With PK (Story 1): Amanda Blake, P.I. by Leo

Some years ago, it was my good fortune for one of the best writers in this genre, PK or Paul K., to allowed me to finish two of his unfinished fragments. This was the first and I hope you enjoy it.

Amanda Blake, PI

by PK and Leo

Hot summer midday in Las Vegas.

“Yer tits’re toast, tootsie,” the gofer sniggered as Donna strode through the atrium. “Big Boss wants to see you. Wonder why?”

Donna stopped short and drew herself up. She was only five feet two inches tall (and fuck metrication, thank you) but she had always felt that her business suit, pure fine wool, tailored in a swank Rodeo Drive boutique and seriously snappy, gave her another half ell.

(An ell is variously described as a cloth measure of one and a quarter yards, or the length of the forearm, about a foot and a half.)

“Given the way that big mouth of yours irritates ME,” she intoned icily, “why shouldn’t I just bite your tiny little balls off?”

“Whoa,” the callow youth replied, holding his hands up, palms out, “don’t get your panties in a wad, lady. Just sayin’…”

“I know what you”re saying, you little jerk!” Donna shot him an icy glare and walked on. SHE would have bit them off, she thought. SHE wouldn’t have left any doubt in the little prick’s mind. Fuming, she took the elevator to her usual floor. Elevator. The rationalization of English by Webster had gifted his people with a simpler, more logical language. Back in Olde Englande, people still had to struggle with complicated words like ‘lift’. This was avoidance, she knew perfectly well. What the (expletive deleted) did Last want to see her for?

The jaded PI, wing-tipped feet up on the mean, scarred old desk with the fifth of bourbon in the bottom drawer, watched the shadowy figure approach and knock tentatively on the half-glassed door.

Oh I remember That windy weather…

“Come.” Star Trek proved, once and for all, that even Chandler can be improved upon. The figure entered, looking nervous.

Blonde babe, tight low cut top, tiny mini skirt over long, perfectly shaped legs, edgy and kinda shifty looking, the PI assessed. Classic. Full figured, but firm and flat bellied. Put this one on a spit and she’d be something by Da Vinci. Come to think of it, be a shame not to bed her first.

“Uh…is the detective in? I mean….”

“I’m the detective.”

“You?” The babe looked startled as the shamus stood up and offered a hand. Not in the standard script, but what the hell…

“You’re Blake?”

Amanda smiled. “I’m Blake. Amanda Blake, PI. Pleased, et cetera.”

Oh I remember That windy weather…

Just as we hit the green I’ve never been so happy to be alive…

Pull out the pin…

The black and white movie scene faded, assuming the not-quite-technicolor of life and taking all of the tacky movie cliches with it. Suddenly, it was Amanda Blake in a bland and featureless office being approached by a wonderful evening’s experience, followed by an even better barbecue.

Amanda’s fiery red hair spilled in a cascade about her ears. The nondescript blouse and tight fitting pants she wore rode on her physique like a paint on a statue of Pallas Athene, but any disguise they afforded dissolved when she moved.

Tigress in lambskin, the client thought, surprising herself. Were-tigress. Where had that come from? This is when it starts getting heavy, another mental compartment contributed . Was this really a good idea? “I have a problem…,” she ventured.

Amanda raised an elegant eyebrow. “People usually do when they end up somewhere like this,” she pointed out mildly. She waved at a chair.

“You’re British!”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Amanda suppressed a sigh. Abandoning the attempted tough-guy American accent with minimal regret, she relented and explained. “Sorry, scratch that. I am indeed from Merlin’s Isle of Grammarye. I suppose people expect a PI to sound like Mitchum or Bogart,” She shrugged.

“Or Tom Selleck?” the client offered helpfully. Hm, Amanda mused. Obviously not the brightest bulb in the hall.

“Couldn’t manage the mustache,” Amanda returned, smiling. This was getting better by the minute. Since setting herself up as a classic American private investigator, she’d had nothing really interesting to do. All the work she’d put in renting a suitably dismal office and equipping it with all the traditional trappings and so far her cases had amounted to a skip trace, a squalid matrimonial dispute which she’d rejected (she couldn’t care less if other people fucked around) and a lost cat. She had devoted heroic effort to the latter case, finding the cat and refusing to charge a penny to the delightfully ditzy client. Amanda liked cats. “Have a drink, tell me all about it,” she said, producing two murky looking shot glasses and poured liquor with a liberal hand.

To her surprise, the babe took hers and knocked back a substantial belt. After a brief hiatus as she got her breath back, she began her tale of woe in a voice made slightly hoarse by the effect of ethyl alcohol on her larynx. “It’s my sister,” she said. “She’s in trouble. Big trouble. The place she works, they’ve got this thing….” She halted, shook her head. “You’re not gonna believe this. You’ll think I’m crazy, it’s just….”

“You’d be surprised at what I can believe when I try,” Amanda said. “Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

The client looked nonplused.

“Lewis Carroll. I was quoting,” Amanda explained, suppressing an even deeper sigh. What do they teach these people at school? “Part of the training.”

To her amazement, the babe got it. “Alice in Wonderland?” Well, almost. “That’s part of detective training?”

“Not exactly. Before we get to the Walrus, would you care to continue?”

Suddenly the babe stopped dead, her expressive, sky blue eyes opening wide. “You’re Amanda Blake! I know about you from the TV! You hunt women! And eat them!”

“I prefer to call it liking challenging exercise and appreciating fine taste,” Amanda replied with a chuckle, then fell to studying her prospective client with a piercing appraisal.

Oh, God, the girl thought, she’s looking at ME like I was meat. She felt herself get moist as a tingling started in her crotch. I’m just pussy on a plate to her!

Amanda gave her a merry, off balance smile. “Not yet, dear. There’s…oh…scads of paperwork and a few other details to be seen to first, and I’m not momentarily inclined.

“If it helps you,” she concluded in an arch tone, “you may, of course visualize yourself wriggling on a spit. I find that excites some women.”

“M-m-me?” the girl stammered. The tingling was working its way further up her spine and her pussy was definitely wet, now. Unbidden, the spit fantasy was playing itself out in the forefront of her mind.

“Of course, my dear,” Amanda replied, leaning forward to pat the blonde’s hand reassuringly. “A body like yours is a dream for any fan of whole roasting. One could never do anything else.” Thanks be to Monty Python.

As Amanda leaned back in her chair, she could feel the girl’s excitement and taste the visions in her mind. Ah, another of those wonderful creatures, a born spit muffin. Walking prospective dinner. However, o disgusting day, there was work do be done before play. “You were saying about your sister?”

