by Sergeant52
translated by Schlachter10/Scharfricther? 2010
Friday, July 1, 19…
Dear Diary:
When I really think about it, the whole thing seems quite painful. But I’ve had the urge for years to open myself up. The question is to whom? I’d like to reveal all my most secret and dark fantasies, but there’s no one I could trust with them. I simply don’t dare.
And therefore, dear Diary, you are the only to whom I can reveal myself.
And that’s not so easy. Diary keeping has always seemed to me something for wimps or lovesick teenagers. But I’m going to follow the advice of a psychotherapist friend and write everything that moves me here. I’ll probably burn you at some point to assure that you don’t fall into the wrong hands. Because setting it all down may be therapeutic, but there’s real danger in anyone else reading you.
Still, I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to risk it or I’m going to break at some point. Because, dear Diary, I’m hungry. I’m hungry for women. And it’s this hunger that compels me, that eats at me, and never leaves me at peace. And you’ll answer “so what? So do most men since the beginning of the species—it’s the reproductive drive. What’s the problem?”
Sorry, dear Diary, that’s not what I’m talking about. Of course I find women attractive and I love to sleep with them. For me sex is the greatest diversion in the world. But what I mean is I’m hungry for women, for their meat. For me, women are not just for satisfying my sexual lust; no, they are also sustenance. You see—I am a cannibal. There you have it. I already feel a little relieved.
Dear Diary, now you’re going to say that it can’t be that hard to find a confidant with whom to share my darkest secret. At least not in the contemporary technologically advanced world, a world of the Internet, a world of telecommunication, a world in which people living on two different continents can be closer than next-door neighbors.
But that only simplifies the hunt. The hunt for women and their meat. But finding a truly trustworthy person is unfortunately quite difficult. Of course I’ve come across a number of people who wished to share their life and love with me. The trouble is, it’s always been women, and even if they’ve shared my life for a while, they’ve only discovered my secret when it was too late for them—when they had to share more than their lives, when I took their bodies, when for a short time I allowed parts of their bodies to meld with mine—until they left me naturally.
That is and remains my dilemma. Women attract me. Not only sexually—of course I’d like the security and love they offer. Naturally I’m taken by their charms, but at the same time, I regard a woman as meat and sustenance, as an exotic and savory dish. At the sight of her, in my imagination, I see her cooking slowly on a grill grate or roasting in an oven; I see parts of her lovely body, prepared for a gourmet, sitting on the table in front of me. And it happens that women always make me hungry. When I leave home, it’s as if a wolf in sheep’s clothing is in the middle of a large flock. I’m immediately on the hunt.
For the moment, I’ll let this be it. Tomorrow I’ll re-read this and then—dear Diary—well, I’ll decide the future for you and me.
Saturday, July 2, 19...
Well, I’ve decided. I will continue to write down my thoughts and feelings here. I noticed yesterday, as I laid down my pen, that somehow I felt better. Somehow I felt freeer, and that continued today, even as I re-read what I wrote yesterday.
I prepared a meal immediately after I finished writing. I still had a little of the juicy loin of my latest prey—a 23 year old physical education student, whom I bagged a good three weeks ago. I caught her jogging. I remember how initially she was hesitant to interact with me. But many of my friends say I have a knack with women. I’m not bad looking, I’m built, and I’m in good shape. (As a cannibal, I must be in shape or the game can escape me.) I was impressed with her feminine but well-trained body as I was myself jogging through our small park.
I caught up with her easily, and as I drew even, I feigned a gasping “hello.” She only gave me a disdainful look, quickened her pace, and ran on. But without me. With a short sprint I caught up with her again to run along side and to smile at her. She tried again to run away, but as I say, I’m in good shape. She finally gave up and stopped.
I immediately and successfully pulled out all the charm stops. And she unloaded everything. In a short time, she told me the whole story of her life. I played the good listener, and considering what I had in mind for her, I could almost see myself in the role of a priest taking the last confession of a penitent.
After I had enough information for my plans, namely that she lived alone, was newly in town to begin her studies, and had no friend waiting at home, my tentative interest turned into firm resolve. I invited her for a drink. My home was nearby. She seemed happy to accept. Her idea, since she was all sweaty, to go home and meet me later, I brushed aside, and when she saw my place, she understoody why.
That’s the way it is with most women when they first see my home. It’s impressive when one owns outright an almost two-acre lot with a matching mansion. As you know, dear Diary, I inherited not only the mansion, but my father’s meat processing plant after his death.
So we sat on the terrace, and I served her the promised drink. Shortly she fell asleep; the drug had worked, and she was in the arms of Morpheus.
I dragged her into the cellar, where, behind a hidden door, I have installed my test kitchen, a cooler, etc. Everything legal and licensed. I even licensed a small slaughterhouse for meat animals. (I confess I’ve stretched the concept of meat animal pretty far.) In a small connected room I installed a small lockable cell. I bound and laid her there on a cot. Then I went back upstairs and got rid of everything which could have connected her with me. I wanted the drug completely eliminated from her body. I just don’t like it when my meat is contaminated with drug residue.
When I saw her later, of course she started a rant. What did I think I was doing, and I better untie her immediately, and she was going to have me arrested for unlawful imprisonment, and so forth. I smiled through her tirade, knowing well the fate awaiting her. She interrupted her rant when she saw me approach with a knife in my hand. Her eyes grew wide with fear, and she began to ccry and beg—I should let her live. She’d give me anything. I could do whatever I wanted with her as long as I let her live. Of course, doing with her what I wished is what I had in mind.
I began to cut away her clothing from her body slowly and with enjoyment. Soon she lay naked before me. Now I could inspect her more closely, and my hunter’s eye had not failed me. This body was a real feast for the eyes. Slim and well trained, firm and not overly large breasts, abdomen muscular but still feminine—fatty tissue in the right places, nicely-shaped pussy with a cute vertical smile.
She was shaved, and I had bound her legs slightly apart, so I could immediately see that the situation had her somewhat aroused. At least her labia had slightly opened, and there was tell-tale glistening in her crotch.
Still she looked at me anxiously, and I reassured her—I promised to loosen her bonds if she behaved herself. She nodded silently and I untied the cord binding her to the cot, but only to tie her wrists together. Then I untied the cords on her feet and ordered her onto her stomach on the cot. I wanted to inspect the backside of my prize, and likewise here I was not disappointed. The curvy butt cheeks promised to become exceptional hams. The muscular back harmonized with the soft lines of the neck. That would make lovely neck steaks.
