by Danté
The raid came so fast that there was no time to react. The entire casino at Monte Carlo was stormed by the machine-gun armed guerillas. Carla guessed there may have been as many as a dozen of them, but with the chaos they created it was impossible to judge. At first she thought it was a robbery, on a grand scale, but the masked men, all Arabic, showed no interest in the cashier's windows or the counting room. Instead they lined the patrons up along one wall, and then forced all of the gorgeous young women to climb up onto the bar.
It was three A.M. when the peak crowds filled the huge gambling establishments, and this, the most exclusive club of all, was packed to capacity. The machine gun fire had mowed down several employees and guests, an act of sheer terrorism. David had fallen in front of her, his head blown apart as she watched. A wealthy matronly woman from Germany was also killed right in front of Carla when her full breasts were blown wide open, spraying pinkish tit meat across the rich green velvet of the card table.
The guerilla's instant power over the patrons was so complete that there was no argument as the young women climbed onto the bar and lined up. The bar was more than fifty feet long, but soon they were stacked three deep. An Arabic woman, also masked and armed with a riding crop appeared, and one by one told women to jump down, until there were less than a hundred women left standing up on the bar. She made them strut one by one along the bar, and the weeding process continued, until she had culled the group of beauties down to thirty. Clearly she was selecting the young women with the best figures and fullest breasts. In this exclusive gambling establishment that was not an easy task, as all of the females who graced the tables were prime stock, wealthy, and well educated.
The female guerilla used her riding crop to force the remaining women, five at a time, to step forward, spread their knees, raise their skirts and lower their panties, and display for her their sex organs. They were also forced to reveal their nipples, to prove that their breasts were real. Most of them were. Carla blanched, but had no choice. These murderous raiders were not to be trifled with. She was in the second group to step forward, and she nearly fainted from embarrassment when she had to bare her pretty cunt for the lady. She, like most of the others, was wearing a low cut dress with an enormous slit up the sides, which was the style. She revealed her neatly trimmed pussy for the lady, then pulled out a breast, and like the others, was asked to step down off the bar. When she got down she was directed to join a few of the others to the right, where guerillas waited for and guarded them.
When the last of the young ladies had done the requisite performance and had been sorted out, the fifteen young ladies who had been selected in this impromptu meat market were herded toward the kitchen. As the guerillas moved the ladies through the food service and preparation area, they took the opportunity to help themselves to large stainless steel cleavers and carving knives. They also took huge roasting pans, steel serving trays, and stout skewers capable of holding a whole pig or a large baron of beef. Four of the men even carted out two large wooden butcher blocks, while others kept the kitchen staff at bay with their machine guns. These killers were very businesslike, and not to be trifled with.
A delivery truck was backed up to the spacious rear loading bay at the rear of the kitchen area. The girls were loaded aboard, along with the guerillas and their additional booty. The truck's rear doors were closed and locked, and the big vehicle moved away, as if it had just delivered a load of fresh meat. Nobody casually observing the departure of the truck would suspect it was in fact hauling away a load of fresh meat. Carla and the others were forced to stand because the truck was so full. While they travelled, their captors crammed a small rubber ball into each girl's mouth then tied cloth gags around the girl's heads, effectively preventing them from screaming or calling out. Their wrists were bound behind them, to prevent them from untying their gags.
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The trip was mercifully short, lasting less than ten minutes, and ending inside what appeared to be a warehouse. The young ladies were moved off the truck, and directly out a large door onto what proved to be a wharf. It was dark, with all of the lights along their side of the warehouse turned off.
They were moved to the edge of the dock, and made to climb down a coarse wooden ladder and into rubber dinghies. There were four of the inflatable boats, each mounted with a powerful outboard motor.
When all of them were aboard, including the guerillas and the two large wooden butcher blocks, the rubber boats were paddled quietly out to sea. This was the critical period in their escape, because sound travels well over water. The guerillas paddled quietly for more than an hour, taking the tiny low profile craft under the sweep of radar. The captive girls watched with dismay as the lights of the beautiful harbor and city gradually receded.
At last the motors were started. The small boats moved at idle at first, then they slowly sped up, until they were skimming quickly over the rolling surface of the calm sea. Another hour passed, and the sky to the east began to glow in the precursor to dawn, when Carla saw a tramp steamer on the horizon. In twenty minutes the six rubber dinghies pulled up along side, and the girls were made to climb up a broad rope ladder. This was no easy feat in their evening gowns and stiletto heeled shoes, but the encouragement of the machine guns behind them had them climbing like a team of elite storm troopers.
On deck the fifteen frightened ladies were met by armed crewmen, who escorted them down into the ship's hold. They were placed in steel cages, and allowed hammocks to rest in for the remainder of the brief voyage. Their gags were removed and their arms unbound, which made breathing and moving easier in the heat of the hold. The hatch cover was in place, but their was enough leakage that Carla could see the passage of the sun, telling her the ship was moving in a southerly direction. Twice it put about, and when finally night fell, she had lost sense of direction.
Several hours after darkness had arrived, the women were awakened, and taken out of the steel cage. They were transferred to three large wooden crates, packed in like farm animals. The young women were once more gagged and their arms bound. They were just getting settled, squatting on large hemp cushions in the confining crates, when they felt the ship's motors slow. The engines reversed twice, then there was a rough bump, with the sound of scraping, and the motors stopped. The ship had docked. Carla felt she had to pee, but she was so anxious that she was not able to pass water.
Within ten minutes the hatch opened, and they heard the sound of a crane and winch lowering a line into the hold. The off-loading was smoother than they thought possible. They could see through the narrow cracks in the crates that the pier was not dark, as the one from which they had departed had been. They could hear but not see the stevedores that were handling the large shipping crates being off-loaded from the ship. Carla wondered if the men knew that three of the crates contained live human cargo.
She doubted it. She could not recognize the Arabic dialect she heard, and realized that they could be in any of a dozen ports in three or four different countries in North Africa. Unless they had exited the Mediterranean and had docked on the East Coast of Africa. Surely they had not been at sea long enough for that, she thought.
Four of the many crates were loaded onto a truck, and they immediately set off on a surprisingly short trip. Their crates were opened, and the young women were brought off the truck. The night heat was overbearing, and their gowns were sticking to them. The girls were also drooling around their gags, and were very uncomfortable. It was a relief to stand up and move their cramped limbs. They were inside another large warehouse. Beside the truck was a large bus, onto which they were loaded. Carla was not surprised to see that the windows had been painted black. No one would see them, even if they travelled by daylight. Four of the guerillas joined them as guards. They heard the two big butcher blocks being loaded in the luggage space beneath the bus, and Carla had a terrible feeling about how the heavy meat carving tables were going to be used.
When the bus started to move, Carla was thankful that it was air conditioned. She had not been gagged since she was a freshman student at university being hazed when she joined her sorority. That had been the only other time in her life that she had been forced to display her sex organ, when the panel of fraternity seniors the girls had assembled did a "cherry" inspection of the new recruits, to identify any virgins. She had been the only one.
Their guards removed their gags at last and unbound their arms so that the captive girls could drink. They had been traveling for twenty-four hours, and had taken in only water and hard unleavened biscuits. Their only chance to relieve themselves had been in a jam can left for that purpose in their cage on the ship. They anxiously waited their turn to use the private toilet at the back of the bus. It was rustic by their standards, but was far better than the metal can with the sea water sloshing in it. The fifteen women had quickly exceeded the sanitary limits of that insufficient can.
The bus trip lasted several hours, and when the big vehicle finally stopped, they got off in the desert.
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An old DC-3 was warming its engines when they arrived. It was a windowless freighter, with Arabic markings none of the girls recognized. The got aboard, and found there were only small jump-seats available. They strapped themselves in, and within minutes the engines roared to life. Carla was surprised at the thrust generated by the two prop engines, and was pressed back in her seat as the ancient aircraft bumped and bounded across the sand in the pre-dawn. When the plane was airborne, there was not the usual tilt associated with climbing, nor the expected increase in cabin pressure. Carla assumed the pilot was flying just above the deck, intent on not being tracked by radar. These people were well organized, and were not likely to be caught, if all their precautions were as thorough as she had seen.
