Belinda 11: Belinda and the Meat Processing Plant by Leo

Belinda and the Meat Processing Plant

by Leo

The scene inside the largish, expensive house outside Miami was relatively unusual for a number of reasons. What wasn’t unusual was that there were seven women in the house, all grouped in the expansive living room. What was unusual (somewhat, this was Miami) was that six of the seven were unclothed and the seventh (short shorts and a tank top, no undies) was using an expensive digital camera to record the actions of the other six.

The above mentioned actions were rather salacious - actually a group orgy, if the truth be known. Four of the six nude women engaged in said orgy were of the cookie cutter type common to Miami: classical model good looks, faux blonde, flawless 35C-24-35 bodies, choppy nasal Valley Girl accents, and attitudes. The remaining two were somewhat good looking, if zaftig plump, with big jugs. The photographer was a very good looking brunette woman, older that the other six. Which is to say she was in her early thirties, and, at 35D-25-36, slightly more filled out than girls 1 through 4.

“Okay,” the photog, Sandra by name, said to the group at large, “that’s enough of the sex scenes. Let’s get started on the bondage part of the shoot. Ellie, Kay, we’ll start with the girls tying you up. Don’t forget to look frightened.” Ellie and Kay, not generally known for their mental attributes, nodded happily. Sandra wasn’t holding out great hopes for the two dumbbells’ acting ability, but then, they would only need to act for a few minutes.

Rather quickly, girls 1 through 4 strapped Ellie belly down along a padded sawhorse arrangement (known as a spitting jig, although she didn’t know that) then bound and gagged Kay and left her standing in a corner. Sandra put down her camera and walked in back, to emerge a few moments later with a ten foot long, ventilated, Teflon coated carbon pole possessing a diamond sharp point on one end - a girl spit. After deliberating a moment or two between butt and pussy as her choice of path, Sandra inserted the point of the spit about six inches up Ellie’s plump cunt . Ellie began squirming.

“Now for the push,” Sandra announced to the room at large. “I think I’ll get it right this time.” The Light Having Dawned for Ellie, she started squealing and screaming, while Kay did her best to voice accompaniment for her friend through the rubber ball gag shoved in her mouth.

Ignoring the general racket, Sandra took a firm grip on the base of the pole, set her face in a determined expression, and shoved with all her might. The needle sharp point of the spit slid smoothly through Ellie’s internal arrangements and up her esophagus, since Sandra had aimed the thing properly. Unfortunately, Sandra had failed to properly affix Ellie’s head at the proper angle and get someone to hold her mouth open. Therefore, instead of exiting smoothly out of Ellie’s mouth and leaving a live, wiggly roast for a fun barbecue, the point penetrated the lower part of the skull and into a very under-used portion of Ellie: her brain.

Regarding the decedent, lying limply strapped to the jig with a long shaft up her cunt, Sandra summed up the situation with one comment, “Oops… shit!”

Sighing, Sandra continued, “Okay, girls. I blew it again.”

Girl 1: “That’s okay. We’ll cook that cow anyhow. She’s got so much fat, her meat ought to be really rich.”

Girl 2: “How would you know? You’ve never eaten a really plump girl.”

Girl 3: “Neither have you!”

Girl 4: “I have, and it’s wonderful. She ought to taste great.”

Sandra: “Plan B. We’ll take this one outside and take her head off, then let her bleed out and gut her. We’ll cut her up for parts and grill some steaks.”

Girls 1 through 4: “Eeeeeuuuwww!”

Pointing at Kay, who was trying very hard to melt into the wall. “Take this one and put her in the cage. I’ve got a great idea for her. We’ll spit her for a beach cook out - I’m sure I’ll get it right next time - and I know just the beach. It’s very private, just one house on the cliff overlooking it. I’ve never seen anybody in the house, either.

“Now, stop complaining and let’s get to work. There’s a lot to do before we can eat.”

“Eeeeeuuuwww!”

At exactly the same time…

Everyone was glad to get back to the ranch after over a month at Belinda’s family home in the Keys. Sharon, for one, was grateful to be back in familiar surroundings, even if it meant she was dressed up for this meeting. Of course, dressed up in her case meant her familiar sleeveless checked shirt, tied under her prominent 38D breasts and the ultra short shorts that hugged her nicely rounded 38 inch bottom. Since her flat waist was only 28 inches around, she felt the outfit gave her five foot ten inch solidly built frame a good bit of sex appeal.

The man in the living room looked like he agreed, or it might have been the translucent tight white sheath Belinda was wearing over her spectacular figure from her barely covered nipples to her shapely upper thighs. Probably Belinda, Sharon sighed mentally. The woman might have been in her early forties, but she had the sort of face and figure photographers would kill to have in front of a camera. Belinda was far past a multimillionaire, too. Life, Sharon decided not for the first time, was occasionally a bit unfair.

