Belinda 18: Belinda and the Sharon Stealers

Belinda and the Sharon Stealers

by Leo

This was the life.

Sharon was lying on the pool lounger enjoying the midday sun on the patio overlooking the Atlantic, her sole adornment an elegant wide brimmed designer sun hat and designer sunglasses with heart shaped lenses. She was nude, of course, but that was nothing unusual. Every woman - and there were only women - here at Belinda’s meat ranch and dairy was nude. Belinda enjoyed the freedom of nudity and she wanted to be able to read the menu jiggling around her.

Sharon wasn’t on the menu, of course. That was reserved for the spit muffins. Sharon was Belinda’s permanent companion. Also lead cow, den mother and straw boss of the spit muffins. Those were ten or so constantly rotating women that lived fantasies of unbridled sexual excess while they waited to become gourmet meals - the ultimate muffin fantasy. The delicate gold chain that clipped Sharon’s nipples together - and gave her large breasts some really eye-popping cleavage even when nude - indicated her status.

She stretched her tall, 38D-28-38 frame with sensuous contentment and sighed slightly in pleasure. There was a chilled glass of white wine on a table to her left and a tray of iced carrot sticks in easy reach next to it. After overseeing the morning muffin milking (and her own), hormone administration, aerobics, and the cool down in the pool, it was time for Sharon to indulge in a little non-sexual fantasy of her own. She was enjoying the life of wealthy leisure like she imagined the ultra rich women here in Miami would do.

The hat and sunglasses, not to mention the deep red nail polish newly applied to her finger and toe nails, were all part of what Sharon considered her “elegant and lousy rich lady of leisure” image. It went with the mansion, too.

Of course, the mansion wasn’t hers. It belonged to Belinda, a fabulously wealthy and slightly dotty gorgeous forty something blonde that enjoyed the taste of women as almost any form of main dish. The mansion, AKA Belinda’s meat ranch and dairy, was a beautiful white single story place that occupied extensive grounds overlooking a very secluded private beach on the Atlantic barely south of Miami. But, during her Sharon-time, Sharon could pretend. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy the life anyway. She just didn’t have to pay the bills.

Taking a carrot stick and carefully inserting it into the dip, she ignored the background gasp and twirled the stick slowly to thoroughly coat it. Taking a bite of carrot, she had to admit this dip idea was kooky, but one of the better ones a muffin had dreamed up out of a fevered sexual imagination. The dip really gave the carrot stick a subtle, delicious flavor. She was going to have to do this more often.

Sharon took another carrot stick, gently inserted it in the dip, then left it as Belinda bustled up.

Belinda, as has been previously noted, was a gorgeous, short, forty something blonde. She had the skin tone and firm flesh of a woman half her age, not to mention an eye-popping rack, trim waist, and perfectly rounded ass. Belinda, in short, could make Playmate of the Year any time she cared to make the effort, and probably Playmate of the Century. She’d certainly turned down any number of six figure offers to pose.

“I see you’re quite comfortable, dearest,” she greeted Sharon. Then to the dip, “You appear to be enjoying yourself as well, Lucy.”

Lucy, the dip, was stretched out on a lounger next to Sharon’s right side. She was on her belly, facing away from Sharon, her deliciously rounded bottom raised slightly by a cushion to give Sharon easy access to her pussy. There was a small vibrator humming away, deep in the little hole between her buttocks, just to keep things juicy for the carrot stick deep in her open wet cunt. She was happily smiling.

“I’ve heard of this, dearest,” Belinda continued with interest, “but I’ve never really thought to do it. What do you think of the carrot insertions, Lucy?”

Belinda accepted the juicy carrot stick from Sharon and nibbled, noting the taste with pleasure. “This is excellent! We really should do this more often.”

“It was my idea, Belinda,” Lucy said. “The girls keep calling me Juicy Lucy, and I just wanted to see if it worked. You have me scheduled to cook tomorrow, and I wanted to provide someone with an appetizer. Sharon agreed.”

“Nutty idea,” Sharon commented, “like most muffin stuff, but it’s turning out great.”

Belinda nodded in full agreement. Great taste and nutty idea. But fun for all concerned. Now, alas, some business.

Belinda took a moment to properly enjoy Sharon’s long curvaceous form as she relaxed with what she considered aristocratic languid grace on the lounger. That set off some ideas in the back of Belinda’s head, but those fun things would have to wait. “Dearest,” she said, “I’m afraid I have a little chore for you this afternoon. I have Rosa and Ixinza busy cleaning the meat processing plant in the basement, and I need someone to go to Harry Winston’s shop downtown. They have a few pieces they’d like me to consider. Normally, I’d go there myself, but I have a bit of a business meeting with several dear old friends. They want to see about exporting my hormone mixtures to a number of select locations.”

“The milk hormones or the meat development hormones?” Sharon asked out of curiosity. Belinda, a genius level chemist, had developed a milk hormone mixture that started women lactating. If a muffin was properly developed when she came to Belinda’s for her stay, she was given the milk hormones. Not just the muffins, either. Ixinza, Rosa, and Sharon were all well developed enough to make milking worthwhile. Every morning, they were milked by those women that weren’t in the dairy herd. The non-milkers got meat development hormones, another of Belinda’s developments. The meat hormones improved a woman’s flesh in very important areas, hips, buttocks, thighs, the pubic mound, and - especially - the breasts. A fully developed meat muffin on hormones looked like an extremely curvy woman with a set of firm, top grade surgical breasts. The hormones increased the flesh sheath over the fat and glands of the breasts and actually made them a great meal in themselves. Sharon considered the meat hormones one of Belinda’s greatest gifts to edible womankind.

“Oh, the meat hormones, lover,” Belinda replied with a twinkling smile. “My business contacts want to see about helping the self-image of women in other countries.”

“Not to mention making them better meat,” Sharon added dryly. “Well, I think that’s a worthwhile use of your time, plus I get to wander around a really upper level jewelry store and dream a little. Okay, Belinda, I’ll go right after lunch.”

Belinda smiled again, this time with real affection. “Thank you very much, dearest. Why don’t you do more than dream? Pick out something for yourself and tell Mr. Fieldman to put it on my bill. I’m sure a diamond tennis bracelet or something like that would go with your present costume.”

As Sharon smiled her thanks, Belinda gave more thought to Sharon’s current costume, tastefully accessorizing her long curvy nudity. Hm. The taste of the carrot stick wandered through her mind. Then the taste of Sharon wandered through her mind. Hm, again. “Dearest,” Belinda asked, “we have a while before lunch. Would you consider changing your morning’s plans and join me in my bedroom for another appetizer? We’ll even have Lucy accompany us.”

