Belinda 06: Belinda and the Sex Obsessed Roaster by Leo

Belinda and the Sex Obsessed Roaster

by

Leo

Sharon considered herself on the horns of a dilemma. Ever since Belinda had brought on the interns, she’d gone quietly nuts, having to deal with three gorgeous college girls with sleek, well toned bodies (unlike her own plush, curvy, well endowed figure), preppy/chirpy Valley Girl speech, and cheerleader bounce. On the other hand, the interns had made her own chores around Belinda’s multi-million dollar South Florida mansion on the cliff overlooking the private beach and a large expanse of the Atlantic, a.k.a. Belinda’s Dairy and Meat Ranch, much, much easier. Now, one of the interns had volunteered for the spit, one had gone back to school, and the last one, Darci, had decided to follow the route of the first intern into the kitchen.

Not that Darci wouldn’t taste delicious. Not that she wouldn’t look beautiful on a spit. Not, of course, that Sharon wouldn’t enjoy biting into a slice of someone that had regularly been a pain in her own full, nicely rounded posterior. Not… and so on for a dozen other reasons.

No, the problem was that Sharon was going to have to go back to doing such things as straightening up after the spit muffins, regulating their occasionally goofy conduct, sectioning partially cooked girls for storage in the meat locker, and directing the cleaning of the kitchen and muffin toys after use. At least she’d have the help of the muffins when it came time to do the chores. The problem was that Sharon preferred not having to do chores at all, and the muffins were erratic at best.

Of course, she had the authority to tell the muffins to do just about anything, an authority granted by Belinda as a means of exerting some form of mild and partial control over muffin-induced chaos. Sharon was basically lead cow, muffin wrangler, den mother and voice of sanity to ten dedicated spit muffins. Her badge of office - which she loved - was a little gold bell (deliberately silenced) on a golden chain clipped to her nipples. Not only was the chain/bell combo beautiful workmanship, the chain pulled her breasts together, kept them from flopping, and even gave her cleavage while remaining completely nude. The muffins all thought it was sexy as hell.

Speaking of the spit muffins… From her position on the lounger near the pool, Sharon surveyed the various activities of a number of naked women. Every woman in the place, to include Belinda, was in a habitual state of nature. Muffins never wore anything except suntan lotion, basting oil, and/or a smile. The muffins were engaged in various muffin type activities, i.e. practicing their bondage, a little role play grilling of Kelli’s pussy and butt, water tag in the pool, sunning themselves, Jodi stretching Dara’s bottom hole with a large butt plug for when she would be ready to cook… the usual. Normal activities for women that had the fantasy of being meat and had come to Belinda’s place and signed on as stock for the Ranch to fulfill that fantasy. Sharon shook her head in disbelief. When Belinda had decided to start this project, she was sure that Belinda’d run out of women pretty quick. Instead, through the Internet or whatever means Belinda found them, there was a waiting list for membership as meat stock. In fact, she had to limit the current herd to ten, just for logistics’ sake.

The bustier girls, such as Sharon herself, were given a hormone dose every few days to enable them to give milk - the Dairy part of the project’s name. The difference between the milker muffins and Sharon, however, was that Sharon - although denuded of all body hair like the muffins - was Belinda’s personal companion, thus exempt from being served on a platter. She also took her hormones orally, rather than anally as Belinda preferred the muffins did.

The spit muffins, on the other hand, were all on the menu, milk herd or not. It gave Sharon a mild sense of security, knowing there were at least ten tasty women Belinda wanted to eat before the topic of Sharon’s nicely fleshed body could come up for consideration. Sharon liked Belinda very much, and enjoyed their close companionship, not to mention the vigorous and extraordinary sex. On the other hand, there WAS such a thing as practicality.

Sighing, Sharon shifted slightly in the lounger and stroked the cat curled up next to her. The pink cat. Pink, short for Belinda’s Pink Pussy, was actually that color in the right light. Somehow, Sharon was never sure just how, the cat had moved in and assumed ownership of the mansion and the muffins. Of course, they loved him and pampered him every way they could, something Pink considered his due. Damned hedonistic feline, Sharon thought to the cat, receiving an arrogant glance and disdainful sniff in return. Sharon and Pink understood each other completely. Despite that, they still got along. Of course, Belinda loved the damned cat, too.

Speaking of Belinda, here she came. Fortyish, but a body a figure model would sacrifice her best friend to get, sophisticated beauty, and all the energy in the world. As she bustled (Belinda’s habitual movement was too energetic to be called a walk), her short blonde hair bobbled. Of course, so did her breasts… as did just about everything else. Belinda’s entire figure was a picture of movement, jiggling, bobbling, etc. Sharon could get turned on just watching Belinda cross a room, and frequently did.

Belinda was also highly cannibalistic, predatory, extremely intelligent, and as dotty as someone’s ditzy aunt. In all, the lady was quite a package.

She plopped her shapely bare bottom down on the next lounger and began in the reasonable tones that always set Sharon’s alarm bells jangling. “Dearest, I’ve been thinking about who’s going to be helping you now that Darci has so sweetly consented to become tonight’s dinner, and I think I’ve found a solution.”

Sharon groaned. Belinda’s ‘solutions’ usually meant trouble in some form. Belinda smiled and chimed one of her tinkling laughs. “Oh, dearest love, it’s not quite that bad. In fact, it’s not bad at all. I’m considering hiring you some help.”

Sharon looked at her in horror. “Not more of the those sleek hard bellies from South Beach?! Please, Belinda, not that!”

Belinda shook her head with a sweet smile. “No, dearest girl, no more of those. This one is a real woman, the type you like. In fact, I’ve just finished interviewing her in the living room and I told her she’s not hired until you okay her for the position. Her name is Wendy, by the way.”

“How much does she know about the Ranch?”

“Everything, dearest Sharon, but I’m not particularly worried.” Well, nothing about the Ranch was particularly illegal, but certainly not suitable for the evening news. Evidently, Belinda felt the interviewee could keep her mouth shut. Okay. Let’s see who Belinda had decided was suitable for the position of Assistant Den Mother to a bunch of spit muffins.

The prospective employee began to look okay to Sharon as soon as she saw the girl. Early twenties, but an experienced look about her, with short strawberry blonde hair and a real woman’s body. Nude, of course, and a little uncomfortable about it, but not too much so. She had very nice C cup breasts (possible milker, here), about a twenty eight inch waist that nicely matched her thirty eight inch hips when she stood up. Her thighs were meaty enough that they met just below her plump pussy mound. Actually, she was a tailor-made roaster, like many of the muffins. There certainly wasn’t a skinny one in THAT bunch.

On the whole, quite acceptable, especially since she had that practical look. Sharon gave her an acid test. “Wendy, ever eaten girl meat?”

“Yes,” the girl said with a slightly defiant air, “and I liked it.”

Immediately followed by, “Is that cat PINK?”

“Yes, he is. He’s Belinda’s Pink Pussy, AKA Pink. Okay, then what do you think about running around in your skin, taking care of this place with me?”

“That’s amazing! I’ve never seen a pink cat… Once I get used to being bare naked all the time, I don’t think I’d mind it. Actually, the way Belinda explained what was going on and what I’d be doing, it sounded like fun.”

Sharon nodded. Now for the key question. “You’ve seen a pink cat now. What do you think of the muffins?”

“They’re nuts.”

“You’re hired. Come on, I’ll show you around. Watch the cat; he gets underfoot. He’d also love a taste of you.”

Sharon gave Wendy the grand tour, showing her the whole house, the elevator to the private beach, the kitchen and its various uses, finishing up in the basement with its large cage, the cooler and the work area for sectioning meat. “We occasionally use the cage because Belinda still likes to capture the odd bitch or two every now and then.” Wendy momentarily looked both slightly disturbed and a little green. She was probably imagining herself in the cage, waiting for someone to come and begin prepping her for the kitchen.

“You’re in no danger,” Sharon said with a keen look at the girl’s face. “Belinda only captures women she considers total bitches and a detriment to society. Refers to it as cleaning the gene pool, and, believe me, some of the women she brought home really needed removing.

“The rest of the time,” she continued, “the muffins use it as a play area.”

Wendy looked slightly shocked. “Who’d want to play in a cage?”

“These nuts. Some of them love to pretend they’re abused captives. We go along because it keeps the girls happy. Nobody said it had to make sense, you know.”