“Ah, Miss Marker,”’ Absolom Last, CEO of Texcorp, welcomed Donna. “Just the girl I wanted to see.”

Girl? Donna was both affronted and puzzled. His mood seemed too jovial for what she assumed would be a confrontation, though for the life of her she couldn’t think what it might be about. And what was he doing in HER office?

“This is my sister,” the blonde shakily said, offering a photograph. “My twin sister. Arethustra. Ari.”

Amanda scrutinized it. The female in the photograph had a nice smile. From this, Amanda inferred that her pussy would look nice served up on a steak from her thigh, suitably charcoal grilled. She had very much her own perspective on reality, her intuition was perhaps susceptible to bias in this regard.

“What sort of trouble is she in?” Don’t drool, it’s unprofessional, she reprimanded herself. And: don’t be a pig. Kiss her first. Before you….

“They’re going to eat her. Boil her in a cooking pot for a party. They always do it that way.”

Amanda was outraged. “That’s despicable!”

The girl seemed relieved. “Oh, you see what I mean!”

“Certainly. I detest boiled meat. Ruins the flavor entirely.”

That rocked Candy back for a second. “But they’re going to eat her! And she’s my sister!”

“Oh dear me,” Amanda said, straight faced. ‘Can’t blame them, the thought had crossed my mind’ crossed her mind. She didn’t say it. She pulled herself together. “When exactly do they, whoever ‘they’ are, propose to do this?”

“Tonight.”

Not much time for an investigation. Just as well.

“Miss….”

“Acantha.”

“How exotic.”

“Call me Candy. Everybody does. It’s my stage name, too. I dance at the Pink Pony.”

“Candy, then,” Amanda smiled. Was that indicative of her flavor? Interesting thought. However, and once again, business before barbecue. “I don’t know what you expect me to do… It is, after all, legal.”

“But it’s not really legal! They just took her! But if you complain, they’ll say she gave permission and come up with the papers. I know she didn’t volunteer, but it’s happened to other girls. Ari told me about it. I found out she was gone when I called the office and one of the girls told me they took her! The girl couldn’t tell me too much, she was scared, and I am too.” Candy sank into despair. “I didn’t know where else to go…”

Neither did Amanda. Still, that never stopped Philip Marlowe. “I’ll take the case,” she said.

Candy shook her head, still in the depth of despond. “It’s no good. It’s too late.”

“Never say die!” Amanda said brightly. “I have a plan.”

“You do?”

“No, I have.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I have. Not ‘I do’. That’s for weddings.” Amanda took a hard pull at her bourbon. She hated the stuff but right now she needed it. Grammar, grammarye, language and logic attended her unseen.

“What are you going to do?”

“At the moment, I favor the gratuitous violence approach,” Amanda said. “It’s what I’m good at.” She paused. “Still, a few little details wouldn’t hurt. Details like, who are these ‘they’ who’re going to kill your sister…” She frowned. Not an elegant sentence. Must be the booze. Forget it. “Where can they be found, things like that.” She leaned forward and fixed Candy with a dumb but dogged stare, as best she could manage it. “Spill the beans. Just the facts Ma’am. Tell me more. Start at the beginning. One of the above.”

“I thought you said you had a plan,” Candy complained.

“An outline,” Amanda temporized. How could this idiot believe she could formulate a plan without the slightest logistical information? “Speak to me.”

“She works for Texcorp and they…. What outline?”

“Kill the bad guys, rescue the damsel in distress,” Amanda said brusquely. “Go on.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

“Great oaks from little acorns. I said it was a sketch. You haven’t given me much to work with.”

“Kill the bad guys?”

“Works for me.”

“Rescue the damsel?” Candy shook her pretty head. “I don’t believe this. Are you for real? Have you got a license and everything?”

“Possibly, but that’s a philosophical question I’d rather not get into right now, and ‘no’ in that order.”

It took Candy a minute or two to work that out. She didn’t like the solution. “You’re not a real private detective,” she concluded angrily. Exciting visions of hot coals and spits were rapidly disappearing.

Amanda shook her head sadly. “I thought we were going to skip that bit, but if you insist. What’s a ‘real’ PI? Somebody with a license issued by a bunch of paper pushers you don’t know and didn’t vote for? Are you going to let them define your reality? Are you or are you not a true-blue American? Live free or die, right?”

Candy stood up. She was on the verge of tears or tantrums. “I don’t know what the FUCK you’re talking about….”

“Sorcery,” Amanda supplied helpfully.

“But I’m not buying it.” She turned to storm out dramatically. Exciting visions totally gone.

Amanda admired her long legs and the ripe curves of her buttocks. “Suit yourself,” she said. “I’ll be catching a rerun of Baywatch while they stew your sis. Have a good one.”

“Oohh,” Candy said as she stopped dead, facing the door, posture erect and legs together, unconsciously giving Amanda’s speculative gaze a tremendous view of her full rump. Contemplating the tasty mounds of meat, Amanda mentally sliced them, trying to figure how many cuts she’d get from each cheek.

Whirling around, Candy flopped disconsolately back into the chair. “At least five,” Amanda commented.

“What?”

“Nothing, dear girl,” Amanda replied. “Just thinking out loud. I take it this means you’re back for a little gratuitous violence and sex, if not in that order.”

“Sex?” The puzzled look was back on Candy’s face again.

“I’ve never found a valid reason why a meal shouldn’t enjoy herself beforehand, you know,” Amanda replied. “Spitting is an intensely sexual fantasy, after all.”

Amanda took note of the fact that Candy was back in the aforementioned fantasy again. “Let me change and we’ll just pop over to Texcorp and see if we can’t get your sister out of the soup, or if not, see that she’s at least seasoned properly.”

Candy said nothing. Fantasy heating up.

Amanda stood up and began to strip to the skin, planning to get her leather hunting pants and vest out of the bottom drawer. The look on Candy’s face as she stared at Amanda’s naked body along with the way she was rubbing her thighs together, told Amanda she had something else to do first. “Oh, my,” she sighed. “We’ll never get anything done until you settle down. Come around here and bend over the desk. Let’s get you seen to, my girl.”

Obediently, Candy rose, came around the desk and assumed the required position. Amanda slid Candy’s miniskirt up to her waist, revealing a darling pair of sopping wet thong panties and confirming the estimate of a superb bottom. Working the panties down around her thighs, Amanda admired her lovely shaven pussy for a moment before sliding a finger into the wet aperture. “Hmmm,” she commented as she sucked the tasty juice off her finger, “delicious. By the way, darling, those breasts are natural, aren’t they?”

Shakily, Candy nodded her head from her position leaning across the desk. “B-b-both of us. No boob jobs.”