I ordered her to turn over again. She now lay before me with bound hands, her thighs tight together, and looked at me anxiously and submissively.
Slowly I traced the curves of her hips, her breasts, and her throat with the blade of my knife. She stiffened and held her breath. I always enjoy it when my prey finds herself in this situation. It arouses me, and I revel in a completely sexual power trip when she lies so completely helpless at my mercy—or no mercy.
And such was the case now, and my member had stiffened to the point of being almost painful as it pushed against my clothing and sought more room.
Naturally I gladly granted my rod its wish and opened my fly. My manhood sprang out like a switchblade. She stared at it, and the look in her eyes said everything. She knew what was coming, or she thought she did. I dropped my pants and stripped off the rest of my clothes.
Naked I stepped up to her head and let her know that she was to first engage me with her mouth. She did as she was told. I must say that despite her fear, she was conversant with fellatio. Several times I had to withdraw my stiff friend because I didn’t want to cum too soon.
Even though it’s often tedious, I always try to give the women I take their last, ultimate orgasm. I take pains. I must confess this is not entirely altruistic. The pleasure endorphins engendered by an orgasm, as well as the stress hormones engendered by the situation in which the woman finds herself, give the meat a special flavor later.
So while she was working on me with her tongue and lips, I touched her between her legs and began to explore her feminine terrain. My playing with her did not leave her unmoved, and soon her body responded to my arousing finger. Moisture began to drip from her slit, the labia swelled and pushed out, and her legs began to spread. Her hips also began to arch and push against my hand.
Her breathing became heavier, and soon I pulled my shaft from her warm mouth and lay on top of her. I needed only a small correction—she pushed herself against me—and my penis was in her, engulfed by moist, warm walls. I pushed on in and she answered with her hips. Her breathing became even heavier and she began to moan loudly and cry out, and then I had done it. She went into an orgasm.
Still breathing heavily she lay there, as I slowed my thrusts. I had used two of her bodily orifices, and and now I wanted the third. Slowly I pulled out of her cleft and signalled her to turn over. As I pulled her butt cheeks apart, she divined what was coming and begged me not to do it. But in my arousal I had no mercy. With a single thrust, already slippery from intercourse, I pushed through her rosette.
She cried out, bucked, and tried to throw me off. But like a bronc rider at a rodeo, I staid on my steed, and with every thrust her resistance weakened. Soon it went over to resignation and then even cooperation. As I noticed her following my rhythm, I again changed the orifice and stuck my rod back in the hole nature intended.
In this kneeling position I couldn’t see her face, but from the contractions around my penis I could determine that her arousal was not over. She was moving unmistakably toward another climax. Just as it appeared she was close, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. The contractions around my member intensified, as did her moaning and gasping. As it hit her, and she groaned in the throes of a powerful orgasm, I slit her throat with one deft stroke.
Blood spurted immediately from the unnatural opening in her throat, and she made gurgling noises. I thrust even more strongly into the twitching body and finally ejaculated deep into her body. Breathing heavily I lay on her back as she twitched a bit more and then lay unmoving. After I had withdrawn, I stood up and turned over the lifeless body.
Her expression was one of surprise, and her eyes stared lifelessly into the distance. To gut her and butcher her into portions ready for cooking was no problem in my little test kitchen. I was also prepared for the bones. In my garden shed there was a sizable wood chipper with which I could easily shred her bones, and the bone meal could then go into my rose garden.
So, dear Diary, re-reading this has made me ravenous. Not only is my stomach growling, but my dick is looking for relief. More tomorrow.
Monday, July 4, 19...
Night before last was pretty hectic. But I’ve got to admit that from the hunting viewpoint I was very successful. You can envision that after I finished my entry in you, with a growling belly I visited a disco to reconnoiter in search of game. Since the disco in question is currently a hot spot, it was crowded, and if I could have had my way, I’d have stormed the dance floor and started chewing on the many available breasts, thighs, hips and buttocks, arms and calves.
I felt like a vampire in a blood bank. But I know what is proper for a decent cannibal. The prey must be caught. One can’t simply jump the prey and start biting. Aside from that, it would be dangerous. I’d be caught immediately and jailed. And then I’d never again be able to satisfy my passion. No, I’d conduct my hunt with structure and style. Everything must be considered. I already had several potential prizes in my sights.
But it would be dangerous if I left the disco with my prey. I am well known, and someone might remember that I was seen with a person who disappeared. I would have to avoid that risk.
So I joked here with a girl, flirted there with another, offered another a drink at the bar, and danced with assorted other habitues.
Of course I tried to get relevant information for my intention from each conversation. Was she here alone; what was her age; who knew she was here, etc. And I tried to discover everything worth knowing about the body of the object of my desire. The dance floor helped, of course. By dancing I could appraise, more or less surreptitiously, the quality of the meat. Was it too mushy and flabby or was it supple and firm, which indicated fine, marbled, juicy meat without excess fat.
I soon had my choice of several women. But I had to choose one, and as happens so often in life, I chose the wrong one.
Before I could ask her the all-important question, she got a text message that a family member was coming to pick her up. Too bad.
So I left the disco frustrated and with a growling belly. Not every hunt is successful. But sometimes life yields the most remarkable coincidences. As I left the parking lot in my car, I saw two prey animals standing in the street. They were hitchhiking for a ride home. Ideal. No one saw the pair climb in.
In my charming way I was able to convince the the two—their names were Lisa and Claudia—to come to my place for a nightcap. Since there were two of them, they felt strong enough to resist in case I had something untoward in mind (did I?). When we reached my domicile, their eyes grew wide, and they soon showed me in word and deed how impressed they were. The more I showed them, the more compliant they became. I showed them the gymnasium and asked them if they wanted to take a swim.
They could—since they had no bathing suit—swim comfortably naked. For me this would be a great opportunity to appraise their suitability for rotisserie meat, for pieces for braising, for oven roasts, or for stew meat. They happily agreed and soon I could inspect them more closely.
Lisa was blond and relatively well put-together even though her breasts—I’d guess C cups, had seen their best days and now were beginning to surrender to the pull of gravity. Her belly and hips were feminine. But unfortunately her thighs were a little heavy for my taste. The same with her bubble butt. Her pussy was shaved bald and had my mouth watering. Everything considered, one could use her on the rotisserie, as well as any other cooking method.