Sharon got her chance to prove her point a moment later, when Sally, one of the muffins, came down the basement steps and said, “Sharon, I’ve got Dana and Louise strung up in the kitchen. Would you please come and check them for meat quality?”

“Again?” Sharon sighed with resignation. “Wendy, this is one of the games I was telling you about. Now, girl, you’re going to participate, since it’ll be part of your regular duties from here on. Come with me.”

“What do I do?” Wendy asked as she followed Sharon’s plush bare buttocks up the stairs. Actually, the sight started her pondering other games besides strung up muffins. Well, maybe later.

“Just do what I do,” Sharon answered, “and say pretty much what I say. You’ll get your cues, don’t worry.”

When they entered the kitchen area, Wendy saw two naked curvy women suspended by their wrists from chains on ceiling hooks near the wall. The fact that the cuffs holding each ‘captive’s’ wrists were heavily padded to prevent discomfort didn’t escape her. Pink was already on site, evaluating the two women and obviously considering future dinners.

“Well,” Sharon said in a nasty tone, “looks like we’ve caught tonight’s dinner.” The two women looked at Sharon with terrified expressions and one made a small fearful noise. Pink flicked his ears in agreement.

“Wendy,” Sharon continued, “we need to check the meat. I’ll take the one on the left and you check the girl on the right.”

Wendy followed, still unsure of what she was doing, but beginning to get the idea of the game. Ergo, she frowned evilly at her victim.

Sharon ran a finger under the pubis of her girl. The fact that it eventually ended up inside her was shown when the captive woman arched her back and began to squirm. “Wendy, go ahead and check out yours. This one is already nice and open. Feels like really juicy meat, too.”

When Wendy inserted her finger into her own girl, she found Sharon was right. The everything was really juicy. Quite wet, in fact. As her ‘victim’ arched on her finger, Wendy began a slow gentle stroking motion, quite enjoying the way the woman squirmed and writhed. She was actually fucking Wendy’s finger. The bobbing of her breasts right in front of Wendy’s nose was appealing, too. Mouthing a nipple, Wendy bit down gently, to be rewarded with a rapid series of gasps, followed by a low, drawn out moan. The other captive climaxed about the same time.

“Okay,” Sharon said, “the prime filet is pretty good. Turn yours around, Wendy, and we’ll check them for ease of stuffing.”

This time the girl juice coated finger went deep between plump buttocks and far up into the woman’s ass. She began an urgent fucking motion again, helped along by Wendy’s other hand, around front stroking her clitoris. More gasps, then the same low moan. Wendy decided she could use a little stroking herself if this kept up.

Backing off from her girl, Sharon slapped a bare buttock, making the round smooth meat wobble. “Okay, Dana,” Sharon said, “you’re graded as prime. Want to stay here for a while, or should I let you down?”

“Down, please,” Dana replied in a weak, dreamy voice. “That was strong! I think we need to get in the hot tub and relax a little.” Louise readily agreed.

After Wendy helped Louise down and watched the two stagger off in the direction of the patio, she turned to Sharon. “I guess we do this sort of thing all the time?”

Sharon nodded. “Once a day or so. The muffins are pretty good about the regular stuff, cleaning up and like that, but you and I will be the ones helping their fantasies. You’ll get used to it, and it’s kind of fun.”

Wendy looked after the muffins. There was a sexual tension running through her body that gave her voice an edge as she said, “Well, that’s good for them, but I think I need something too. Mind if I go use that bedroom you said I now have?”

Sharon grinned. “Hell, girl, no need for frustration or masturbation in THIS house. We’ll both go try out that bed of yours. I don’t think we’ll be needed for a while.”

Later, things began to get stimulating for Wendy again, as she watched several of the muffins lead Darci, wrists bound behind her, to the kitchen island for preparation. Per his usual custom, Pink accompanied the procession. As they laid Darci belly down on the island top, Sharon brought out a big bowl of stuffing and set it beside the girl’s hips. “What’s in that?” Wendy asked.

“Bread, rice, some veggies and bits of breast meat,” Sharon answered. “Now, spread her cheeks and take the plug out of her bottom. I’ll start stuffing and you use that thick dowel there to push it in deeper and pack her ass nice and tight.”

Darci had a really round, firm and tight little ass. Wendy felt most of the same adjectives applied to herself, as well. At least the round and … round and… round and… well, the ‘round’ part applied. Oh well, Darci’s bottom had a nice feel to it. It was fun to watch, too, considering the way the girl wriggled and squirmed as Wendy packed stuffing with the dowel. Sharon topped off the stuffing with a bulbous vibrator to keep everything tightly packaged inside the girl.

Soon enough, Darci was ready to spit. The front half was inserted in her mouth and the bottom half carefully slid about eight inches up her cunt. Wendy tied Darci’s hands to her sides as Sharon tied off the girl’s ankles to the bottom part of the spit. When Sharon turned a serrated ring on the bottom half of the spit, Darci convulsed and went rigid, as though there was a real shaft run through her body. “Hypermagnetic,” Sharon explained. “The poles are in the two halves of the spit. Once the current’s on they get very rigid and it’s just like being on a solid spit. Feels that way, too, I’m told. The end up her cunt is tipped by an elecro-stimulator that gives some crazy wild sensations deep inside. Instant orgasm, and the muffins love it for role play. In a real cooking like this, a hypermagnetic spit keeps the girl alive longer, lets her have more orgasms before heat stroke gets her, and gives better flavor to her meat.”

Wendy nodded sagely at Sharon’s explanation, listening to every word, but she was really anticipating the next step: covering Darci’s curvy bare body with a layer of spiced oil for flavoring and protection from the heat. Soon enough, her oily hands were roaming and squeezing all over Darci’s nicely toned curves, aided by Sharon on the other side of the island.

Sharon gave a final rub to Darci’s tender inner thighs, then slapped the spitted girl on the butt cheek. “Okay, ladies, she’d ready to put on the fire. Belinda, Darci’s all yours, now.” Pink licked his lips in anticipation.

Belinda smiled and nodded her thanks as she watchfully supervised two of the muffins carefully transferring Darci to the rotisserie. Once the girl was over the heat, Belinda turned another ring on the lower spit and Darci convulsed again as the electro-stimulator eight inches up her pussy began its work. It was only the first of many repeated orgasms, aided by Belinda’s oily basting brush on various sensitive locations such as the base of her pubis and the juncture of her thighs and her buttocks. Breasts received extra attention, too.

Watching the supremely erotic sight of Darci rotating on her spit, the glowing heating elements producing glistening highlights off her trim curves, Wendy took a deep breath and let it out. Surprised, she discovered she was absently stroking her own pussy as she watched the girl writhe and convulse on the spit. Sharon put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly , then whispered in her ear. “Belinda says a woman that has plenty of pop-offs before and during cooking tastes better, and I have to agree. Watching also gets the rest of us plenty hot, too. Once she’s gone, you and I and maybe a couple of the muffins will go in back and work off the excitement. There’ll be plenty of time before she’s ready to come off the spit for carving and we’ll be in just the right mood for dinner.”

Wendy could only agree, and a kiss sealed the plan. Pink ignored the silly by play. He was concentrating on dinner.

Several days later, Wendy let herself through the front door of what was soon to become her former apartment. With Belinda giving her free room and board at her magnificent mansion, she saw absolutely no reason to waste money on her current dump, especially since she had to put up with a room mate. Her new room was beautifully and expensively decorated, had all the amenities, and there were always the muffins for entertainment, not to mention as the fixings for gourmet meals. In all, Wendy considered her new job as a real career move upscale.

Tossing her keys and purse on the hall table, she yelled out, “Hey, Jeanne, I’m back. How have things been?”

She didn’t get an immediate answer, although the stuff scattered around the place told her Jeanne was home. Jeanne was absolutely the sloppiest person on earth, another reason Wendy was happy to move out. Then there was the other reason…

Jean was a good ten years older than she was, but in excellent shape, with a round merry face and a really nice figure, as she had reason to know. Wendy, herself, wasn’t exclusively into girls, although it looked like she was headed that way as long as hot and cold running females continued to populate Belinda’s place. Jeanne, on the other hand, was into EVERYBODY. If there was a type of sex that Jeanne hadn’t tried in the two years since her divorce after ten years of a totally screwed up marriage, Wendy wasn’t aware of it. Apparently Jeanne never got enough from her old man, although it might be fair to say Jeanne never got enough from anyone. The woman was plain sex mad, and Wendy was only one of a large number of people fully aware of the fact. Not in Belinda’s active, imaginative class, but definitely up there.