Wendy, the sole paid employee of the ranch, was - interestingly enough - wearing a bikini. Not one of the barely-there thongs popular among the spit muffins when they had to “dress up”, but a two piece that was a touch more conservative. It still showed off her slightly sturdy, curvy form and her pleasantly plain face very well.

The reason for the bikini, Sharon judged, was obvious from the way Wendy was looking at the man. He was a contractor that had just finished Belinda’s latest brainstorm and addition to the ranch, a playroom for the muffins. Mister Sumo, the contractor, was in his early thirties, slightly short, but very muscular with dark brown hair and eyes. Given the slightly weathered features and skin of a construction type, he was quite masculine and it was pretty apparent Wendy was hit hard. It was also apparent he’d noticed her, even with Belinda in close proximity.

Not that Wendy being highly interested was a bad thing, Sharon reflected. Belinda knew the guy, so he was reliable and closed mouthed. Moreover, Belinda always felt it was important to tip the people that worked for her. Wendy was angling to become the “tip”.

“Mac,” Belinda was saying, “that was an excellent job, and quite speedy. I’ve included a bonus and I’ll also insure you get several prime cuts from the ranch in the next month.”

“My pleasure, Ms. LeGacyl,” he replied in a melodious baritone. “I always enjoyed doing work for you. Just let me know when you’d like some more.”

“How about now?” Wendy broke in. “I can think of some things for you to do, if you have the time?” She smiled winningly.

“Uh,” Mac was trying to talk around his tongue. Quite a job, given how stiff it suddenly had gotten. “I think I have the time.”

“Great!” Wendy swept him up and led him in back with a firm grip on his left hand. Mac followed meekly, looking like the guy that just won the lottery.

“Well,” Sharon said firmly as she watched the happy pair depart, “that’s done. The girls have a new playroom and Wendy is about to have a very happy contractor. Wonder what’s next?”

What’s next? Well, two days later…

Morning milking in the dairy was always fun, especially since every woman in the place was nude, one of Belinda’s requirements for living at the ranch. Sharon was always milked first so she could supervise everyone else once they’d been drained. As usual, the meat muffins (of which they were one short - dinner yesterday) milked the milk muffins (two short - supplies during the sojourn at Belinda’s family home). Ixinza and Rosa still needed milking, but that was a chore reserved for Sharon and Belinda, by directive of the owner (Belinda) and the ranch foreman and lead cow (Sharon).

Ixinza was a tall mocha colored Creole from Puerto Rico with a natural hourglass figure, while Rosa’s exuberant body had the same horizontal measurements, but she was about eight inches less vertically. Rosa had been sold by her family in Mexico to an exclusive resort in the Caribbean as meat. Same story on Ixinza, except she’d been sold from a little town outside of Ponce. Both were redeemed by Belinda when she and her traveling circus had vacationed at the resort, and were now ranch spit muffins, happily enjoying an excess of sexual libertine life and waiting for a date with a roasting spit.

Ixinza, on her hands and knees on the milking platform, sighed as Sharon’s gentle hands squeezed the milk from her breasts. “You know, Sharon,” she said with only a trace of a Puerto Rican accent, “I’m going to miss living here, and so is Rosa. The ranch is the nicest place we’ve ever been. I know we’re both meat, but I wish I could continue just living here and helping you guys.”

Belinda, squatting nude next to Sharon and happily engaged in milking Rosa’s enormous mammaries, said, “Well, dear, that’s part of being a spit muffin. You know you’re eventually going to be cooked.”

Ixinza nodded. “I know, Ms. Belinda, but we both love it here so much we wish we could stay.”

Rosa’s accent was thicker. “Si, Meez Belinda. We likeit here. You doan need two really good housekeepers for help mebee sometime?”

Belinda grew thoughtful. Among other things, that last question required it. Ordinarily, she’d put her right index finger to her chin as she thought, but both hands were full of Rosa’s breasts. “You know, girls, I think I just might take you up on your offer. You could be permanent staff. We’ll need to replenish the spit muffin stock, but I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Noting the delighted looks on both Hispanic girl’s faces, Belinda’s eyes twinkled as she asked Sharon, “What do you think, dearest?”

Sharon actually thought it was a great idea. Both girls were a little more grounded than the average spit muffin and she liked them as people, not just as prospective pussy platters. Of course, thinking of Rosa’s meaty body, there was a bit of a sacrifice, but tolerable. She nodded. “I agree. It’s not like they were meat fantasy driven like the rest of the muffins. Keeping them here is OK by me.” Sharon gave a rare smile as the girls squealed with joy. “After you finish draining Rosa, Belinda,” Sharon added, “let’s take them off to my room and celebrate the deal.”

Everyone smiled.

An hour or so later, Sharon glanced out the house’s glass wall facing the Atlantic, then glanced again. There was a small boat with four or five people in it headed for Belinda’s private beach. They were obviously planning to land. A check with the telescope revealed the boat’s crew to be exclusively female. “Belinda,” Sharon called, “we’ve got visitors on the beach. Where are the muffins?”