Sharon decided she wouldn’t mind changing her morning’s plans. A slap and squeeze of Lucy’s bare plump ass made her decided adding one more to the party wasn’t a bad idea, either.

The scene now turns to South Beach, outside of an exclusive and very, very expensive jewelry store, owned by the Harry Winston chain. Parked across the street from the store was a flamingo pink van with Day-Glo yellow trim, actually sort of unremarkable in Miami. Inside three gentlemen of Colombian extraction contemplated each other in the back of the van. Well, they weren’t really gentlemen, thugs actually, but the author must be polite.

First Colombian Gentleman (in Colombian): “Well, we lost that one. Now where do we get the second?”

Second CG (in Colombian): “We wait right here, dumass. Ought to be another along pretty soon. Then we grab that one, make the delivery, get paid, and dump this van.”

Third CG, looking out the passenger’s door window (in heavily accented English): “Holy chit, Maan!”

First CG (in Colombian): “Don’t sound like a stereotype!”

Then he looks out the same window. (In heavily accented English): “Holy chit, Mann!”

Walking along the store fronts across the street was Sharon. Even in Miami, she was eye catching. Her tall beautifully proportioned figure was worth a look in any crowd that didn’t have Belinda in it. Besides, she was dressed in her “street clothes”, augmented by a few touches.

To Sharon, accustomed to almost constant nudity, getting fully dressed was irksome. When she wasn’t in a location where she could wear a swimsuit, she normally wore a sleeveless red plaid work shirt tied under her large firm breasts. Below that was a lot of midriff, and below that was a pair of very low waisted, cut off jeans shorts (very cut off). Sharon’s motto was, “Show a little cheek and a lot of cleavage.” While such an outfit wasn’t all that remarkable in South Beach, Sharon made it very much so.

Her augmentation reflected her current “elegant, aristocratic rich” mood, with her heart shaped sunglasses, wide brimmed sun hat (decorated with a large ribbon), clutch purse, and high heeled sandals. Actually, the augmentation would have better fit a woman with more classical model’s looks instead of her pleasantly rounded solid face, but the curves of her quite shapely - hell, dynamite curvy - figure totally offset any qualms about fit. Sharon got her share of drooling looks, to which she was splendidly indifferent, as befitted an elegant, aristocratic rich type.

In fact, Sharon drew, not only the attention of the three CGs, but that of Jess, one of Sharon Paten’s two assistants, who happened to be only slightly down the street on other business.

The van squealed across the street, jerking to a stop next to Sharon. Its cargo door flew back and two of the CGs flew out. They made a diving tackle, slapped an injector full of knockout drug into Sharon’s neck, and (with some effort - she was a big girl, remember) carried her unconscious form back to the van.

Witnessing all this, the quick thinking Jess did what any normal urban woman would do. She took out her cell phone.

And took pictures of the whole thing.

Now the CG’s plan was to immediately depart the area, tires smoking. This was somewhat delayed . As the kidnapping took place, a long lanky arm jerked open the driver’s door of the van and effortlessly extracted the driver. Not stopping to discuss this occurrence, one of the two (now slightly panicky) kidnappers dived into the driver’s seat and the van then proceeded to depart the area, tires smoking, less one CG.

Said CG was undergoing a lecture on the history of the area from his captor - currently holding him by the neck in a grip like a pair of locking pliers. “…and over there is where they shot a lot of the background scenes for ‘Miami Vice’ back in the 80s. Cocaine, Colombian drug lords, the whole bit. There are still a few of the drug lords around, you know, even after the market collapse in the 90s. Blame the dot com bubble. Most of the drug lords are dead by assassination, dead in drug wars, or just dead period. Some hung around and went into other scams. The real losers run Nigerian email spam businesses. One went into house siding scams…”

Jess looked at the bedraggled and stunned CG and his lanky captor. “Serge Storms! I thought you were in the Keys. Never mind!” This last exclamation cut off a detailed explanation of Serge’s recent history. “They just kidnapped my friend Sharon. I have pictures but I don’t know where they’re going!”

Serge looked down at the very worried CG. “No problem. I’ll have the information for you in a jiffy.” Over his shoulder. “Coleman, get the spare tire iron out of the Buick’s trunk. Yeah, the one with all the matted hair on it.”

Wheels began to grind, marshaling the powers on Sharon’s side.

Lorna Paten answered the phone on her office desk. Of no particular relevance to this story but good to know, Lorna was president of the Society of Lilith, a semi-underground power organization for women that involved a good bit of gynophagia. So did Lorna. Her day job was as owner and manager of the Aldyke Agency, a modeling agency that specialized in helping porno models find a mainstream job. She also knew a good many very interesting people.

Got that? Okay, back to the story.

It was - who else? - Jess on the phone. Listening intently for a moment, Lorna began one of those one sided conversations that make sense if you listen carefully. “Kidnapped!… Who?… Suarez gang… How did you find out?… Serge asked one of them? But why would he answer?… Oh… A tire iron… Well that will do it. Say hello to Serge for me. He’s really very nice. Yes, I know. OK, yes… a serial killer… yes, and psychotic… but still nice. Yes… I’ll check my email for the pictures and get them to Belinda as soon as possible. I’m going to call Antonio and get him to help us, too. Okay, bye.”

Lorna’s next call was to Belinda.

Belinda, when she took the message, appeared to the casual observer to be quite calm. Nope. She was boiling mad. She thanked Lorna for her efforts and promised to invite her and both assistants over for a barbecue soon. She hung up the phone and looked at Ixinza and Rosa, both of whom looked back with equal expressions of anger and worry. “Ladies,” she said, “as you heard, someone has grabbed Sharon. They can’t be either well informed or very bright, because simply everyone knows bothering me or mine is very much the wrong thing to do. I intend to contact some dear friends of mine and see about this as soon as Antonio Montero has located the place where Sharon was taken.”

After a fiery burst of Spanish profanity, Rosa lifted a long butcher knife, just grabbed from the kitchen. “I come too, Miz Belinda. Sharon’s my friend!”

Ixinza, a Cuban-Puerto Rican Creole with coffee colored skin and a Playboy grade body, looked at her short, highly curvy Mexican coworker. Of course, she understood all of Rosa’s remarks and agreed with all of them. “Let me come also, Miss Belinda. I’m pretty good with a baseball bat. Besides, Rosa shouldn’t get all the fun.”

Belinda smiled tenderly. “Thank you both, dears, and I really mean that. However, one of you has to remain here in case something happens. Besides, the muffins really need managing. Ixinza, I want you here. Rosa, you may come, but no castrating anyone unless I say so, understand?” Thus proving Belinda also understood all of Rosa’s tirade.

One short phone call to some old friends, another call from Antonio Montero informing Belinda of the isolated mansion outside of town that proved to be Sharon’s destination, and a short while later, Belinda was dressed for an expedition against bad guys.