In fact, Wendy was now wondering where the sex machine was at the moment. The rhythmic humming of a small motor, accompanied by a series of moans and gasps told her where to find the aforesaid sex machine, evidently accompanied by a real sex machine.

When she looked into Jeanne’s (messy) bedroom, she found her surmise confirmed. There was her roommate, buck naked, squatting slightly with her hands on her knees, over some kind of apparatus. There was a shaft sticking out of the top of a machine on the floor between Jeanne’s legs, pumping up and down, and the end of it was embedded in her cunt. Wendy’s respect for Jeanne’s ability to take a fuck was notched higher as she noticed how fast - and how deep - the shaft was pumping her pussy. Looked interesting, actually, even if Wendy was a tad tired from the last three days’ hi (and low) jinks at Belinda’s ranch. “Jeanne,” she called over the rising moans, “come on out when you’re finished. I’ve got something important to tell you.”

Wendy went back to the living room to get herself a drink, since there was going to be plenty of time to enjoy it. Jeanne wasn’t going to be tired of that fuck machine for some time yet. Hope the damn woman hadn’t killed all the bourbon again.

After a period that seemed interminable, but was only extravagantly long, a somewhat worn looking Jeanne came out of her bedroom wearing a bathrobe and a smile. “Hi,” she told Wendy, “how was your trip, or whatever? Did you get the job?”

Wendy nodded, nursing her second drink. Looking at the glass full of watered liquor and ice with pursed lips and the expression of someone about to give The News, she proceeded to give Jeanne The News. “I got the job. That’s where I’ve been the last three days while I assume you’ve been running up the electric bill. Now, here’s the bad part. I just came back to put my things in storage. I’m moving out. This place is all yours.”

Jeanne immediately took on a stricken look. Alimony paid for her life style, but it wouldn’t pay full rent on the apartment along with her other expenses, unless she went to work, and that was a Fate Worse Than Death. “Shit.”

“Nope,” Wendy said with a firm shake of her head. “I’m getting a good salary, a good place to live and a great lifestyle. You can have this dump. And the mess I’ve been trying to get you to clean up for months.

“Who did you have in here while I was gone?”

Still a bit in shock, Jeanne replied absently, “Oh, Raoul, Inez, Adam, Stacey…”

Wendy made a face. “You had an active three days.”

“That was the first night,” Jeanne replied absently, still trying to digest The News. “Besides, it was my turn. Next night…”

“Forget it!” Wendy said with exasperation. “Why, oh, why, did I ask? Look, Jeanne, this is a really nice gig I’ve stumbled into, but I could use some help getting my stuff together and out of here because they want me back by the end of the week. Can I get you to put away your toys and give me a hand?”

Jeanne grinned at her. “Hey, honey, no problem. I understand and I’m happy for you. Be glad to help, but you have to tell me all about it.”

Wendy was dubious about giving Jeanne all the details, not that the woman would be horrified. One of Jeanne’s favorite fantasies, bordering on mania, was becoming a cannibal meal. She’d even found the website that had put Wendy in contact with Belinda. In fact, Wendy thought with a mental snort, Jeanne was as bad as any spit muffin. Give her a ticket to Belinda’s place and…

The light went on.

“Jeanne,” Wendy said, her voice thoughtful, “stand up and take off your robe. I want to refresh my memory.”

“Huh?”

“Just please do it. I’ll do something nice for you and maybe I’ve got a proposition for you, too.”

Jeanne thought for a second, then smiled. The ‘something nice’ appealed to her, and the proposition might be interesting, too. Standing, she peeled off the robe to reveal a body that, while a bit fleshy, was still nicely curved with large nippled, D cup breasts over a thick but well defined waist and nicely rounded hips.

Wendy examined her soon to be ex-roommate with the education and attitude she’d gained in the last three days at Belinda’s. Bluntly, she was giving Jeanne a thorough meat evaluation. Strange, she thought to herself, she’d never thought of Jeanne as a prime source for plump, tender girlie pork, but, then again, she’d never thought of ANYONE that way before this week. However, the woman’s nicely rounded body aided her thoughts on the matter considerably. Jeanne obviously wasn’t a South Beach bikini model, but her curves were very attractive and there wasn’t any flab or cellulite anywhere.

Hm, let’s see. Upper arms thick enough for a beach cookout (she remembered a wonderful one her second night at Belinda’s and licked her lips), calves ditto. Jeanne’s belly looked nicely rounded - great for bacon. Her hips were wide and very fleshy, with plenty of nice cutlet meat. The thighs were large, but not too large. A roasted thigh would feed the whole crew with leftovers, Wendy decided. The real prize on the front was Jeanne’s quite plump pussy mound, hinting at a deliciously thick prime cut. Have to look at the pussy.

“C’mere, Jeanne,” Wendy said, “I need to check a few things.” When Jeanne obediently complied, Wendy squeezed her upper arms, the thick flesh over her hips and the tender meat of her inner thighs.

“Great!” Wendy rendered her verdict. “We’re not through yet. Turn around and bend over with your legs spread.”

Jeanne giggled and grinned. She didn’t know what Wendy was up to, but it was already fun. Again, she did as she was asked, bending over to grab her ankles and expose her cunt to the watching woman.

Yep, Wendy thought to herself, very thick outer pussy lips with plenty of gourmet meat. Funny how you could forget a thing like how a woman’s pussy looked. She’d had her tongue in Jeanne’s cunt plenty of times, but it was hard to remember visual details. Concentrating on something else. Okay, now for the ass and the backs of the thighs. “Stand up, please, legs together.”

Once Jeanne was in that posture, Wendy ran her hands over the smooth, round buttocks, hefting and jiggling both plump mounds to check their meat content and texture. Jeanne, Wendy decided, was sitting on some very nice roasts and steaks.

“Mind telling me what this was all about?” Jeanne asked, still facing away.

“Yes,” Wendy replied, slipping a finger between the Jeanne’s deep buttocks to run it lightly over the little bottom hole. “I’m giving you a meat evaluation. On the whole, I’d say you were prime. A really nice roaster.”

“Ooh,” Jeanne answered, enjoying the tingle between her thighs the words and actions gave her. She was a real roasting girl! Too bad there wasn’t anyone handy to throw her on a grill and find out how delicious she was! After a moment’s enjoyment, she continued, “Why this sudden interest in having my pussy on a platter?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking about,” Wendy answered, “especially considering how plump it is. Sit next to me on the couch and I’ll tell you all about Belinda’s Dairy and Meat Ranch, and what I’m doing. Actually, I think you might qualify for the milk part as well, considering those beauties you have on your chest.”

Wendy told the whole story of her three days at Belinda’s, including the daily milking (which set Jeanne to absentmindedly fondling her own breasts), but the part Jeanne liked best was the description of spitting and roasting Darci. As she listened to that part, Wendy’s juicy audience got a whole lot juicier. Jeanne was glassy eyed, gently stroking herself as Wendy described what Darci looked like on the spit, rotating over the heating elements. “Oh, Wendy!” Jeanne breathed. “You got to help with THAT? What did she taste like? No! Wait! Get me into position and you can tell me that part again. Oh, please, Wendy! I have to hear it again that way!”

Wendy shrugged with a grin. She knew exactly what “the position” entailed. Things were about to become fun.

A few moments later, Jeanne was in “the position”. In other words, she was naked, belly down on the kitchen island, her hands tied loosely at the small of her back, and Wendy was preparing to Do Things. First, she took a cut-down broomstick with the hollow shaft of a rubber strap-on slid over the end and pointed it at Jeanne’s mouth. “Here’s the front half of the spit. Open wide.”

With a big grin, Jeanne did as she was told. Bite marks on the rubber betrayed the fact that this wasn’t the first time the “front half of the spit” had been in her mouth.

Moving to the bottom end, Wendy slipped a thick vibrator between Jeanne’s full thighs, up under her round buttocks and into her cunt. Quite a ways into her cunt. Positioning another cut-down broomstick below the base of the vibrator and between Jeanne’s legs, Wendy proceeded to tie the older woman’s ankles to the stick. “There,” she said as she twisted the base of the vibrator to turn it - and Jeanne - on, “the other half of the spit is in you. Now you’re ready to cook.”