The girls were given a final drink of water, then were gagged and bound again, and this time were also blindfolded. Carla found this a hopeful sign, because if their captors did not want them to see where they were going, at least it was likely the would be eventually set free. These terrorists were methodical people, and did nothing that was unnecessary. The secret of their success was that they wasted little time or movement.
As the plane droned on, Carla finally fell asleep. She was exhausted from this incredible odyssey of travel. She no longer had any idea where she was, and realized she would not find out until her captors wished her to know. They were clearly professionals, and nothing had happened that they had not planned. She would just have to let them take responsibility for her safety and well-being, and get some rest. There was little she could do but sleep until the next stop in her voyage. She awakened as she felt the sharp prick in her inner thigh, then the familiar feeling of the injection, and seconds later she was out.
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Carla felt the coolness she had been enjoying become a chill, and she reached reflexively for her sheet and blanket. There was none. She realized that her arms were numb, and that she had not moved them. She lifted her head, and found herself lying not in her comfortable bed with its satin sheets, but on one of fifteen small straw-filled mattresses laid out on the floor. She shook her head, feeling as if she had taken too much liquor, and remembered being drugged. Her wrists were bound behind her back, which had caused her arms to go numb. She rolled over onto her side to relieve the numbness, and the movement gradually brought painful life to her arms.
The room was large and bleak, with all fifteen of the girls with whom she had been kidnaped lying stretched out, stark naked as she was. A few of them had awakened; the others were still asleep. The situation she and the others found themselves in had progressed from serious to desperate. At least her gag and blindfold had been removed. She had no idea what purpose they had served, but she was glad to be rid of them.
What was extremely disturbing was that her person had been violated by these people. They had stripped her nude while she slept, and had moved her into this strange place from the old aircraft that had brought her here, wherever "here" was. Her best guess was that the ship had docked in Libya, and that the bus had taken them far inland, into the Libyan desert. From there the aircraft could have taken them in any direction. They could be anywhere from Capetown to The Hague. As far as she knew, they might even be in Moscow.
Clearly the terrorists had gone to great pains to transport these women a great distance and at considerable cost. That was necessary, considering the power and influence of her father, and the fathers of the other girls captured with her. She reasoned that if the aircraft had landed and refueled while she was out, it could have flown them anywhere from Southern Africa to Northern Europe, although the latter was unlikely. There was just too much population and security, too many borders and too many radar stations for them to have gone undetected if they had doubled back to Europe. On the other hand, that would have been a smart thing to do, as her Daddy would probably not think of looking too close to home.
Suddenly her train of thought was broken as a door opened at the far end of the room, and several pretty young maids came in. She thought of them as maids because of their uniforms. The eight girls, four European and four Arabs, all in their late-teens. Each wore a cute little outfit with a frilly hem that was so high it was quite immodest. In moments she was to see just how immodest these remarkably provocative uniforms were.
The bodice lifted their full plump breasts, bulging the tops of the malleable mammaries and pressing them together to make them look as if they were even larger than they were, in the pre-Victorian style. The top of the bodice was cut low enough to allow their erect nipples to peek over the top, and the movement of the tight restraining garment rubbed and kept their pink milk-warts elongated. Carla guessed the youngest of these girls was perhaps eighteen, and despite their well-developed mammaries they were slender and girlish rather than having the full-blown figures of mature women. The oldest could be no more than twenty, judging by that fact that all of them showed a softness of complexion not found in females more mature.
These pretty young maids wore black net stockings, and it quickly became apparent they wore no panties. When they turned, they did so with a sudden little spin that caused their very short skirts to swing out, revealing their nakedness right up to the belt line. The fold of their vaginas, revealed with any movement, were plucked clean of hair around the edges and over the groin area, and the delicate petals of their inner organ were painted with a pink lipstick to add to their visibility. These girls were all quite naughty, purposefully giving everyone present a glimpse of their insufficiently covered genitalia. Carla saw that they had left a neatly trimmed heart-shaped patch of tight dark or thin and fair curls above their pubic mound, with the lower point that touched the flesh hood of their naked clits. She found them to be quite stimulating, even with her personal elevated level of anxiety.
The maids were distributing large chromed steel rings to the women lying naked on the beds. They untied the ropes binding the captive women's ankles and wrists, and helped them fit the bright polished rings around their necks, snapping the hidden clasps into place, forming a perfect hidden seal. Carla wondered how they were to be removed. Most of the women willingly put them on, knowing how futile it would be to refuse at this point.. When the rings were all securely in place, they appeared to be continuous, with no break. The shiny chromed steel rings were tight-fitting and heavy, and looked quite attractive on the slender necks of their wearers. Because they were so tight-fitting, the captive women wore them high on the neck, right up under the chin.
Only Carla refused to put on one of these confining collars. When she refused, one of the doors burst open, and a pair of stocky large-breasted women, obviously body builders, burst in. They wore cool cotton shifts with a very high hemline that fully revealed their well tanned muscular legs, and spike heeled shoes, which made the most of their body building, accentuating the musculature of their pwerful but shapely legs.. They grabbed Carla by her arms and held her against the wall while two of the young maids fit her collar in place. Carla was powerless in the grasp of the two strong women. She knew she would never have a chance if she chose to fight them.
The women appeared to be Egyptian, as did four of the young maids, but they all spoke fluent French. "These collars are necessary!" one of the women said. "You are going to be presented at the market, and you must have your collar on when you are shown." She said this as if it was stupid of the captive young women not to know it.
"Shown what?" Carla responded defiantly. "What are you going to show us? What are you going to present us with?" The women laughed and left the room, followed by the giggling young maids.
Carla found, as did the others, that her collar was most comfortable when it was slid up tight under her chin, where her neck was narrowest. She had never seen anything like these, but had to admit that they were attractive when worn by naked women of such beauty as this kidnaped gathering. She also realized that they were a kind of uniform, marking the women, as if they were now slaves. That was a frightening thought, but appeared to be well supported by the actions of their captors.
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The women discussed their predicament, and had disturbing conclusions to draw. Several of them thought they were going to be held for ransom, while others believed they were being sold into white slavery. That would explain the collars, they said. It sounded from what the two muscular women had said that they would soon find themselves on the auction block. That was the most disturbing and most likely conclusion the girls could think of. Carla could think of nothing worse than being at the disposal of someone she did not know, or even someone she did. She had a more disturbing thought. What if she was going to be fucked by a stranger? That was what she knew happened to white slaves. She had read all about it. They used women as sex objects, and often forced them into prostitution. Her head spun with that terrible thought.
During her hazing at the University, she and the other new recruits were all raped by the panel of fraternity boys, who reported to the sorority executive on their quality. Carla had been safe because she was a virgin, and there were none of those in the sorority. to preserve her virginity, she had been given a row of coke to sniff, then had been raped anally, but two of the others got pregnant and had to have secret abortions. That was all part of belonging to a sorority, and the girls all had to put themselves at risk to belong. It was awful, and almost cost them their education and their fathers' generous lifetime allowances. Carla was certain that if she was sold as a white slave, she would be required to fuck strangers every night, and perhaps even do other dirty things with them. The thought sent a chill up her spine.
An hour after the girls had been collared, the maids returned, this time carrying tweezers, towels, small pails of warm perfumed water, shaving brushes, lather soap and Bic disposable razors. They gave the women total body shaves from the neck down, removing absolutely all of their body hair. It was a treat, and they made the shaves fun, pampering the naked captives. The only part the women found objectionable was the removal of their pubic hair, but the girls, speaking fluent French, explained it was necessary; it was their orders; they were required to remove all hair below the collars.