“Wow, Miss Belinda,” Ixinza said, “you’re dressed like that woman in the computer games, Lara Croft.”

Belinda, fastening the gun belt holding two matching strange looking pistols, smiled. “Well, dear, I actually did inspire the game designers - wonderful weekend, that. And three very nice boys. But I haven’t worn this outfit in a number of years and I’ve made changes in the armament. I don’t need the same sort of thing when I go out in Miami as I did when I was adventuring in the Amazon jungle looking for new drugs, you know.

“Of course,” Belinda added thoughtfully, “the area’s more dangerous now. But, still, one must uphold civilization.”

Ixinza nodded, wide-eyed. You learned something new every day.

Gathering Rosa - now wearing a (very) tight, short shirt dress and replacing her improvised armament with a Bowie knife from Belinda’s closet (more suitable, you know), Belinda took off in her BMW to meet some dear old friends at the designated address.

Belinda was in a hurry and that tended to make her energetic driving style even more energetic. That didn’t bother Rosa, riding shotgun. The trip nostalgically reminded her of taxi rides back in Mexico.

When the BMW jerked to a stop in front of the closed gates to the designated mansion’s driveway, two of Belinda’s dear old friends were waiting, standing next to their long black Lincoln. One of the two men was in his late forties, with immaculately groomed grey hair, black shirt, white tie, and a sport coat that didn’t quite conceal the gun bulge under his left armpit. The other was younger, mid-thirties, heavyset, and wearing a bowling shirt hanging loose to conceal the larger gun holstered at his waist band. To wit: Rocco and Louis, classic mob wise guys.

The older one, Rocco, said, “Hi, Belinda. Tony said you had a little problem and sent us over to see about it.”

Belinda bustled over and hug each man in turn, complete with an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Thank you for coming, boys. A person has grabbed Sharon and I’m quite concerned. It appears to be someone named Suarez, who is certainly not a player here in town. I understand Antonio Montero has one of his boys in the house already. We’ll simply wait to hear from him, then do what suggests itself.” Nods all around.

Inside the four story mansion, Suarez was fuming slightly as he climbed the stairs to his headquarters. Well, it wasn’t really his headquarters exactly. Actually, it was the suite allotted to him by Abigail Pierce, the real owner of the mansion and his current meal ticket.

Suarez - one name only, it was more impressive - tended to chafe a bit whenever Abigail got this high handed and sent everyone off. It shouldn’t bother him, he told himself. This happened every time they delivered a woman to Abigail. Still, he was a real mob boss, currently specializing in kidnapping. He ought get a little more respect - fear even. After all, he was a former cocaine boss, from Colombia no less, the home of cocaine bosses. On the other hand, he had to be philosophical. His current gig beat Nigerian email fraud and aluminum siding scams. He really, really didn’t want to go back to that.

He opened the door to his headquarters and stomped in importantly, head down and not paying attention. Pity, really, he should have been paying attention.

Inside was six and a half scowling feet of Jess’s boyfriend, Juan. One of Antonio Montero’s men. He was also holding a short length of metal pipe, something he favored for situations such as this. CLANK!

Juan briefly contemplated the problem of getting Suarez out of the mansion, then looked out one of the suite’s large windows. Bushes below. That would do. He picked up the unconscious Suarez and dropped him out of the window, figuring the bushes would break his fall from the third story enough that the guy would still be useful when retrieved.

Of course, they were holly bushes, but Suarez was momentarily in no condition to be concerned.

Back outside, one of the mob guys took a careful peek through the iron grill that barred the driveway. “Hey, Belinda, dere’s a couple of Spanish lookin’ punks climbing into that van parked out front of da house.”

Belinda also took a quick peek, careful to remain unobserved by the van and occupants thereof. “That’s the van that carried off Sharon, boys. I’ll bet at least several of the kidnappers are inside. We really ought to pick up those gentlemen.

“Hm…” Belinda put her right index finger under her chin, her favorite thinking posture, and looked at Rosa and the two mobsters, all three of whom looked back at her with the expectant faced of hunting dogs about to be set on a fox. Then she looked at Rosa again. “If you two boys will do the honors, I believe Rosa and I can stop the van for you. Especially Rosa.”

Shortly, the van containing the two remaining members of the original CG kidnap team halted to let the automatic gate open for them. The driver started drive out the gate, then jammed on the brakes and commented in heavily accented English, “Holy chit, Mann!”

CG#2, eyes bugging out: “Holy chit, Mann!”

Rosa had walked out and was standing in front of the van.

Now a reasonable description of Rosa should be given the reader at this point. The reader deserves it, and Rosa is well worth the time. Her long hair was of that honey shade peculiar to real Hispanic blondes. To help visualize the rest, the reader already has a picture of Sharon’s Junoesque frame. Say, 38D-28-38 on a body that reaches north side of five-ten. Now squash that about four or five inches. No flab or cellulite and a nicely rounded little belly. That was Rosa. She occasionally went by the nickname of “T&A”, after her most prominent features.

Prior to this digression, Rosa had positioned herself in front of the van. OK so far. Also prior to this discussion, she had handed her dress to Belinda, under which she had disdained any garments.

In other words, Rosa was nude. Gloriously, completely, eyeball straining, buck-assed naked.

CG #1 and #2 were paralyzed.

The wiseguys (with the occasional glance at Rosa) had positioned themselves, one on either side of the driveway, out of sight behind ornamental pillars. When the van slammed to a goggle-eyed halt, they swiftly and smoothly jerked open the van’s doors, then swiftly and smoothly jerked out the van’s occupants. A professionally done rap to the head apiece, and both CGs were quiescent. Belinda stepped into the still slowly rolling van and calmly drove it out of sight around the corner, turning it off and leaving the keys inside for later pickup by one of her dear friends in need of a ride.

The mob boys deposited both CGs in the trunk of their Lincoln (after suitable gagging and binding) and returned to Belinda to await further developments. Further developments weren’t long in coming.

With excellent timing but no warning, Suarez flew limply over the wall to land (also) limply on the adjacent sidewalk with a FLUMP (body) and CLONK (head). This did his prior damage from landing in the holly bushes absolutely no good whatsoever. Belinda, Rosa, and the two mob boys calmly regarded the recumbent form of Suarez with mild interest. “I believe that is Mister Suarez,” Belinda commented to nobody in particular.

As expected, Juan was the next one over the wall, but with far more grace and survivability, not to mention landing on his feet. He had his priorities correct when he greeted everyone. “Hello, Belinda. Rosa…” There was a brief, highly complimentary, commentary in Spanish which the noted author will omit due to not understanding a word of it but everyone will pretty well guess the content. "…Hi, boys. How’s Tony?”