Claudia, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Tall, very slim, almost gaunt, a boyish figure (which I like), brunette. Her breasts, if you could call them that, stood directly away from her chest. The length of her erect nipples considerably exceeded the depth of her breasts. Since her thighs were also thin, one could see between them, which was impossible with Lisa because of the the thickness of her thighs. She was also shaved, but her mons was only slightly rounded. There just wasn’t much to her. I’d have to use her either for sausage, as stew meat, or I’d have to fatten her up. But I could decide that later. For now I wanted some fun.
As I stood appraising the two naked prey splashing around in the pool, they seemed to make a decision. I’d better strip and join them in the pool, or they’d pull me in. Naturally I couldn’t ignore such a challenge, and I quickly peeled off my clothes and jumped, naked as God made me, into the water to join the two lovelies. We splashed each other with water, ducked, and paddled around. In the process we couldn’t avoid touching—even if accidentally—some private places. And then suddenly sex was in the air.
As I sat snorting on the edge of the pool after the two had pushed me under, Lisa swam between my legs, uninhibitedly grabbed my already slightly-turgid member, wordlessly took it in her mouth, and began to work on it with her lips, tongue and hand. And my little guy thoroughly appreciated her efforts. He sprang right up to his full length and explored all of Lisa’s mouth and throat.
In the meantime, Claudia wanted in on the action. She climbed out of the water, embraced my upper body, and began to kiss me passionately. Our mouths were soon engaged, and our tongues were doing the dance of growing lust with each other. Soon she opened her legs, and I had a finger in her wet and ready cleft.
As I explored her labia with my finger, my thumb was hitting her erect clit, which elicited loud moans from Claudia.
At the same time, Lisa continued to please me orally. And I must say she was not a bad flute player. I felt it in my ears, and my balls were already moving, and were it not for Claudia, I couldn’t have kept from feeding Lisa a nourishing ejaculation.
So after I pulled my rod out of Lisa’s mouth, I lay back and pulled Claudia on top of me. Claudia squatted over my stiff penis as if she were going to pee. Then she grabbed me with one hand and directed my manhood directly into the wet, receptive sheath of her female genitals.
And then she began a wild ride. Before I could consider how I could stay in the saddle longer, both my ears were covered by two buxom thighs. Lisa’s slowly descending vagina appeared in my field of vision. Wet lips shortly pressed against my mouth, and knowing well what the lady expected, I drilled my tongue into her wet and slick sex. I tasted her salty pussy juice which only heightened my lust. Lisa wiggled her bum; in fact she absolutely whetted it on my face. My nose was repeatedly pushed against her twitching rectum which, in the heat of the moment, didn’t disturb me in the least.
But slowly my air grew short, and it occurred to me that I was the prey instead of the two. But that wasn’t the plan. I pushed Lisa away and heaved Claudia out of the saddle also. As I lay under them, both girls had been entwined kissing each other and disengaged unwillingly. I took them to a towel-covered place beside the pool and had them kneel so that they presented me their bums and the view of the aroused, twitching, and wetly glistening slits.
So first I penetrated Lisa which elicited a moan. Claudia’s vulva became a keyboard of lust for my right hand, and I was able to play a nice tune on it. Then Claudia got close to Lisa and began to caress and massage her dangling boobs in concert with each of my thrusts. Between the two of us, we soon had Lisa going over, and she showed me with a bucking, twitching and loudly-moaning female body just what lust waves could do to it during an orgasm. Lisa sank gasping forward as I grabbed Claudia, positioned her, and similarly thrust my shaft into the moist pouch of her mons veneris.
Lisa, slowly recovering, wanted to show her friend her gratitude and hitched herself on her back under Claudia so that she could reach the latter’s slit even as I drilled it. At the same time, she reached above and played with Lisa’s behind, pushed the cheeks apart, and pushed a finger deep in Claudia’s twitching rectum. Each time I thrust my organ into Claudia’s vagina I could feel that finger—separated only by thin muscle and skin tissue—massage me. Claudia’s head had disappeared between Lisa’s spread thighs, and one did not need to be a psychic to know what she was doing there.
Claudia was also soon beyond the point of no return, and I could feel by the contractions around my stiff, hard rod what pleasure we had elicited in Claudia.
By this time I neither could nor wished to hold back. My thrusts became harder and more demanding and soon I erupted with a loud groan into the wildly bucking Claudia.
For a while I lay breathing heavily on the girl, and then I got up and invited them both into my bar. There we drank the promised nightcap. For my prey in the true sense of the word. For shortly after they had drunk, the drug began to work, and I had two deeply sleeping, already naked roasts lying by my bar.
I dragged them to the cell located next to my test kitchen and bound them there on a cot. Of course I had to arrange the cell for two, but one manages when one has such luck as I had had this evening.
After I had disposed of their clothing and everything else they had brought, and removed all traces of them, I went to bed and slept in the happy anticipation of what was to come.
Yesterday, on Sunday, I forced myself not to take my prey immediately. No, they needed to eliminate the drug from their bodies. So I slept in myself, and, yes—I confess—masturbated in anticipation of what was to come. I fantasized the whole day how my prey animals were going to react when I let them know their fate.
Unfortunately, today I had to conduct firm business almost all day. Finally, this evening, I have the time I need. But before I turn my attention to my prey, I wanted to take the time to confide my evening’s success to you, dear Diary. Now on to new deeds. So later, dear Diary.
Tuesday, July 5, 19..
Man, oh man. That was something else. That was crazy. But now everything and from the beginning.
So I went into the cell where the two were lying bound on their cot. I immediately got a strong whiff of urine. The two had peed themselves. Understandable considering their situation and the fact that I had left them lying in their cell all day.
They immediately started yelling at me. What was going on, that I’d kidnapped them and I’d better let them go. They wouldn’t go to the police, and the evening or night before had been great. Hadn’t I had fun too, and why had I picked them to kidnap and blah, blah, blah. I listened, smiling, to the whole thing for a while and then said simply “There’s a simple explanation. I’m going to eat you!”
They immediately shut up and stared wide-eyed, unbelievingly at me.
“You’re nuts!” was the first reaction, but apparently they saw from my expression that I wasn’t kidding. So we now entered the phase of their pleading and begging for their insignificant little lives. But they quickly recognized that I was completely deaf to such pleas. Especially when I grabbed Lisa and pulled her from the cell.
Of course she tried hard to ward me off, cried, wailed, and yelled, but since she was bound hand and foot, every attempt at resistance was futile. I dragged her into my small slaughter chamber—so I call it—because it’s completely tiled and furnished with everything needful for slaughtering a prey animal.