“Excellent! One of them alone would provide dessert for three or more. Wonderful size. Nipples to match, I assume?”

Candy didn’t answer. She was wiggling and moaning uncontrollably. Definitely a possibility for the future, should fortune smile. Near future. However, there were several minor chores first: satisfying this delectable dinner-to-be, rescuing her probably just as tasty twin, so on. With the sigh of one who’s work is never done, Amanda inserted her thumb and began to work it in and out as she gently stroked the girl’s clitoris with a forefinger.

Donna didn’t even waste time going to her own office and using the intercom. Katherine looked up in some surprise as the agitated woman entered and quickly shut the office door behind her. “DAMN the man!”

There were similarities as well as differences between the two women. Both were in their late twenties, and the modern power combination of high heels, miniskirted business suit and soft collared cream blouse with a minimum of jewelry was the same for both, although Katherine was a study in shades of white, while Donna’s suit was the more conservative charcoal. Katherine was tall, well built and athletically muscled, with long, free flowing blonde hair framing a face notable for the slightly slanted eyes that gave her face a piquant, slightly elfin cast. Donna, on the other hand, was short, buxom and the pure Anglo-Saxon, appropriate, given her country of birth. There was something else, an indefinable look that both women shared. It was a look that made others uncomfortable if they dared to attempt to define it.

“Last?” Katherine asked with a quirked eyebrow, the left one.

“YES, blast the bloody bastard!”

“What now?”

“He’s decided he wants four more girls for tonight’s banquet. Locals. None of the regular Casino licensed stock from South America or the Orient. He has Japanese clients he wants to impress!”

Katherine leaned back in her office chair and swung meditatively for a moment, focusing on the problem. Her attitude relaxed Donna’s towering ire. “On the surface, not that difficult. Oh, it’ll make the damnedest hole in the secretarial staff, but I’m more concerned about going to the well too often. If we grab too many too fast, some busybody will notice and ask questions. We’re committing a major felony, as if you don’t already know.”

Donna nodded. “I know, but I don’t see what else we can do in the time we have. Can you get them soon enough to start cooking them for tonight?”

“The pot’s already reserved for the girl we had scheduled. If the chef puts two in the oven and butchers the rest, he ought to be able to do it, thanks be to someone for microwaves. It may not fit everyone’s fantasy, but if we live boil the one we already have for tonight right in the room, maybe the entertainment value will compensate.”

Donna nodded. “We’ll have to take the chance. If we don’t, Last may look at US to fill the menu.” Shrugging, she added, “If someone gets nosey, Last is the one holding the bag.”

With unconscious prophesy, she added, “This is a sweet job, but I never expected to stay in Vegas the rest of my life.”

Katherine nodded at her and headed out the door with a purposeful air.

Candy held her breath as Amanda exuberantly guided the Jaguar through Strip traffic, headed for the Texcorp building on the edge of the city. Although British to the tip of her booted toenails, Amanda drove more like an Italian. The Jaguar, even though it was now a Ford product, was Amanda’s idea of a true car of the UK, thus her favorite mount even if it did have the detestable left hand drive for the wrong side of the road, and she drew the maximum from the car’s agility.

After a few hairbreadth near misses, Amanda parked the car around the rear of the building in the service area. Watching the woman climb out of the driver’s side, Candy once again saw tiger on the hunt. Dressed in sprayed-on leather pants and a laced vest over nothing but skin, Amanda was back in the hunting persona that was so much a part of her. Candy shuddered at the idea of having this predator after her, even as she wondered vaguely who Amanda’s costume reminded her of. Someone on the TV. She followed meekly as Amanda signaled her to follow.

“Stay with me for a while,” Amanda said softly. “First we get your sister, probably in whatever they are using for a kitchen, then I go on to settle with the ones giving the orders.” She smiled wolfishly. “The latter sounds like fun.”

Candy shuddered again.

The kitchen wasn’t hard to find. It was full of a wide variety of large cooking machines and utensils, including a pot big enough to cook a woman. The prospective occupant wasn’t hard to find, either. On top of a nearby counter, sitting on what appeared to be a small wooden stool, was a nude duplicate of Candy, bound and gagged. She was staring with wide eyes at the pot, occasionally squirming uncomfortably. At the sight of Candy, the girl squealed into her gag.

Candy started to rush forward, only to be stopped by Amanda’s hand. “Hold it. Unless I miss my guess, she’s sitting on a fixture designed to hold the girl immobile in the pot as she’s cooked. We could hurt her if we aren’t careful.”

Suddenly, Amanda was up on the counter in a swift, flowing movement that took Candy’s breath away. Leaning over, she gently picked up the bound girl and set her softly on her side. The extent of the strength and control that maneuver took was almost frightening to Candy. Ari let herself melt into the other woman’s arms as she felt Amanda’s strength. The stool stayed in place throughout the process as though Ari was glued to her seat.

With the girl comfortably on her side, the bottom of the stool showed what appeared to be two wooden knobs about an inch and a half in diameter, set in a line close together. As Candy began to work industriously at the clasp on the ball gag, Amanda slowly and gently pulled on first one knob, then another. As each came free, it was revealed to be a smooth wooden shaft with a rounded top. One had been inserted into the girl’s vagina and the other into her anus, clasping her to the stool and preventing her from violently throwing herself around in the pot that was projected for her now defunct future.

As Candy finally pulled the ball gag from her sister’s mouth, Ari’s first words were, “Phew! I like it both ways, but double penetration is too much! For sure!”

Hmmm. Another one from whom Einstein’s reputation is not in jeopardy. On the whole, thought Amanda, the twins looked extremely promising. However, the rescue, as all good rescues should, needs must plow its bumpy and adventurous way forward. Taking advantage of the available opportunity, she glanced at Ari’s gaping anus and mentally selected the size of the spit the girl required. This one should certainly be done in the butt, while her sister, judging from the visions that were once again playing through her mind, would probably prefer the cunt.

Quickly pressing the simple snap catch on the ankle cuffs, Amanda freed Ari’s legs then helped Candy figure out how to open the same catch on the wrist cuffs. Now unencumbered, Ari rolled over and sat up on the counter. “Ohhhh, THANK you…” she began to squeal, the high phrase dying out as she got her first good look at her rescuer. Immediate silence set in, as one does not squeal exuberantly at one’s predator. “T-t-thank you,” she began shakily, “they were going to cook and eat me. I couldn’t handle that.”

“I could,” came Candy’s surprising rejoinder. She waved her wide-eyed sister to silence. “Talk to you later. This is Amanda. She’s going to get us out of here.”