They shaved the arms and legs first, then the hips, backs and armpits, then the fine hair along the spine and tiny light hairs from the tummy. Carla found the shaving around her pubic mound erotic, but the methodical shaving of the intimate crack around her anus was totally humiliating. The lather was soft, the water warm, and the young maids gentle as they completed their task. They followed the body shaving with manicures and pedicures that were first class. These young women were very good, and obviously professionally trained.
For the pedicures and manicures four of the maids worked on a woman as a team. Two sat on a mattress side by side, their knees and skirts raised to reveal their genitals, with the nude woman sitting facing them. Each of the girls took one foot and pressed the heel against her warm pussy while she worked on the toes. At the same time, the other two on the team worked on the captive woman's fingernails. It was the most sensual, erotic experience Carla could remember. She had never been this intimate with another female before, and she found it pleasurable.
When the hands and feet of all of the women had been done to perfection and the nails brightly painted, the maids used food colors to paint the women's lips, nipples and vagina lips a succulent warm pink. Carla winced with embarrassment and at the same time felt a twinge of excitement as her genitals were decorated. Clearly they were all going to be displayed in public stark naked. She had never before displayed herself in front of others, not even on a nude beach. She wondered if she would be able to handle the embarrassment.
Carla had thought the maids would also do their hair, but instead they left the women again, and did not return for neatly two hours. When at last they returned, the captive were hungry, as they had been given nothing for several hours. Carla was impressed at how well the food coloring lasted on their nipples, lips and exposed sex organs. She realized it must have a special bonding agent in it, and made a mental note to do some experimenting when she got home.
As she was reflecting on the food coloring, Carla noticed for the first time a strange device leaning against the wall in the corner. It looked like a small metal framework, with a pistol attached. It was a curious ancient looking device, that vaguely reminded her of a crossbow, but there was no bow attached. Also, the modern pistol seemed out of place, welded onto the framework. The other thing that was curious was the round disk of steel that sat over the gun. It was wide, with the edge away from the pistol looking as if it was very sharp. She had never seen anything like it.
The maids brought with them a large cart on wheels, that contained a pair of chests. The first contained fifteen strangely realistic looking masks that the girls were required to put on. They were hoods that covered their heads, with their hair rolled up on top of their heads completely covered. That explained why they had not had their hair done. The hoods were equipped with fine feathers, a fleshy-looking comb on top like a chickens', and a large upper beak. The lower beak was missing from the mask, so that the girl wearing it would have her mouth and chin exposed.
When Carla's mask was strapped tightly in place under her chin, the eye holes lined up perfectly with her eyes, giving her remarkable vision. The large upper beak covered her nose, cheeks and upper lip, but left her nostrils and lower lip free. She looked at the others, and was startled at how provocative they looked. Their eyes looked like part of the mask. The match was excellent. Each mask had a bright red comb of latex that was remarkably realistic. She was impressed at the expense their captors had gone to in order to mask these beautiful young women, who were all in their prime.
With this bold snatch they had also lit a powder keg. She and the others were the daughters of some of the world's wealthiest and most powerful men. These terrorists, or whatever they were, had gone to great lengths and even greater risk to kidnap this incredible collection of gorgeous young females. Carla had no idea of their intentions, but she was certain they were planning to humiliate all of them, and treat them as mere sex objects. That process had already begun.
Once all the captive girls were masked, shoes were brought out from the trunk. They were costume shoes, and were quite extraordinary. They had five inch stiletto heels, arching the women's feet to the maximum. These costume shoes, all bright yellow, were fitted with three black claws and a spur. When Carla put hers on she realized how much they made her beautiful feet look like chicken feet, while retaining their beauty. A quick glance at the other girls confirmed that this effect was standard. They stood around like a bunch of plucked chickens. Highly erotic chickens, but chickens none the less.
The other chest was opened, and out of it came great feathered capes. They were covered with feathers of different colors, and were quite extravagant. Carla was glad at last to be able to cover herself, and she did so, hiding her nudity in the magnificent feathered cape. The lining was silk, and very smooth. It slid over her nakedness like her finest pyjamas. She was surprised at its lightness, considering the number of chicken feathers that were attached, providing a thickness that was not matched by weight. The capes looked and hung as if they were much heavier, coming down nearly to her knees. The feathers were attached to an outer layer in a manner that protected the girl wearing it from feeling the quills. Carla bought her own clothing at the best shops in the world, and she recognized that the quality of these robes was excellent.
Instinctively she spun, and was amazed at how far out the cape swirled. The other girls were spinning, and giggled at the sweeping movement they caused in their beautiful capes. It did not take much movement to reveal their genitals. These capes had been as cunningly crafted as were the costumes of the young maids.Carla suddenly felt very sexy in her bizarre costume. She always felt more daring at costume balls when she wore a mask. She noticed that in their chicken costumes, all of the girls looked the same. The only discerning factor was color of the cape. These very bizarre and risque outfits provided the beautiful girls, stark naked under their capes, with a high level of anonymity.
As soon as the girls were used to their costumes, two men came into the room. One was a chef, complete with tall white hat, and the other was in the costume of a butcher, with a broad apron and a white cap. The girls were amused that these working class men would think they had any authority over them, but when the chef pulled his chopping blade from his belt, and the butcher produced a pair of long sharp butcher knives, the girls reluctantly lined up in front of a pair of large doors as they were instructed. These frivolous females thrived on acts of daring and risk; that was what had drawn them to the casinos; but they were not stupid. They lined up as instructed by the chef, and listened carefully to his instructions. They were simply to dance and entertain the people waiting for them in the next room.
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The lights were turned off, leaving the costumed women standing in total darkness. Then large doors in front of them were opened. The young chicken-women were startled to see there was a large and luxurious dining room on the other side of the door. The room was round, with fifteen tables set around the large hardwood floor that was the dominant feature. The tables formed a round "U", with an opening facing the door she had the other girls used to enter. Over the round floor was a magnificent chandelier, and smaller similar chandeliers hung above each table. The tables were large, but there were only two couples at each, all facing the floor, so that they could watch the entertainment. The lighting was not bright enough for Carla to see faces; the lights in the preparation room had too recently been bright, and she had not yet acclimatized to the lower light levels in the dining room.
As instructed, the girls moved out onto the dance floor, and began their dancing. As Carla had guessed, the purpose of this exercise was to humiliate them, because as the girls danced, their capes swirled and revealed their nakedness beneath the feathers. The feathered capes were attached only at the throat, just below the shiny steel collar, and the swirling revealed not only their buttocks and painted cunts, but also their bare breasts. It would have been unbearable were it not for the anonymity that the masks provided.
The girls danced around the floor, presenting themselves at each of the tables, as they had been instructed. Carla heard squeals from several of the other girls, then quickly discovered why. She recognized several of the people seated at the tables! She had seen them at the casinos, or they were friends of her parents. What in the world were they doing here? Surely they were not captives. She was glad they could not possibly identify her with this chicken mask in place. If they knew who she was, she would die.
When she had passed by each of the tables, the girls were told to do the second pass. This time they were to reveal their breasts, and to squeeze them together and press them upward with their hands. Carla could feel her face go red as she stood before the first table, manipulating her full breasts with their painted nipples for the diners. She noticed for the first time that they had a score card in front of them, and were making notes. There was no difference in her level of embarrassment when she reached the last table. This was all totally dehumanizing.
For the third round, the caped girls were required to spread their knees, and use their fingers to pull open their vaginas, revealing their inner depths. They had been instructed by the chef to purse and spread their lips as they pulled at their organs, stretching them open with their slender fingers, to make it clear they were enjoying the gross sexual exhibitionism. Carla did as required, and stared off in another direction to detach herself from the obscene performance. That was when she first noticed the row of hooks along the wall, six feet above the floor, and wondered what they were for. There was one behind each table.
She felt as if her face was beet red. She noticed that the other girls looked normal, and wondered if her face was really red, or if it was just that her blood pressure was elevated with the embarrassment of the outlandish behavior that was required of her.