Amenities concluded and a slight stirring by Suarez suppressed by a boot (Belinda’s) to the head, Juan reported. “There’s nobody else in there with Sharon except some broad named Abigail Pierce. You want I should go get her?”

“No dear,” Belinda replied. “I think I would enjoy that hunt myself.” Belinda made no motion and didn’t change expression, but she was suddenly giving off a predatory aura that made all three hardened men shiver involuntarily.

“Boys,” she said to the wiseguys, “I think you may dispose of Mister Suarez and his men in some appropriate and humorous manner of your choice. Before you do, however, I want to express my gratitude. Please tell Tony and Edie I’ll be over one evening next week to express it to them personally. In your case, because you’ve both been such dears, why don’t the pair of you come over and spend several days at the ranch? I’ll even have a special patio cookout just for you.”

Both men immediately took on the look of someone that had just won the lottery.

Belinda made no such offer to Juan. He was being very gentlemanly, despite the fact that Rosa had neglected to dress. Juan was very involved with Jess, and his passionate Latin soul was dedicated solely to her. The facts that Jess was really good looking in an experienced sort of way, was a great cook, and was the equivalent of a Ph.D. in sex also factored into his dedication. Belinda would settle up with Antonio and Juan in other ways.

Immediate details settled, Belinda turned and drifted through the mansion’s gates and onto its grounds. She would be in the house shortly, to Abigail’s expected discomfort.

Back in the street, the mob boys were attempting to load Suarez into the trunk by placing him on the other two CGs and slamming the lid. WHUMP! WHUMP! “No use,” Rocco said. “Can’t get da lid to latch, no matter how hard I slam it on dat jerk. I don’t wanna dirty up da back seat with dis crud. He’s leakin’.”

Louis looked around and said, “Hey! Ain’t dat Teddy Teagarden’s place over dere?” Rocco looked, nodded and A Plan Was Born.

Curious, Rosa, still in a state of nature, walked across the street to where the wiseguys were summarily chunking CGs one at a time over a white stucco wall. “An a one. An a two. An a tree… ” Suarez followed the other two in a short flight over the wall.

“Wa chu doin’, guys?” she asked.

The wiseguys turned to enjoy the view as Rosa simply breathed. Louis jerked a thumb back over his shoulder towards the wall. “Dat’s Teddy Teagarden’s place. Tony’s in da pen right now, but he won’t mind us feeding his security system for him.”

“Security system?” Rosa said in a puzzled voice.

Rocco nodded, then listened as a loud roar, followed by some screams in a CG accent, echoed over the wall. “Yeah. Teddy keeps a coupl’a man eating tigers loose on his grounds so nobody bothers Sheila and his kids while he’s outa town.”

There were some horrid-type munching and growling and tearing sounds, indicating that Suarez was still unconscious and unable to run from the tigers. Along with that, there were rapidly retreating screams, footsteps, etc. Those were followed by a pair of splashes, then more horrific screams. The wiseguys laughed, then Rocco explained. “Those other two must’a found the pond. Teddy keeps it stocked with those man eatin’ fish from the Amazon. Louis, call Sheila and tell her we fed the animals today. She’ll like the joke and she’ll tell Teddy, too. He needs a laugh anyhow.”

Rosa also laughed. Tigers and fish were small potatoes compared to what she wanted to do to the jerks, but she had to admit it was all kind of amusing. On the whole, she was feeling a whole lot better now that everything was under control. She decided to share her general good humor. “Meez Belinda said you pretty good guys,” she remarked with a bright smile, “and you deserve a tip. You wanna go to de car and I give it to you?”

So those three were profitably occupied while Belinda was off hunting.

Backing up a little, time-wise, Abigail had just finished dressing (so to speak) for the Big Event. She was wearing a well structured bra (for good reason) and thong panties. This was all the undress she would allow her self until she got the latest girl spitted and on the grill. Then, watching her future dinner squirm and listening to the noises she made, Abigail would strip completely and enjoy fingering herself to every orgasm she could. After that, the succulent flavor of grilled woman meat was simply the climax (no pun intended) of the entire process.

The whole sequence of events was not only exciting, it was addictive. That’s why she put up with that simply horrible slob Suarez and his two hirelings. They provided the women from the Miami streets for her enjoyment. To Abigail, any woman besides herself was both meat and sex. Usually the more innocent and ignorant of Miami’s underground woman eating custom a woman was when captured, the better. Abigail had long ago given up on sexual partners. It was simply so much more exciting to watch an innocent woman cook, listen to her pleas and screams as she did, and enjoy herself with fingers and toys.

Abigail had a serious screw loose.

In the large room Abigail had dedicated to such pursuits as grilling women and masturbation, Sharon was coming blearily awake. She had a very fast snapback, so it only took her a few seconds to realize she was (a) nude, (b) fully stretched out and bound hand and foot, (c) lying face down on a metal table, and (d) she could feel the heat from a warming electrical grill just to her front that was big enough to cook a whole woman. a + b + c + d = e. e meant she was in real trouble. Someone was planning to convert her to girl chops and a pussy platter. She lay there unmoving for a moment and wondered what the hell to do next. She also wondered if Belinda was looking for her. On the other hand, Belinda helped those that helped themselves.

Sharon heard Abigail enter the room. She closed her eyes and lay quietly limp.

Abigail strolled over to the table holding Sharon, examining her nude form avidly. “My,” she remarked to the still body on the table, “Suarez and his men picked up a big one this time. You ought to last a long time and be ever so much fun.

“Such tasty looking thighs,” she continued, squeezing the aforementioned smooth firm items. Another squeeze and joggle. “Nice buns, too.” Finger inserted up under the buttocks. “Oh, and that pussy feels plump and delicious. I’m going to have just so much fun with you.”

Abigail bustled around gathering the items she needed, among which was a two part hypermagnetic spit. The two part spit was a marvelous advance in woman eating for a number of reasons. The bottom half was tipped by an eight inch long electrostimulator that went far up the woman’s ass or pussy and produced wonderful orgasms. Since orgasm induced endorphins gave the meat much better flavor, this was a huge advance in itself.

But wait, there’s more.

The front half went in the wearer’s mouth and partially down the throat. Both ends were held in place by a super strong magnetic field that not only rigidly aligned the bars, it made the woman feel like there was a metal bar completely through her body. Since the front only went down the throat a small way, the voice box wasn’t blocked and such things as breathing, squealing, screaming, moans, etc., weren’t inhibited. The sound effects superbly added to the ambiance of the occasion. Another major advance. Belinda’s spit muffins frequently rode one for fun and to practice for their big day.