“True,” Amanda nodded calmly. ‘Out of here and off to one of a short list of places with the proper equipment’ ran through her mind. Stop that. Back to business. ” I think you two should remain somewhere safe while I…”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Having heard the cook’s sudden entrance, Amanda was already in motion, leaving the twins gaping as she abruptly vanished from in front of them. The sudden flurry of action, punctuated by the cook’s gasp and the wet laundry sound of his unconscious body hitting the floor caught the girls’ attention a second or so later. Of course, by then, the tableau was simply Amanda gazing with calm unconcern at the crumpled body at her feet.

“I-i-is he…?” The question was Candy’s, owing to her greater familiarity with the Beast. Odd, she was coming to be almost comfortable with Amanda, even given their possible future relationship. Especially given their possible future relationship, said one compartment of her mind. That compartment is overworked and nuts, replied another compartment. Candy told both to shut up.

“No, quite alive,” commented Amanda absently, “only knocked out. Concussed, in medical terms. Possible medical treatment needed in the future, but safe enough for now. He’s only the hired help. Besides, I admire a craftsman.”

Towing the cook by the collar of his uniform, she dragged him to a steel door on the kitchen wall, probably the pantry by the look of it. Opening the door, she dropped the cook with another thud and gaped inside in shock. Staring back at her in equal surprise, leavened by a good bit of abject terror, were four naked women. All five girls were bound, gagged and hanging by their wrist ties from hooks high on the metal walls. “I’ve heard of striking it rich in Las Vegas,” Amanda commented, “but this is a bit much.

“This is obviously the pantry,” she continued. “Must be quite a gaggle coming for tonight’s feast.” One girl’s face caught her attention and her eyes narrowed briefly as she thought hard. The she smiled and, heaving the cook inside, shut the pantry door. “This lot will keep, and I think it’s time we paid a visit to the host of tonight’s dinner. Coming, ladies?”

Ari heaved herself off the counter with a groan as stiff muscles protested. Standing, she tried to look down over her shoulder. “I think my bottom hole’s ruined!”

Candy hopped off the counter and spread her sister’s cheeks for a quick examination. “Nope, you’re already closing up. You’ll be okay in a little bit. Good and tight.”

Amanda permitted herself a small sigh. Oh, well. One must do what one can with what one has, after all. Onward and ever upward to more mayhem. Reaching over, she picked up the soft leather cuffs and the ball gag, depositing them in the small haversack slung across her shoulder. Possibly useful. Not that the twins would need anything like that. They, it seemed, appeared to be developing the idea of volunteering for the menu. Amanda thought it rather interesting that these two spit muffins were happily coming out of the closet with her as the beneficiary. Not her original idea at all since Candy was, after all, her client, nor much of a challenge, but definitely tasty. Normally, she preferred the thrill of the chase and all that, but if the prey walked up and sat down on the grill for her, she certainly wasn’t about to turn it down.

Still, she’d contracted to save the sister and do Bad Things to the Villain, and her word was her bond, despite the twin distractions. Thus, back to work. Now for the Big Cheese, as Marlowe (Philip) would say. “Coming, girls?”

Absolom Last’s personal secretary was famous for her calm under almost any circumstances. This one, however, was a little bit out of the ordinary. The office door opened, an in strode a highly athletic, beautiful nordic redhead in skin tight leather garb straight off that goofy TV show, whatever it was. She was followed by two twin blonde girls, the figure of one of which was emphasized by the tight mini and blouse outfit she was wearing. The other’s figure was also emphasized by her sexy outfit: her birthday suit. Really, it wasn’t everyday that a gorgeous nude blonde strolled into the CEO’s outer office. Certainly out of the ordinary.

She made to stop the redhead as the woman proceeded towards the door of Last’s private office, then stopped dead as she got a good look at the predator’s eyes. This one eats bunnies, she thought, and I’m a bunny right now. Amanda smiled at her, “Don’t let it concern you. I merely want a few moments of his time and possibly the odd bit or piece or two. Nothing horrific. Nothing that concerns you on an intimate level at the moment. Unless you’d like to be scheduled for later?” Amanda cocked a quizzical eye at the secretary, only to receive a frantic, terrified shaking of the head. “Pity.”

Turning to the twins, she said, “Sit out here, ladies. I’ll only be a moment, then we can go have fun. We’ll go hunting.”

The secretary’s thoughts immediately turned to the two unobtrusive little buttons on her desk, the one Last knew about that alerted his bodyguard, and the one he didn’t know about, that alerted Donna and turned on her monitors in the inside office. Amanda smiled at her pleasantly. “Yes, by all means. The more at the party, the merrier.”

As Amanda strode through Last’s door, the secretary pushed both buttons. The bodyguard was the obvious necessity, but the second one was equally necessary. The secretary, young and as beautiful as she was competent, was fully if somewhat erroneously certain she was buying her immunity with it from Donna’s pressgang, in the person of Katherine.

Cue Eric Clapton’s ‘Lalya’.

Amanda walked into the office with the fabulous guitar wailing in her mind and a loose, sinuous stride that was graceful, aggressive, and let her move in any direction immediately at need. That need arose almost as soon as she was inside the office.

The bodyguard emerged from a side door, gun in hand, looking for trouble. He was distracted by that trouble as it cartwheeled towards him. The knife in her hand sliced across his forehead, slanted down to ruin his eye, then opened his cheek to the bone. As he threw his head back in pain, a backhanded slash cut his throat to the spine. Pivoting to follow her blade, Amanda danced out of the way of the gush of blood, keeping herself unmarked.

Clapton was well into the riff as she turned calmly to look at the man frozen behind his desk. Delicately, she touched her tongue to the blood on her knife’s blade. “Been a while. That was enjoyable.”

Last unfroze and found his voice. “W-w-what?…”

Amanda looked thoughtful. “No. ‘Who’ is the question, I think.”

The gears in Last’s mind ground forward another notch. “Who?”

“Good question. Something that could lead to deep philosophical abstraction. However, for the moment, the short form is: me.”

Last was finally back in control of himself, glaring at the female that was now comfortably placed in one of the chairs in front of his desk, booted feet crossed on its surface. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?! You just killed my guard. I’ll have you arrested for that!”

Amanda looked thoughtfully at a spot above Last’s head for a second. “Hm, well, effecting both a rescue and justified retribution in the best PI tradition, yes I did and no you won’t. Tell me, do you know Lefty Borchakov, late of the KGB, the Russian Mafia and current manager of the Las Vegas Crystal Casino for a very select number of stockholders?”

It took Last a few seconds to work through that string of replies to get to the rather unsettling question at the end. “Ah, no, I don’t.”

“You will shortly.”