She was a virgin. Only her very favorite boyfriends even got to put their hands under her panties to get a feel of her sweet hot love-crease; none of them had ever seen it. Carla was not that kind of girl. Now she had to pull open her outer and inner pubes to display her intact hymen. She noticed the diners' eyebrows raise when they saw she was a virgin. She wondered if any of the other girls were virgins.
For the final pass, each girl was selected by three tables. A wine glass was presented, and the girls were required to urinate into it. This act was so disgusting that Carla could not imagine a more despicable event, unless she was required to poop for them. Her eyes roamed again, and again she noticed those strange hooks. They looked out of place, bolted to the wall behind each of the fifteen tables, as if they were to hang something on, something large.
A curious feeling came across her as she noticed the coincidence that there were fifteen captive women, and fifteen tables. It worked out just right, but she still had no idea what they had been brought to this place to do. The humiliation could only carried so far, but what was the point to it all?
When she stopped her flow of golden urine into the first glass, she was startled once more as the man holding the glass passed it to the woman beside him, and she took a sip. She passed it to the other woman at the table who also tasted the warm clear liquid. The men sampled her offering as well, and then it was time for her to move to the next table that had selected her.
After the same disgusting act had been repeated at the three tables, she moved to the wall where the entrance was, and was glad she was allowed to cover herself again. The doors opened, and a long broad cart was moved onto the floor. As it was rolled in, Carla was surprised to see it kept coming. It was six feet wide, and proved to be fifty feet long. When its entire length was at last in through the door, the door was again closed. The long cart crossed the middle of the floor, and was turned so that it was parallel to the back wall. The covers were lifted off the low cart, revealing a huge bed of coals, fed by propane gas jets. It reminded Carla of a monstrous barbecue.
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Now the most amazing thing happened: there was an auction. A man in a tall black had and a tuxedo with tails came into the room, carrying a riding crop in one hand a gavel in the other. He moved to a small lectern that was in the shadows by the back wall, and moved it to the middle of the floor, in front of the long stainless steel cart. Two burly boys with California tans, wearing only white loincloths, moved a small carpeted riser into the middle of the floor beside the lectern. The riser was only four feet square, and four feet high, with six broad steps up one side by which it could be mounted.
Carla noticed the two women who had collared her had now appeared, and stood quietly at each end of the line of captive girls. Her eyes bulged as she saw that the women held long coiled buggy whips. These women were now wearing silver swimsuits that had no more than a G string through the crotch, that parted rather than covered their vagina lips, and left their firm buttocks fully exposed. They held their whips out prominently so that all of the captives could see them. It was clear that the young women in the chicken costumes were going to have to show real discipline, or suffer the consequences.
One of the chicken women was directed to step up onto the carpeted riser. One of the two women with whips uncurled her weapon, and swung it. The tightly braided leather whistled through the air, and snapped inches from the girl who hesitated in moving. She quickly mounted the small platform and stood quivering, facing the tables. The auctioneer instructed the two boys to pluck the chicken, and the did so very effectively. Each of them grasped the hem of her cape, and with a snap, they jerked it down, pulling it from the single tie around her neck that held it in place.
Now she was properly plucked, naked except for her mask, steel collar and taloned shoes. She pressed her knees together in embarrassment, and crossed her arms over her breasts. Suddenly one of the whips sung out again, this time snapping against her bare buttock. She screamed and leaped a foot into the air. When she landed, she spread her knees, rotated her pelvis forward, and pressed her breasts up as she had done to display herself earlier. This proved to be more satisfactory, as the whip was once more coiled, but ready for action if needed.
The bidding started, and the beautiful young woman was humiliated once more as a price was established for her. She had never in her life dreamed of having a monetary value. She felt more than ever like a mere object, a sexual object for the amusement of these wealthy people sitting at the tables. The bidding stopped at fifty-five hundred dollars, and the gavel fell. She turned and stepped off the riser, and stood with her head down, totally humiliated. The butcher came forward, and commanded her to raise her head. When she did so, he slipped the curious small metal framework against her collar, threw a small lever, and the device and her collar were suddenly locked together. They were made to fit each with each other.
Carla and a couple of the others screamed. They had seen the device earlier, and had now identified its use: it was a decapitating machine. Their companion was about to be murdered. Executed. Butchered. Carla could hardly breathe as everything suddenly fell into place. They were not decorated as chickens by accident. The long stainless steel cart with the glowing coals was, as she had guessed, a barbecue, and it was big enough to roast all of them. She and the other gorgeous young ladies had been carefully selected, then captured and transport here to be roasted as chickens!
She watched with horror as the nude girl was made to climb back up onto the small platform, then turn and kneel toward the narrow steps. As she did so, the butcher kept his grip on the pistol, which was pointed toward her neck. Watching, Carla recognized that the pistol would not shoot a bullet, but that its charge would instead drive the sharp metal disk across the face of the girl's collar, neatly slicing right through her neck. If the charge was sufficient, the disk would completely remove the head, chicken mask and all!
That was exactly what happened. The chef told the girl to raise her head as far as she could, and when she did the collar cinched under her chin. In this position her breasts were forced to a point, looking as if they were being inflated from within. Suddenly there was a sharp crack, and Carla realized the gun had been fired. The masked head slowly tipped and then fell to the floor, bouncing once on the carpeted stars. The girls watching the astounding execution screamed shrilly as the head rolled across the floor in front of them, then rocked back and forth as if nodding assent before it finally came to a stop. The masked head looked grotesque, as if a giant chicken had just been beheaded instead of a young woman in the prime of life.
Their attention turned to the girl's headless nude body as it slumped across the small deck and dangled over the edge. Triple jets of blood spurted from the long neck stump, gradually receding as the heart ceased pumping. The beautiful young socialite was dead. There was something particularly shocking about a nude woman's body without the head. It seemed altered, but still complete. That was the incredible image that came to Carla as she watched the last of the blood draining from the nude female carcass from the long stump of the neck.
The portable guillotine, the neck-ring still firmly attached, had slipped off the slender neck as the body had dropped, and the butcher removed the steel ring, then turned the revolver to put a new shell in place. The two boys pulled a long steel shaft from under the cart, and horrified the girls as they raised the hips of the female carcass, thrust the pointed shaft in through it rectum, and then forced the long metal pole right up through her, until at last it emerged through the neck. With one of them lifting each end of the shaft, they lifted the impaled body and carried it over to one end of the long cart. They flipped up braces on either side, then set the shaft on these supports.
The chef folded the arms along her sides, and used long steel needles to attach them to the torso so that they would not flop around. The headless girl's legs were bent and her shoes removed, and her shapely lower limbs were similarly skewered into place like drumsticks, so that the nude headless girl indeed looked like a chicken ready to roast. A switch was thrown, and the impaling shaft began to slowly turn, so that she rotated slowly on her spit.
This was the most outrageous thing imaginable. What was happening was more horrible than any of the captive girls could have dreamed possible. These terrorists had no plans to hold the girls as hostages for ransom or for political purposes. They had been kidnaped to be humiliated and then outrageously murdered for the entertainment of these wealthy guests. What was even more bizarre was that it looked like they were being killed to be eaten! That would explain why only healthy young women with impeccable credentials had been selected. Carla was not surprised to see that there was a fresh puddle of pee at the feet of some of the girls. They were almost in shock at what was happening here.
-----
One of the boys picked up the head while the other mopped up some of the spilled blood. The head was taken behind the table that had placed the top bid, and the severed neck was thrust down on the large hook on the wall, so that the chicken-masked head served as a trophy. This was incredible. The wealthy people at the tables were paying for the rights to see these girls, the daughters of their peers, being killed and roasted so they could dine on them!
The girl beside Carla was selected next to step up onto the riser. Carla saw the shapely girl's knees tremble as she stepped up the six steps to the top of the platform, and saw the girl's full breasts quiver as she was 'plucked' of her robe. This girl's breasts were larger than those on the girl who had been killed, and they were more pointed, like the noses on twin torpedoes. The bidding went all the way up to fifty-eight hundred dollars, and the gavel fell. The second girl had been sold, but the new owners had no plans to take her home.