Belinda bustled up. Buck naked, as was every woman in the place, Belinda’s spectacular body moved and jiggled in all directions as she bustled. Belinda, by the way, never just walked, and her active movements were quite sexually exciting to anyone with eyes and a sex drive. Sharon, for instance.

Putting her mind firmly back on the path of discussing oncoming visitors, Sharon asked, “Know where the girls are? We have visitors.”

“Oh, here and there, dearest,” Belinda replied. “I don’t believe anyone’s on the beach at the moment.”

After another scan of the beach, Sharon said, “Wrong assumption. That’s Faith down there getting a full body experience of the sun and sea on that beach chair.”

“Well, dearest,” Belinda said in a musical, if practical, tone, “she has common sense and those are all women. I’m sure there won’t be a problem.

“Actually, it’s a pity,” Belinda continued, right index finger to her chin in her favorite thinking posture. “We just cooked Jennifer yesterday, so we’re quite well supplied with choice cuts. I’m not really up to hunting free range meat at the moment, either. Be a shame if a few of those girls turn out to be bitches.” Belinda was a huntress, but only for a certain type of woman - the true bitch. She regarded it as her mission in life to remove the truly unpleasant and bitchy type from the gene pool. Preferably with a nice tasty au juice.

Down on the beach, Faith looked up from her book and watched the boat approach. Other than her sunglasses, she was totally bare, happily displaying her newly achieved fantastic figure to the world. Faith was one of Belinda’s meat muffins, so had undergone hormone body enhancement.

There were two types of spit muffins at Belinda’s meat ranch and dairy: milking and meat. Of course, the milk muffins were in line for an appointment with the kitchen, but, having naturally large breasts, were providing the product of the dairy part of Belinda’s ranch while they passed their time prior to being filleted. The meat muffins had originally been women with slightly smaller measurements, but now had a very high curve quotient, courtesy of one of Belinda’s hormone mixtures. Every several days, all of the muffins were administered hormone treatments. One type let the milk muffins (and Sharon and Wendy) lactate. The other type enhanced a woman’s flesh around her hips, butt, thighs upper body, and especially the flesh sheath of her breasts. Which it to say, Faith looked like a well filled out figure model with a really firm, expert, and highly priced set of designer breasts.

Sandra was at the helm of the boat, guiding the craft towards the beach. She and girls 1-4 were happily wearing expensive daring designer bikinis, catching the rays of this beautiful sun to enhance their championship class tans. Kay, by the way, was on the fiberglass deck of the boat’s cockpit, wearing nothing but ropes on wrists and ankles and a firmly secured ball gag. The small voyage to the beach where she was due to be spitted and roasted was not a high point of Kay’s day.

At the wheel of the boat, Sandra noticed the girl on the beach and grabbed the binoculars for a closer look. Focusing on Faith, Sandra decided a wish had been answered. Not only was the woman wonderful material for the barbecue they were about to have, but she was already nude, showing off her meat. Excellent! “Ladies,” Sandra said, “we’re about to have another dinner guest. As soon as we get this boat beached, you four grab that girl on the beach and get her tied up. I want to spit and roast her along with Kay. We’ll take the extra meat back with us. No need to let such excellent flesh go to waste.”

Faith saw the boat approaching the beach, and, like any courteous nude sunbather, decided to help the people on board get the little craft securely up onto the sand. Needless to say, Faith met girls 1 through 4, 1 through 4 met Faith, and Faith shortly found herself trussed up on the little boat’s deck. Now, this position had its advantages, because she was also lying atop Kay, nude, plush, soft Kay. Wriggling her own naked body on the soft girl flesh beneath her, Faith decided her situation, while possibly detrimental, had some plus factors. She wasn’t all that concerned about any possible nefarious acts by the five women on her. Spit muffins were strange that way.

Meanwhile, Sharon and Belinda had witnessed the abduction. They also watched silently as girls 1 through 4, directed by Sandra, began to erect a barbecue stand. It seemed obvious what their intentions were regarding Faith. That, of course, highly irritated Sharon. She didn’t approve of poaching the ranch’s livestock. “Belinda, we need to put a stop to this,” she announced in a tight voice.

Belinda was already gone. After a moment, she bustled back, wearing a button up shirt over her nudity like a beach cover-up and carrying a canvas tote bag. Tossing another shirt to Sharon, she said, “Here, dear, we must be dressed for company. As soon as you are, we can go.”

Sharon tossed on the shirt and scooped up a cell phone from the hall table as she dashed for the elevator to the beach. “Might need this,” Sharon replied. “Now let’s go say hello.”

Sandra looked up from where she was directing the constructing of a beach barbecue pit to see two more beautiful well built women headed her way. The day was looking up. “These must be more from the house,” she told girls 1 through 4.

Sharon, slightly in the lead, held out the cell phone to Sandra with her left hand. “Here,” she said calmly, “it’s for you.”