Abigail took the bottom half of the spit and waked over to the unmoving form on the table. Supremely confident in the drug that kept her prospective entertainment and dinner unconscious (too small a dose for a woman Sharon’s size, however) she untied Sharon’s ankles and spread her legs to get a good access to her pussy. She admired the tasty view for a moment, then firmly and not too gently inserted the bottom half of the spit as far up Sharon’s pussy as it would go. No reaction. But that was only to be expected.

“Now,” Abigail cheerily said to a totally unresponsive Sharon, “I’ll just put in the front half.” Grabbing Sharon’s nose in order to lift and open her limp mouth, she shoved the soft tip of the upper half of the spit into her mouth and down her throat.

“Let’s get those hands properly tied, shall we?” Abigail continued with the rhetorical question.

Abigail proceeded to untie Sharon’s hands, then took the left one and pulled the limp, unresisting arm back and laid it across Sharon’s back. “Getting the other hand is always such a problem,” Abigail muttered.

Obediently, the right arm came back and smoothly positioned itself with the forearm across Sharon’s back, matching the left and in perfect position to tie off. “Oh, wonderful,” Abigail said. “Now where did I put that cooking cord?”

Abigail turned away to pick up the cord. About that time, the Light Came On.

Also about that time, Sharon reached back around and pulled the front half of the spit from her mouth.

By this time, Abigail had turned around to look at Sharon in shock. Sharon fiercely glared at the other woman from under lowered brows and, holding herself up with her left hand, reached across with a beautiful right hook to the jaw. WHAP! The punch knocked Abigail tail over teakettle.

“Bitch!” Sharon ground out between clenched teeth as she reached back and removed the bottom half of the spit with a little difficulty. Sharon then grabbed the freshly removed bottom half like a baseball bat and painfully got off the table with fell intent written in every line of her body.

Lying on the floor, a very sore jawed Abigail watched Sharon start to get up with horror and screamed. Sharon’s removal of the spit slowed her just enough for a panicky Abigail to regain her feet and take off down the hall, still screaming as she ran for her life.

Belinda was by now in the mansion and slowly, quietly, approaching the room where Sharon was held. She froze when she heard the screaming.

Oh, good, she thought to herself, Sharon’s loose.

This assumption was proved by the sight of a barely clad strange woman tearing down the hall towards Belinda. Belinda stepped smoothly to one side as Abigail tore past, drew one of her pistols, and shot the fleeing woman in the side. Since the pistol was actually a police issue Taser, the electrical Taser dart did no more than shock Abigail into unconsciousness.

Belinda was looking down at the stunned and totally out of it Abigail as Sharon came charging up, still carrying her spit half like a long club. Sharon slammed to a halt. “Took you long enough, Belinda,” she remarked with some irritation.

“I’m sorry, dearest,” Belinda said sweetly. “We had to locate you first, then dispose of those three simply detestable kidnappers. It appears we have some fresh meat for a patio cook out. Lucy may be momentarily disappointed, but I’ll make it up to her. Shall we take her home?”

Sharon nodded grimly. “Yep. And I have plans for this bitch before we cook her, too.”

NEXT POST

Abigail woke up on the ride back. It took a little while to orient herself because she was bound hand and foot, and had quite the most uncomfortable ball gag stuffed in her mouth. Also, the trunk of a white BMW rocketing through Miami traffic wasn’t exactly a pleasant ride. Basically, she decided things weren’t going well for her.

The latter conclusion was proved when the BMW pulled to a halt in front of Belinda’s front door, the trunk lid was opened, and several nude women hauled her out and into the mansion’s main room for inspection. “She shows a great deal of promise for free range meat,” Belinda concluded after a full visual examination. “Ixinza, why don’t you, Rosa, and several of the girls take her in back and clean her up. I’ll give her a proper meat evaluation when she comes back.”

Thus Abigail found herself in what looked like a tile locker room with a large shower room and several toilet stalls. This also did not look good.

It looked even worse a few moments later when Ixinza stood in front of her, hefting a hose with a long, thick, flexible rubber attachment screwed to its end. The smile on Ixinza’s face wasn’t pleasant to see. Abigail also had forebodings about that hose attachment and its use. Reasonable ones, as it turned out.

“Now,” Ixinza said in a voice that really wasn’t pleasant (She’d been kidnapped herself, once, and remembered it well.), “let’s get that bra and panties off of you and then we’ll get this up your ass and flush you out.”

Abigail’s eyes got wide and her face showed panicky shock. Rosa advancing on her with the bowie knife really did the trick. She was giving vent to a series of loud muffled screams when Marilyn, one of the muffins assisting in the preliminary preparation process, started to walk around her, looking thoughtfully at Abigail’s thong panties.

“She’s got a wonderful butt,” Marilyn said. “Plenty of nice meat in those buttocks. Let’s save her panties. I’d like to try something that will really display them nicely.”

Rosa nodded, then skillfully and quickly cut off the bra as the woman cut her eyes to watch in fear. Abigail’s big breasts flopped out. They were rather large, but a good bit longer than they were thick, so the flopping direction was down. “Hm,” Ixinza meditated, “not very attractive. After we clean her up, let’s tie them together. That ought to give her some support.

“Okay, lady,” she continued briskly, “it’s clean out time. Better bend over.”

In the main room, a comfortably nude Belinda was relaxing in one of the overstuffed chairs and sipping a drink. She cocked an experienced ear to the loud, panicky muffled screams that were steadily growing in amplitude. “It sounds as though they’ve gotten a good start on Abigail, dearest,” she commented.

Sharon was standing nearby, testing the swing of a padded wooden paddle. “This ought to work,” she said to herself, then turned to Belinda. “Yeah, Belinda, I hope she’s having fun. I will. I intend to heat up her seat cushions a lot before we cook her.”

“Wonderful, lover,” Belinda replied. “You’ll have plenty of time for that. I don’t intend to grill her until day after tomorrow. I’m inviting Lorna and her friends over for a special cookout then. Abigail will be the very special guest of honor.”

“Works for me,” Sharon said with a grim smile. “Ought to be fun. It’ll be fun before then, too. My pussy’s still sore from that damned spit. She certainly doesn’t know anything about how to prepare a girl.”

The conversation was still on cooking methods and other fun things to do with Abigail’s butt when Ixinza and her crew brought the subject of the conversation out for inspection. By now, all of the muffins had gathered in the living area to check out the new pussy platter.

Abigail was being led in by a thick rope tied around her neck and was now more or less nude, still glistening slightly from her wash. All of her body hair was now gone, and she was walking a bit stiff legged from the super enema, not to mention the three feet of very thick hose that gave it to her. Her forearms were still bound across her middle back and she was mouthing the ball gag. The cleaning crew hadn’t bothered removing either gag or binding for the cleaning process since Abigail needed restraint and Ixinza wasn’t really interested in hearing what she had to say about the situation. Her breasts were tied together with multiple windings of cooking cord, causing them to stand out like torpedoes and her nipples to really project. Interesting picture.