The butcher forced her to get down onto her hands and knees, with her side toward the guests, and to raise her head. Carla watched in fascination as the two rails on the framework were slid into place on either side of the girl's neck, and the lever thrown that clamped the rails to her steel collar. Her painted mouth, clearly visible under the beak on her mask, opened wide to scream, but she was so terrified she was unable to force the scream from her throat. Her big cone-shaped breasts pointed downward at the riser, and they swelled with each breath. As the beautiful naked bitch arched her back to raise her head as commanded, her tits were thrust forward, and her ass was pressed higher, spreading her buttocks to reveal her puckered anus and her open vagina.
With the sharp crack of the pistol, her head rolled backward onto her back, then slid off, bouncing on the platform with a thud on its way to the hardwood floor. Now the second cunt had been killed to be roasted as a human chicken. This was far worse than being shocking; it was eminently threatening. Carla knew her turn was coming, that there was no possible escape.
She tried to distract herself while the carcass was impaled and loaded on the barbecue, and the masked head hung behind the table of the foursome that had paid for her. She watched the butcher, to see how he prepared the weapon, which she thought of as a portable guillotine. He released the lever that clamped the twin rails to collar, now freed from the bitch's neck. He threw the collar beside the first one that had been discarded earlier, on the floor near one end of the long barbecue cart. Carla watched in terror as he pulled the seven-inch wide disk blade back. She saw that underneath the blade was a shaft that was thrust into the pistol's barrel in place of a bullet.
Now she understood how the weapon worked. It was diabolically clever and simple. The shells had no bullet in them, just a charge of gunpowder. They drove the blade forward rapidly, so that it would easily slam forward across the upper surface of the collar, cutting cleanly through the neck of the woman wearing the collar. It was an incredible idea, and Carla realized that if she were not a victim, she would find the idea interesting, and might have been sold a ticket to attend this event herself.
The thought shocked her, and she realized how protected she was, or had been until this episode, in her life as the daughter of a wealthy Swiss industrialist. She realized that her father, an arms maker, might even have owned the company that made the pistol that was welded in place to power the portable guillotine. That was how she knew enough about guns to recognize how this diabolical weapon worked. She was a child of the society in which values were no more than what interested you at the time. It was a time in which the very wealthy looked for new and more exciting ways in which to entertain themselves.
-----
After graduation from university, Carla had gone on a week-long celebration cruise, and they had stopped in on a retreat on a private Greek island. For excitement, a game had been played involving an innovative form of hide and seek, following a session of skinny-dipping. The women at the party had been sent running off, stark naked, to find a secure hiding place, which was a bit of a challenge in the dark, with unfamiliar terrain. They were required to hide somewhere in a deserted village, where everything was made of stone. The girls knew that bloodhounds would be used to track them, so that the only question was who would be discovered first.
Most of the girls were pulled giggling and screaming from their hiding places, but three were left hiding, with the hounds baying just out of reach. When all of the others had been found, two of the girls still hiding were brought out, and forced to submit on their hands and knees in the moonlight while the hounds that had found them were given their reward. The big slobbering hounds mounted the kneeling beauties, giving them a bestial fuck in front of the rest of the assembled group. The girls were humiliated, but knew this was part of the rules, and were excited at the outrageous consequences of being found. The were special, daring, and the games they played had higher stakes.
What the girls did not know was what was planned for the remaining girl in hiding. She had hidden in a small stone shed, which had only one window and a small door. In the shadows beside the outbuilding was a pile of stones and a barrel with freshly mixed mortar. After the bestial sex act, all of the participants assembled at the final hiding spot, and they all participated in filling in the window and doorway with stones and mortar. The naked girl's hiding place became her tomb, and all of them excitedly joined in the heinous crime.
Which of the gorgeous young nudes had become the victim of the serious game was a random choice, as it was the hiding place, not the participant, which had been selected. All the girls had been equal going into the game, and each had a good chance of being the one to choose the fateful hiding spot. It was a rite of passage, a statement that now they were adults and played adult games, with terrible consequences. That had been the most exciting game of Carla's young life.
Although she had experienced many nightmares about that incident since that dreadfully exciting night, Carla had been thrilled at the outrageous nature of the event, and knew that although she would not knowingly put herself at such risk, she would enjoy taking part again in such a game in which the stakes were so high, as long as someone else turned out to be such a big loser. None of the girls had dreamed that the game of hide seek on that island would turn out as it did, but the survivors had all gone along with the men and participated in the sealing of the living girl's and tomb.
This sport of decapitation and roasting was not a high stakes game, because it looked like every one of the fifteen beautiful captives was destined to be the loser. Carla could see no possibility of surviving this outrageous event.
-----
A girl from the far end of the line was made to climb onto the platform next. She was one of Carla's best friends. Carla closed her eyes, but heard the bidding, which stopped at fifty-one hundred dollars. The auctioneer mentioned during his banter that the diners had joined this gathering at a price of two thousand dollars a plate. There were sixty of them, and Carla evaluated the earnings in her head. The people had paid in total one hundred twenty thousand dollars to attend, and with the bidding looking like it would average more than five thousand dollars per girl, that would make another seventy-five thousand dollars. This was an extremely expensive event. She would now willingly pay to become a diner rather than a chicken.
The whole event would bring in at least two hundred thousand, and considering all of the transportation they had undergone, would have cost perhaps as much as three-quarters of that. That made a fifty thousand dollar profit for the sponsor. Any one of the participants could have paid for the whole thing and not notice the difference in their bank balance. Carla realized the potential for this kind of thing. She thought suddenly that this was probably not the first such event. She wondered why she had never heard of it before.
A glance at the monstrous barbecue made it clear that it had been well used before. She had noticed a roasted meat smell when it had been rolled in, but she had not realized that it would be from drippings from the roasted meat of women. She also remembered how from time to time several of her friends would not be seen at the casinos or social gatherings. She had imagined that they had gone on vacation to America, Australia or the far East. Or perhaps they had become pregnant, and had dropped out of circulation to avoid embarrassment. Sometimes that was in fact what had happened, but sometimes several would be gone at around the same time, and she would not hear from or of them again.
She had never heard of a raid as direct and daring as the one in which she had been taken, but of course casinos would not publicize such an outlandish raid or it would drive away customers. All she was thinking was speculation at best. What she knew for certain was that two of her group were now dead and roasting, and as she heard the crack of the pistol, a third lost her head and about to join the first two on the spit. She realized for the first time that her knees were shaking as she watched the anal impalement of the headless body, and saw the muscular boys load it onto the barbecue. She could not keep her eyes off the chef as he bent and prepared the girl's limbs, and then start the body rotating over the gas-fed glowing coals. The three roasting female carcasses were rotating in unison, and took up only one-fifth of the long barbecue. There was room on the monstrous roasting device for all fifteen of the girls.
They were all going to die. They would all have to climb onto the platform, be "plucked" of their feathered robe to stand naked before the diners and auctioned off, then have the terrible portable guillotine attached to their collars, and with a squeeze of the trigger, lose their heads. At least she would never feel the spike go into her severed neck up into her head as it was hung, wearing the chicken mask, on the spike behind the winning bidder's table.
She would not experience the humiliation and pain of the steel shaft being thrust up her bum and right up through her body to fully impale her, and she would not feel the heat of the coals as her meat was slowly roasted as she turned on the spit. That was small comfort to Carla as she watched several more girls climb the bloodstained carpeted steps to their deaths, for the entertainment of these people.
The horror was of what was happening to the girls on the platform that she was soon able to watch the bodies roasting. The first bodies to be loaded on the spit were now browned. Melting fat leaked out through pores, and covered the bodies with drops like sweat. The fat ran over the meat, basting them as they turned, and it rolled in rivulets, dripping from low points like the nipples, elbows and knees. The self-basting roasters gleamed from the slick of their melted fat, and as their heated meat swelled, it stretched their skin and made their buttocks and breasts stand out as if they were straining to get off their impaling shafts. Carla watched in wonder as she realized how much the roasting human carcasses resembled roasting chickens.