With normal yuppie reflex, Sandra reached for the phone. When she did, Sharon uncorked a beautiful right cross that connected exactly with Sandra’s chin, slightly back from the point. Sandra went down like she was poleaxed.

A few short, active moments later, Belinda and Sharon took a degree of satisfaction in surveying five women hog-tied on their bellies on the sand. Belinda’s tote bag, which had contained the heavy plastic ties and ball gags used to restrain the invaders, now produced a razor sharp pocket knife. “Dearest,” she told Sharon, “would you mind shucking the meat. It seems that all of these women qualify for a trip to the kitchen. I’d like to see just what we’ve caught.”

Sharon, who absolutely hated the predatory hard belly females that abounded in Miami, made a face and began cutting bikinis off model grade figures. Once she finished, she stepped back and said, “There isn’t much meat on these, Belinda.”

Belinda patted Sharon on the cheek as she traded looks with the highly distressed bound women. “Oh, nonsense, dearest. They have plenty of nice meat. Of course, their bottoms and thighs aren’t as large as a muffin’s, but they are very nicely shaped.”

Looking again at the displayed wriggling bubble butts and squirming smooth thighs , Sharon had to agree. “I guess you’re right, Belinda. The girls have me spoiled. I just don’t get excited by an ass anymore unless it makes me want to immediately reach for a fork and carving knife.”

“Speaking of a bottom like that, dearest,” Belinda said, “we really must rescue Faith. Then we have to get the rest of the girls down here and take these five back to the house and get them depilated and cleaned out. I suppose we should cook them as soon as possible since they’re free range, but I really don’t know what we’re going to do with all of this meat we’ve captured.”

Later that evening, a highly disgruntled Sandra viewed Belinda’s darkened basement from her seat on a bed in Belinda’s holding cage. Normally intended for one or two bitchy type women, Sandra plus girls 1 through 4 made for a degree of crowding. There were only two beds, for instance.

It wasn’t only the crowding that irked Sandra. The fact was that her ass was a tad sore. That came from a forcible super enema involving three feet of two inch thick hose and a large quantity of water, followed at the inevitable conclusion of the cleaning process by the anal insertion of a long tube and injection of some sort of liquid. Unknown to Sandra, the injection was one of Belinda’s hormone mixtures, designed to relax the recipient’s muscles and increase her sex drive. In short, she felt weak and incredibly horny.

The other little problem that bothered her was that she was pretty sure why she and the other four were here naked in this lighted cage, the only lighted spot in the whole basement. Belinda & Co. were planning to have her for dinner, and not as a guest. Also aggravating was the fact that, while girls 1 through 4 had been given the same treatment, thus possessed sore posteriors, they hadn’t yet made the connection between the bars and the grill. Their conversation was thus suitably inane instead of concerned. Life currently sucked.

Sandra, still alternately worrying and fuming, was beginning to survey the other four as possible cutlets and wondering if they’d be more appetizing (thus chosen first as filets) when an interruption occurred. The interruption, named Rosa, appeared out of the dark with a large tray bearing a number of long thick vibrators and some lubricant. “Here,” Rosa said, “t’ese hep you for tomorrow. All you need opening up. Besides you horny tonight.”

Rosa’s Hispanic looks and accent defined her as SERVANT to Sandra. Her immediate body language, apparent disdain, and condescending voice was the result. The result of that result was Rosa, who had endured second class treatment from superior bitchy types like Sandra before, was complete dislike. Rosa began mulling over what nasty things she’d like to do to the superior bitch if Belinda would let her.

Looking at the tray and ignoring wide eyed comments from girls 1 through 4, Sandra proclaimed, “Those things are HUGE. I don’t know if I could get one up my pussy, even if I wanted to.”

With a knowing, nasty smile, Rosa responded, “Dey not for you pussy. Dat doan need openin. Dey for you ass. Better use ‘em.” Then she left the tray and happily departed.

Girl 3 looked at the tray with the telephone pole sized vibrators and opined, “I guess she’s right. We better use these to open our bottom holes. Who goes first?” With that, she looked up and found the other four women giving her ominous glares.

In the living room upstairs, Belinda commented to Sharon, comfortably seated next to her, “Lover, there seems to be a lot of noise suddenly coming from the basement. I do hope they’re having fun.”

Cocking an ear to the yelling, squealing, and other racket that seeped from the basement, Sharon replied dryly, “Sounds like it. I guess they’re following Rosa’s advice.”

The next morning dawned bright, although the girls in the cage downstairs couldn’t tell it. After the morning routine (milking, administering appropriate hormones to the appropriate muffins, and aerobics for all) Belinda decreed that everyone needed to get into the required outfits for the inaugural use of the playroom. For Rosa and Ixinza, this meant short white linen lab coats, buttoned under their large breasts to compress them and force them outward (quite a display). Since the coats ended just above the hips, everything from that point down was normal, i.e. totally bare. Belinda chose to wear her old college sorority outfit, a lace up leather corset that started below the breasts and ended just at the top of the hips with attached garters supporting her black hose, black opera length gloves, capped off with calf high patent leather high heeled boots. (You had to know Belinda’s sorority to understand why this was the official sorority costume.)

