Room Service

Room Service: A Very Personal Fantasy Adventure by Ludovico

This story is based on a real incident, taking place in Palencia, Spain. The true part ends when I knocked on the door, but when I returned to my room, the fantasy came to me, and I couldn’t get to sleep. The girls did quiet down, but I could still hear whispering, and my imagination ran wild. I took a train out early next morning, to Valladolid, and never even found out what they looked like (leaving it to my imagination). In my fantasy I have the girls speaking Spanish, but will not risk insulting readers from that wonderful country by trying that here. The only reason I know the phrases is from all the old Italian comics (like Terror), many involving cannibalism, and the Gourmet Cannibals group.

The laughter jolted me awake. I had been trying to sleep for an hour, but the giggling in the adjoining room made it impossible. My train to Valladolid left at 8 am, and I wanted to be fresh for the next day. Enough was enough, so I got up, put on my jeans, and knocked on the door. The giggling and chatter suddenly stopped, and the door opened just a small crack. I could just make out an eyeball, and started to ask, in poor Spanish, the girls (I could tell by the voices) to quiet down. Suddenly, the door swung opened. Startled, I hesitantly began to enter, when I saw a sight that shocked me. On a double bed lay a gorgeous young girl. She was naked, helplessly bound and gagged, and very young, just a teen. Too stunned to react, I then noticed three equally beautiful girls, clad in Victoria Secrets type negligees, standing to the side. At the same moment, I became aware of a figure moving behind me. Suddenly, I felt myself being violently pushed inside. 

In an instant, all four girls were on me, throwing me on a second double bed. They were surprisingly strong, and I was easily pinned down, my jeans pulled off. Then, amidst giggles and chatter, I felt myself being bound at wrists and ankles, like the frantically struggling girl on the next bed. Before I could scream for help, a stocking was stuffed in my mouth, and it was taped shut. 

Then the girls began touching, squeezing, and prodding my body. I tried to make sense of the excited chatter, but the words were strange. The phrases sounded like delicious catch, prime and tender, good feast, etc. One remark I understood was how good room service was at the hotel. The language sounded sexual, and I was so excited I nearly exploded. The girls calmed down, and two began to pay special attention, while the two others returned to the bound teen on the other bed. Excitement overcame my fear, and the next hour was pure ecstasy, beyond my wildest dreams. I do not even remember falling asleep.

When I awoke, it took a few minutes to recall what happened. I was still bound and gagged. Slowly becoming aware, I realized the young teen was also still bound and gagged on the next bed. She looked forlorn and scared. The next sight shocked me fully awake. I saw my backpack, fully packed, sitting in the corner. The girls, now dressed in jeans and tank tops, and still looking young and drop dead gorgeous, had apparently entered my room, and packed my stuff. Suddenly feeling dread, I noticed they were standing in the middle of the hotel room, by a large, empty, soft, zip-up bag, the kind two girls use to travel, carrying it together. They were having some sort of discussion. Then, apparently coming to a decision, they moved toward the terrified bound girl.

As she mewed and struggled violently, they began to bind her is a ball. She was carried, quite immobile, and placed in the large travel bag. As two girls carried the bag out the door. I began to pray they would all depart, leaving me bound on the bed. My mind raced. Maybe it was all some role playing game. They all took turns, and I just added to the fun. But my thoughts turned to dread as the other two girls approached me. They started to bind me into a ball, too. After what seemed like eternity, while I prayed they would still leave me there, the other two girls returned, with an empty bag. It was my turn to go in. 

As I gasped for air in the cramped bag, I felt myself being carried. My dread grew greater when I realized the hotel people would think nothing of finding the empty room, since they knew I was catching an early train, and the room was paid for. My mind raced, with thoughts of white slavery, kidnap for money (maybe the teen was rich), or whatever. When the bag was finally set down, I heard what sounded like a van door slide shut. The bag was zipped open, and I was in the back of a van, but not an ordinary one. In a caged reinforced section, sat the naked, bound, terrified teen. Within seconds I joined her, and both our gags were removed, as the girls made us aware it was soundproof.

While two of the girls sat in the front and the engine started up, the other two took seats facing us, looking happy and triumphant. Immediately, I asked my fellow captive, who was weeping, what happened. She managed to whimper that her name was Lyn, and she was touring Europe with her parents. At the hotel, the girls, who seemed mature and sophisticated, invited her for a late night drink. Sneaking out of her room, she was enjoying the drink when they pounced, stripped and bound her, and began to have their fun. Soon I came in. Her parents would wake up, and find her gone. Sobbing uncontrollably, she started muttering that this could not be happening. When I asked what exactly she thought was happening, she looked enraged. “How much Spanish do you know? These maniacs are cannibal witches. We are going to be cooked and eaten!”

