216: Cold Steel in Intimate Places

DISCIPLES and higher: 7 colored artworks & 1 colored work in progress (one of which is an alternate version of another)
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For those who are subscribed, apologies for making you sweat especially when I've posted this after the start of the new month. There are matters in the background that couldn't be avoided. To make it up, this update's later than usual but much much larger with one of the biggest updates I've ever done. This post in itself will make up for as many as 3 updates as appreciation for your patience, loyalty and trust. There will be 6, (yes, 6!) full color artworks (with one of them being a version of two, and another a work in progress of a very complicated piece, for a total 8 colored artworks in total. I am still around and still have plenty of creative juices. The past few weeks have been a tornado of events that I had to take a short break, but not at the sacrifice of my regular members.

Once again, thanks for your patronage and your trust. Forbidden Feast will always strive to serve the best of banquets and provide the gold standard of art and story quality!

Firstly, the theme. Cold steel of the blade or of cutlery, touching the area between the thighs. Would it titillate the lifeless girl, if she were alive? What would she think or feel? Here, we explore through art, this most violating concept.

Bon appétit!



The first (of one and a half), we reconnect with the story, Season of Sacrifice and Slaughter after the victim's sacrifice, a prize paid of millions for the opportunity for play. A family heirloom, a shamsir of priceless and ageless quality, used to execute, then dismember. Blood has been shed during times of war, times of famine, and now, time of feast... on a beauty most graceful. The prince plays with the blade on sinew on bone, letting the metal ring as it taps and plays on the hard surface of the pelvic bone. She comes apart so easily. The hairless "lamb", bloodless, dressed, gutted is ready for a feast fit for Princes.

This is how the financier gathers loyal and powerful servants for the Circle. What is the ultimate temptation for one who has limitless wealth, the taste of power and conquest over the apex beauty of humanity? To consume her, to claim her most completely? It is a prize no amount of money can buy unless one knows the right people. The trade-off, would be the risk of incrimination. They are all in it together now, together in sin and the unholiest of desires.



The second (of three) is a woman splayed, open and ready for the approaching butcher. Again, evidence is taken of her dismemberment, for what purpose? To document and memorialize forever this unbelievable scene. Her identity as sacrifice would be undeniable, still beautiful in death. This will be proof of death for potential recruits. Photos are taken in good light, almost as if one would take them in a professionally produced food network program. Good lighting, close-ups, meat and yellow fat parting and glistening, not in the horror-laden mess of gore of badly made slasher flicks, but gourmet shows on networks favored by housewives and gastronomy aficionados.

The man is masked, he has the attributes of the Green Man, for if he were otherwise, perhaps a new initiate, he would be unmasked. His identity taken by the secret organization as collateral and leverage if he would ever betray the society that had provided him this ultimate pleasure. His life would be ruined forever.

But of course, nobody would ever leave the society. Once one tastes the forbidden fruit on the tree of knowledge, one's nightmare would be forever cast out of the garden of Eden and be outside of Asterion's graces. This is the lure, ultimate power, ultimate desires, the unwitting sheep outside so oblivious that they are prey to be devoured, the ultimate pleasure indeed. The Green Man knows this. The Green Man uses this.

As blade comes down between the pair of jiggling rump and thighs, cleaving the sacred cradle in two, he twists the blade and parts the bird... her orifices are opened. Dismemberment done with expert precision. Her lifeless eyes lay witness to the most violating act one could ever perform. Again, the ultimate domination.



The third (of one) is a feast in progress. A bird is being carved. She was once woman. But now, almost unidentifiable, anonymous men are taking her apart and enjoying the greasy flesh with beastly relish. Silver shining blades dart in and out, flanks are parted, joints are sliced, a lone knife goes into a part where the sun don't shine with a motive of removing the ample haunch, making it easier to pull apart the thigh... leaving the untouched private parts on the roast for another to claim. As they say, leave the best for last.


The fourth (of one) is a familiar scene, another heirloom of an ancient cleaver, an upside down carcass of a sacrifice who expired for a while now and had been left cooling in storage, taken apart between the legs. It always begins here. It is easy. The two legs apart, forming the edges of an invisible arrow narrowing to a spot, an invitation for the blade where it should meet flesh. When it parts, it does so easily. As if it was meant to be.


Finally, a work in progress of a sketch previously seen in Carte du Jour #213. Another piece of steel, of tongs reaching into cuts and one that is almost recognizable, a half of the crotch, still attached to thick juicy rump and thigh steaks. Of course, that is the first place one reaches for... the prized piece, soft and tender, parts attached to juicy belly flesh and inner thighs... the most prized of portions saved for the VIP who had paid the highest price either through rank, effort or wealth. We do not yet know, for the stories unravel slowly, as clandestine organizations operate, everything is in the shadows. Await for this masterwork's completion in the near future.

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