“Why?” Last was blustering now. Reaction to the fear inspired by the terror in the chair in front of him. “Not that I give a damn.”

Amanda smiled at him pleasantly. “Oh, I think you might. I know him and most of his ilk. A good PI must, after all, know the movers and shakers in her area of operations. However, you will meet him under slightly different circumstances than I did. You have his daughter hung up in the pantry downstairs, pending tonight’s dinner.”

“Bu—”

Reaching into her haversack, Amanda produced a small object and grinned. “Cell phone,” she explained. “Called him on the way up here. Marvelous device.

“Who collected the prospective menu? Major felony without signed permission, in case you didn’t know. If it’s who a young lady told me it was, I want them as special guests at a little backyard barbecue I’m planning.”

Last thought fast. The Russian wasn’t here, yet. Maybe he’d have time to get the hell out of the country before the Mob showed up. With the laws these days, anyone caught in commission of a felony was dead meat, with no legal protection. Put this monster in front of him on the women’s tails and he could get gone. If Donna and Katherine were fried, no skin off his nose. “I’ll tell you…”

Out of the speaker on the desk, the ladies under discussion both heard, “I’ll tell you…” That beginning was followed by full names, descriptions and current locations. Both women listened with a deepening of the wide-eyed horror that had begun with watching the killing of the bodyguard, caught by the carefully placed secret camera.

They were frozen as Amanda flowed out of her chair and up onto a shelf, suddenly looking directly into the camera’s lens. “See you soon, Donna. Have a few old times to noodle about, won’t we? Cheerio to a fellow Brit, and all that rot.” Then she vanished.

Donna didn’t waste time. Fumbling with the waist snaps of her miniskirt, she muttered urgently, “We have to get OUT of here. If that monster is after us, we don’t have any time to waste!”

Katherine looked at Donna wide eyed. She decided the woman had lost her mind and was in a complete panic. “Donna, what in hell are you doing!? Who was that?”

Donna kicked off her high heels and threw her suit coat across the room, leaving herself in just a blouse and pantyhose. “Stripping to run! That was Amanda Blake. I’ve hunted with the crazy bitch back home and it’s like having a ravenous wolf on your trail. If SHE catches us, we’re dead and meat, in that order. She has the highest kill percentage ever! Don’t even think about trying to fight her. Nobody’s ever won. Our only chance is to run and hide, fast! We’re felons caught in the act, remember. Nobody will say squat if she carries us off to cook our pussies over an open fire.

“Lose the skirt and heels and don’t worry about what you look like, just how fast you can move! Half naked is better because the vulnerability increases your awareness of the hunter, little trick I learned when I was hunting. That may give us a chance! Come on, we’ve got to get to the subbasement. It’s the only place we might be able to hide.”

Katherine gaped for a moment more, turned pale, then tore off her business suit, revealing bare legs and a pair of lacy thong panties to compliment her blouse. Donna, for the interested reader, was nude under her pantyhose. Both women dashed out of the room and down the hall, leaving a trail of wide eyed observers as they headed for the elevators.

The subbasement was an environment of fluorescent lights, concrete corridors that took right angled turns, metal doors and angular machinery. The women split up on arrival and went their separate ways, each verbally wishing the other a quick good luck, followed by a silent hope that Amanda would catch the other one and be satisfied.

On reaching the subbasement, Amanda deposited the twins in a convenient alcove, then took a moment to decide how to conduct the hunt. That Donna and Katherine were here, she had no doubt. It was a logical place to hide, besides the evidence of the comments from the trail of amazed witnesses the two women had left behind them. She fully understood the reason they had stripped. Donna was planning on using all the tricks, which pleased Amanda. That spoke for a good hunt. Remembering Donna’s lush little body and the descriptions of Katherine’s figure, it also spoke for a tasty meal at the end of it.

Hm. Having two delicious women in the larder with a higher priority than the twins might disappoint them for a while, but she’d have them spitted and turning over the coals soon enough. Besides, both girls looked like excellent bed material and, from some of their remarks, they were certainly knowledgeable and willing enough.

Actually, she thought, the twins might not be disappointed long. Donna, she seemed to recall, was an excellent cook. She just might give her a chance to show her skills. She fully intended to have Katherine’s pussy on a nice rump steak tomorrow night.

However, as the saying goes, first catch the rabbit. Amanda closed her eyes and opened her mind and senses. This was certainly different than hunting in the English fields. Scents weren’t much good in this mechanical environment, but there were other means.

Katherine edged herself unobtrusively behind some kind of large machine, then prepared to wait it out. From Donna’s description, this Amanda Blake was some kind of super predator, but predators could be fooled. The beast couldn’t win every time. Even in those woman hunts in England, the women got away more often than they were caught. She stared down as much of the one part of the corridor she could see, concentrating so hard she totally missed a shadow floating in from the other direction that seemed to move of its own accord.

Donna slid silently along the barren corridor, her stocking clad feet making no sound except a soft and barely noticeable whispering. She had been drifting around the subbasement, moving when a little voice in the back of her mind told her to go. By now, she firmly agreed that running with a bare butt (technically - panty hose, you know) actually did increase her awareness because of felt vulnerability. Silently, she wished Katherine would go ahead and get herself caught. Then if only SHE would be happy with just one girl, she could get out of this mess, out of Vegas, and as far away from Amanda as possible on this earth.

As she approached yet another blind turn in the corridor, she heard voices. They were feminine, but Katherine’s wasn’t among them. Curious, she edged closer.

“I say she ought to be spitted up the ass.”

“Oh, Ari, you are SO hung up on that anal stuff. Look at that pussy. It is going to look great around a pole.”

“Candy, this has nothing to do with how I like to be fucked! I just think her pussy would cook better if it was out in the open instead of wrapped around a spit.”

With an awful anticipation, Donna walked slowly around the corner and was faced by an amazing tableau she half feared. It was Katherine, all right, naked, wild eyed, her wrists and ankles shackled together by the cuffs they used in the kitchen. She wasn’t saying much about it because someone had also gagged her with one of the standard ball gags. It didn’t take much imagination to guess who, either. Behind Katherine, sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall and looking at the woman’s bare butt were two gorgeous blondes, obvious twins. One was clothed in a tight miniskirt outfit and the other was totally nude. They noticed Donna and looked at her with no trace of surprise.

The nude one spoke up. “Hello, Donna. I think Amanda is looking for you. I can’t wait for her to get you, either. That was a dirty trick you pulled, grabbing me for the pot!”

Katherine entered the conversation, making a series of muffled noises Donna assumed were pleas for release. She ignored them. Better her than me.

“While I can understand that sentiment, Donna, I certainly won’t agree with it,” came a dreaded voice.