Sharon, on the other hand, didn’t feel like wearing one of the lab coats, and thought she looked absolutely silly in a dominatrix outfit. She settled for a long white butcher’s apron that covered her front, leaving the rest on display, given she was as nude as everybody else.

There was a specific outfit for the muffins, too. A leather strap was buckled midway up their thighs as a hobble, while their arms were crossed behind their backs with their wrists tied to the opposing arm’s forearm just below the elbow. High heeled slippers were added to keep their feet clean, since they were meat on the hoof. Several of the girls were allowed to run free, much to their disappointment. Belinda anticipated needing extra assistants.

Downstairs, the five women in the cage were also rigged with the ties and hobble. All of them felt weak and still so horny they were absolutely wet, although the vibrators had done their work in the asses of girls 1 through 4. Sandra had disdained the use of the appliance in her butt and put it up her pussy, thus was slightly more satisfied, but she was still ready for another go any way she could get it.

Ixinza came downstairs and flipped on the basement lights. The immediate reaction of the five was a gasp and various amazed noises. In a quiet voice, Sandra said, “Oh, shit.”

What was revealed was a collection of metal tables, cutting machines, hooks hanging from raceways attached to the ceiling, and conveyor belts. There was a an area on the far side enclosed by a metal railing. The whole thing looked industrial and ominous. It also looked like a meat processing plant. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what TYPE of meat it processed. Them.

There was a mild commotion as Belinda in dominatrix garb led a bunch of hobbled women down the basement steps, followed by Rosa and Sharon. Wendy was still off visiting the contractor. Kay, on the other hand, after release and spending the night with Ixinza and Rosa, was a happy assistant for the day’s program.

The muffins all exclaimed with glee as they saw the place. “Here it is, ladies, your new play room. Of course, it has its practical uses, you understand, but I see you approve.” With that, she used her riding crop on a number of plump buttocks to encourage their happily squealing owners to hustle into the enclosure.

The five from the cage were released and similarly encouraged to join the penned herd, this time by Sharon with a barbecue fork. They proceeded with as much alacrity as having their thighs strapped together would allow. To wit: with a mincing, rapid gate. Girl #2 shied away as she got poked on a buttock and yipped, “Ouch! That hurt!” She also sped up.

Looking at Sharon, Sandra said, “I think I know, but what are you planning to do?”

Sharon took a large butcher knife from a nearby rack, along with a sharpening steel, and began to touch up the blade as she smiled ominously. Sandra gulped and stared. So did the other four, who had finally gotten the message.

Things got grimmer for the five when Rosa and Ixinza brought out the leftovers from the last barbecue, A.K.A. Jennifer, and Sharon turned on the meat saw. The muffins had seen - and helped in - the butchering process before this and somewhat enjoyed it. Sandra, on the other hand, was amazed at how speedily Jennifer was reduced to sections suitable for a large meal and stored in the Tupperware.

“I always think that’s interesting,” one of the muffins remarked calmly to Sandra. “It’s nice to think they’ll be that efficient when it comes time to do me.” Sandra looked at her with her mouth agape and eyes huge with shock.

“Well,” another remarked, “with luck, one of us will get to try out all those neat devices today.”

“I’ll wait,” Sandra croaked.

Belinda crossed her right arm under her magnificent breasts and placed her left index finger on her cheek as she surveyed the penned women. “Dearest,” she said to Sharon, “we really must choose who we’ll process first. I think it might be best to get them on a hook before preparation.”

Sharon nodded and promptly reached out and grabbed Sandra. “This one first.”

With that, a struggling, pleading (and reluctant for the honor of first try at the equipment) Sandra had her ankles cuffed and her arms released so her wrists could be cuffed in front of her. She was bent over, and one of the hooks lowered so it could pick up the links between the cuffs. When the hook was raised, a squirming Sandra found herself hanging by her wrists and ankles , with her body at about shoulder level on Belinda. This left her cunt readily available for study, which Belinda proceeded to do with admirable professional detachment. “Quite meaty and very juicy,” was her verdict. “This one will make an excellent prime fillet with not too much butter required to properly sauté.” She inserted a finger deeply, then licked off the resulting juice. “Excellent!”

Interestingly enough, girls 1 through 4 were both aghast and highly stimulated by watching Sandra. In fact, they were quite wet. Noticing the fact, a muffin said, “Oh, sweetie, you really need a licking. I’d do it, but I can’t get down there with my arms and legs tied like this. You four just go bend way over that railing. I’ll get a couple of the loose girls to help you out.”

Four of the free muffins proved quite willing, and girls 1 through 4 proceeded to gasp and moan through intense tongue induced orgasms as they watched Sandra struggle where she hung. Belinda wasn’t adverse to the proceedings. She smiled maternally and commented, “How sweet. You four just enjoy yourselves for a moment, then we’ll get on with the fun.”