I fastened Lisa, arms raised and legs spread, facing the wall, in shackles installed there. I then gave her an enema which had the result that she first broke wind and then, when she couldn’t hold it any longer, opened her sphincter and let loose her bowel contents. I immediately sluiced the fecal matter with a hose into a drain designed just for that purpose, and I repeated the bowel cleansing until the water from her rectum ran clear.
The whole time she alternated between cursing me and begging me to let her live. She finally reached the point of resignation, and when I began to rub in a special depilatory lotion, I could tell that at least her body reacted positively to the massage. Especially when I came to her lower region. Almost accidentally her thighs opened wider and she pushed against my massaging hand.
And when I reached from behind into her thoroughly wet cleft of arousal, she couldn’t suppress an excited moan. As I continued to manipulate her there, I pushed myself hard against her backside so that she could feel my own arousal there. I then began to whisper things in her ear that aroused me. Things like how much I would enjoy the tenderness of her flesh, how ravenously I wanted a piece of her ass cheek, how much I anticipated sinking my teeth into her sliced and grilled pussy, how delicious her sliced breasts would be, and so on. That made my manhood almost painfully stiff.
I freed my little friend from his prison and rubbed myself in the crack of her behind. But I continued my manipulation and my whispered rant. Her moans became louder and stronger and my hand was more or less soaked with her pussy juice. Suddenly she began to buck and wail loudly in her bonds. I felt muscle contractions on my finger in her pussy as if she wanted to suck my hand in. She had actually orgasmed.
Then I pulled back a little to give my erect penis the opportunity to glide between her cheeks and penetrate her glistening and twitching anus. My swollen glans encountered hardly any resistance and shortly was sunken deeply into her bowel. Thoroughly excited, I pumped enthusiastically, not forgetting to continue to finger her swollen labia.
That way I succeeded to maintain her in an advanced state of arousal. I soon experienced a telltale tingling in my balls, and shortly the protein-rich jism erupted from me to lose itself in the depths of her bowel.
Breathing heavily I pressed myself against her bucking body which was again on the edge of an orgasm. I quickly pulled a sharp fileting knife from my belt, and continued to manipulate Lisa with my left hand. Her moans again became louder and uncontrolled. Suddenly she threw herself against me and pushed her dripping and convulsively twitching crotch onto my hand. She was again overcome with an orgasmic wave.
I took advantage of it to drive my fileting knife directly under her breast bone deep into her flesh and then draw it firmly down until it met resistance in the form of her pubic bone. I pulled out the knife, let it fall, and reached with my hand into the now open abdominal cavity to pull out everything I could grab. The shriek she uttered during this procedure could hardly be called human.
She immediately collapsed in her bonds. Then I took up the knife again and reached around from behind with both hands and the knife into the cavity. Most of her entrails had already fallen out and hung grotesquely from her. Blood streamed from the giant wound, and I quickly found what I was seeking: the main artery. I immediately transected the aorta, and a flood of blood sprayed from her into the wall. If she wasn’t dead before, she was then.
I stepped back and released the metal shackles which had held Lisa in position. The lifeless body collapsed limply. I pulled a large meat hook, which was attached to an overhead rail, to me and hung Lisa’s carcass on it by driving it through her heels. Then I finished gutting the carcass. I threw all the entrails in a vat for later use or disposal.
I then took off Lisa’s head and hands from the carcass and put them with the entrails in the vat. The carcass would need some time to finish bleeding out. In the meantime I could clean up and sluice the room and, of course, the carcass, with water. When that was done, I picked up the vat and went into my little test kitchen. Then I put the head on the kitchen countertop so she could watch what I did with her entrails.
Lisa’s facial expression was somehow—shall we say—confused and at the same time horror stricken. In the moment of her passing, the unbearable pain and the orgasm must have elicited contrary emotions. Panic and pain met lust and ecstasy. Before she could sort them out, she had already departed life. And exactly that moment was frozen on her face.
As I now sorted out and cleaned her entrails, I spoke to the head as if she could answer. So I explained to her why I was discarding her gall bladder, parts of her reproductive organs such as overies and vaginal canal (they don’t do anything for me) or how pleased I was with her kidneys.
I cleaned the intestines because I wanted to make mild girl sausage. After I had put the various entrails separately in bowls, I remembered that Claudia was waiting in the cell to be slaughtered. But what was I to do with her? With Lisa I knew she was ripe for the slaughter. I had a use for everything. But Claudia with her boyish and rather gaunt figure. Should I slaughter her, or should I first fatten her up some. Perhaps I should inspect her again once more. There was, after all, no hurry.
So I went back to the cell where I was hit immediately with a strong stench of urine. But that was my own fault. I’d given her no chance to pee. As I unbound her from the cot, she asked, crying, where her friend Lisa was.
“You’ll see her soon—now move it,” I answered and dragged her by her by her bonds from the cell. When she saw Lisa’s head on the kitchen counter, she cried out Lisa’s name hysterically and collapsed sobbing.
I dragged her into the slaughter chamber and fettered her to the wall as I had Lisa, which she allowed whimpering and unresisting. Then, as I had Lisa, I administered several enemas to cleanse her bowels.
With the hose I sluiced away the fecal matter and sprayed her from head to foot. Then I proceeded to rub the back of her body with body wash. I rinsed that off, undid the shackles, but only to turn her around, and then, with her back to the wall, locked them once more. Again she hysterically cried out Lisa’s name and stared at Lisa’s corpse, hanging in the corner, with blood still dripping from the neck and abdomen.
“Quiet down,” I said to her, “you won’t be slaughtered today. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. So calm down. For now you’ll live.”
Then I rubbed her front with the body wash and, of course, paid special attention to her primary and secondary sexual characteristics. And thereby I established that despite the shocked state of her psyche, her body reacted automatically to the manipulating stimulus. Even if her erect nipples might have been caused by the cold water, the production of moisture from her pussy and the swelling of her labia clearly came from my fingering her groin.
I rinsed her off again and left her alone while I went to clean up her cell and make it somewhat livable again. As I did that, I considered what I should do with Claudia. She was anything but ripe for slaughter, and if I was honest with myself, somehow I liked the girl. During sex with her, it wasn’t just my penis that felt good (which is why I came in her and not in Lisa). Aside from that, she seemed somehow to be my archetypical woman.
But what to do. And then I had an idea. I would make her my slave, and not only that. I would turn her into a cannibal. Up to now there was no shortage of meat for one. But that could turn interesting. So now I must close, dear Diary. Claudia’s training awaits.
Conclusion follows . . .