-----
Eleven girls had found their way the hard way onto the revolving spits when Carla was told to take her place on the auction block. Carla felt a jolt in the pit of her stomach, and without realizing what she was doing, she revolted. Suddenly a whip swished through the air, flying just above the floor as the woman had released it underhand right from the coil, and the tip snapped up under Carla's robe between her legs. She screamed as the whip exploded against her naked vagina, and she leaped in the air from the sudden pain.
She quickly moved up the steps, and stood, her feet spread defiantly, facing the diners. The burly assistants jerked her robe down, and suddenly she stood naked, her big breasts and the unfurled lips of her neatly plucked and closely shaved painted cunt fully displayed. She was a magnificent specimen, well conditioned and with a naturally well formed figure. Her waist was slender, her buttocks round and firm, as were her full breasts. Her legs were long and shapely, and the high heels of the shoes she had been given accentuated her defiant posture.
The other three remaining girls were told to join her on the auction block, and having seen the effect of the whip, they climbed the steps to the small platform without hesitation. They were quickly "plucked" of their robes, and the four naked masked girls stood squeezed together on the four by four foot auction block.
There were only four tables in the bidding, including all three that had selected her earlier for the pee tasting. Carla felt confident she was one of the better candidates among all of the captive girls, and certainly the best of these that remained. The bidding was hot and furious for the remaining four girls, and the top price ran over the high set earlier of seventy-two hundred dollars, and continued upward. Carla was startled when she was the last to be bid on, and the gavel finally struck at twelve thousand five hundred dollars. That was by far the best price paid for anyone. She was sure it could have gone even higher, but she had no say in how the auction was conducted.
Carla was bought by a table that was headed by one of her father's best friends. She was certain he had no idea who the girl under the mask was, but was pleased he had thought her worth so much more than any of the other girls. Because she was a virgin, Carla had always let her boyfriends nurse on her breasts while they fingered her vagina, and as a result she had been lactating for the past three years, which contributed to the impressive fullness of her breasts, and the erection of her nipples. She was positive she was the only girl of all of them that could produce milk.
She and two other were told to get down off the auction block after the bidding was completed. They complied without question. The table that had paid for her wanted to see her engaged in sex before she was killed and cooked. The two burly lads removed their loin cloths and displayed their rigid erections. They eagerly climbed onto the platform, and she was made to stand between them. The young man in front of her lifted her by the hips, spreading her buttocks as he did so that the other lad could thrust his erection into her rectum.
The boy spit on the bare head of his penis, then jammed the rigid organ into the broad hollow between her spread bum cheeks. With several runting thrusts he was into her, embedded to the hilt in the depths of her colon. Now that she was properly mounted he took her weight, and the other young man prepared his penis with a sticky gob of spit. The young woman's cunt engulfed his penis quickly and fully, grasping the sturdy male organ's base with its cock-gripping rim.
This gorgeous young socialite was an experienced sex partner, but had never before been participated in sex in public or on command, and had never accommodated two partners before. This was and experience she would gladly have foregone, but it was at least delaying the horror of her death. She had a reputation among the sons of wealthy men, and their fathers, of being a willing and cosy cunt, and she was going to make the most of her skills with these two.
While she worked her hips in a gyrating motion on the twin thrusting shafts, the butcher dispatched the two young women standing on the floor beside Carla. With the help of the chef, he impaled their headless carcasses through their bums on long steel shafts, and loaded them onto the huge spit to begin roasting. The long barbecue was now nearly filled with turning human chickens, their fat tits and asses bulging as they roasted. There were only two spaces left on the long device. One for the virgin and one for the loose-moraled girl. Now it was between Carla and the girl taking the twin fucking as to who would be the last to be slaughtered.
The girl bouncing between the two runting lads was squealing in agony at the painful plunging of the penis in her anus. She had never experienced anal sex before without a healthy snort of coke to smooth the action. Carla watched nervously as the chef pinned the arms and legs of the two latest victims to their bodies so that they were neatly tucked like chickens, their cunts clearly displayed between their raised thighs. This was so outrageous it had to be popular, and she wondered again why she had never heard of it before.
Suddenly the girl being double raped brought the boys to ejaculation. They bellowed out their orgasms as they pumped their ejaculations into her depths. They lifted the bitch between them, pulling her holes off them while they were still spurting thick gobs of semen from their rigid erections, for the benefit of the audience. She had proven her worth as a woman in a few short minutes, and now the butcher was approaching her, raising his heinous decapitation tool toward her steel collar, preparing to remove her masked head from it perch on her slender neck to end her young life.
Carla breathed a brief sigh of relief that she once more had a tiny reprieve. Somehow it seemed that her defiance had earned her value and time in this bizarre game of death. The boys remained on the platform, and held the tense body of the bird-girl positioned on her side with her collared neck extended as she was presented to the butcher. He clipped the two side rails onto her collar, and grasped the handle of the pistol, his finger on the trigger.
"Piss, bitch!" the butcher shouted at her. The terrified girl spread her legs, and shot an arch of urine through the air to splash on the floor. With a loud "CRACK" the gun fired, even as she was ejecting the urine, and the disk blade flew forward six inches, and her head, neatly severed, dropped to the floor. The butcher was standing aside, so that while piss streamed from her cunt, blood jetting from the three main arteries in her neck arched toward the table of her owners, then dropped to form crimson puddles on the bloodstained hardwood.
The boys ran the fresh carcass through with a steel shaft, lifted her to the huge barbecue, and attention shifted to Carla, the last remaining captive chicken-woman. Most of the guests shared Carla's assessment of her relative beauty. Even with her face mostly covered with the chicken mask, she was the most striking of all of the marvelous young women brought to this private club in the heart of Barcelona. Few people knew of the club's existence, let alone the murderous sport practised on gorgeous young women. The club had been a gift to the chief organizer of the Olympics, and had been used during that extravagant event to entertain the crowned heads of Europe with a bit of naughty dining.
-----
More than a year before the staging of the Olympics, two hundred beautiful young Spanish girls had been assembled at a large private health spa in a hidden valley in the Pyrenees mountains, and had been trained as erotic dancers while being conditioned to make succulent eating. Two world-class chefs had been dedicated to the project, and had devised several ways to prepare and attractively present them as meals. The two most popular was to roast them, and to boil them alive. The breasts were best when they had been boiled, because of their high fat content. They most resembled the taste of pork sausage.
The chefs' most important finding was that, except for live boiling, it was unnecessary to clean out the digestive track of the ladies, because since economy was never a factor and only a few choice cuts were ever used, there was no tainting of the meat by leaving the bladder and the digestive track unattended to. For more exotic dishes, they had developed the skills to eviscerate a living woman, without removing vital organs, so that she could experience much of her preparation while still alive.
In the interests of total secrecy the girls had been brought to this special dining hall by closed delivery van to an internal loading dock. During the world's biggest sporting event, there were delivery trucks everywhere, and another going to this unidentified building was not noticed. Now that the Olympics were long over, the daily deliveries were no longer necessary, but a high level of security was essential, so women captured to serve as food were lead to believe that they were being captured by terrorists, and transported to Africa. That not only covered their trail effectively, but in the unlikely event that one should somehow escape her fate, she would have no idea where she was headed. These people had done their homework, and as a result could enjoy their incredible sport worry free.
-----
Carla had no idea where in the world she was as she stood before these wealthy diners, her knees trembling, realizing her time had at last come. She took a deep breath, and determined that she would not go out as a humble chicken, as the other girls had all done. She had both spirit and virtue, and the belief that with these she would prevail. She faced the tables and struck a defiant posture that was more forceful than she felt inside. The members of the audience at the tables took new interest, leaning forward in their seats.