What caused comment, however, was Marilyn’s idea. The thong panties were back in place, but rolled down tightly below her buttocks. They looked like a heavy, tight cord tied just below her cheeks exactly where they joined the thighs. This forced her full butt upward and outward, projecting two really nice full mounds of rump meat out for inspection. The tightness of the panties also caused her thigh flesh to bulge appetizingly above and below the “cord”.

“I like this idea,” Sharon said, cupping one of the thrusting meaty buttocks. “Makes a wonderful target for my paddle. Makes the butt and thighs just look so plump and delicious, too. We’ll keep your panties on you, girl, and just this way.

“You won’t even have to remove them for sex,” she said in a soft menacing tone to the terrified woman. “You’re going to get fucked a good bit for the next day or so, but the panties won’t get in the way. I don’t intend to use your pussy.”

Wide eyed apprehension on the part of Abigail.

“Now, however,” Sharon said ominously, holding Abigail’s rope and hefting the paddle, “you need a little tenderizing before we get to the matter of my plug-on and your ass.”

SLAP! Abigail’s cheeks joggled in a very appetizing manner. The watching audience thought all of the yips and ouches squealed out from behind the ball gag were fun.

Late that night, Abigail was exhausted, flopped on her belly on the bed in the basement holding area, sort of an open apartment with bars for walls. By craning her head, Abigail could see another large cage, this one just pallets and bars. (That one was for muffin play, but she didn’t know that.) Beyond the cage, in the unlighted area, were the ominous shadowed shapes of what looked like a full meat processing plant. The thought gave her shudders. She was in the hands of women who were far more advanced in preparing and cooking female flesh than she ever thought possible. It was no stretch of the imagination to guess what was intended for her.

Beyond what Sharon had already done, that is. She had been introduced to the plug-on, a device developed by one of the muffins who had gone on to provide a truly gourmet meal. Instead of clumsy and unsightly straps, the thick plastic shaft of the plug-on was secured to a woman by a U shaped padded spring that went between the thighs and up between the buttocks. Plugs on the spring for the pussy and ass not only further secured the main penetrating shaft, they contributed markedly to the pleasure of the wearer as she banged away in her partner. Abigail was rather unappreciative of the device.

Her plump butt (of which she was actually quite proud) was on fire from repeated paddling, and the aperture between her round cheeks felt like it was gaping open. Of course, there was the astounding revelation that she could orgasm with someone pumping her ass instead of her pussy, but there was such a thing as too much. Bottom and bottom hole both ached. At least she was free of the gag and bindings.

The bars rattled, and she looked nervously over her shoulder a woman entered. What now?

It was Rosa, carrying a tray with a wine bottle, glass, and a couple of other things on it. She put the tray on a nearby side table. “Dis for you,” Rosa said in firm practical tones, “an’ I t’ink you gonna need da ‘hole bottle.

“De wine help you relax,” she continued, not mentioning it was heavily laced with Belinda’s sexual stimulation drug. The drug was actually a favor to Abigail, since it would help her enjoy all the butt-banging. The resulting orgasms would also enhance the succulent flavor of her meat, but Abigail didn’t need to know that part, at least for now.

Rosa picked up a large jar. “Dis is salve for yo’ ass. Make de sting go away.”

Another, smaller, jar. “Dis is lube. You put it on de plug.”

Rosa picked up a clear lucite butt plug. It had a long thick conical head, short curved cross bars below the head, and a five inch long handle. “You lube up dis plug and put it up yo’ ass. Keep you from closin’ up overnight. You be good and open for Meez Sharon tomorrow and you don’ have no problems. Also, you make sure you put yo’ panties back on just like we had ‘em after you get up. Everybody liked dat. You don’ do it, Meez Sharon will, and I don’ t’ink you want her to do it. Understand everyt’ing?”

Abigail silently nodded her understanding, then watched Rosa’s lush nudity as the girl turned and jiggled out the cell door. After Rosa was gone, Abigail got painfully up and went to the collection of stuff on the table. Her first choice was a no-brainer. She immediately slathered her bottom with the salve, sighing with relief as the sting went away. She started to reach for the wine, then stopped in thought. Instead, she lubed up the plug and reached back, inserting it slowly and carefully up her ass. After that, there was only one question to answer.

Did she drink the wine standing up or lying on her stomach on the bed?

The following afternoon, Sharon was back on top of the world. She was back on the patio, deep in her rich bitch fantasy, with her sun hat and a new pair of sunglasses with heart shaped lenses, replacing the pair lost in the kidnapping. Her right hand casually held a long barbecue fork. The table next to her held a spatula with a long handle, a nicely chilled tray of carrot slices, and some chilled wine.

Lucy, the reason for the carrot slices, was back in position to be Sharon’s “dip”, belly down and butt up. Lucy was a bit miffed at Abigail taking her place on the grill, but Belinda promised she’d be the next one in the kitchen after they cooked the newly caught bitch. Meanwhile, Lucy was enjoying the feeling of Sharon periodically dipping the carrot slices into her pussy. She was also enjoying the compliments about the flavor she gave the carrots.

Pink, the household cat, was also in attendance. He was curled up on the lounger next to Sharon’s feet. Normally, the attitude between the two was more détente than warmth, but Pink felt the scene needed his presence to complete the picture of a languid, decadent, epicure. Sharon had to agree.

Abigail was also in attendance. She stood docile next to the lounger within easy reach. She was back in her outfit of gag, bound breasts, arms tied across her back, panties rolled down to support her plump round buttocks, and a strap around her thighs to act as a hobble.

Abigail wasn’t a happy camper. Despite her obvious future, or lack thereof, she was a bit depressed. She always thought her ass was outstanding, that is until she saw the lush female nudity at the ranch. Compared to the muffins - or Belinda and any of the other women - her bottom was downgraded to about average, at least in her own eyes. To her surprise, it was mildly depressing to discover that she was on the manu, not because of how appetizing she looked, but because she kidnapped the wrong - EXTREMELY wrong - woman.

Said wrong woman, Sharon, had taken a few opportunities to touch up her bottom with the paddle during the morning. That left Abigail with a real disinclination to sit down, even on the cushy living room chairs. She could take a few moments to relax by lying on her belly on the couch, but that brought other problems. Every time she did it, she was only there for a few moments before someone would happen by, pause, make a speculative noise or two, then Abigail would feel a thick oily plastic penis slide between her plump cheeks and up her bottom hole. Not all that bad, but she couldn’t relax while getting her ass fucked. The choice was sit on her heated butt or have it expertly banged by one of the other girls.

Life sucked.

