms on this hall. Perhaps you’d care to gather in Dara. I think she’s in that one, over there.”

Sharon nodded. “Okay, Belinda, but if that broad faints, I’m waiting until she comes around. I refuse to carry anyone down four flights of stairs.”

Belinda’s tinkling laugh was an accompaniment to her wave of good-by as she set off for the stairwell. Sharon looked after the departing pair for a moment, thinking Belinda in motion, even with a really nice piece of meat draped over her shoulder, was about the sexiest thing she could think of. Sharon snorted at the thought. She needed to finish this silly hunt up and go back downstairs. She wanted to get laid.

In the bedroom where she was again hiding behind a window drape, Dara heard Jenny’s scream and low voices in the hall outside. Belinda or Sharon was nearby, maybe both! And they probably had Jenny! She stood there trembling, listening to the storm batter the window behind her and hoping neither of the two hunters came into this room.

Relaxed on the window sill behind Dara, Pink couldn’t believe his good fortune. Mind full of the big cats he’d seen on TV, he’d joined the hunt, not as Pink the Pussycat, but as Pink the Panther, stalking his prey through the darkened halls. Alas, prey seemed to be in short supply. He’d smelled plenty of woman scent, but the trails never seemed to lead to anywhere a woman was accessible. He’d gotten into this room through a momentarily open door, pretty much by luck. Remembering that panthers lurked in high places, he’d found the window sill and settled down to lurk properly. Now there was a mouth watering bottom, just full of good meat, presented right in front of his nose.

Pink took a moment to decide where to put his killing strike. The ass in his face was generally too big and curvy for him to get a good grip with his small mouth. He normally preferred hands, toes or fingers. On the other hand, if he bit right at the undercurve of the cheek, it might paralyze his prey until he could get a good, killing grip on her finger.

No time like the present. He leaped for her, grabbing with his claws, Unfortunately, he couldn’t get just the right angle and didn’t quite get his teeth into her. What he did do got results.

Dara felt Pink’s claws on her hips and needle sharp teeth graze her butt. “AIIIII!!!!!” she screamed, leaping out from behind the curtain and dragging the poor cat with her. Pink fell flat on the floor, the wind knocked out of him, and Dara charged for the bedroom door, frantic to get away from the fiend from the netherworld that had sunk its teeth and claws into her body. Said fiend could only lie on the floor as the game made its escape and curse obscenely.

Throwing open the door, Dara dashed blindly out of the bedroom and straight into Sharon’s arms. “Gottcha!”

Dara panicked for a moment, then relaxed in Sharon’s strong grasp. It was over. She was meat. It was time to surrender to the inevitable. “O-o-okay. Now what?”

“Let me just tie your hands behind you… there, and we’ll be on our way. How in hell did you get those scratches and bite on your butt? It doesn’t look bad, but what in the world bit you?” It wasn’t really a bite. Damage to Dara seemed to be limited to claw scratches and some superficial skin damage where Pink’s teeth had grazed her.

“Miaow.”

Sharon looked down. It was the damned cat. “Oh. Well, we’ll go down and have Sally put something on that.”

“Come on,” Sharon ordered, gently pulling Dara in front of her to head back to the kitchen. Then she stopped, remembering she’d forgotten someone. “Mia, you can come out now,” she yelled. “Everyone’s been caught. You’re the last one. You win, girl.”

A bedroom door flew open. “I do?!”

Sharon nodded. “Yep. You get to be the next one in the kitchen when we get home. Pick up that cat and join us, will you?”

Belinda, Sharon, and several of the muffins were back on the fourth floor, this time in a bedroom with the window and shutters open to see outside. The air was dead calm and had a peculiar electric feel. They were in the eye of the hurricane. They could see rough water and downed scrub and palmettos by the light of the house spotlights, but everything else was hidden in the dark. Sharon shuddered. “Belinda, no offense to the Baron, but out there is even more eerie than this house.”

Belinda nodded absently. “The eye always has a strange feel to it. Still, it means the storm is half over. We’ll go back downstairs and weather the rest, then celebrate tomorrow by barbecuing Jenny. If you have to concern yourself with something, just imagine how nicely she’ll cook up. Her inner thighs are quite succulent and tender.”

One of the muffins made a disappointed sound. “Oh, darlings, don’t let it bother you,” Belinda said to the muffins at large. “You all will have excellent flavor, and your own meat is very good. I’m quite looking forward to having a steak from each and every one of you on my plate.”