None of this did Sandra any good, and she went through the throes of fear, shock, and - not least - terminal horniness. Rosa saw Sandra’s sopping wet pussy and tight bottom hole and promptly decided to do something about both, not incidentally combining business with pleasure. After all, that ass needed to be opened in case it needed stuffing. To that end, she pattered over and picked up a large thick plastic butt plug. As she walked purposefully past Sandra’s head, oiling the plug as she went, the woman stared and gasped, “W-what are you going to do with that?!?”

Rosa said over her shoulder as she headed for Sandra’s rear, “You might wanna relax for t’is.”

“W-w-w-a-a-a-OOOOOEEE!!!”

Rosa now applied her tongue to what turned out to be a really tasty pussy. The base of the plug bumping her chin really wasn’t a hindrance. The sounds Sandra started making sort of added to the occasion.

Sharon’s attention was caught by a gasping and piteous moaning from one side. Looking, she spied Faith, bound and hobbled, on her tiptoes with the chain running down her front and its hook up her pussy. She looked like she was suspended from the hook by her cunt and was undergoing dreadful suffering. Several of the free muffins were gathered around enjoying the show. “Faith,” she yelled, “get off that thing! You aren’t supposed to use the equipment without permission.”

As the chain was lowered slightly and the hook extracted from a slightly abashed Faith’s vagina, Belinda commented in practical tones, “Well, dearest, that’s why I had the hooks made thick and blunt. However, you’re perfectly correct to apply discipline. Heavens knows what the girls would be up to if we didn’t maintain some sort of control.”

Watching Faith mince back to the pen, Sharon silently agreed. The muffins were goofy enough as is. Now that they had the playroom, no telling what they’d come up with next. She’d never understand the mentality, she told herself with a mild shudder. Still… better these “broil me” broads than her. Now back to business.

Business, in this case, was Belinda making a through evaluation of the stock in the pen. Ixinza and Rosa would choose one from the herd and bring her up before Belinda, artfully standing in a dominatrix pose. Belinda would squeeze or heft various portions (hips, thighs, buttocks, pubis, etc.) then send the girl back to the pen with a sharp snap of the riding crop across her bare bottom, always producing a loud yip or squeal.

Fists on hips, riding crop in right hand (dominatrix pose, you know, very important for the ambiance), Belinda surveyed the penned women. “Dearest, bring me the new girls. I want to see if they’re ready to cook.”

Sharon nodded and, helped by Rosa and Ixinza, reached over and grabbed girls 1 through 4, pulling them out the pen’s gate one at a time to mince over and line up in front of Belinda. Although none too bright (intelligence was contraindicated in their previous experience as edgy figure models and party girls), the four knew exactly why they were in front of Belinda Pure nerves kept their eyes wide and their mouths shut. In the background, Sandra’s occasional struggle and moan as she hung added to what Belinda and the muffins considered a wonderful atmosphere for the day’s festivities.

Belinda carefully examined all four as she walked down the line, squeezing a hip or plump pubic mound, occasionally lifting a breast with her riding crop, trailing a hand across a belly, and testing the texture of inner thighs. All four watched her with fascination.

Sharon considered the four girls clones in the Miami Hot Chick mode: faux blonde, sleek curvy figures, classical good looks. They were basically all of the things a woman that had spent most of her adult life in the “slightly over fleshed but stacked” category detested. She certainly disliked these four on principle, and specifically because of their undiscriminating willingness to consider a woman with a little extra in the body as a meat animal. She was perfectly ready to see these bitches butchered for parts.

Belinda, however, wasn’t ready for that yet. “Turn around, ladies,” she ordered. Then she began an equally critical assessment of the meat potential of their rear views. “Dearest,” she commented absently to Sharon as she studied the girls, “you’ll notice, they have quite attractive buttocks that… there, yes… heft and squeeze nicely. Good meat. The thighs and calves are also of good quality, just not as much as the normal muffin has.

“Actually,” she finished, “they’d make very good roasters. Put them on the line.”

One at a time, each of the four was hustled over to the beginnings of the conveyer belt that ran the length of the meat packing area. Each girl was strapped down to the belt in turn, and the belt advanced for the next future dinner to be emplaced. As the belt advanced, the girls moved up to a pair of stations. At the first one, Ixinza took a ventilated hollow tube and inserted it down the girl’s throat to just above her stomach. This was explained to each as a spit guide, which would pick up the tip of the spit and guide it up the esophagus and out the mouth without the chance of damaging tender parts along the way. At the next station, Rosa inserted a thick vibrator between plump buttocks to keep the bottom hole open and stimulate the juicy parts so they stayed nice and juicy. Judging from the ensuing series of mild convulsions, the vibrators were doing their job quite well.