Wednesday, July 6, 19...
Well, here I am again. So after I had made the cell once again livable for my newest toy, I went into the slaughter chamber where Claudia was awaiting her unknown fate.
She had calmed down some, but the sight of her friend Lisa’s bloodless and gutted corpse of appeared to keep her on the edge of panic. I must admit that this frantic facial expression somehow aroused me. So I stepped in front of her and began to touch her slim but feminine body, to caress it, and slowly to move to the region which from the beginning of time women have sold to men as the most priceless of jewels under the sun. And she in fact tried to bring her thighs together, which, of course, she couldn’t since she was fettered to the wall.
As I put my hand between her legs, I realized why she didn’t want me there. My finger encountered a wide-open flower. Her labia were fully turgid and the whole area was not merely moist but downright wet. She was ashamed to show me her arousal—especially the fact that the sight of her friend’s corpse elicited arousal and naturally, as I thought to myself, my presence as a cannibal. The idea of being eaten seemed to elicit unsuspected feelings in many representatives of the female sex.
I worked on Claudia some more, and as I penetrated her slit, seeking to find her small electrode to push her over, she uttered a long-suppressed moan. I looked her directly in the eye and saw how her pupils widened, her gaze locked with mine, her expression turned to lust, and to get her satisfaction, she thrust her pelvis against my hand. And then I apparently found her G-spot.
She uttered an insane scream, her pussy seemed to engulf my hand as if to swallow it and her eyes went glassy. She went momentarily unconscious. I’ve seldom seen a woman have such an orgasm.
Apparently there were several factors at work. Her body must have been subject to a veritable cocktail of emotions—stress, fear, sexual arousal, and doubtless joy hormones. My manipulation only dotted the i I had learned from someone who understood women.
I understand everything about the art of female cuisine. I can easily claim expertise, and I am a connoisseur and master of every aspect. But with the often crazy hormonal basis of the emotions of women, with their psyches, here I am, and remain, a mere boy, amazed the first time he sees a sparkler lit.
Groaning, Claudia came to and looked at me with her dark button eyes. Her look expressed disgust, hate, and contempt, only to change suddenly and to soften and to express love and gratitude, sweetness and devotion.
I had already often seen this transformation of emotions in my prey in my small slaughter chamber. But never before had such a look touched me. Never before had I had any reaction to such a look as I did now with Claudia.
Her eyes, which appeared like large marbles in their sockets, had somehow hit me where I live. But I couldn’t let her see. I had to work through it myself. So I freed Claudia from her fetters and carried her back to the cell. There I bound her on the cot and gave her something to drink. She must have been seriously dehydrated. Gratefully she drank the fluid in small sips. At the same time she watched me silently. But her look told me more than a thousand words. I left the cell hastily.
I still had to process Lisa’s carcass and make it ready to cook as well as preserve some parts. That couldn’t wait. So I went back into my small slaughter chamber and began to butcher Lisa’s carcass into pieces appropriate for my planned uses. First I divided the carcass into two halves with a power saw, cutting from the top down between the two legs. Then I cut the legs off just above the knees.
I intended to make ham out of each butt cheek and the attached upper thigh, fresh ham as well as cured. I would cut some steaks from the hips as well as the filet. I cut off the arms and the breasts. From the shoulders I intended to make my famous “Braised Woman” and from the ribs, of course, female spare ribs, etc. Naturally I’d do neck steaks which are especially good for grilling. From all the rest of Lisa’s parts, for which I had little other use—such as the feet, hands, parts of the head, and assorted entrails—I would separate the meat from the bones and use the former to make my famous female sausage.
As I silently worked, my thoughts kept returning to Claudia locked in her cell. How was I going to make her my slave and turn her into a cannibal? And it was important to me that Claudia like me. But—wait a moment here—have I become smitten somewhere along the line—can’t be—she’s only a project and at some point meat—exactly—I decide, and I’ll cook and eat her—the sweet little thing—at some point—
Friday, July 8, 19..
Unfortunately, I had no time yesterday. I was busy the whole day with my business. I didn’t even have much time for Claudia.
But somehow the girl was always in the back of my mind. I couldn’t concentrate on pressing matters. If I wasn’t careful, I could make a mistake. And in my situation, mistakes could be dangerous. They could finish me.
But back to Claudia. Yesterday I went to her cell, Freed her from the cot, and took her again into my slaughter chamber. There I again shackled her to the wall and cleaned up her body. She spoke not a word during the entire procedure, and when I then gave her something to drink, I was struck again by the look in her dark marble eyes. I left her and almost flew to throw a tenderloin steak from Lisa into the skillet.
Plain and simple that was exquisite. The meat melted on my tongue—in fact I get hungry again when I think back to yesterday’s dinner. Claudia should be ravenous today. She hasn’t eaten in days. I think I better feed her. We’ll see how she does. I shouldn’t give her too much. A small meal—perhaps a clear broth to start.
And somehow that look still gets to me.
Saturday, July 9, 19..
So, dear Diary, here I am again.
Yesterday evening I prepared a clear broth for Claudia and brought it to her in her cell. I fed it to her spoonfull by spoonfull. She regarded me silently and ate all without resistance. I think she knew very well the source of the broth.
Namely her friend Lisa, but she didn’t let on about that. Or her survival instinct had kicked in in the meantime and had become so strong that she simply refused to dwell on it. But I’ll se about that today. I intend to feed her another sirloin steak from Lisa. We’ll see if she accepts it. I think I’ll have more to report tomorrow evening, but right now I have to prepare dinner for Claudia and me.
Sunday, July 10, 19..
Well, I can report victory on all fronts.
Yes, I believe I’m on the right track with Claudia. Yesterday evening I cut two tender sirloin steaks from Lisa’s butchered and partly frozen carcass and prepared them with appropriate side dishes--rosemary potatoes, steamed broccoli, and green beans with bacon. I cooked both steaks medium—Claudia’s naturally only in hopes she’d accept it. I arranged everything nicely on two plates, put them on a small table, and brought it into Claudia’s cell. I then brought in two chairs, silverware, two glasses, and an appropriate wine.
The whole time, Claudia watched me silently with her large, dark eyes. When everything was ready, I released Claudia from her bonds to the point that she could sit at the table. I did shackle her feet so that she couldn’t run.