The muffins cheered up and Sharon rolled her eyes. The ‘cook me, I’m spare ribs’ mentality those girls had was really goofy. On the other hand, they were tasty to have around, if a little weird. She looked out at the island, noting the tide was nearly half up the rise on which the house sat, and the dock was totally under water. “Looks like your ancestor knew what he was doing when he planned this place, Belinda. If this house was much lower, we’d be swimming to the kitchen.”

“Yes,” Belinda said cheerfully, “I definitely agree the Baron built well. In all the years our old family home has been standing, we’ve never had water damage, even during the monster hurricane of 1935 that killed so many people. Now, ladies, I feel the wind rising again. Why don’t we shut this window and go down to see how Dara and Jenny are doing?”

From what Sharon could see when they reentered the old kitchen, Dara and Jenny were doing just fine. They were cuffed, gagged, and strapped on their bellies on the two kitchen tables. Sally was standing between them with one hand in the middle of each girl’s bottom. The index fingers of those hands were buried between the plump cheeks, and apparently quite active. Mia and Kelli were standing on the other side of the women, and it was obvious the hand each girl had between the bound women’s thighs were busy. By way of confirmation, Dara and Jenny were gasping into their gags as they wriggled against the straps holding them to the tables.

“While I had them on the tables,” Sally said cheekily in her New Jersey accent, “I thought I’d open them up and grease their asses for stuffing. Then Mia and Kelli decided to help things along. I think I’m doing well, don’t you?”

Sharon nodded as Dara let out a low moan. “Looks like those two are doing well also.”

“They are having what appears to be an excellent time,” Belinda agreed. “But I think it’s time to let them loose. I’ll take Jenny to bed with me tonight, since she’s the guest of honor tomorrow, and, Sharon, why don’t you take Dara and explain to her what’s expected of a milk muffin.”

She caressed a a bright eyed and still frightened Jenny’s cheek. “There, there, love, no one’s going to hurt you. I will make this experience quite pleasurable for you. If you just relax and enjoy what I’m planning tonight, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

The next morning was bright, dry and sunny. The storm had disappeared and, according to the radio, was in the process of dissipating in some freak eastern Caribbean atmospheric conditions, having done no worse than moderate damage to populated areas and left no major casualties. Sharon thought the whole day was wonderful, especially after the creepy night she’d just had. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. Good weather so the muffins could play outside and a really succulent girl to cook. Looked like fun.

Jenny and Dara had attended the morning milking, both with their hands bound behind them; Jenny for the obvious reasons, and Dara at her own request. Last night Sharon discovered that Dara was a closet submissive rapidly exiting said closet. All it took to get Dara wet was to tell her in detail how she was going to be prepared and cooked. After that, really good sex.

NEXT POST

Both bound women got intensely interested in watching Sharon and five of the muffins being milked. Dara, of course, had a deeper interest, since she was going to spend her time giving milk before a date with the kitchen. Jenny just appeared to get sexually excited watching a line of squatting or kneeling naked women milking another line of naked women on their hands and knees. Come to think of it, the picture was probably rather erotic at that.

After the milking, Jenny appeared to enjoy her scrub down and deep enema. At least, she got off when Sally shoved the hose up her ass.

Breakfast was fun, too. Not only had Belinda packed woman bacon and plenty of eggs in the perishables she’d brought to the island, but she also positioned Jenny as a centerpiece for the table. Jenny was on her belly with her hands bound behind her and her ankles tied together. In order to relax her bottom hole, Belinda had inserted a large butt plug up her ass. Everyone would occasionally reach over and caress or squeeze various portions of the centerpiece’s anatomy, something the centerpiece seemed to enjoy, given how the flexing of her plump round buttocks showed she was busy fucking the plug in her ass during breakfast.

“Earlier,” Belinda confided softly to Sharon, “I gave her a little something to relax her.

“Then,” she continued with an impish grin, “I gave her something to rev up her sex drive.”

Eyeing Jenny’s flexing bottom, accompanied by her gasps, moans and the general approval of the muffins, Belinda added, “If we let her loose right now, I dare say she’d be trying to fuck that thermos bottle over there.”

The breakfast dishes were cleared away, leaving the squirming centerpiece in place, then everyone got down to the main event. “Ladies,” Belinda called out, “please bring Jenny over to the spitting jig. She needs to be stuffed and spitted. Sharon, will you take several of the girls and build a low fire in the big fireplace? I want the fire just right when we put Jenny over it.”

The spitting jig looked like a padded saw horse with cuffs on it’s four legs. Once Jenny was laid on the long part, her wrists and ankles were shackled to the legs and straps were tightened across her torso. Everything was tightened down, and the woman couldn’t move. She was also in the perfect position, spread widely, to give easy access to her cunt and ass.