Belinda bustled out onto the patio, leading four more nude attractive women. One was the short and highly rounded Lorna Paten. Behind her were her two assistants, blonde Jess and brunette Miki. Both of those girls had the well built firm figures and weathered good looks of experienced biker chicks or former porn actresses. That made sense because that’s what they were.

Following the trio was Ming, a slightly slender but busty Oriental girl in her early twenties, currently a part time assistant for Lorna until she got out of school.

“Dearest,” Belinda chimed pleasantly, “Lorna and her girls are here for tomorrow’s barbecue.”

“Hi, guys,” Sharon waved languidly (befitting her current image of a lady of extreme leisure), “want to get a look at the menu?”

Lorna nodded thoughtfully as she critically examined Abigail. “Why not? So this is the cause of all of the ruckus?”

Sharon nodded with an evil smile, then leaned over and used her fork to jab Abigail gently in the ass by way of urging her forward. Abigail complied immediately. The fork was dulled just enough to not pierce the skin and it certainly beat the paddle in her estimation.

Lorna professionally ran her hands gently over Abigail’s bare flesh, eliciting a few shivers. “Good meat,” she commented absently. “What do you think, girls?”

Jess and Miki, both experienced and expert chefs when it came to woman meat, also examined Abigail. Jess hefted one projecting buttock. “Nice steaks here,” she commented. Jess squeezed Abigail’s flesh just above the hip bone. “Good sirloin, too.”

Sharon grinned. “Check the pussy. She’s wet and open. Really gets off on this.” That was the result of Belinda’s drug, but nobody was telling Abigail.

Lorna tucked a questing finger underneath Abigail’s ass and ran it over the damp pussy lips between her thighs. When she pulled the finger out, it was well coated and she sucked the juice off. “Boy,” Lorna said, “she’s much more tasty than I thought she’d be.”

Jess, Miki, and Ming also tried the finger test. Ming left her finger in longer and played around a little. That got a series of muffled gasps, moans, than a long drawn out wail from behind the ball gag. “Looks like you were right, Sharon,” she giggled.

Sharon chuckled. “Yep. If any of you want to borrow her this afternoon, feel free. She’s actually a pretty good butt fuck. I haven’t used her pussy yet, but you can. She’s mine for tonight, though.”

Belinda smiled sweetly. “Please do avail yourselves of our hospitality, ladies,” she said. “I want her popping off as much as possible. That will certainly add flavor to her meat tomorrow.”

Abigail greeted this statement with big shocked eyes, then started wriggling and moaning again as a grinning Jess slid an active finger back up between her thighs from behind. The rest of the afternoon turned out to be quite eventful from Abigail’s standpoint.

Her night with Sharon was also eventful. Exhausting, too. Sharon even relented enough to flip her onto her back and use a long thick plug-on in her pussy. Abigail was duly, and noisily, grateful.

The next afternoon, everyone was gathered on the patio for the afternoon barbecue. Everyone was there except Rosa, Ixinza, and Sharon. Oh, and the guest of honor was missing too. Abigail was in the back undergoing a final clean up. She’d had her super enema (and still considered the enema tube ENTIRELY too big) and was gasping and squealing her way through a final touch up swab - up her ass, WAY up her ass - with a long flexible soft brush. Sharon and company quite enjoyed the sound effects. Abigail quite wished everyone at the ranch was vegetarian. Pink, present in his capacity as Official Observer, felt the noise level was quite appropriate.

Standing with the group and listening to the background music provided by Abigail from within the house, Ming noticed two of the muffins standing side by side and engaged in conversation. Curious, she strolled over. Besides, she knew from previous experience here at the ranch that standing next to a muffin or two was where anyone with common sense wanted to be when a woman was being prepared for cooking.

Susan was saying, "… it’s obvious that a government run universal medical program is the only real solution to our current medical system problems.”

Lori replied, “I disagree. That would leave the ordinary person at the mercy of a medical treatment plan run with all of the efficiency and speed of a government bureaucracy…”

Shrugging, Ming decided the best course of action was to ignore the conversation, bring it up at a more appropriate time, and take what was obvious measures around muffins. Both women smiled welcome as Ming came to stand between them and put an arm around each one’s waist, then pursued their discussion without missing a beat. Ming concentrated on nice thoughts about Abigail as she gently squeezed and fondled some nice meaty hips and buttocks. Dinner on the hoof should be out soon.

Finally, Sharon walked out, leading a very panicky and wriggling Abigail by the usual rope around her neck. Abigail was bound and gagged, again as usual, but missing the panties rolled under her buttocks. Those were gone to give unobstructed access to her pussy. Sharon was walking in a slow runway strut, happily attired hat, high heel slippers, and sunglasses, holding the bottom half of a two part spit resting on her shoulder like a baseball bat. Pink trailed along in his capacity as Official Observer.

Everyone applauded. Sharon smiled at the crowd. Abigail moaned.

When Abigail saw the electric rotisserie barbecue with its coils already heating up, she screamed. Not that it mattered, because she was summarily placed on her stomach (a now highly familiar position) on a cooking table. Once there, a couple of muffin volunteers began to oil her body all over, including as far up her ass and pussy as fingers could reach. That part wasn’t so bad for Abigail. The finger in her pussy was great, since it brought another orgasm. She even felt stimulated by the finger up her ass, since that was by far the smallest intruder she’d harbored in her butt in the last few days. Good pop-off there, too.

By now, Abigail was full of Belinda’s sexual stimulation drug and she was having an orgasm over almost anything. Belinda thought that was wonderful, since it would help the flavor of Abigail’s meat a great deal. Abigail thought it was wonderful, period.

Once Abigail was oiled and seasoned, Sharon spread her buttocks and surveyed her open bottom hole. Then she began to hand stuff the gaping aperture with a rice stuffing made with breast meat, a nice mixture of herbs and spices, and some muffin juices. Abigail was getting very juicy, too, but her juices were going to be reserved for basting as she roasted over the fire. As Sharon tamped the stuffing up Abigail’s ass with a thick dowel, the woman squealed and wriggled, then had another orgasm. Fun, Sharon thought, and shoved the dowel deeper.

Watching Abigail being stuffed, the conversation between Susan and Lori changed to a more typical muffin topic: women - specifically themselves - as meat.

Susan commented, “I’m glad they’re going to spit roast her. She’s got a very good body for it. I think I belong on the grill, myself.”

Giving Susan a careful appraisal, Lori replied, “You may be right, but your ass and your pussy both are very plump. You might want to consider oven roasting rather than anything with a spit. Actually, my pussy is plump enough I think I want to be anally spitted. I’m really thinking about a one piece spit.”