As Jeanne began to squirm and moan, Wendy told her yet again about cooking the girl at Belinda’s, and how the muffins were treated. She didn’t neglect to point out they were all going on a carving platter sooner or later, either. Of course, this last little bit only cranked the wriggling and accompanying sounds higher. After a few moments, Wendy began running her hand from Jeanne’s back across her buttocks to her thighs, enjoying the feel of the woman’s flesh and the flexing of the muscles as she happily fucked the humming machine deep in her pussy. Grabbing a handful of right butt cheek, Wendy squeezed hard, being rewarded with gasping, convulsing and a heavy humping motion that threatened to work Jeanne over the edge of the kitchen island and onto the floor.

Hm, that was a big one, Wendy mused, studying the limply moaning Jeanne. There were probably some more in there. Let’s find out. She set out to discover how many more times Jeanne would get off on her makeshift spitting. She’d tell her about the pink cat some other time.

Several days later, Wendy found herself naked in Belinda’s dairy room, bare hip pressed tightly to Jeanne’s bare hip as the two of them bent over with her forearms resting on a metal table. Wendy’s pubic hair was carefully trimmed, while Jeanne’s was Past Tense as of half an hour ago. Personal effects less items needed at the Dairy and Meat Ranch (Wendy, very little, Jeanne much less) were in storage. A phone call and interview had gotten Jeanne accepted as an official spit muffin, dairy grade. Now both women were ready to get the first of the hormone treatments that would allow them to give milk.

Sharon walked up behind the pair holding two squeeze bulbs with soft flexible nozzles about three feet in length. “Your hormones will be administered anally,” Sharon told them. “This is your first treatment, and you’ll need two more in the next couple of days. After that, once every three days will be enough to keep your milk flowing. Wendy, it’ll be part of your job to keep track of who needs an up-the-ass injection and when. Make sure each girl gets what she needs at the morning milking.”

Wendy nodded, then nodded again as Sharon asked, “Ready?”

With workmanlike efficiency, Sharon inserted one long greased nozzle completely up Wendy’s ass, nestling the bulb between her cheeks, and then the other up Jeanne’s butt. Stepping back slightly, Sharon squeezed both bulbs several times, making sure the women got all the contents. Then she slapped both plump rumps and commented, “All finished. We’ll do this again tomorrow after the milking. Pretty soon, you two will be putting out Grade A with the best of them.”

“Ummm,” Jeanne said, “that felt wild! I…”

They were interrupted by a series of loud pleas and squeals from the enema room down the hall. “What - ah - who’s that?!” Jeanne asked in slightly shocked tones.

Sharon looked in the direction of the noise with a slightly wry expression. “Belinda caught a bitch yesterday. Several of the muffins are cleaning her out for stuffing, three feet of two inch perforated hose up her ass. I think Belinda plans to oven roast her this afternoon.”

Jeanne’s eyes got glazed and her face took on a spaced, excited expression. “You’re really going to COOK her? Today? Oh… Oh, my…”

Taking one look at Jeanne, now stroking herself, Sharon waved to a nearby muffin. “Jeanne, up on the table on your back. Pull your knees back as far and as wide as you can. Looks like you need a good licking, girl. I’d do it, but Wendy and I have to help out with tonight’s dinner. Louise, here,” she indicated the bouncy blonde muffin, “will do the honors.”

As she and Sharon left the room, Wendy felt a little excited herself, glancing over her shoulder as the nicely rounded blonde dropped her face between Jeanne’s wide open thighs and got busy with her tongue to the accompaniment of some very interesting sound effects. Well, Wendy reflected, Jeanne really did have a very tasty pussy pie. On the other hand, this was Belinda’s Dairy and Meat Ranch, and that meant she was going to have her fill of nicely rounded female bodies in any combination or activity she chose, once she finished her chores. She licked her lips in anticipation at the thought.

As they walked down the hall towards the kitchen, Belinda came out of one of the other rooms and joined them. “My, ladies,” she remarked, cocking an ear at the various background noises, “it seems there are a number of rather vocal women at the moment. Is one of them the new girl, Jeanne?”

“That would be the moans and screams,” Sharon returned. “Yep, that’s her. The squeals and verbiage are Edie.”

Belinda nodded. “Jeanne sounds like she’s going to fit right in, dears.”

“Like a kid in a candy store,” Wendy muttered. Louder, she asked Belinda, “What makes Edie such a bitch that you decided to have her for dinner?”

“Well, dears,” Belinda explained in chirpy, bouncy tones that perfectly matched her jiggle and bustle, “the woman has a truly fabulous body, but an absolutely horrible attitude. Everyone is just lower than dirt to her. Would you believe she was bragging about catching the little dog belonging to the child living next to her and dropping it off at the pound, simply because she couldn’t stand its barking? Fortunately, I was able to make a few phone calls and have the poor thing returned to its home, but that was truly cruel. Of course, she has bragged about any number of other actions such as that in her past, enough so that I feel I’m doing a service to society by having her for dinner tonight. Why, just listen to her!”

Wendy didn’t have to listen hard. A drunkenly slurred voice was slowly growing in strength as its owner approached the kitchen. “Put me down, damn you, bitches! I’ll have you and everyone else in this hell hole so tied up in the courts that you’ll be homeless and starving in a week!” There was a great deal more in this vein, none calculated to make the hearer fall madly in love with Edie. Ergo, Edie had far more ego than brains.

Sure enough, several of the muffins were frog-marching a spectacularly curved blonde in her late twenties, wearing nothing but shower sandals, into the kitchen area. The woman was drunkenly limp, her balance helped not at all by having her hands bound behind her. “YOU! You damned asshole!” she screamed as she caught sight of Belinda. “You set me up for this! I’ll jam your mouth open and pull your bowels out through your throat! I’m going to jam a bed lamp down your throat and out your ass, you miserable, ugly…”

Calmly, Belinda reached over to a counter and, picking up a spare ball gag, jammed the ball into the furious woman’s open mouth, thereby muffling the recitation of intended atrocities. “I really think it was a mistake to leave her ungagged, even if it is sometimes a naughty bit enjoyable.”

Sharon finished fastening the gag with undisguised satisfaction. “About damn time.”

Wendy found herself staring with amazement at Edie’s huge globular breasts. “Those things are each as big as my head,” she said in slightly awed tones.

Belinda reached over and hefted one. “Oh, not quite, love,” she said, “but they are good sized. I think I’d like to try a recipe I just got from another femme de cuisine chef, Stuffed Breast. You core the breast to remove the glands and most of the fat, then stuff them with spiced chopped meat so they’re full and round. Bake carefully, glaze with woman’s milk, and I’m told they make a superb entree. These two would make a wonderful luncheon platter don’t you think?”

Edie let go with another muffled scream and more garbled presumed threats, demands for release, etc. Her struggles were slow and wobbly, however.

“Belinda’s home chemistry set in action,” Sharon commented. “Sedatives, muscle relaxers, and - I’m guessing - at least one major sexual stimulant. Right, Belinda?”

Belinda nodded absently, still fondling Edie’s huge jugs. “Naturally, dearest, quite a lot, in fact. I do, after all, want her to gain some enjoyment.” Frowning at the continued stream of muffled invective and threats, she continued in calm tones, “On the other hand, I’m perfectly certain her little bottom hole is still not open enough for proper stuffing. Would you care to help her along in that area? If nothing else, I’m certain that will get her into the spirit of things.”

Sharon nodded with grim satisfaction. “Glad to, Belinda, but don’t you want first shot?”

Belinda favored Sharon and Wendy with a bright smile. “I did that last night, dears, and it was quite a ride, I must say. I’m sure she still has it in her, so go ahead and have fun. There are things I need to attend to.” With that she bustled from the room.

Following Sharon’s instructions, Wendy helped her pull Edie across the kitchen island until her belly was flat on the counter, her huge breasts compressed beneath her curvy body. As she fastened the weakly struggling Edie’s wrists with the cuffs attached to the counter, Wendy reflected only Belinda’s house would have a kitchen island with cuffs as an accessory. Sharon fastened the woman’s ankles, leaving her secured and vulnerable, her plush buttocks nicely bent and prominent.

As she watched Sharon extract a rather outsized strap-on from a kitchen drawer, another unique facet of Belinda’s kitchen, Wendy asked, “Are we about to do what I think we’re about to do?”

Sharon nodded with an ominous smile. “Yep.”

Wendy noticed two small plugs attached to the inner part of the harness. “What are those for?”