Surprised more than shocked, I was about to laugh when I saw the look on the faces of our captors. Something told me it was the truth. We were both on the menu. At that moment I became strangely excited. Bound next to a beautiful girl, also tied, I could not help imagining her lovely legs and slim body on a serving platter. Although I had never told anyone, whenever I heard stories about Hansel and Gretal, or Red Riding Hood, I would get feelings not considered normal. Now the idea of heading for the pot or roasting spit, and leaning next to a helpless, tender morsel like Lyn, turned me on so bad my fear was overcome. Our two tall, gorgeous captors sensed this and laugh. Lyn was horrified.

Both our discomfort continued for the next few hours, and then the van stopped. We were inside the walls of an old, Spanish estate, in barren, hilly country. Our captors led us through the beautiful house, and into a large, inner courtyard. Both Lyn and I were stunned by the various cooking devices – spits, grills, caldrons, a large, outdoor oven, and cages. All had been recently used. As the reality sank in, we were ushered into a cell on the side of the courtyard, and were stunned at the sight of two more girls, as the door, which had a window with bars, slammed shut.

Lyn fell sobbing into the arms of the blonde and redhead, and both looked at me in disdain, due to my condition. After we explained how we were captured, they told their story. “We were part of a student tour group, for Spanish classes, from very exclusive girl’s schools in New England. We met those bitches in Burgos, and they invited us to a party. All eight of us were stupid enough to get in their van. They offered us drinks on the way. Next thing we know, we are waking up, bound and groggy, in the courtyard, and forced into this cell.

There are six of them, and they explained we were all to be cooked and eaten. We thought they were joking, but then they grabbed Beth and Mary, the two youngest, who we never should have let come along, and dragged them out to the courtyard. They were stripped naked, and groped and tormented.

We could not believe our eyes as we watched what happened next. Poor Beth was bound hands to thighs, and by the ankles, and placed on the grill. Her petite body squirmed helplessly as they lit the coals. Meanwhile, Mary was tied to that spit, her taller, slim body fitting perfectly on the crossbars. They lifted her over the coals, and began to rotate the spit. Both had apples placed in their mouths to stop their screaming. We watched in horror for the next few hours as our two young friends slowly roasted alive. Both twisted and squirmed, their skin reddening and blistering, while the witches laughed, drank, and danced. Then they placed them on garnished platters, and feasted on their tender bodies.”

“Then they used the rest of us as sex slaves. One whole day passed, but the following night Rose and Paula were place in that large pot, in the far end of the courtyard. Both were loosely bound, at the ankles, and hands to knees, and slowly boiled. We could see the agony in their eyes as the witches stirred the caldron, and threw in spices and vegetables. The remaining four were taken out, and forced to dance naked while our friends cooked. After the feast we again served the pleasure of the witches. Another day and night passed, and then it was Lana and Melody’s turn. Melody was placed in a roasting pan, and carefully oiled and garnished. We were forced to watch and help.

She pleaded, but the witches giggled and rubbed her body more. They paid special attention to her long, lovely legs and slender feet. All the while they remarked in Spanish what a tender morsel she was, and how delicious she would be. After the apple went in her mouth, they placed her seated upright, bound her hands to her ankles, and her legs to her chest.

She was placed like that in the large, open, outdoor oven, and roasted for hours. All the while looking out with frightened eyes, as the heat slowly cooked her. Meanwhile, poor Lana was placed on the grill. The two of us, my name is Lori, and this is Amber (the redhead), pleased the witches in the usual fashion.”

“That was three days ago. We have been serving two of the witches as sex slaves, but the others weren’t around.” Lyn and I explained how we were captured. What happened next surprised me. Amber approached a distraught Lyn and said, “We are both on the menu. It is hopeless. Please come to my bunk and let me comfort you.” Lyn meekly went along. I noticed Lori smiling at me. “This really excites you.”

I began to stammer, but she interrupted, “Its okay. I have been excited too. We are both going to be dinners, so what the hell. Lets enjoy what time we have left, before we join the others on the serving platter. Come to my bunk.” Not having anything else to do at the moment, and excited beyond belief, I had the most spectacular hour of my life. Then the witches came to feed us.

Hands tied in front, we were led into the huge house, which surrounded the courtyard on all sides, and taken into a dining room. I was surprised to find that one of my favorite dishes, Callos, cooked Andalusian style, was part of our feast. When the others asked what was in it, I simply lied, not wanting to ruin it for them. After the feast, we were led off for sex, and Lori and I found ourselves in a large bath with two of the gorgeous witches. They let on (Lori spoke perfect Spanish), that they knew we were turned on. Our hopes of saving ourselves were soon dashed.

The other 4 witches were hardcore lesbians, and I was only being tolerated. The two we were with, the same ones who pushed me in the room, and enjoyed me, were more liberal, occasionally capturing, enslaving, and boiling men. It turned out the capture of all of us was accidental.