The butcher moved toward her, holding the portable guillotine in his hand, lifting it to neck level. She spun and faced him, her hands on her hips and her feet spread. Her heart was pounding as he stopped ten feet from her. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she was not going to let him attach that monstrous weapon to her collar.
"Our diners have paid for a nice tender chicken, and this chic appears to be a bit tough," the butcher said. "I think we will need to tenderize her before we butcher her. Ladies, use your meat tenderizers!"
The women with their whips uncurled them, and positioned themselves on either side of the lone remaining chicken-woman, who was standing alone. The woman in front of Carla moved first, swinging her whip back with authority. Her whip swung forward, whistling through the air, aimed under the beak of the defiant bird, and struck Carla square in the mouth. Her lower lip was split near one corner, and a trickle of blood crept toward her chin.
Carla recoiled from the vicious blow, and suddenly the other whip lashed her across the base of her buttocks, under the fold. She slammed her pelvis forward, just in time to receive a blast to her naked cunt from the first whip. This hurt much more than the first blow she had received there nearly an hour before. She had no idea that a whip could hurt a woman so much. She had imagined that a whipping would hurt no more than a good spanking.
Just a few weeks before she had been a guest at a private Hell Nite party at a private mansion in Paris, where the entertainment had been the whipping of a pretty young prostitute. The tall slender girl, who was both fit and shapely, had long shiny black hair that had been done into a French braid to keep it out of the way of the whip. She had been stripped naked, except for her heels, and had been strung up by her wrists between a pair of pillars. All of the guests had been given a turn with the whip, and each could return for as many chances to strike the girl as they wished. Carla had found it exciting, and had taken half a dozen turns. The girl had screamed incredibly, but Carla had thought it was more from horror than from pain.
It had gone on much longer than Carla would have guessed possible. It had been nearly two hours before the pretty whore had finally slumped, unconscious from the severe beating. The girl had bled a bit from the whipping, but not as much as when the chauffeur of the party's host woke her up with smelling salts, waved a stiletto blade in front of her face, and then finished her by stabbing her repeatedly in the belly and tits. The beautiful face distorted and the eyes bulged from disbelief and pain with each thrust or slash of the blade. Her belly looked like a used pincushion before she finally died. It had been sensational.
Carla loved Hell Nite parties with their thrilling sexual violence administered to disposable working class girls. She did not feel particularly bad for the girl, although her death had been shocking, because it was all part of the risk the girl faced when she had chosen her profession. It was a calculated risk, and she was just paying the price of a loser. Carla knew well what it was like to witness brutal violence to women, and appreciated that this audience now found her plight exciting. What she was grasping for the first time was the terror and horror that came with it for the victim.
The merciless killing of the beautiful whore, not the first willful murder for fun that she had witnessed, had been exciting because it was so bad. This was completely different, now that she was to be victim. It was so much more tense than she had imagined, but of course she was from the privileged upper-middle class, so was much more sensitive than the working class beauties she had seen being killed. She braced herself, half crouching in her defenceless terror. She was quivering with fear, not knowing where or when the next battering blow would strike. She now understood what the beautiful screaming whore had gone through at the Hell Nite party. This was not fun, and unlike that hired whore had faced, she already knew the outcome for herself tonight would be fatal.
The whip in front of her came slamming down over her shoulder and stung her along her spine. She arched her back, thrusting her buttocks back, and the other whip slammed into her open crotch, burning her virgin cunt and experienced asshole. Now the blows began coming fast and furious. The people at the tables cheered the excessive abuse of the dancing chicken. Her belly, buttocks and tits took the brunt of the blows, with surprise lashes at her cunt when she least expected them. She leaped and spun, unable to avoid or prepare for the blows, only to react and absorb them. The women were merciless, and made every effort to hurt her severely.
Suddenly the chef signalled and the whipping stopped. Carla stood still, quivering and panting from her excessive exertion. Her body was wet and glistening with her sweat. She could feel the welts growing on her breasts, back and belly. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but her vagina was hurting worse than she could imagine possible. These women were professionals, she could tell by how they were playing with her. She was at their mercy, and felt powerless and terrified.Carla heard the next whistle of the whip before she felt it, and she screamed even before it struck her. The woman behind her had played on her terror, and had lashed at her from behind so that she would have no idea where the blow would land. The whip came up under her raised arm, and landed across both of her breasts. It hit with such force that milk spurted from her straining nipples. It was rare, but not unknown, that extended beatings of the breasts actually caused arousal, hormonal activity, and because of it, milk production. The woman in front of her echoed with a blow that caught the fat mammaries as they were rebounding, striking them just below the erect nipples, and more milk spurted from the tortured tits. The women were sure now. Their human chicken was lactating like a cow. The last blow to the breasts was so painful that Carla fell to the floor.
In an instant both whips struck, each wrapping around the full jugs, and a pair of steady streams of pure fresh mother's milk sprayed into the air as the women used their whips to pull Carla by the tits back up onto her feet. The audience of diners cheered the excellent whipmanship the two women in their silver swimsuits displayed. They were also startled that a virgin could produce milk. It must have had something to do with the raw carnal exploitation she was now so much part of.
The women with the whips were making a fine show of handling this rebellious young chicken-woman's defiance. The naked socialite bitch was taking a severe battering that would set her up well for her impending execution. There had been fourteen merciless killings of innocent young women so far this evening, and the audience expected this one to be the most entertaining of all.
"Now that we've got her adrenaline flowing, it should improve the flavor of her meat," the chef said. "To ensure she remains fully aroused right up to her decapitation, I would suggest that we impale her alive."
Carla thrust her buttocks back and shit out a fat turd from the shock of what she had just heard. The butcher moved up to her while she was immobilized as she shit, and he clamped the decapitating device onto her collar. He gripped the handle of the pistol firmly, using it as a short and highly controlling leash.
The gorgeous daughter of the wealthy industrialist was hopelessly ensnared in the clutches of the keepers of this evil dining room, and now had no hope of reprieve. She was food. All she could do now was cooperate with their every wish. That would at least help to postpone the inevitable, or to reduce the possibility of further punishment.
-----
Using the pistol grip to move her, the butcher commanded Carla to move up six the broad steps onto the platform on her hands and knees. When she had crawled up onto the small carpeted platform, he positioned her so that she faced the barbecue, with her back to the tables. He poked her knees until she moved them apart, and then by forcing her head up, made her arch her back, which opened her buttocks so that her naked genitals and puckered rectum were fully displayed.
Her asshole was as pretty as any the diners had seen that evening, although it had a small brown stain on one side where the recent discharge had left its mark. Carla also had a beautifully shaped cunt, and the violent whipping the virgin female sex organ had endured had caused it to open up like a fully blooming flower. The chef moved beside the displayed organ, and ran a finger around its rim, skimming the flared inner lips. It was rare that the cunt of a of woman of any class that had reached her age would still be intact. She was a prize well worth the cost of bringing her in. The chef poked at her clit, swollen and erect from the whipping it had taken, stimulating her to respond involuntarily with an erotic rolling of her hips. He had effectively separated her head, which was in a state of terror, from the physical responses of her body to sexual stimulus.
The chef, a master craftsman who was in charge of the evening's event, had this luscious chicken-woman exactly where he wanted her. He slid a finger down the open crease of her vagina to where the thick outer pubic lips were folded open, and he pressed the extended digit between them then parted the small pouting inner lips and thrust it against the tight membrane of her hymen. The mark of her virginity, spotted by the kidnapers at the casino when she had been forced to display her cunt, effectively blocked the inner entrance to her uninitiated fuck shaft. The eager audience was about to see the virgin chicken girl being artificially deflowered.
It was finally time for the application of the steel impaling shaft. The chef had decided this one would take the shaft in through her vagina, ending her virginity. It would be the fuck to end all fucks. Impalement through the anus provided better balance on the spit, but in this case, with a live impalement, he wanted to provide the spectacle of a deflowering with the intense pain that would result from skewering her inner gonads with the shaft before moving it on up into her central torso. By adjusting the position of the woman's limbs when pinning them in place, it was possible to compensate for using the front entrance for impalement on the skewer.