“The wearer,” Sharon explained as she donned the strap-on and inserted the plugs in appropriate locations. “One goes in your pussy and one in your ass. You get to have as much fun as the girl getting the shaft.”

“I’d like to try that.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Sharon replied with a grin, applying a liberal coat of oil to the long thick shaft. “You’ll get to. Now, go around front and watch while I get set to give Edie a big surprise.”

When Wendy walked around so Edie could see her, the woman was scowling fiercely. As she caught sight of Wendy, the scowl, and the fury behind it, focused on her. Edie had a round face, with dark eyebrows and blue eyes, and the sort of underlying cast to her features that made you think she had anger management problems. Well, Wendy thought, listening to muffled threats and insults from behind the ball gag, whatever issues Edie had were about to be settled. Wendy could just make out the words “bitch”, “destroy”, “lawyer”, and something else that was chopped off as Edie’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Sharon had positioned the head of the strap-on right between Edie’s cheeks, at her little bottom hole. When Sharon grabbed Edie’s hips and bumped forward, seating the shaft three or four inches up her ass, Edie’s eyes shot widely open and round, and her mouth made a gasping “O” around the gag. Wendy loved the expression.

After Sharon had fully seated the shaft and begun pumping for a few minutes, Edie’s eyes half closed and her face took on a goofy, out of it sort of expression. Yep, Belinda’s sex drug was at work. Edie was even slamming her butt back to match Sharon’s pumping. “My turn next,” Wendy called.

“Hang on, girl,” Sharon replied through gritted teeth as she rode Edie, “we’re almost there.”

A few minutes worth of moans and groans later, Sharon rammed her hips tight against Edie’s buttocks, Edie convulsed, and both women let out identical sounds. Wendy, thoroughly enjoying the show, was ready to play as soon as positions could be switched.

Wendy was in the saddle and finishing a great ride when a voice said, “Oh, can I play, too?” It was Jeanne.

After her turn, and a short rest collapsed over the limp Edie’s back, Wendy didn’t even bother removing the shaft from the bent over woman’s ass, just slipping the straps off and the plugs (wonderful idea, that!) from her own body. Jeanne was strapped in and riding merrily in no time after that. “Come on,” Wendy told Sharon, “we’ve got plenty of time to prepare the stuffing.” Sharon looked at Wendy in some surprise at that statement, but joined her in the kitchen preparations.

Half hour or so later, Jeanne was still going strong, although Edie was just lying across the island with a stunned ox expression on her face. Wendy shooed Jeanne on her way, then bent to check the condition of Edie’s bottom hole. Spreading the limp future dinner’s cheeks, one glance was sufficient. “Oh, yeah,” she commented to Sharon, “she’ll be easy to stuff. It looks like the Holland Tunnel.”

They left Edie still bent over and proceeded to push most of a large bowl of stuffing made from rice, meal and chipped girl meat up her gaping ass with absolutely no resistance. Getting Edie on her back on the island was a little harder, because she was still totally limp and out of it. Wendy took the situation with nonchalant pragmatism. Usual result of an extended session with Jeanne. Working together, Sharon and Wendy pulled Edie’s legs back, crossed her ankles and tied them together, then bound her wrists to her ankles as well. That would hold her open so her prime filet and belly meat would cook evenly. After that, all they had to do was position the huge globes of Edie’s breasts so her upper arms would hold them upright and cover her body with flavored basting oil. A small apple in the mouth replaced the ball gag. Sharon inserted two vibrators, one in Edie’s cunt and the other in her bottom. They would keep the woman going as she began to roast and help hold in the stuffing.

Looking at Edie, prepared for roasting and resting quietly on her pan, Sharon had a thought. Orgasms produced a flood of endorphins and hormones that flavored the meat. Edie’s extended - VERY extended -session with Jeanne, plus the vibrators, ought to have her coming out very, very flavorful.

Everyone, including Pink, was gathered around to watch Edie be inserted into the oven. Before closing the glass oven door, Sharon, with a flourish, turned on both vibrators. The oven was programmed to bring up the heat very slowly. By the time Edie would really be conscious of the heat, she would already be cooking and not really care, courtesy of the vibrators and the sex drug. Studying Edie’s leaking cunt, Sharon decided that there would be plenty of juice to add to the basting solution. This one was going to be quite tasty.

Looking at Edie’s glistening and limply squirming body in the oven, Belinda remarked, “She’s moving nicely, but she seems a bit less than energetic.”

“Jeanne,” Sharon said, then explained.

Belinda frowned slightly at that. “I really must explain to the girl that moderation is a virtue. If she had a little more energy left, Edie would put on quite a show.”

Good luck, Wendy thought, then put the idea of Jeanne behind her. This was a good time to grab a muffin and head for a couch. A good fuck before dinner sounded like a plan to her, especially since dinner was going to be a juicy haunch of nicely fleshed roast bitch. Marvelous.

Several days later, Belinda, Sharon and Wendy were gathered on the patio for a little conference. Wendy glanced down at her own nipples, linked together by a little silver chain that pulled her breasts together like Sharon’s golden one. She’d been awarded the chain once she’d started giving milk, as a badge of office. She wasn’t quite as noisy and wiggly about being milked as Jeanne, but she still enjoyed the sensations. Nice way to wake up in the morning. Looking up at Belinda’s slight frown, Wendy commented, “This has the look of a discussion about my ex-roommate.”

Belinda nodded. “I’m afraid so, dear. While I enjoy sexual enthusiasm in women, Jeanne seems to have an overabundance of sexual energy.”

Sharon was more direct. “She’s as randy as a rabbit on crystal meth, and she’s wearing out the girls.”

Wendy sighed. “She got this way after her divorce. She was bad enough in the apartment, but she’s really running wild, now.”

“She’s the only person I’ve ever met that was ready for an orgy after I finished with her,” Belinda added. “Not that I’m personally complaining, but she seems to be tiring out the other girls in the house.”

Sharon snorted. “Exhausting them is a better term.” She waved at the large selection of bare female flesh on the patio, all of which was flopped in various stages of collapse. Even Pink was curled up and sleeping on one soft and accommodating female body. “If I let her, she’d go through all of them in a day and start over the next morning. I tried tying her up in the cage, telling her it was role play, just to let everyone get a rest, but she was twice as charged up when I released her. Hell, that crazy broad is actually wearing out some of the sex toys! She grabs them when she can’t find a muffin to take to bed, and I’ve had to double the stock of vibrator batteries.”

“Well,” Belinda mused, “we may just have to do something, if for no other reason than to retain the ambiance of the Ranch. We can’t have the girls so tired and worn out. Things just simply aren’t as much fun that way. It’s a pity she’s on the bottom of the cooking list, you know. She has just such lovely meat, made for a spit.”

“I guarantee everyone else will be ready to see her cook,” Sharon said. “They’ll be cheering the rotisserie for more than one reason.”

“Actually,” Wendy added contritely, “I’m kind of sorry I brought her here. I just thought she seemed the perfect woman for the Ranch.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, dear,” Belinda said absently, her face looking off in the distance. Belinda was obviously thinking heavily. “Jeanne is very much a spit muffin, and she has such nice meat. It will be wonderful to have her gracing our table.

“Hmmm…,” she added, “where is she now?”

Sharon waved a thumb inside. “The living room, on top of Mandy. If you want any peace and quiet, you won’t get it in there.”

“Yes, I see.” Belinda’s voice turned decisive. “Sharon, dearest, please announce that there will be a Best Butt competition tomorrow. The winner’s prize will, of course, be the usual one. She will be cooked that afternoon.”

Wendy wasn’t sure what was going on, but Sharon, with her extensive knowledge in how Belinda thought, seemed to know what was happening. “Okay, Belinda, you got it. The muffins will certainly enjoy the contest.”

Belinda and Sharon smiled at each other knowingly as Wendy looked from one to the other, beginning to understand the idea. She joined in the smiles.

The next morning’s milking was a little different. Belinda came in to personally milk Sharon and Wendy, something she often did, but the rest of the milk girls were only partially drained. Sharon explained as they walked back out to the patio, “The milk muffins are only milked enough for comfort. After tonight’s dinner is chosen, the losers will come back here to the dairy and we’ll finish milking them. If a milk muffin gets chosen for the spit, we like to have her breasts good and full. That’s wonderful for a number of recipes, so we only milk the girls about half way the morning of a contest.”