Susan leaned across Ming (still happily fondling two future feasts) and gently squeezed Lori’s pubic mound. “Hm. Well, it tastes good raw, I do know that. Actually, you may be right. You certainly have a nicely fleshy mound and your outer lips have some nice meat.” Susan reached behind herself and, without disturbing Ming’s gently fondling hand on her right buttock, bobbled her left one. “You know, Lori, you may be right. Let’s see if Belinda would let us do a little role play with the oven in a day or two. I’d like to get a feel for positions and such. You can nibble my prime filet when I come out.”

Lori licked her lips. “Ooh, good plan!”

Ming nodded agreement, wondering how she could get free to come over and visit the ranch for that role play session. Maybe the girls would like to try out the oven at Lorna’s place.

By this time, Sharon had completed stuffing Abigail and was inserting a thick heat resistant plug up her ass to hold in the stuffing. Since the plug was also an electrostimulator, it would add to the sensations Abigail was going to be feeling and help push her on to greater orgasms - also increasing the sexual endorphins that gave a woman cooked by an expert such succulent flavor. Now it was time to insert the two part spit and tie the meat into cooking position.

Abigail, for her part, was wide eyed and trying to panic between orgasms, but not making any progress. The women preparing her were far more expert than she was and quite capable of handling a struggling woman as she was prepared for her destiny as a great barbecue. She felt the bottom of the two part spit as it was inserted deeply into her pussy and firm hands pulled her legs together to tie them onto the carbon fiber pole. The ball gag was pulled out and the screams, pleas, moans, etc. were temporarily full force until it was replaced with the long soft tip of the front half of the spit, giving Abigail the old Deep Throat treatment. Abigail found herself unable pull free from Sharon’s strong feminine grasp as her arms were tied to her waist.

Sharon turned on the power, and the spit now felt like a long solid rod completely through Abigail. If given a moment’s lucid thought, Abigail would have considered the sensation interesting and highly sensual. After all, here she was, stretched along the spit and highly vulnerable and helpless, but feeling erotically tingling sensations in her ass and pussy that slowly increased in effectiveness. Abigail’s panic almost overcame the sensuality of the situation, and ratcheted higher as she was lifted and put over the heat, but began to fade.

Pink, in his official capacity, carefully observed every step of the preparation and graded it Acceptable. Now if this noisy dame would just hurry up and cook, someone would feed the cat. He was looking forward to that part.

For a while, Abigail’s big frightened eyes shot in all directions as she began to rotate on the rotisserie, but Belinda’s drug and the sensations from the tinglers began to overcome her fright and fill her mind with a bright whirl of sensations the like of which she’d never felt. A soft basting brush began to stroke her smooth curves leaving a trail of seasoned olive oil and spices, flavored with girl juices. The brush dipped slightly under her buttocks to gather some of Abigail’s own juice and a major orgasm exploded. Everyone could see Abigail’s beautiful curves flex and convulse with the power of the orgasm and the woman herself completely lost contact with reality, screaming with the intensity of the feeling.

Once Abigail was over the heat, Jess and Miki had taken over as chefs for the day at Belinda’s request. Both women were Cordon Bleu level at cooking woman flesh and Belinda wanted to let Ixinza and Rosa pick up a few tips.

Ixinza and Rosa were in fact watching carefully, but also wrapped tightly in Sharon’s arms as she stood between the pair, enjoying the wonderfully erotic sight of a roasting woman while embracing and fondling the smooth flesh of the other two. Lorna was being softly cuddled as she stood between Dawn (1) and Dawn (2) - plush girls, best friends, and ranch pets and making mental plans. In fact, everyone was pairing or grouping up as they watched the wonderfully exciting show Abigail was putting on, complete with sound effects, and planning a sexual celebration after the meat on the spit was gone and could begin truly cooking.

By now, Abigail was mildly delirious and had no idea what was happening, except that she could smell the flavorful aroma of a cooking woman and feel the most incredible sensations from the tinglers and the basting brush and the even more incredible sexual explosions of huge orgasms that seemed to come in an unbroken series. All she could do was moan and flex and convulse, submerged in a kaleidoscope of sensuality and colors erupting in her brain. Vaguely, in some part of her brain, she knew the aroma was herself cooking, but she no longer cared. The fear and panic were gone. The screams that accompanied her orgasmic convulsions were from sexual excitement that was beyond her belief. She just wanted to go on and on, slowly submerging in a sea of erotic sensuality. For her, this was truly the ultimate sensation and she wanted it to go on, and on, and on, and on…

Sharon looked down at her plate as she was served a perfectly done, juicy, and succulent prime filet, accompanied by an equally juicy and tender thick slice of Abigail’s buttock. She carved a portion of plump, tender outer lip and closed her eyes in appreciation as she savored the exquisite flavor. Abigail was, in fact, proving spectacularly delicious.

Lorna sat down next to her and placed her own plate on the table. Lorna was also having a buttock steak at Belinda’s specific recommendation. “Happy to be eating that bitch instead of the other way around?” she asked Sharon, who simply nodded.

Belinda joined them, also carrying a thick and juicy slice of Abigail’s ass. “I think we all are, Lorna dear,” she commented. “I would have quite missed dearest Sharon and I’m quite happy we were able to rescue her.”

Sharon snorted. “From where I was, it looked like I was escaping, not being rescued by Lara Croft.”

Belinda dimpled in a cheery smile. “Oh, you were being rescued, dearest,” she answered. “The rescuers simply had a little help from you that bitch didn’t expect.”

She smiled again as she carved a piece from the steak on her plate. “I think it’s safe to say Abigail had no idea what she was getting into when she grabbed my companion. I got quite irritated. But it was a very nice hunt.” A predatory expression flitted across Belinda’s face and she bit into the meat with relish.

Meanwhile, Lorna had also tried her steak. “Belinda, this steak is wonderful! I’ve never had a buttock steak, at least one from a girl Abigail’s size, that was this tender. All your tenderizing, Sharon?”

A bit surprised, Sharon also tried out her steak. “Wow!” she said. “Talk about melt in your mouth! No, it takes a real beating to break down meat to this level of tenderness, and I’m not about to do that. I just wanted to sting her, that’s all.”

Belinda’s smile got a little complacent and Sharon noticed. “Okay, Belinda,” Sharon said in a ‘fess up’ tone, “what did you do?”

“Actually, dearest,” Belinda chimed merrily, “it wasn’t just me. Abigail helped.”

The other two gave her very old fashioned looks and Belinda relented. “Remember the salve I made up to take the sting out of her bottom after a paddling?”

Sharon nodded. “She used it every chance she could.”

“Well, dearest,” Belinda continued, “the majority of it was a component that actually does help in such situations - meat tenderizer. She was constantly tenderizing her bottom for the platter in between spankings and other amusements.”

Belinda continued smugly, bringing another bite of some truly delicious - and deliciously tender - rump steak to her mouth, “You know I never waste an opportunity.”