The chef had worked over the years with girls of all ages, and had mastered the fine art of preparing them as everything from appetisers to main dishes. With all of that experience, his favorites were these beauties in their early twenties. They had developed the voluptuous figures of women, and were usually quite physically fit. They could endure the physical abuse often necessary for interesting presentation prior to butchering, which was often part of the event, and they had by that age developed a richness in flavor similar to the dark meat in chicken, not always found in girl in theirlate teens. The advantage of using the younger girls was that they produced meat that tasted more like moist and tender white meat of chicken.
The most delectable cut on a woman was the vagina muscle, particularly that taken from a virgin. Carla had thought it was her appearance that had brought the high price. It was instead that she had so carefully preserved the single most succulent muscle in her body for this party. The one thing the chef had discovered during his extensive research was that the cunt muscle was the one part of the female anatomy that was always tender and made for tasty gourmet dining. The most exceptional meat was from virgins, no matter what their age.
The other significant discovery that helped in presentation of the special meals of succulent human females, who were always properly prepared before the diners, was that as they cooked, the meat firmed, particularly breast meat, so that the mammaries stood out from the bodies with the strength of erect cocks, giving a stressed look to the naked bodies as they roasted. The swelling and firming of the meat more than made up for the shrinkage due to loss of fat through melting in the roasting process. As long as the skin held, the moisture content and the firming made the breasts larger, firmer, and more pointed. That made females perfect subjects for roasting.
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Tears rolled down Carla's face, and trickled out from under the mask and over her split lip, now swollen from the severe blow it had taken from the whip. She began sobbing uncontrollably as she watched the nearly full row of human chickens roasting with their jutting buttocks and firm pointed tits on the slowly rotating spits. An hour ago they were all as alive and vibrant as herself, and now they were cooking to feed the diners who had bought not only their lives, but their beautiful bodies.
She saw the two boys take the final steel shaft from beneath the cart, and take it around behind her. She felt the cold steel probing the hot flesh of her virgin vagina.
My God! she thought, That's not my bum they're poking and prodding! That's my virgin cunny! She could feel the rounded point of the tapered head of the shaft sliding across her hymen, probing for a point of purchase, then suddenly it thrust, and she felt as if it had gone right through her. It felt like a sharp pain, then a dull stuffing feeling. In fact, the shaft had split her hymen, and had found its way three inches into her virgin womb. These murderous bastards had stolen her virginity!
Carla lifted her pelvis in her last movement of revolt, which amounted to no more than a mild protest. With the elevation, the boys made another thrust with the shaft, sinking it into the full depth of her cunt. The tip encountered her cervix, a part of her anatomy with which Carla was completely unfamiliar. What she felt was the tip jam into the back of her cunt, completely filling the hollow of her organ, expanded by the invading shaft's breadth. She was certain that this was what being pregnant felt like, and she did not like it.
With the next heave the boys rammed the metal pole right through her cervix, and entered the inner confines of her uterus. The intrusion buried the shaft to a foot of its length, and brought the freshly deflowered virgin more sensation in her womb than she would ever received from a fucking. They moved the shaft around inside her, to produce stabs of pain in her internal organ. She kept her back arched, trying vainly to eject the intruder by shitting it out, but her efforts brought only more pain to her lower tummy and groin areas.
These boys were the equals to the women with the whips at hurting a female, and they knew how to use the impaling shaft to get the utmost effect with the victim. They watched Carla's reactions carefully, gaging how far to go to get the most from the naked chicken-girl. Her screams were tiny piercing gasps, as she was unable to draw a deep breath because of her extreme internal distress. The boys measured when she was most vulnerable, and with perfect timing, thrust again with all their might.
The result was devastating inside her, and highly entertaining with the effects visible from the outside. The pole advanced another full foot, driving through the back of her uterus and through the tangle of her small intestine to lodge against her diaphragm. Now deep breathing was impossible for her, although Carla did manage to release mewing squeals with the slightest movement she made.
Her agony was now extreme, and she was on the verge of being slaughtered. The chef held the long shaft in place as it protruded from her stuffed vagina, and the boys grasped her limbs and flipped Carla over onto her back. She lay writhing in pain, flexing and raising her gorgeous legs with their chicken-feet stiletto-heeled shoes, giving the audience a remarkable show. Now one of the boys held the shaft, and the chef gathered a fist full of the foot-long skewers that were used to attach the girls' limbs to their torsos, holding them in place for revolving on the spit.
He started with her arms, folding them tightly and pulling her hands up to her shoulders, then driving spikes through her wrists into her shoulders. Next he pinned her elbows, driving a skewer through the fat meat at the bend in her arm in between her lower ribs, sliding in under her lungs. Carla could not believe they were doing this to her while she was still alive. It was an incredibly horrible and inhuman torture. Not even the lowest prostitute should be subjected to a killing this terrible.
When both her arms were secured like plucked wings against her side, the chef stood back to allow the audience to enjoy her agony, demonstrated by her writhing on the partially inserted impaling rod, and the free and energetic kicking of her remarkable legs. She put on such an incredible show that he allowed it to continue for nearly fifteen minutes.
At last she began to tire, and he decided it was time for the climax of her preparation. One by one, he bent and skewered her gorgeous legs in place. She was now fixed in the position of a neatly tucked chicken, ready to roast on the rotisserie.
Now as she lay on her back on the small platform, her limbs bent, tightly folded and pinned to her sides, and her torso partially impaled on the steel shaft, the butcher moved into place, holding his trusty bitch-decapitation. He positioned the rails on either side of her long neck, sliding it under the sides of her steel collar, then clamped the device securely to the collar. Carla's eyes bulged and she tried to scream, but she was no longer capable of producing a loud sound. The best she could do was a gurgle, driven by sheer terror. The well educated young rich-bitch was about to involuntarily donate her young life and gorgeous body for the momentary amusement of these well-heeled diners.
Carla could see the butcher's arm stretched forward toward her neck, but her view of the explosive-driven guillotine was hidden by the large beak on her mask. She looked the butcher in the eyes, and her returned her stare. His pleasure from his job was derived from looking into the face of his victim as he killed her. Carla watched his expression for any sign that he was about to squeeze the trigger. Even in her extremely tensed state, she noticed the dilation of his pupils as the rush of adrenaline hit his brain.
"My God, No!" Carla screamed in her head. Nobody heard her. Her gurgling increased, and then she let out a single high pitched shriek. The butcher's lower eyelids slightly tensed, she saw a jerk of the blade, and suddenly she had no feeling. Her eyes were locked in a fixed stare, but the room was spinning, then her view was sideways, from the floor. She saw the hands that reached for her, grasping her by her mask-covered hears and lifting her, then her view was fixed, from the wall behind the table of diners who had paid more for her than any others had paid for their girl.
She watched with fascination as the men moved around the trussed body of a beautiful naked headless woman, with a steel shaft sticking into her cunt. She saw them thrust the shaft right through the erotic torso, until the pointed end emerged through the long neck stump. She saw them lift the beautiful female carcass onto the special long barbecue, completing a set of fifteen such bodies. It was then that she realized the body she had watched being mounted on the spit was her own. She was dead. She was decapitated, or rather, was without a body.
Carla was now reduced to a detached head impaled on a spike as a trophy for the buyers, and a luscious carcass turning over hot coals, roasting like a skewered chicken. A single tear trickled from beneath the bizarre chicken mask, paused for a moment on the chin, then stretched out, and dropped through space, to splash into a small puddle of blood beneath the final of fifteen severed hook-mounted chicken-masked bitch-heads. She was no longer special. All of the pretty young women were finally equal.
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April 20, 2021 @ 5:55 am
Carla, as a privileged rich girl could easily have been one of the dinners instead of their dinner. Her bad karma caught up with her!