“Speaking of breasts, dearest,” Belinda commented, “I’m planning stuffed breast as a luncheon after the contest. I stuffed Edie’s breasts yesterday afternoon and they’re in the fridge marinating in a milk sauce. I’ll put them on to slow cook just before the contest.”

Wendy lost herself in a delicious reverie about Edie’s super sized globes as Sharon replied, “Yum! Those things looked so nice. Well, given their size, there’ll be plenty for everyone. Hey, what say we get some coffee?”

They were sitting on the patio drinking coffee, waiting for the muffins to finish their morning enemas when Sheila, one of the muffins Wendy didn’t know too well, approached them almost in tears. Sheila was a brunette in her mid-twenties and, Wendy noted, the possessor of a nicely rounded figure with a highly prominent pubic mound. “Belinda,” she said between barely suppressed sniffles, “why can’t I be in the contest?”

Belinda smiled, took Sheila’s hand, and pulled her down to sit on her lap. The touch of her bare bottom to Belinda’s equally bare thighs and lap seemed to brighten the girl’s spirits some. Putting a comforting arm around Sheila’s shoulders, Belinda hugged her warmly. “There, there, dear. No cause for disappointment. Remember, we talked about this when you volunteered for hormone treatment. We must wait until it’s fully completed before we cook you. While I grant the results so far have been very successful, we must continue on to see how much development we can attain. I promise you we’ll have you right at the top of the list for the kitchen soon, and you’ll get your choice as to how you will be prepared.” Sheila gave Belinda bright smile and an enthusiastic kiss.

Seeing Wendy’s slight look of confusion, Belinda lifted the girl back on her feet. “Sheila and I have been conducting an experiment,” she explained. “I’m trying to find a hormone treatment that will create a top grade cooking girl, and together we’ve found one. Now we’re trying to determine how much improvement can be made.”

Belinda squeezed one of Sheila’s very firm and round C cup breasts, breasts that stood out so well that Wendy had assumed the girl had the dreaded breast implants. “Sheila, ladies, doesn’t have implants. One effect of the hormone is to increase the muscle sheath of the breasts enough to make them a true main dish.”

“She was a very nice B cup when she came here,” Sharon interjected, “and everything you see has been grown since. We don’t want to do that with the milk muffins, because that would reduce their capacity, but the non-milkers would really benefit.”

“All women would benefit,” Belinda said virtuously, “and I hope to release the treatment to the public once it’s perfected.”

Making more women highly suitable for the dinner table, Wendy thought to herself. Purely an unanticipated side benefit. Sure.

“There’s another major effect,” Belinda commented, sliding her hand down to squeeze Sheila’s extraordinarily plump pussy mound. “The treatment causes the flesh around her pussy to develop as well. Turn around, bend and spread, dear.”

When Sheila did, Wendy saw the girl was the proud possessor of really thick and meaty outer pussy lips. Sheila’s prime filet was a full meal in itself.

“Thank you, love,” Belinda continued. “Now stand up and put your legs together. Yes. Notice how full her thighs are, which means the tender inner flesh of the upper thighs is quite bountiful. Also her buttocks are now extraordinarily prominent, smooth, and round. See, when I push my finger between them to touch he little bottom hole, it’s almost buried in plump meat. Of course, the hip cutlets have benefited as well, with very nice tone. In all, ladies, Sheila has truly superb platter potential.”

Sheila smiled brightly, happy with the compliment. Wendy thought she was totally off her rocker, but what the hell. The girl really would be something special when she finally got spitted, or whatever.

As she appreciatively watched Sheila happily jiggle back into the house, Sharon put the capper on the episode. “USDA Prime, courtesy of Belinda’s little chemistry set and noble intentions for all edible womankind.”

“Of course, dearest,” Belinda preened. “I believe in doing the best I can for the public good.” All three of them laughed.

The Best Butt contest was held in the usual location for such things, the wide area of the patio across the pool from the outdoor rotisserie and cooking pit. All of the muffins were excited and happy at the prospect, since it meant that the winner would be able to jump the regular order and realize her ultimate fantasy early. There was the atmosphere of competition, of course, but nobody got too worked up over it. The general feeling was that the winning woman was fortunate, but the contest itself was enjoyable because it was it was another event that allowed them to stomp their inhibitions under heel and have fun doing it. The prospect of winning an early trip to the kitchen was simply icing on the cake.

Nobody ever said spit muffins were playing with a full deck.

The judges - Belinda, Sharon, Wendy, and Pink - took their seats in pool chairs, while Sheila stood by to assist in any little matter needed. Since the muffins were already assembled, everything was ready for the contest. Wendy noticed something. “Hey, guys, look at Jeanne.”

Jeanne had taken cooking twine and bound her large breasts together, the same way breasts were bound to keep them from flopping when their owner was rotating on a spit. Belinda looked amused and Sharon smiled dryly. “Well, it’s obvious what SHE’s angling for,” she commented. Then she added with a shake of her head and a wry tone, “Looks kind of natural, though. Hope we can accommodate her.”

Belinda stood up and clapped her hands to still the inevitable muffin chatter. “Ladies, ladies, please pay attention.” When everything got quiet, she continued. “Now, most of you know the contest rules, but I’ll repeat them for those of you, like Jeanne, that have never competed. First, we will judge your bottom as you move, so you will walk back and forth in front of the judges and let us see how your rear moves.” That brought a few giggles and shimmies from the muffins.

Belinda smiled at the by play. “Next, ladies, we will judge you individually for the overall shape of your bottom. The criteria here will be how well it matches your body type, as well as meat content. When you come up in front of the judges, turn around and stand relaxed and straight. We will look you over, then handle your cheeks to check meat tone. A lot of girls enjoy that part.” More giggles. “Next, we will check you for ease of stuffing, using this calibrated plug I’m holding. Finally, everyone lines up and we’ll compare everyone at the same time. Once we tally our scores, I will announce the winner. Any questions, dears? No? Then let’s begin!”

One at a time, the girls began to saunter towards the judges, then, turning right in front of the three women, walking back with an exaggerated wiggly stroll that waved their bottom cheeks in an interesting variety of directions. Wendy, not previously a connoisseur of the female rear, found herself enjoying the show immensely. While watching each girl carefully, Belinda commented to her, “Dear, the rump is one of the three or four places that contain the best meat on a woman, certainly the best place for a nice succulent steak or roast. If you study each girl’s cheeks carefully, the little jiggles in the movement will tell you who has the most tender flesh. I grade each girl accordingly.”

Wendy found herself comparing her own ass against the ones waggling in front of her, wondering how she’d measure up to the competition, or if she’d win. That’s when her thoughts stopped dead. First prize was a one way trip to the kitchen. Eyeing Belinda sidelong, she shuddered.

Sharon, noticing Wendy’s shudder, leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I wondered about myself, too, the first time I judged one of these things, girl, bragging to myself I could win it. Believe me, I realized pretty damn quick that was a dangerous thought process in THIS house. Glad to see you regained your sanity.” She patted Wendy on her shoulder and both went back to judging the contest, all thoughts of comparisons and contests completely banished.

Sharon noticed Sheila, standing nearby, obviously pouting as everyone, including Pink, happily watched the girls shake their butts on stage. Sheila was in such a funk, she was positively boot lipped. Sharon leaned over and gently nudged Belinda, indicating the morose woman.

Belinda gave Sheila a glance, then sighed gently. “Dear,” she said gently, “why don’t you bring one of the pool loungers over here and stretch out next to me? I’d very much enjoy having you to hand while watching this very stimulating show. After all, you really do have the best bottom in the Ranch.”

Sheila brightened up and scooted off to get a pool lounger. In only a moment, she was on her belly on the lounger, chin resting on her crossed arms, and lying within easy reach. As she continued to judge each contestant, Belinda’s left hand strayed down and began caressing Sheila’s lower back, butt - especially her butt - and upper thighs. Sheila was quite happy, especially when Belinda’s stroking hand occasionally gave one of her tasty cheeks a little tweak or squeeze.

When Jeanne came down the “runway”, Wendy had to admit she put on quite a show. Not only was she pacing, fashion model style, long rapid steps with one foot directly in line with the other, but she was swinging her shoulders as well. That gave her a lot of hip motion and caused her bound breasts to swing from side to side. Her big, erect nipples only added to the picture as they swayed back and forth together.