So she sat at the table, and after I had cut everything up into bite-size pieces—I still didn’t trust her with a knife—I handed her a fork saying “Good appetite.” She poked around at the plate thoughtfully, and then her hunger appeared to take the upper hand, and hesitantly she speared a piece of meat with her fork. When she took the piece in her mouth, she chewed gingerly, as if she could still hurt her friend. And then—then her expression changed. She took the next bite with obvious relish, and soon she was ravenously emptying her plate. Silently she held her plate out to me, and her expression asked for more.
“Gladly,” I said to her. “But you do know what, or whom, you are eating?” She only nodded and as if to confirm it, again held out her plate. Of course I prepared another portion of Lisa for her. And as I put the plate in front of her, she immediately fell to. That I had not expected from her. I had certainly intended to make a cannibal of her, but that I could do it so quickly—apparently I awoke something in her. Something that had wanted expression for a long time, something of which she herself was not aware, something that sat deep in her psyche and waited for its moment to be released.
So now I only had to make her my slave and everything would be perfect. I took away the table and chairs as well as all the eating paraphenalia and returned to take Claudia to the bathroom to take care of herself. Then I brought her into the slaughter chamber to clean her up. She had not spoken a word the entire evening but had regarded me with those dark eyes, with the look that seemed to penetrate deep in my soul and somehow moved me.
I still don’t know what it is, but I know that at least for the time being, that I—don’t want to do without—Claudia. As I went to bind Claudia on her cot again, that look struck me, and she uninhibitedly reached for my crotch to find what she had hoped for, my manhood stiffening at her touch. Quickly she unzipped my fly and pulled out my nearly fully erect penis.
She bent forward and took my best part in her mouth. And Claudia began to blow me to the point of my losing sight and hearing. I’d already intended to mount her, since it’s well known that after a meal a man should smoke or use a woman. And since I don’t smoke—but what Claudia accomplished exceeded my fondest imagination.
Either she was trying to save her life this way, or she not only accepted the situation in which she found herself but found it arousing. That it was the latter I established as I pushed her away, dropped my pants, and laid her on the cot. Willingly she opened her legs and presented me her already open pussy. The moist, glistening labia showed me how excited she was, and as I experimentally probed her opening with my finger, I found she was not merely moist, but actually wet with lust. Here a woman was waiting for a stiff organ to sink in her, to be penetrated, to have a hard sword pushed in her sheath, to receive love and lust. And to return it.
Accordingly, I didn’t make her wait any longer and shoved my rod deep in her ready vagina. I began to thrust roughly, which she met thrust for thrust. Soon our gasps and moans filled the air.
And it wasn’t long until I felt how her sheath contracted around my penis, milking it, and trying to draw it in deeper. At the same time, she seemed to cramp and bucked wildly. An orgasmic wave had overtaken her body, and that was all it took for me. I immediately felt a tingle in my gonads and then the dam of lust broke and I shot my seed deep inside her, to which she responded with renewed moans and thrusts against me.
We lay against each other breathing heavily. Amazed, I felt her tenderly caress the back of my head, but then she pulled her hand back. I got up and dressed fully and bound her on the cot. Again the look, and she still hadn’t said a word to me. Why does she avoid speaking to me? Why, dear Diary, won’t she talk with me?
Saturday, August 19, 19..
Well, I haven’t reported in for almost six weeks. I have my reasons. I’ve simply been too busy with Claudia’s training. And I think I’ve found a gold mine.
But to go chronologically.
Since that memorable meal she seemed increasingly to crave human flesh, and each time I served her a piece of Lisa, after the meal she became so aroused that she just about climbed all over me and actually forced sex on me. Well, she didn’t really have to force me.
And I love sex with Claudia. It’s both arousing and stimulating. The only troubling thing during that time was that she never spoke a word to me. Only her large, dark eyes seemed to speak with me. But she herself remained silent.
Zombie-like she allowed me to put her through the entire training program I had planned. Without a word she dressed in the slave outfit, consisting of a dog collar; a leather corset which left the breasts and lower body bare; high-heeled pumps; and, of course, in my presence she was always manacled with hand cuffs or something similar. I demanded that she call me Master. But whatever I did, she remained silent.
I hit her—she remained silent. I whipped her—she remained silent. I tortured her with needles—she remained silent. I burned her with hot candle wax—she remained silent. I strangled her until she lost consciousness—she remained silent.
I was on the edge of despair. She had succeeded in manipulating me to the point that I wanted to keep her and not slaughter and butcher her, but her silence—somehow that got to me. I was coming to think that either I’d have to call a silent slave my own, or I’d have to consume her.
That is until yesterday.
Last evening I mentioned offhand that this was the last of Lisa and that I needed to go hunting again to find new meat for us. She looked at me and said suddenly “Master, when you’ve captured your prey, can I help you with the slaughter?”
My piece of food almost stuck in my throat. I stared at her simply too perplexed at first to answer. She appeared to read my confusion in my face; at any rate she smiled and repeated the question.
I pulled myself together and answered—naturally entirely as her lord and master “We’ll see about that. If you’re good and conduct yourself correctly—then maybe.”
“Please, Master—I’ll do everything you wish.”
“Everything? That’s no big deal. I’ll get everything I want from you anyway, slave,” I dominated her.
“No, Master—not everything—” and making a gesture as if she was closing her mouth with a zipper, she went silent.
No, I didn’t want that. That I’d had the whole time. And so I gave in, if only apparently.
“I said we’d see,” I dominated her by lifting her and laying her on her cot to Immediately perform the act. But this time she did not remain silent. Until now only her moans had indicated to me that she enjoyed sex with me. But now she apparently totally surrendered. “Yees, Push, Give it to me, Master—Ohhhhh, Yeees, I’m almost there—I—I’m—cooommmiiing!!!--ooooooohhh!!”
I’ll say this resurrected or new Claudia pleased me. I didn’t care whether genuine or not. What man doesn’t like to have his bed partner tell him and show him how good and skillful he is as a lover?
After we had wildly copulated, I bound her again on her cot, and then I freed her from her bonds and said “I don’t think we’ll need these in the future, right?”
“No, Master, only when I’ve been naughty—” she answered and looke me deep in the eyes. I think for the time being I can trust her so far. She can’t get out of the test kitchen without me anyway.
So now I’ve got to get ready for today’s hunt.
Monday, August 21, 19..
My hunting expedition was successful. I didn’t visit the disco Saturday night. It was much too hot. I went down to our lake and there made a find. A lone water nymph lay on the lake shore and read a book. I approached her and got her into a conversation.
She was visiting acquaintances in the neighborhood who had to attend some family gathering, for which she had no interest. So she wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of the lake and just relax. Soon, with my charm, I had Christine—that was her name—agreeing to come with me to sit on my terrace and enjoy the warm summer night together.