“Amanda!”

Standing several feet away, Amanda acknowledged recognition with a polite nod. “In the flesh, old pal.”

Donna whirled to run, but her panty hose caused her nylon covered soles to slip on the smooth concrete floor and she fell heavily. Amanda strode calmly over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hope you aren’t hurt? Good. Well… tag, you’re it. You and your friend are going to be guests at tomorrow’s barbecue. Now, up and shed those silly panty hose. We’ll be off to my car.”

As she submissively peeled off the panty hose, Donna could feel Amanda’s eyes appraising her bare plump buttocks and thighs. Those were the best meat on a girl, and she had plenty of it. Things were definitely not looking good.

Ari and Candy were also studying Donna’s meat, with malice aforethought. As Amanda started to gather up Katherine, Ari spoke up. “Amanda,” she said, “Candy and I have been talking.”

Sensing a possibly fortuitous revelation, Amanda stopped and looked at the twins, who faced her calmly. “We’ve been talking,” Candy said. “We’ve both seen a few whole roastings, and they’re exciting.”

Amanda was a bit surprised. “Here?”

Ari sniffed. “This is Las Vegas. EVERYTHING happens here. Any way, we’re about ready to do it, ourselves, but there’s a few things we want, first.”

As one does when one sees fortune about to drop a golden egg in one’s lap, Amanda simply nodded. “We want to see Katherine go, and enjoy eating her,” Candy said.

“We want to go together,” Ari added, “and we’d really like it to be special, maybe both on the same spit, if you could rig it.”

Amanda nodded thoughtfully. “Done and done. Be a while before everything’s just right, girls, but I will be happy to do my best.” Oh, yes, quite happy. No problems that intelligence, good will and appetite couldn’t solve.

The trip to Amanda’s house out in the area outside of town was a tense, surreal experience for Donna. Sitting nervously in the front passenger seat of the Jag, her bare bottom comfortable against the leather, she lent half an ear to the conversation in the back seat and the rest of her attention to the way the madwoman next to her was slewing this missile called a car through the streets.

The conversation in the back seat was strictly between Candy and Ari, since Katherine was still gagged. Her hands and feet were still cuffed too, although Amanda had undone the snap catch between wrists and ankles to allow her more comfort in her position. The first part of the trip was accompanied by a running discussion between the twins about spitting techniques and the relative merits of certain body parts. Referring, in this case, to each other.

Katherine was now staring in wild eyed horror as Ari squeezed her upper hip just above the bone. “I’ve heard this is supposed to be a good cut,” she commented.

“I’ve had that part, and it’s great,” Candy replied. “One of the guys I dated was in to woman eating and we went to a really wild restaurant in town. They even had waitresses on the menu three times a week. This wasn’t off a waitress, just one of the standard cuts, but it was delicious, really tender.”

Looking critically at Katherine, she continued, “She looks like she ought to be better than average. Nice tender muscle.” Candy reached over and gently squeezed a breast. “These are what has me curious. I’ve heard they’re very rich, almost like a dessert. Matter of fact, Amanda said so. Hey, Amanda, how do you fix breasts for dessert, any way?”

Amanda replied over her shoulder, “I’m not quite sure, never having done it. Eaten them that way, however, and I agree, they are very rich.”

Donna decided this was her chance. “I know how to do it. I’m a damn good cook and I have a great recipe.”

Amanda looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Hmmm. And you’ll be glad to cook for me for some time to come. That it?”

Donna nodded wordlessly, holding her breath. Any chance she could take, just TAKE it.

Amanda said thoughtfully, “Actually, I’ve had the same thought. Possibly. The twins, after all, will need a skilled hand, better than mine to do them justice. All right. We’ll try you on Katherine and see how you do, then discuss the matter further.”

Donna exhaled silently. Katherine’s eyes got more frantic, especially as the twins’ discussion turned to spitting techniques and how to make her last over the coals.

A good ways out of Las Vegas and far down a desert dirt road, broken by a number of electric gates, the Jag went behind a ridge and entered a small but beautiful green valley. On a slight hill in the center of that valley was an obscenely large, beautifully modernistic, single story house with all the usual amenities, such as the required Olympic sized pool. Donna gasped. “Amanda, how did you get this? This place must be worth millions!”

Amanda shrugged as she expertly guided the car up the beautifully landscaped front drive. “I could say it was the fruits of my movie, but the truth is less prosaic. Fact is, the place and surrounding lands are mine as long as I’m in the area. Gift from the Casino Owners Association. Several jobs done after they asked me here.

“But, enough of that,” she continued as she stopped the car and got out. “We’ve arrived! All out at the terminus! Oh, and Donna, lose the blouse and bra when we get inside. You’re on the menu, you know, and I like to see what’s in the larder.”

Shakily, Donna entered the beautiful house and began to nervously undo her buttons, throwing her blouse and bra into an empty basket by the door. For some reason, she neatly arranged her jewelry on a nearby table. Stop shaking, she told herself. Just prove you’re useful to Amanda and the mad beast will keep you around.

To her mild surprise, Candy also stripped on entering the house. Spit-muffin, Donna decided, already half on a plate. Better do a good job on Katherine and an expert one on the twins. After that, someone else might turn up.

Feeling a hand on her bare shoulder, Donna turned to face Amanda’s critical examination. “Hm,” she commented, “your bottom and thighs are excellent, very meaty, and these breasts are quite good.” Leaning over, Amanda took the tip of a nipple between her teeth and bit gently. A questing finger investigated her cleft and Donna cursed silently as she felt arousal start. “Always thought you’d be a good one for roasting,” Amanda said merrily. “How are you in bed?”

Donna recalled that Amanda always offered her prey the chance for sex before cooking. That was one offer she intended to take. Any form of delaying action until she could establish herself as valuable. She steeled herself to look Amanda in the eye. “We’ll find out tonight. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Meanwhile, the twins were looking around with awe. One of them, Ari possibly, breathed, “Awesome!”

Amanda led the shaking, terrified Katherine over to a sofa, pushed her gently down on it, the reaffixed the ankle cuffs. “Just sit here for a while, dear,” Amanda told her. “I have to show the place to my other guests. Unless you’d like to join us?”

Katherine just stared at her in horror. “Oh,” Amanda sounded disappointed, “I guess not. Pity. Well, we’ll be right back, so just make yourself comfortable.”

The tour of the house and grounds included, at the twins’ request, both the pool and the barbecue spit. Donna carefully examined the kitchen, thinking hard. At the end of the tour, Amanda plopped herself down on the couch next to Katherine. Giving the bound woman a friendly hug, she commanded, “Donna, come over here and stand in front of me, erect, feet together and hands at your sides.”