Jeanne spun on her heel for the return trip, rapidly enough to cause her breasts to swing again, and the show from the rear was even more active and appetizing. Her buttocks swung with her hip motion, flexing, grinding together swinging back and forth, accompanied by a good bit of joggling and jiggling, not only in her cheeks, but the tender flesh of her upper thighs and upper hips, as well. Jeanne, true to her nature, was putting on a highly active show that was really stimulating a number of appetites. Wendy couldn’t decide if she wanted to immediately fuck Jeanne or throw her on a grill. Both, she decided. She was certainly going to give Jeanne a very high score for this performance!

The remainder of the contestants were fun, although not quite at Jeanne’s level. Wendy had fun judging, but she found herself wondering what Jeanne would pull out of her nonexistent hat for the next part of the contest.

The hands-on part was fun, no other word for it. When she’d first gotten hired at Belinda’s, Wendy had been a bit skittish about ‘handling the stock’, i.e. fondling naked women. Although, truth be known, she was also buck naked, enjoyed being stroked herself, and Jeanne, even when they weren’t in bed together, was the touchy-feely sort. The muffins soon cured her of any inhibitions. In the relaxed and casual intimacy of Belinda’s Ranch, all of the girls enjoyed being stroked, squeezed, fondled, etc. They also enjoyed returning the favor at any and every opportunity. It didn’t take long for fun and sensual enjoyment to run nasty old inhibitions right up a tree. Wendy was thoroughly and happily familiar with the feel of the exterior and portions of the interior of every woman in the place including, and especially, Belinda. The difference this time was that she was being presented with an opportunity to fondle the butt of every muffin in the place except Sheila. Officially, no less.

Tough job, but she’d bear up under it. After all, she’d been bare up under it a time or two, also.

NEXT POST

Carefully watching Belinda and Sharon, Wendy decided on a system for judging a girl’s bottom for meat suitability. When it came her turn to evaluate the first candidate, she started with her hands at the base of the buttocks, then gently ran them up around the roundest part, then out to the sides, kneading the meat slightly as she went. Each buttock got a little heft to check bounce, then another squeeze. She was rewarded with a shiver by the muffin as her hands gently stroked the tender bottom flesh. Hm, she decided, good quality meat, tender and ripe. She gave the plump ass another little squeeze and shake before sitting back down. This judging bit, she decided, was great!

After all three judges had fondled the muffin’s butt to get an appreciation for its quality, Belinda told her to bend over. Then she inserted the plug, a long thick rounded dowel with ruler markings on it, gently up the girl’s ass until it met resistance or got a wince. Noting the depth on her clipboard, Belinda signaled for the next candidate.

Most of the girls made low noises as they were penetrated by the plug. Obviously, Belinda’s policy of ‘loosening up a girl for stuffing’ was not only proving successful, it was being very well received by those being loosened up. More than one muffin was a little rubber kneed as she walked back to the group. All were smiling.

As Jeanne’s name was called, she bent slightly for a moment, reaching around behind herself, then minced out in front of the judges. Said judges discovered a moment later that the mincing wasn’t an affectation. When Jeanne turned around, it was discovered that she had inserted a thick stemmed meat thermometer up her ass. Belinda ruled the thermometer legal, since there was nothing in the rules against it. A variety of envious ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ comments were heard from the muffin gaggle.

Meat judging went on with the thermometer in place, and Wendy noted on her clipboard that Jeanne’s buttocks were of superbly high quality. They were certainly in the ‘roast now’ category, if not quite as well shaped as some others. Wendy was ready to salt and pepper Jeanne’s ass right there on the patio.

Needless to say, Jeanne scored extremely high on the penetration index.

Once the girls lined up for the comparison stage of the judging, it was easy to see that Jeanne was right up there among the top of a top quality assemblage of posteriors. Pink even got into the act, marching down the line and sniffing ankles. When he came to Jeanne, he sniffed a little higher up (Jeanne was emitting pheromones like crazy) and made his choice known by rubbing against her calves.

Belinda smiled at the cat, then studied the three judges’ forms for a moment and picked up a set of cuffs from a nearby table. She approached the line, then walked down it, trailing a finger gently across each woman’s butt as she passed. Stopping behind Jeanne, she gathered her wrists and cuffed her hands behind her back. “Ladies,” she announced, “we have selected a winner. Jeanne will be tonight’s dinner.”

As is the tradition in beauty contests, Jeanne was mobbed by the losers offering kissy-kissy congratulations although Wendy thought she detected a note of relief in the heartfelt good wishes. Jeanne, of course, was ecstatic, even more so when Belinda adjourned the proceedings and said she was going to take Jeanne off, still cuffed, to a bedroom to celebrate her victory right after lunch. Sharon and Wendy were tasked to finish the muffin milking, then got to console a couple of the losers. Wendy decided to try out Sheila and get a first hand - pun intended - feeling - pun again intended - for what the hormone treatment was doing.

Lunch was first: Edie’s stuffed breasts. Sharon commented, “Oh boy, a pair of Whoppers for lunch.”

Everyone enjoyed the meal, including Jeanne. She wasn’t allowed to eat, due to her impending date with a roasting spit, but Belinda allowed her a nipple to munch on while she was sitting on a restraining stool. Since the stool had removable pegs slid up through the bottom and into her pussy and ass, Jeanne found the meal quite a treat.

Sharon and Wendy were in the living room some time later when Belinda came out of the back. Amazingly enough, Belinda was looking a little frazzled, and Sharon was aghast. “Belinda!” she said in surprise, verging on mild shock. “What the hell happened? We heard all the yelling and squealing. I mean, who the hell couldn’t? They probably heard you two in Bombay! I just thought it was more of Jeanne’s enthusiasm.”

Belinda shakily made herself a strong, VERY strong, drink and plopped on a nearby settee. “Ladies, Jeanne is so insatiable, I’m not sure King Kong could satisfy her! Believe me, I tried, but that woman is so worked up everything I did just got her more excited. Frankly, she’s a bit frightening.”

“But, Belinda…” Wendy started to say, but Belinda waved her down.

“Oh, that’s all right, dear,” Belinda said, taking another gulp of her drink. “The very thought of being spit roasted is what has her so turned on. She’s really quite nice, but circumstances have turned her into Frankenstein’s sex monster. I don’t dare let her close to the rest of the girls in her present condition. Right now, she’s tied up on the bed.”

“Tied up?” Sharon asked blankly, her face showing more than mild shock by this time.

Belinda nodded. Another slug of booze. “Moaning and squirming through yet another orgasm at the thought of being restrained before cooking. At least, she was when I left.”

“If she wore you out, she’s a danger to humanity,” Sharon said in wonder.

Belinda nodded. “I’m quite certain, dearest, that that woman has absolutely no need of the sex hormone for her to enjoy being spitted. That would be carrying coals to Newcastle. Between sessions, she told me she wants to be spitted the old fashioned way, with a one piece spit pushed through her manually, and that she’s going to pretend it’s an involuntary spitting. I’m not sure what other requests she has, because, once she said that, her eyes glazed over and we were back at it again.”

“Things are about to get very noisy in the kitchen. That is, if you plan on honoring her request, “Sharon commented dryly. She was beginning to regain her composure.

Belinda nodded. She was also coming back to her old self. The drink was also just about gone. “Of course, dearest. I always try to accommodate the meat’s wishes when practical. This should be quite a show.”

Sharon shook her head in wonder. “Brother! Quite a show is right! Oh well, at least we’ll all be able to get some rest when she’s safely on a platter.” The other two women solemnly nodded agreement.

The first step to getting Jeanne on a platter came about in only a short while after the conversation. Belinda, Sharon and Wendy were in the kitchen, laying out various utensils, including a one piece carbon fiber ventilated spit, when the sound of loud pleas, moans and short terrified screams came from the back, growing slowly louder. The noise was shortly accompanied by two of the muffins, holding a writhing and struggling Jeanne (freshly washed and scrubbed) between them. “OH, PLEASE, PLEASE, YOU CAN’T BE DOING THIS HORRIBLE THING TO ME! AAAAAHHH! NO! YOU AREN’T GOING TO COOK ME ALIVE!” Followed by more of the same.

Wendy was staring, fascinated at Jeanne’s behavior, when she felt a hand nudge her arm. Looking down, she saw Sharon’s hand holding a set of ear plugs. Sharon didn’t say anything or look at Wendy, just watching Jeanne’s show. Without comment, Wendy took the plugs and put them in her ears. Pink, also an interested spectator, was obviously wishing for cat-sized earplugs of his own.