For security, the witches always go hunting outside Spain. Lots of female hitchhikers, or coeds looking for parties, to capture. Younger students are especially prone to trust older females. Luring tender morsels to the serving platter is quite easy in Europe. It is always blamed on white slavers. Group captures, however, are dangerous. The witches were in Burgos, on the way north, when they ran into the student group, and it was just too easy, with no witnesses.

Ironically, the four had gone to Palencia to plant a white slavery ring story for cover, when they saw Lyn. The adorable, young, impressionable teen was just too anxious to sneak out and join the older ladies, and they couldn’t resist her succulent body. Now she was headed for the roasting platter (cooking method had been decided that night). Then I blundered in, earning the nickname Room Service.

Lori and I were able to strike a deal. While Amber was to be spit roasted, and Lyn headed for the oven, I would naturally be boiled. Agreeing to fulfill my, and it turns out Lori’s, wildest fantasies, we could help prepare poor Lyn. In addition, Lori would go in the pot with me, bound in each others arms. Hell, if you gotta go, this is the way. That night, we worked on the delectable Lyn. As we all took turns oiling and spicing her tender body, which was unbelievable soft and delicate, she cried. “How could you two help. Please let me go. I don’t want to roast.” I felt bad, but too excited to notice.

Her legs were so slim, feet so petite, and breasts so delicate, I nearly lost it. Seeing how excited I was, they let me finish the garnishing (Lyn was bound in a traditional kneeling position). I ended her pleas by placing the apple in her mouth.

As we placed her in the oven, two of the witches were working on Amber. The magnificent redhead was bound to the spit, and her beautiful body placed over the coals. I was allowed to turn her a few times, her squirming body glistening in the moonlight. Then, to my surprise, Lori and I were led to the large caldron in the far end of the courtyard. We thought we would have one more night, but the hardcore witches wanted me gone.

We climbed into the already warm liquid, and our arms were tied around each other. Amazingly, at Lori’s request, the pot was filled with pure Rioja wine. Looking out on the two roasting girls, whose aroma was filling the air, we drank wine and slowly made love. I could feel Lori orgasm as the classical Spanish music played.

As the pot grew hotter, Lori began to pass out. I tried to keep her awake, but she just smiled, kissed me, and closed her eyes. I was ready to peacefully go under myself, with the warm Lori in my arms, when a sudden realization shocked me to my senses. The six witches, having watched and stirred us earlier, had turned all their attention to the roasting girls. They were drunk, singing, and dancing, having forgotten about Lori and I, who they apparently thought were finished.

I tried to lift Lori out of the pot, but she really was finished. Quietly, with enormous fear, which kept me awake, I climbed out of the pot. It was difficult, but my hands had come loose. Using the large pot for cover, with my heart in my mouth, I ran into the house, and out the front door.

My mind was now lucid, and I checked the van, and found my backpack. Luckily, the usually careful witches left no evidence at the hotel. I pulled on jeans and shoes, put on my pack, and ran down the dirt road, praying the witches hadn’t gone to stir the pot. When I reached a main road, I kept running, until a car came. My heart racing, I put out a finger, and the car stopped. A Spanish man gestured for me to climb in. I cannot explain how I felt as the car sped off. He was quite oblivious to the fact there were three young girls cooking less than two miles away.

I could understand he was heading north to Leon, a two hour drive. He did not inquire why a smelled so stongly of wine. I could not calm down, and when we reached Leon I was wide awake and alert. Vivid images of roasting girls filled my mind. I found a hotel, showered and dresses, and being Spain, headed to a café for wine and tapas. Finally, I was able to get to sleep.

The next day I heard stories that a white slavery ring having struck in Spain. I considered going to the police, but realized, even if they believed me, I could be accused of being an accomplice. The memory of Lori, simmering in my arms in the wine filled pot, Lyn squirming in the oven, and Amber turning on the spit, began to seem like a fantasy. Was it truly real. Still fearful, I caught a train to Pontvedra, and after a few days headed to Braga, Portugal.

I always spend a lot of time sitting in cafes, drinking coffee, wine, or beer, and just thinking. Now, however, my mind was filled with images unimaginable for most people, except maybe a select few. One afternoon, in Braga, I was in the main square, sipping expresso, when a sight shocked me. The two witches who captured me were sitting at a table with two beautiful girls.

I felt like fleeing, but we were in a crowded café, so I slowly approached the table. They looked up and glared at me. The young girls they were with were British. Annoyed at my intrusion, they explained they were being offered a ride to Lisbon. I suggested it was dangerous accepting rides from strangers. Angrily, they explained there was a white slavery ring in Spain, nine students having disappeared, including one from a hotel with her parents in the next room. Certainly they were safer with the two Spanish ladies. Huffily, they got up to leave, the witches looking back at me smiling. One witch uttered something, which I could barely make out.

“I just love room service!”

This is all true up to the point when I knocked on the door. The fantasy has been with me since in various forms, except the escape. I added that just for here. Let me know if you enjoyed it. I always keep in mind all fantasies are local, which makes each of us unique.