Donna silently did as she was told, knowing what this was about. Releasing Katherine, Amanda ran both hands over the tender naked flesh on display in front of her. “Turn around, please.”

She did, then felt Amanda squeeze her thighs, carefully checking the inner thigh meat. As Donna felt a hand cup and critically squeeze a succulent buttock, she decided it was time to speak up. “Amanda, remember what I said about being a damn good cook.”

“Um?” Amanda replied distractedly as she insinuated a finger between the Donna’s plump, deep cheeks to feel the tight little anus hidden inside.

“W-w-well, you need one, especially with these three,” Donna said shakily, as she felt herself react to the intimate inspection. “Those twins are prime, and Katherine’s a gourmet’s delight if done right. I can fix her so that we can both whole roast her and still have some good meals for a while.”

The twins smiled at the compliment. Katherine, on the other hand, seemed less than overwhelmed.

Donna looked over her shoulder. “How about it? Should I start her tonight? ” Go for broke.

Amanda thought for a minute, her hand still resting on Donna’s rump cheek. “We’ll save Katherine for tomorrow. I’ll show you where we can keep her. There’s some odds and ends in the kitchen you can whip up for tonight.”

Another thoughtful expression. “Oh, and lose the body hair. You and the girls. It’s a necessity for Katherine, of course, but you’re all in the larder, and presentation is everything.”

And presentation of a bare pussy marked her as meat. Best do it, but get this madwoman off the ‘cook Donna’ track, now! Still looking over her shoulder, Donna’s face took on a sultry expression both women knew was patently false. “If you want to play with that ass of mine some more, we can go try out that big bed of yours.”

It was probably Candy that asked, “Do you think we can fit four of us in it?”

The rest of the afternoon was great fun for all concerned, with the twins truly living up to their sexual promise. The remainder of the redhead in the cooler provided the means for Donna to demonstrate her exceptional abilities as a cook and further push the deal between herself and Amanda: great meals for survival. There was another marathon session of exuberant group sex later in the evening. So much so that, when Amanda extricated herself from the tangle of bodies in the wee hours, none of the other three woke up. Amanda smiled at them briefly, then grabbed a small bag of pot along with some rolling papers and headed for Katherine’s holding cell.

In the holding cell, actually a rather comfortable suite with bars instead of doors, Amanda’s first comment to Katherine was, “I realize you understand what’s going to happen, you know. The question is how you approach it.”

Katherine’s face took on a wry look. “You mean do it the hard way and don’t enjoy it, or take what I see you’re offering and go with the flow.”

“Well,” Amanda replied, “that’s still, after all, your choice. Free will, and all that.”

No choice, really, Katherine thought. Well, for small mercies give thanks. Besides, no reason not to enjoy the night. “Bring it on,” she said. “I’m feeling philosophical right now.”

When Donna went to begin Katherine’s preparation in the morning, she found the day’s menu still stoned, mellow and sated. When she walked the woman out to the main room without her gag and cuffs, Donna cocked a quizzical eye at Amanda.

“I’ve always maintained there’s no reason a woman shouldn’t enjoy cooking,” came the answer, magnificently chocked full of double meaning.

The twins eagerly volunteered to assist, so the three of them walked Katherine back to the kitchen, stopping by a large tiled alcove that resembled an oversized shower without the shower head, just a faucet with a hose hooked on it. Pointing inside, Donna said, “Okay, Katherine, inside. Lean over slightly. You know the position.”

The twins watched with a great deal of surprise as Katherine quietly did as she was told. “Why isn’t she fighting us?” Ari, probably, asked.

Donna smiled gently at them. “She’s given in. She knows what’s going to happen. She also knows that, from here on, the process is actually enjoyable if you are in the right state of mind, and Amanda took care of that last night. She’s ready, so it’s up to us to make sure she has fun.”

Jointly, the twins breathed, “Cool!”

Katherine looked around and favored the twins with a bittersweet smile, then resignedly went back to studying the tile wall.

“Okay,” Donna began briskly, “I’ll get her started, then you two take over. I have to make the stuffing.” Suiting action to words, she took the slender hose with its long perforated nozzle and began to insert it into Katherine’s ass, stretching her tight little anus. “Colonic irrigator,” she explained. “We want her nice and clean for stuffing before we cook her.” Then she took a flanged ring, slid it up the hose and inserted it into the woman’s anus, further stretching it so that there was space completely around the hose to let the effluent out. Once everything was inside her ass, Katherine squatted over the large drain.

“Wow, what a super butt-fuck!” Ari, certainly, commented. This earned her a mildly irritated look from her sister.

As the twins began flushing Katherine clean, Donna instructed, “Don’t fill her up, now. Once the water is clean for a while, you can pull the hose out and wash her off so we can stuff her before we take her out to the spit.” Then she was off to begin mixing bits and pieces of redhead with bread, herbs, spices, etc., into a tasty stuffing.

After her flushing, followed by a bonus hand wash by the twins, Katherine bent over a cooking table and Donna began packing stuffing into her still dilated anus. The twins decided she was really enjoying the process, given her wriggling, squeals, and her clearly visible damp pussy. It was a very full, groaning Katherine that finally climbed onto a wheeled cart and lay face down with a sigh of relief. It was only a matter of a few moments for Donna to tie her long blonde hair into a knot for protection against fire.

Raising up on her elbows, Katherine took the lit joint Donna offered her. Don’t interact. Just stay stoned. Best option, relaxing.

The twins were anything but relaxed, Donna decided. Their eyes sparkled, their cheeks were flushed, and they absentmindedly stroked various body parts, their own and each other’s. Those two spit-muffins were going to be even more excited before dinner, and Donna was definitely looking forward to the next session in Amanda’s bed. She reached over and gave each fascinated girl a friendly pat on the bare bottom. Her experienced hand told her the twins had excellent roasting potential. The soft buttock meat was plentiful, firm and tender. “Come , ladies,” she said, “we still have to get Katherine oiled, seasoned and spitted before we can relax.” The girls smiled eagerly and followed the cart out to the barbecue pit.

Having gotten the coals just right, Amanda turned and watched the approach of the Donna and the cart bearing Katherine, followed closely by the twins. Her thoughts ran roughly along Donna’s lines regarding the twins, with the amendment that the pair would make some very delicious steaks, chops, roasts and other cuts in the near future. So, for that matter, would Donna, but her cooking ability might just give her a pass for sometime to come. Regrets.