Belinda looked at the struggling Jeanne for a moment, then said, “Jeanne, dear, would you please come over here and lie down on the spitting jig?”

The spitting jig looked like a padded sawhorse with cuffs for wrists and ankles on its legs and torso straps attached to the long center piece.

Back to Jeanne. “NO! THIS CAN’T BE FOR REAL! YOU AREN’T GOING TO TIE ME TO THAT! Of course, Belinda. There… is that good?”

Belinda nodded as she efficiently cuffed the writhing woman’s completely unresisting ankles, then uncuffed her wrists and fastened them to the jig’s legs when Jeanne compliantly put them in the open cuffs. “Yes, dear, that will be just fine. All I need to do is fasten the body straps and you’ll be secure enough to spit. Remember not to move while I’m spitting you, now. We wouldn’t want to hurt you or damage something.”

Wendy whispered in Sharon’s ear. “Is it just me, or was there something screwy about that last line?”

Sharon just rolled her eyes and nodded. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that question, either,” she whispered back.

The noise started up again. “AAAAHHHH! NO, PLEASE! OH, PLEASE DON’T RUN THAT POLE THROUGH MY BODY! OH, YOU’RE SO CRUEL! AAAAHHHH! AAAAHHHH… oooooh! I love that!” Belinda had inserted the spit about eight inches up Jeanne’s pussy and was moving it in and out to stimulate her. The almost immediate orgasm caused Jeanne’s cunt to contract, guiding the spit at the proper angle for penetrating her body. Belinda was an old hand at spitting a woman.

Jeanne: “OOOHHH! THIS IS AGONY. HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A HORRIBLE THING TO ANOTHER WOMAN? PLEASE STOP! Ouch! Sorry, Belinda, got a bit of pain out of that one. I CAN’T TAKE MUCH MORE! HAVE MERCY!”

Belinda: “Oh, my dear, I do apologize. I really didn’t mean to let the tip stray like that, however, you really must stop squirming so much while I’m pushing the spit through you. It makes it terribly hard to avoid hurting you, and I really don’t want to do that.”

Jeanne: “AAAAHHHH! NO, PLEASE NO! Sorry I moved, Belinda. I’ll try hard not to do it again. Can I at least strain my arms and legs? It’s just so much fun. HELP, SOMEBODY!”

Belinda: “Of course, dear, but please do try not to move your torso while I’m inserting the spit.”

Jeanne: “WHY, OH WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? I’ll try very hard. AAAAHHHH!”

Screams, pleas for mercy, etc. continued as Belinda slowly ran the shaft through Jeanne, punctuated by the occasional convulsion and orgasm as the pole brushed along the woman’s clitoris. “AAAAHHHH! OH, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS! IT CAN’T BE HAPPENING! AAAAhhhh… OOooohhhhh.!” The convulsion and moan signaled the biggest orgasm yet.

Things finally got quiet as the spit passed over Jeanne’s voicebox, shutting off her ability to make noise. Without urging, she held her head at the proper angle for the spit to run up her throat and opened her mouth wide to let it out.

Wendy took a moment to look around her and take in the situation in the kitchen. Here she was, buck naked, in a kitchen area packed with equally bare women, watching another naked woman spit her deliciously well fleshed ex-roommate so she could be put on a rotisserie to roast for dinner. Nothing but female flesh in sight, one nice specimen of it on a pole. Not only that, but she was considering this scene normal. Was she nuts, or just adapting to woman eating paradise? Reaching over, she gently squeezed the jiggling tit of the quivering muffin next to her, earning a pleasant smile, and decided she was in paradise.

With Sharon’s help, Belinda secured Jeanne’s arms to her sides and her legs to the spit, then used the pole to lift her writhing, squirming body onto the kitchen island to rest on her belly. Wendy got the bowl of stuffing, pulled the plug from Jeanne’s butt, and began to push handfuls of the mixture up her ass. Occasionally she would tamp the stuffing further up with a long dowel, then back to packing the stuffing up Jeanne’s plush butt. It was rather enjoyable to see Jeanne involuntarily flex and her plush buttocks contract each time the dowel was shoved into her ass, and Wendy decided stuffing a girl was fun.

Belinda shoved a plug into Jeanne’s packed butt to hold the stuffing in place, commenting, “I usually use a vibrator, to further stimulate the woman, but Jeanne doesn’t need any help.”

Wendy could only agree.

Jeanne’s bountiful breasts were already bound together; they’d never been released during sex with Belinda. Her hair was already put up to keep it from being singed in the heat. In all, she was judged ready to cook and carefully transferred to the rotisserie on the patio. The heat was already on low, and would build slowly as she began to cook. Real cooking temperature wouldn’t be reached until after heat stroke got her, but she’d be able to smell herself roasting long before then, another stated fantasy of hers.

Once Jeanne was on the rotisserie and the motor going, it was obvious to Wendy that Jeanne, screwy as it was, was enjoying herself. Her hip motion showed she was fucking the spit as she turned, and the frequent convulsions broadcast the resulting -frequent - orgasms. Wendy found Jeanne’s body beautiful as it rotated over the heat, squirming and writhing in a supremely erotic show.

Apparently everyone else did, too. Several of the muffins were already stealing quickies on the pool loungers, but Wendy decided she wanted to do something else. Jeanne after all, used to be her roommate and was still her friend, even if she was an insatiable sexual headache.

Wendy took the basting brush from Sheila, who had been detailed for the chore, and began to brush seasoned oil over Jeanne’s slowly rotating body, paying particular attention to her breasts, pubis, the inner backs of her thighs and the crease of her buttocks. Occasionally, she’d dip her brush into Jeanne’s juices in the catch pan and smear them on her body for added flavor. From the way Jeanne was moving when she was brushed, the sensations were very exciting to her. Wendy stopped for a moment and walked around the front of the rotisserie. Looking into the woman’s still open eyes, she said, “Jeanne, honey, I just want to let you know it’s me basting you. I’m here, and I’m going to be here as long as you are with us.”

Wendy reached between her thighs and began to stroke herself. “You just keep going, Jeanne honey. I’m going with you. We’ll pop as many as we can, just like back in the apartment.” Jeanne blinked, and Wendy thought she saw her try to form a grateful smile around the spit projecting from her mouth. Then Jeanne closed her eyes and began slowly pumping her hips on the spit, fucking it as much as her position allowed. Wendy was happy to see her friend going out with what she considered the ultimate Big Bang.

Picking up a set of salt and pepper shakers fixed to the end of long handles, Wendy carefully seasoned Jeanne’s meaty body as she rotated. Already the delicious aroma of roasting woman flesh was beginning to waft across the patio. More than one mouth began to water at the exotically appetizing smell. Pink, an interested spectator, licked his lips.

Wendy kept faithfully basting Jeanne’s reddening flesh as she cooked, watching her motions and convulsions as they slowly settled down. Once Jeanne was gone, Wendy thought the relaxed tranquil body on the spit was a beautiful sculpture, at once an erotically sensual representation of woman and a truly mouth watering roast at the same time. The light from the heating elements glistened off every oiled curve, making Jeanne’s form a thing of beauty, while her meat emitted wonderful aromas as it steadily darkened from cooking.

Later on at dinner, Jeanne was off the spit and on her belly on a large carving platter on the nearby serving table. The veggies and stuffing tastefully arranged around her made a wonderful display for the mouthwatering main dish. Wendy, awarded first place in the serving line, plunged a cooking fork into one of Jeanne’s succulent buttocks and watched the juices bubble out, then carved herself a nice slice, even tossing a sliver to the waiting cat. She didn’t want to take too much, since Belinda had promised her Jeanne’s pussy filet. Quite a nice piece of meat it was, too. Belinda even promised to show her later how to harvest the filet from a cooked girl. Exciting prospect.

In all, Wendy judged the meal as a superb dining experience. As she looked around at the room full of naked women waiting to fill their plates, her eye lit on Sheila. The woman was really fun, since the hormones also made the interior of her pussy quite juicy, not to mention tasty, when nibbled raw on the girl. Interesting reactions, too. She was going to try Sheila again tonight.

Wendy took her plate back to a table to wait for Belinda and Sharon, meanwhile reflecting that her decision to apply for this job was one of the better ones she’d ever made. Sure, she was assistant den mother to a bunch of canniballisticly fixated goofballs, but look on the bright side. Good pay, good work atmosphere, interesting job and the side benefits, Wendy concluded as she took a bite of Jeanne’s succulent pussy filet, were wonderful.