Girl #1, who chanced to be in the lead, was caught in the throes of constant, low grade orgasm and worry about what was next as the belt carried her inexorably forward. Cutting her eyes up to look down the line, she saw what was next. At the end of the conveyor belt, Fay was happily loading a long carbon fiber ventilated spit into an automatic spitting machine. Despite herself, girl #1 immediately orgasmed when she saw it. After that little interlude was over, she started wondering what it would be like when the pole was pushed through her and she was over the fire. Another pop-off hit her at the thought.

Sandra was still hanging around, wondering if they were going to spit her and sincerely hoping Belinda & Co. would decide they liked the other four first. Her worries were laid to rest when Belinda walked over and patted her thigh. “This one has more meat than the other four,” Belinda said, “and certainly has a very plump and juicy pussy. I think she needs to be spitted through the ass. That nice self-basting pussy should be properly cooked right on her. Don’t you think so, dearest?”

Sandra opened her mouth to protest, but found Ixinza waiting with a spit guide. Sandra found herself still hanging by the ankles and wrists, but her head and neck were now uncomfortably straightened by the tube running from her open mouth down to her stomach.

Sharon nodded with satisfaction. “Okay, let’s get her on the table. Bring the spitter over here and we’ll do her first.” The four on the conveyor heard the words and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the belt stopped.

Sandra, still hanging, was pulled over and deposited on her back on a metal table, her arms and legs still pulled straight up by the hook. Taking what looked like a large cake decorator, Ixinza inserted the nozzle far up Sandra’s pussy and squeezed a load of stuffing (bread, spices, chopped veggies, chopped Jennifer, etc.) into her. Sharon plugged her with a large vibrator, both to keep the stuffing inside and to stimulate the woman’s juices further. That was followed by a full body oiling with spiced olive oil, her hair bound up, and her breasts tied together so they wouldn’t flop as she turned over the fire. With that, Sharon pulled the plug from Sandra’s ass with a popping noise and pronounced, “She’s ready to spit.” Sandra didn’t receive the announcement with unalloyed glee, despite the high level of drug-and-vibrator induced sexual excitement she was feeling.

Kay, quite happily helpful since her release from prospective barbecue status, slid a thick soft plastic penis over the sharp point of the spit. Belinda’s idea was to avoid damaging anything while the spit was in pulse mode up Sandra’s ass. Kay’s idea was to efficiently help the process of getting Sandra over the fire - a position Sandra had previously intended for Kay. Having the woman orgasm while she was being spitted was interesting, but Kay was looking forward to the main event.

Sandra felt the thick soft plastic penis imbed itself in her anus and start working deeper. Despite her better judgment, she could feel her body starting to react and the first explosive orgasm hit her almost immediately. It was soon followed by a whole series of orgasmic convulsions as the shaft pumped her hyper sensitive bottom deeply.

Studying the effect the machine was having on Sandra, as evidenced by the squirming of the woman’s shapely thighs and buttocks between convulsions, she turned to Sharon and said, “Well, dearest, I think I’ll leave her like that for a moment and let the stuffing marinate further. We really need to decide what we’re going to do with the other four. We could spit and cook them right now, I suppose, but we really don’t need the meat and there are a number of vacancies available for spit muffins. Do you think we should perhaps keep them around and spend some time improving their meat before cooking them?”

Sharon turned to look at the four girls on the currently immobile conveyor belt. Judging from what limited body language she could see and the expressions around the spit guides in their mouths, she thought she could guess what the four would say about delaying their trip to the rotisserie. Besides, plumping them up past the draconian standard of 115 pounds for a Miami Hot Chick had a certain appeal. Imagining what they’d look like at 135 pounds was a rather toothsome image, too. “I suppose we could do it, Belinda,” she replied. “I wonder what they’d say about the idea?”

Once the spit guides were removed, it turned out they all had quite a bit to say about becoming spit muffins as opposed to spitted muffins. All of it was affirmative. Belinda held up a hand to stop the overwhelming gush of words, then studies their naked toothsome forms a little more closely. Giving an available buttock a whole hand squeeze, she commented, “Yes, this meat has excellent texture, but certainly would improve with some hormone development. I believe I’m going to accept you into the herd, ladies. Pardon me for not asking earlier, but what are your names?”

Girl #1: “Sandra gave us all nicknames. I’m Flopsy.”

Girl #2: “Mopsy.”

Girl #3: “Cottontail.”

Girl #4: “Judith. I missed out on the nicknames.”

That’s not all she missed out on, Sharon reflected. Oh well, given the rest of the screwballs in the herd, she was going to be in good company. “Okay. Forget the names. You’re numbered one through four for future purposes. Anyhow, we’ll keep you in the herd until it’s your time to cook.”

Turning to the rest of the muffins, Sharon announced, “Okay, girls, playtime’s over. Out of those straps and help these four get situated upstairs. As soon as this one is spitted, we’ll bring her up and get started. Rosa, you and Fay get the rotisserie heated up. We’re going to cook a girl.”

Cheers.

The cheers were lost on Sandra, off in a sensory world of her own. She didn’t even notice when Belinda threw the switch to finish pushing the spit into her. The plastic sheath penetrated as far as it could then split as the point continued through, up the spit guide, and out of Sandra’s mouth. She was fully spitted.