Katherine transferred to the spitting table and the twins rubbed her thoroughly with olive oil, liberally flavored with some of Donna’s favorite seasonings. Both the twins and Katherine seemed to enjoy it, the twins perhaps a bit too much, in Donna’s estimation. She crooked a finger at who she thought was Candy, bent the girl over a lawn chair, then stroked her inflamed wet cunt for a few minutes, bringing on a strong, groaning orgasm. Although it didn’t take long, Ari was already in line for some attention when Donna looked up from servicing Candy. Both Amanda and Katherine watched the proceedings with amusement, at least until Amanda gave Katherine the same treatment.

As Katherine rose onto her knees and elbows, Amanda picked up a thick steel ventilated spit and lubricated the tip liberally with olive oil. Carefully inserting it into Katherine’s cunt, she smoothly slid it in and out until the gasping woman demanded deeper insertion. As Katherine groaned and gasped through yet another strong orgasm, Amanda slid the spit smoothly into her body. Donna cradled the woman’s head, holding it back and the mouth open until the spit was out. After that, it was a simple matter to tie her wrists to her waist and ankles to the spit, bind her breasts so they wouldn’t flop, and gently lift the newly spitted roast onto the mechanical rotisserie fixture.

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The twins watched, fascinated, as Katherine began slowly rotating over the coals, her lovely body writhing, apparently with sexual pleasure. “Wow!” Candy, apparently, said. “That must be the ultimate fuck!”

“Even if it’s not in the ass,” Ari, definitely, replied. “You know,” she continued, “it’s a shame this is a one shot deal. I mean, it’d be a great way to lose weight. Cook that fat right off you.”

“Oh,” Donna commented, “you can use a two part spit and it won’t kill you. You can break off if you want, whenever you want. One end goes in the mouth and down to the stomach. The other is inserted in whichever hole you prefer. As long as your legs are tightly bound, you’re stable and well supported. With a good dose of anti-gag drugs, you can do it as often as you like. Cook until you’re mildly delirious, then off you come with a very juicy pussy for some lucky diner. Just takes a day or so to recover.” Then she suddenly grew silent and appeared deep in thought.

“So that’s how you kept your weight down. Sounds like you and Katherine had some interesting games,” Amanda said.

“Yes,” Donna replied absently, “it did well for me.”

Amanda noticed Donna’s expression. “What just struck you?”

“Look,” Donna continued with subdued excitement, “I’ve just had an idea. Let me work on it and I’ll talk to you after dinner.”

Amanda nodded, then brought up another subject. “Katherine’s a bit high off the coals, isn’t she?”

Donna glanced at the beautiful squirming body as it slowly rotated in the heat. “Yes. I’m really just precooking her while she’s whole. I don’t want her too done because I intend to store what we don’t eat in the cooler. Once heat stroke gets her, I’ll take her down and butcher what we intend to eat this afternoon. Those parts go back over the grill until they’re done to preference.”

Amanda smiled. “Of course! Interesting approach. I hadn’t thought of it before.”

Donna took another chance. “That’s why you want me as the cook.”

The dinner was excellent. Amanda, as the captor, had the prime filet, presented over a tender steak from Katherine’s inner thigh. Candy had a hip filet, while Donna and Ari (of course) had rump steaks. The stuffing was complimented all round as an excellent accompaniment to the main course, along with the potatoes cooked over the grill. All of this suited Donna perfectly. She wanted the beast sated and well fed before she broached her new idea.

It was Amanda that brought it up. They were both sitting in pool chairs and watching the twins frolic in the water when Amanda opened the conversation to a still nervous Donna. “You’re about to spring a marvelously ingenious offer that will keep your juicy bits off my plate. I get so many of them, but carry on. They’re so much fun.”

Donna looked at the grinning predator and took a shaky breath. “I’ve thought of a way you can make use of all this space, make good money, enjoy roasting a good many women and have more freedom than you have now.”

“Continue.”

“Well,” Donna took a breath, then another chance, “start a spa.”

Amanda’s eyes showed her surprise. “Now that just set me back. How is a spa supposed to do all that?”

“Ari provided the idea. Make this place into a highly exclusive and selective spa. The clients will all do a turn on a two part spit or other such device every other day for a week or two. I can guarantee the loss of ten or fifteen pounds per woman at the end of that time.”

Donna turned her upper body to face Amanda and began to get more animated. “Look, we don’t have to deal with the truly fat or objectionable. Be very selective. Go for the right mentality and choose only women that just need to shed a few pounds. Las Vegas is full of them. They’ll be open to sex as part of the ‘treatment’, too. A lot of women in this town will sell their souls to be a few pounds lighter, and they’re the ones we want. Besides, there’s bound to be one or two in every group that will decide to take it all the way, especially if imported girls from the standard suppliers are a regular feature on the menu. Get a group of women watching a whole roasting and one of them will decide to do it herself. We’ve both seen it happen, too many times to count.”

Amanda rested her elbow on the chair arm and put her chin in her hand. “With you as manager and chef, I suppose, thus postponing indefinitely a wonderful treat for my taste buds. Still, it sounds interesting. What about the twins?”

“Staff and good examples, at least until we can replace them. They’ll be more than ready by that time, and I don’t want to disappoint either one. The look rather too tasty for that.”

“They’re ready now, but I see your point. The preparation and the meal are only two parts of an experience I thoroughly enjoy. What about the hunt?”

“Cases like this last one, taken on an as presented basis will still happen. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy a different type of hunt,” Donna said, then paused as another idea occurred to her. She was no longer nervous, simply intrigued. Challenges did that to her. “This is good terrain. You can hunt me whenever you like. Put me on a two part spit if you catch me.”

“What says I’m going to let you off before you’re done to my liking?” Amanda countered.

Donna smiled. “You enjoyed the taste of my uncooked pussy last night. Imagine what it’s like after I get off a spit. Katherine used to love it, and I certainly enjoyed hers. Do it my way and you can continue to enjoy prime filet on Donna as many times as you want.”

“Until I decide to have it on a steak from that delicious bottom,” Amanda said absently, thinking hard. Donna was suddenly nervous again.

“Still,” Amanda continued, “that’s an excellent suggestion, and sounds like fun. I suppose you’ll be doing the interviews for our ‘clients’?”

“Of course. I’ll bet some will even try the hunts, as well,” Donna replied. “Offer the right bounty and they’ll be lining up for the chance. Reward the winners and cook the losers, just like at home.”

Amanda was silent for a long moment, then nodded to herself. Donna let out a silent breath. “All right. We’ll do it. But keep yourself shaved. I may change my mind.”

The last was expected, but Donna relaxed. She was going to be around for a good while, as long as she could keep the monster happy.

Well, it kept life interesting.

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Thanks, T’sade. Makes the effort worthwhile. Leo