Pink watched the operation with great interest. Finally, fresh meat! He yawned mightily. Being up most of the night wasn’t his cup of tea.

Belinda popped the butt plug out of Jenny’s bottom with a little sucking sound, then took a handful of stuffing from a large cooking bowl and pushed it into Jenny’s gaping bottom hole. After every two or three handfuls, she used a thick dowel to push the mixture deeper up the girl’s squeaky clean bowels. Jenny seemed to enjoy the stuffing part, judging from the wriggling, but the packing part made her gasp and really flex.

Belinda packed in a last handful with a bulbous, heat resistant vibrator and left it in place to hold in the stuffing while Jenny cooked. Then she picked up a long carbon spit. “I’m going to use a solid ventilated spit on her,” Belinda commented to her enthralled audience (a fascinated Dara included). “The situation, the old kitchen fireplace, the atmosphere, just seems to call for old fashioned methods.”

Placing the tip of the shaft gently and carefully about four or five inches up Jenny’s pussy, Belinda began a smooth fucking motion. A few moments later, she was rewarded by a wail and convulsion from Jenny. As Jenny’s pussy tightened on the shaft, Belinda used that tightness as a guide for the spit, which she slowly and smoothly inserted through the woman and out her open mouth as Sharon held Jenny’s head in the right position. After that, it was a matter of tying Jenny’s hands to her sides and her ankles to the spit. Then Jenny was ready to be put on the fire to roast.

“Cooking will take a while,” Belinda said, “since I’m going to cook her completely. The meat will keep better that way and we’ll just about eat all of her before we leave… I must remember to save some nice portions for Gomez and his family, too… Take her out and put her over the fire, girls.”

Three or four muffins carefully carried the spitted woman out to the old kitchen and set the ends of the spit on the fireplace rotisserie. The fire was just right, not too high or low. As Belinda wound the huge spring mechanism that drove the old chain drive and turn the spit, she reflected that Jenny was already putting on a real show.

Jenny was aware of the situation, but didn’t care. She could feel the rigid pole driven through her body, but it only served as a fulcrum for her squirms and contortions. Every time she moved the right way, she got a huge flash of orgasmic sensation. When that built high enough, she would convulse in a really heavy orgasm, which just set the basis for another build up. The heat, the feeling of just being meat, the sweat and basting oil, and even the scent of herself starting to cook were part of her world, but the sensations spreading in waves from her pussy were all the rest. Jenny wanted to scream with release, but the shaft was blocking her vocal cords and that restriction just bottled up her sexual tension and drove it higher. She shifted her hips on the stiff pole up her cunt and that triggered still another shattering orgasm. She opened her eyes and cut them at Belinda as her world rotated, wanting so much to tell her what was happening, but knew she never could. It was only known to the girl cooking, and then only once. She closed her eyes again and concentrated on yet another approaching orgasm.

Jenny’s squirming and orgasmic convulsions held the attention of every woman in the room. Alone in the audience, Dara had never seen a woman cook and was amazed at the intensity of the sexual excitement she was feeling. Jenny was beautiful like that, sensual and supremely erotic. She wanted to watch her cook, wanted to be in her place, and wanted someone - oh someone! - to please fuck her and give her release.

A soft hand began stroking her buttocks. “We’ll watch her until she’s gone,” Sharon murmured in her ear. “She deserves that, then I’m going to take you to a couch and…” The description of the upcoming events was highly graphic and met with Dara’s total approval.

Pink, gathered in the arms of one of the muffins, hedonist that he was, watched Jenny with great interest. He licked his lips, thinking of how she’d taste.

Belinda had spent her time carefully basting and tending Jenny as she cooked, but took Sharon to a nearby couch immediately after dinner. Lying in Belinda’s embrace in the afterglow of sex, Sharon relaxed and let her pussy and ass return to normal. Belinda’s strap-on was on the large side.

Belinda tenderly watched the muffins play. Dara, she reflected, was such a sweet girl, and would make a wonderful addition to the herd. Dara was on her hands and knees a ways off, while Mia knelt behind her with a strap-on and plowed her pussy. Sally knelt in front of the girl, milking her breasts in role play, since Dara couldn’t yet give milk. A good dose of the hormones would fix that, Belinda thought.

“Belinda,” Sharon said languidly, “I think Dara is going to work out fine. I didn’t realize she had spit muffin tendencies.”

“Oh, but I did, my dearest.”

“Then I’m glad you caught Jenny first,” Sharon replied. “She might not have worked out as well.”

“Oh, dearest,” Belinda said with her tinkling laugh, “I’m sure she wouldn’t have.

“But then,” she continued with a twinkle in her eye, “I knew where they both were when I caught Jenny.”