The usual procedure followed. Her eyes widened over my estate. Her willingness to serve me sexually grew as I showed her my villa, and soon we lay entwined playing the game between man and woman which has existed since the beginning of two sexes on Earth.
Christine was one of those women who like to show off their femininity, and she had the looks for it. Blond and with the right curves. With her 24 years she was the right age to wind up as a meat animal to grace my table. Her breasts were firm and had the size—I’m guessing the cup size C—which promised a good breast stew. Her behind consisted of two fleshy and firm half-spheres. Her thighs were a bit heavy for my taste and already showed signs of cellulitis. Her vulva was covered with a blond bush and she had conspicuous labia.
During sex she seemed to thoroughly enjoy her femaleness. She moaned, groaned, and cried out as I thrust my steel-hard rod into her her wet and gaping sheath, and with muscle contractions she milked my shaft as if she wanted to squash my best part.
We soon reached the climax, and into this moaning and from arousal twitching piece of female flesh I shot a load which under normal circumstances would have served to fertilize. Still breathing heavily, I offered her a drink which she accepted with thanks, and as usual she was soon asleep. I can always rely on my drugs. I then brought her to Claudia in the cell and bound her on another cot.
Claudia looked at me and asked “Master, can I be there for the slaughter? I can start preparing her here.”
“How can you prepare her?” I asked.
“I can shave her and clean her—inside and out,” she explained.
“We’ll see—everything in due time. But first she has to sleep off the drugs,” I said, but I really knew I wanted to let her have her way. Then she would finally be clearly on my side.
When I went into the cell yesterday about noon, Christine received me with a barrage of curses. My Claudia sat grinning in the background. So I listened to the usual nagging. Except that Christine apparently knew the fate she was facing. In any event, the cursing soon turned to pleading and then groveling. But I granted my prey no mercy.
I partially freed Christine from her bonds and carried her into the slaughter chamber. There I shackled her—as usual—to the wall. And now I could safely fetch Claudia, who waited excitedly for me in the cell. I freed her from her fetters, and she asked me with wide and horny-appearing eyes “Master, can I really?”
“Yes. Right now you’ll clean the meat animal inside and then remove the body hair. I’ll observe the whole thing. If you do well, maybe we’ll go a step further. So hop to it,” I answered.
“Master, I won’t disappoint you,” she said, as we entered the slaughter chamber. Claudia administered Christine several enemas, one after another. Christine was soon suffering stomach cramps, and her bowel contents were shooting forcefully through her sphincter. Claudia sluiced away the mess with the hose and repeated the procedure until only clear fluid was leaving Christine’s anus.
“Master,” Claudia asked, “Did I do it right?”
“Very good. Now shave the body hair. But first we need to change her position. For that I can use your help.”
I freed Christine from the manacles, and before she could attack me like a fury, I held her hands together while Claudia tied them with a cord. Christine now found for Claudia names which I won’t repeat out of respect for decency. But they seemed to amuse and excite Claudia.
We then freed Chistine from the foot shackles, and I kicked her behind her knees, which dropped her to the floor before she could kick out at us. I pulled over two meat hooks in the ceiling rails, used rope to put a loop around each of Christine’s ankles, and brought each rope through one of the hooks in the ceiling. Then we pulled hard on the ropes, and Christine was pulled upside down so that her head hung about 18 inches over the floor. I quickly tied off my rope and then Claudia’s. Christine now hung in front of us with slightly spread legs.
Then I said to Claudia “Shave her,” and handed her a battery-driven electric razor.
Claudia first shaved Christine’s arm pits, actually only stubbled, and then went after her arms and legs. Finally she moved her attention to the blond pubic hair sprouting from Christine’s crotch at eye level.
With visible pleasure she went hair by hair. When only short stubble was left, she could go no further. She then leaned forward and buried her face in Christine’s bare slit. Christine tried to resist by writhing in her bonds, but Claudia had bitten in and apparently found the right spot. In any case, Christine’s original resistance turned to moaning and gasping. And the original chewing sounds from Claudia changed to smacking, which led to the conclusion that a wet mouth had united with a wet pussy. The spectacle quite naturally affected my libido.
I freed my Johnson from its prison and began to masturbate, which allowed it to reach its full size and hardness. Christine suddenly turned wild in her bonds and shrieked out loudly. Apparently she had orgasmed. But then as Claudia stepped back, I saw what had happened. Blood was dripping from the corners of Claudia’s mouth and she was chewing with enjoyment. She had bitten off Christine’s clitoris.
Christine wailed and cried. I quickly stepped up to her, leaned over, pulled her head back and slit her throat. Her shrieks subsided into gurgles, she twitched and writhed, and soon she hung still.
I immediately cut her open to gut her. I had barely opened the carcass when Claudia stepped next to me and reached into Christine’s still warm corpse to pull out the entrails. As in a blood lust she reached repeatedly into the carcass until she could find nothing more to pull out.
She looked at me with an almost crazed expression, her hands and body bloody, and said “Master, I’m so horny, please take me—I need it now—and you too—I can see.” And with that she grabbed by still stiff rod and tried to stroke it into even greater hardness.
Then she impaled herself on me. Very soon an orgasmic wave almost tore Claudia’s body apart. She twitched and wailed, writhed and moaned, shuddered and stiffened. Such a female orgasm I had never seen. Shortly she collapsed against me as if she had fainted. I laid her down and thought I would boff her again later, since I had another chore to accomplish, namely to prepare Christine for butchering.
I must say that slaughtering arouses me—but this was more than arousal. There was a little horror mixed in. Because it was something more than cannibalism I had unleashed in Claudia.
Tuesday, August 22, 19..
Somehow I’m still somewhat shocked. That I need to process. Claudia was so high that I almost couldn’t bring her down.
After I’d laid her down, and wanted to turn to butchering Christine, Claudia embraced me and said “Please, Master, please let me do this. I still want to help you, and I need to know how to butcher. So please let me try—“ And with that she grabbed my half-stiff member once more with her blood-smeared hands and masturbated me.
Well, all right, I thought, Christine can wait, she’s got time, and with that I peeled off the rest of my clothes. Then I grabbed Claudia and rammed my now hard rod deep in her dark sheath. Franticly she met each of my powerful thrusts and responded to each with gasping cries such as: “Yeeesss—harder, Master—give it to me—arghhhhh—yeeessss--that’s--soooo--hooott!”