Sharon and Ixinza attended to the remaining chores of removing the spit guide and the plastic halves of the sheath, tying Sandra’s arms to her sides and her legs to the spit. Once that was done, she was lifted onto a mobile rack, and the whole operation wheeled into the elevator for transportation upstairs. Sandra didn’t care. She was too far gone into orgasm-land and still juicing heavily.

Once she was upstairs, Sharon decided to let Ixinza supervise the mounting of Sandra’s luscious naked spitted self onto the rotisserie. There were visitors.

One was blonde, bouncy Suzi P, a woman with a serious hang up on the sexual aspects of cooking a woman. She was probably already starting to get damp, and Sharon made a mental note to get her to squat over a bowl. A little stimulation and she’d make plenty of juice for the sauce.

The other was a slightly stocky, pleasantly rounded bawdy brunette with a pleasant grin. It was Cleo, Belinda’s cousin, and her nudity made it obvious she shared the LeGacyl trait of being blessed with a big rack. “Sharon, babe!” she yelled with a wave and started over. “Get that apron off. I want to hug you properly.”

As they gave each other a naked, full body hug, Sharon reflected pleasantly that it was quite nice to have Cleo’s lush nudity pressed so tightly to her own. “Planning to stay for dinner?” Sharon asked.

Cleo nodded. “Yep. Free range meat, I see,” she said, referring to the fact that Sandra wasn’t a fully developed as the regular muffins. “Looks tasty, though. Right now, I want to go choose who I’ll enjoy the cooking with. See you later.”

She departed with another big grin.

Sharon noticed that Mac was also in attendance, Wendy grafted to his side, and enjoying the lush female nudity that was jiggling and joggling all around him. He was more than welcome, since his crew had done a hell of a job on the playroom. Maybe Belinda would agree to send over one of the new girls when she was ready. Let him and his boys have a nice cookout.

Right then, her attention was taken by Sandra. She was beginning to rotate, and convulsing with a strong orgasm every time Fay touched up her pussy with a basting brush. Spitting her through the ass had forced her into a position that left her legs slightly open and bent, perfect for cooking her pussy, and leaving easy access for the cook to properly baste her juicy, REALLY juicy, parts.

Objectively, Sandra could feel the heat and the shaft through her body, smell herself starting to cook, hear the drops of her juices sizzle on the coils beneath her, and knew she was nothing but meat on a stick. Subjectively, she was submerging into a bright whirl of orgasm every few minutes that washed away all concerns. She was meat, she knew, and she was also certain she was going to be damned delicious meat. Cook away, she decided, she was too hopped up to care.

Sharon, like everyone else in the room, was caught up in the enjoyment of watching Sandra’s naked squirming curves revolve as her glistening skin sparkled with the reflected light of the rotisserie’s yellow hot coils. She was putting on a show worthy of a muffin, and it was supremely exciting to the audience. It wouldn’t be long before she was gone and when she was, Sharon was sure the room would be full of squeals and moans as everyone worked off the sexual excitement. She loved spit roasting a woman, and Sandra’s show was one of the reasons.

She was distracted by a soft hand caressing her bare butt cheek. She knew that hand. “Belinda, thinking of paring up in a few minutes? I could really go with a good fuck.”

Belinda gave a tinkling laugh. “I’m sure you could, dearest,” she said. “If you don’t mind bending over the sofa back, I think I’m ready to give you one.”

The caressing hand got a little deeper and more personal. Sharon was very ready, and very vocal, a few minutes later when Belinda got down to business. Judging from the sounds around her, Sharon reflected in the odd moment when she could still use her brain, everybody else was happily occupied, too. The wonderful aroma of cooking woman flesh filled the room.

The dining room was filled with mellow happiness several hours later during dinner. Sharon was up at the serving table, carving a second slice of Sandra’s hip and ladling a bit of au jus over it. This particular woman, whatever her name was, Sharon thought, was providing an excellent meal. She’d cooked up quite nicely, with a little less fat than a muffin and not quite the exquisite taste Belinda’s girls had, but still with nice flavor and texture. Even the new girls, 1 through 4, were enjoying their dinner.

She went back to the table she shared with Belinda, Cleo, Mac and Wendy, her mind thinking over the whole affair: capture, the fun in the meat packing plant, the way the woman had convulsed and squirmed so excitingly on the spit, exciting the audience to greater sexual heights . Looking around the dining room, with its tables full of happily chatting nude women (almost all of whom were meat on the hoof) enjoying the meat from the tasty brunette, Sharon amused herself deciding which one was going to be next in the kitchen.

Probably Faith. Her nicely filled out figure promised great steaks and chops, not to mention that juicy flavorful pussy of hers. Definitely put on a great show, too. Soon enough, it would be time to mount her on a spit and put her over the coals.

Sharon really, really, really loved spit roasting a woman.