Claudia’s arousal, Christine’s slaughter, the bleeding carcass, and the woman writhing beneath me pulled the trigger, and I shot my contribution to new life deep into the chalice of her belly.
I got up—still a little unsteady on my feet—to get the power saw to dismember Christine. Should I really allow her to do it? Well, after what I had experienced up to now, I didn’t see any danger. But I still took precautions.
I returned to the slaughter chamber and secured Claudia to a staple in the wall with a long lead chain. Then I gave her the power saw and showed her how she should saw Christine in half lengthwise. With sparkling eyes, Claudia started sawing at Christine’s vagina and cut through the carcass right to the base of the skull. Then she turned the saw and cut off Christine’s head. Now Christine hung cleanly in two halves on the meat hooks.
I took the saw from Claudia and put it away. Then I went back and unchained her from the wall. I took her into the test kitchen and then fetched a half of Christine which I laid on a stainless steel counter top.
“So, and now I’ll show you how we dismember the carcass and prepare it for freezing,” I said to my slave who looked at me like an obedient pupil. I explained and showed her how to remove the remaining inner organs which hadn’t been pulled out of the carcass. Then I showed her the boning as well as the cutting of the hip, rump, and filet steaks. Likewise the excision of the breast for the later preparation of breast stew. Long story short, I showed her the entire butchering procedure.
Claudia paid apparent attention to my explanations, but her gaze was concentrated on my hands. She seemed to absorb everything. And it appeared she not only found it fun to butcher a human, but also it aroused her sexually. Several times I noticed, as we worked, that she reached between her legs and rubbed.
When Christine’s half was butchered, we took what we didn’t need for dinner into the cooler and went back into the slaughter chamber. There I let Claudia clean off the other half with water from the hose and then put that half also into the cooler.
For dinner we afforded ourselves filet steaks, and they were outstanding. And I went further. Claudia was no longer restricted to her cell. I think I can safely let her in the rest of the house. I told her that I had a video camera which recorded her as she bit off Christine’s clitoris, then stuck her bloody hands in the twitching corpse, and gleefully sawed it in half.
Claudia didn’t say much to that except “Can I see the video sometime, Master?” And then again came the look from the dark eyes, which seemed to deep into me.
“Not now. Maybe another time—” I said firmly, knowing it would never happen, since I was lying—there was no video. But I wanted something to hold for insurance against her. That seemed reasonable to me, and I hardly gave a thought to what danger the lie might expose me.
On the same evening, she moved into her new room a floor higher. It was actually a utility room, but she’d be spending most of her time with me anyway.
Saturday, January 23, 19..
Well, I haven’t reported and written anything here in a long time. For several months Claudia has lived with me and I must admit that on the one hand I enjoy living together, but on the other hand, I have serious doubts and wish I had my former life back.
But what can I do? Despite all my feelings for Claudia, she scares me. As Schiller described it in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” I conjured up the demons, and now I can’t escape them; that’s it exactly.
From the outside it appears that I am lord and master, but I feel acutetly that she does what she wants with me, and in reality she is the mistress. She’s happy with that, and as for me—I can’t do anything else. It’s simply impossible for me to process Claudia. I can’t see Claudia only as sustenance for me, and I can’t see Claudia only as a means of satisfying my hormonal needs.
And she knows it. She knows it very clearly, and she uses it without compunction.
I unleashed not only the cannibal in her, but also a beast which had been latent. And I must furnish it human flesh.
And God help me if I fail—she knows how to punish me so subtly that the dynamic of our relationship has long since become inverted.
Long story short, she has moved me to adopt new methods of cooking and preparing women. Recently, at her instigation, we grilled our prey still living.
That was a spectacle. We bound her on a long pole and attached two long stabilizers, about 10 inches long, inserted into both of her rear openings. We secured the stabilizers with screws into the pole. I then added a robust and heat resistant vibrater and turned it on.
Man, did she ever start to twitch. At the other end we attached a stabilizer with a mouth piece and shoved it into her mouth so that it reached down into her throat. We likewise secured it with screws. We then added an oxygen line in order to keep her alive longer and stifle her screams.
The whole thing was Claudia’s idea, and as we put the roast over the heat, she began to writhe and twitch. We speculated from her motions what our meal was feeling. Pain, lust, or both. In any case, Claudia stood close by masturbating with one hand and with the other basting the rotating roast with barbecue sauce.
I can’t say who came more, the roast or Claudia. At some point the former expired—the skin was already crackling and crisp. It was time to take the roast off the fire and gut her so that the entrails didn’t spoil the flavor of the meat. When that was done, we put the carcass back on the fire, and when it was done, we fell to. We froze the leftovers so that we could enjoy this delicacy as long as possible.
Claudia’s sexual appetite was second only to her dark hunger for human flesh. When we had slaughtered, she seemed to go into a cannibalistic and sexual frenzy. And that always frightens me. I am frightened of the creature that otherwise is my Claudia. I don’t recognize this beast, and I feel uneasy in its presence.
Especially lately. Claudia regards me now with such a strange and hungry look—so that a shiver goes down my spine. I must be imagining that—but I’m certainly going to watch that closely and check it out, dear Diary.
When I re-read what’s written here, I’ve got to say don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Women are the most hormone and cycle-driven creatures, and we men, at bottom, have little to oppose them except two balls and a penis, which, in the hands of women, becomes a joystick with which they can steer us as they wish. And still for me Women are the most fascinating creatures. In my eyes they are split personalities (which as been at least biologically demonstrated). They will give life and then take life just for the fun of it (just look at my Claudia). But what good is my philosophizing—it won’t get me anywhere.
Claudia is, after all, Claudia, and—oh, she’s calling me, whatever she’s got in mind. I think she’s going to send me out on the hunt, since our meat larder is getting low—
Epilogue:
Newspaper report:
Robbery or ritual murder in . . .
According to police, last Tuesday the well-known owner of the meat processing plant, Harry S, was found dead in his mansion by maid service employees. The circumstances leave no doubt the death was murder. The time of death was apparently Sunday night. The corpse bore numerous superficial cuts. Shortly before he died, the victim’s penis was apparently bitten off, and death ensued from exsanguination.
Posthumously, a number of pieces of flesh were cut from the hips and buttocks as if by a professional meat cutter. The police do not know where the body parts are.
The fact that the industrialist’s safe was open points to murder during a robbery, but the condition of the body indicates more a ritual murder. The police hope to gather more information from the discovery of a diary belonging to the victim. There is currently no trace of the perpetrator or perpetrators.