Shiya’s Feast

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by Chewy

Shiya danced and danced, her lungs straining for air, her coppery skin soaked with sweat, her long ink-black hair plastered over her back and exquisitely molded bosom. Her long svelte limbs tremhemorrhage with exhaustion, yet she dared not stop dancing for she knew the final chapter of her ghoulish murder would commence when her athletic young body could no longer endure the strain.

Tearfully the beautiful actress stared again at the men and women who gathered here to sadistically murder her. All very well-dressed and coifed, they gazed back at her with amused, stone-cold cruel expressions. They chattered amiably amongst themselves as they saw their young vigorous victim wilt under the hot lights and leaden fear. Whenever Shiya would flag in her dance they would sneer and jeer, egging her on to further exertions with solemn promises of what they would do to her when her dancing ceased. Weeping with fatigue and fear Shiya would stagger into another routine, driving her body to the breaking point just to keep their awful hands off her body for just a few more moments.

At last even a trained dancer such as Shiya could take no more. She collapsed into a sweaty heap, facedown on the floor and sobbing, no longer caring what hellish tortures awaited her. That brought a round of cruel laughter from the sadists she had been entertaining. The defeated actress felt cruel hands clasp her body and carry her to where she would die. The kitchen.

Shiya’s dark eyes winced in the bright kitchen lights. The place was huge and as well-equipped as only vastly rich cannibal gourmets could equip such an abattoir. How many women had died screaming in this place Shiya dared not guess but she knew it was very, very many. And she would be the next feast for these affluent ghouls.

Her death was assured when Shiya double-crossed a movie-mogul. She had taken a huge sum of cash to star in one of his movies, and then when an even greater offer had come along she broke her word but haughtily refused t return the money. She was sure her fame would guarantee her safety. That was very, very foolish for the spurned mogul had many underworld contacts, and unknown to the foolish dancer and actress, a passion for savage cruelty and eating human flesh.

Shiya had been kidnapped and taken to this awful club where she was stripped, humiliated and terribly abused by the men and women who were its members. But rape and torture where only the beginning. Shiya was forced to sit on one of the club’s cannibals banquets, where she watched with horror as a women a few years younger than she was cooked alive and eaten down to skeletons by these fiends. They laughed at Shiya while they ate the nameless women, forcing her to lick the hot gravies and sample some of the ghastly meat, assuring her she would share the same fate.

And now it was time. She was roughly thrown onto a knicked wooden table. Shiya struggled with the fury of one who knows they are about to die an awful death but these beast were well-experienced in handling struggling women. Shiya was almost relieved, knowing she was about to be butchered and given the sweet release of death.

But even that was to be denied. The dazed Actress had her arms bound to her side, her legs tied straight and together. She was oiled till her shaved skin shone like new copper, several men and women smirkingly ramming their hands into her orifices to make sure even her previously-cleaned innards were well-coated. Then she was lifted up and carried to….a grill.

Shiya began to scream when she realized what was about to befall her. She would not be dead when she was cooked, rather she would be cooked alive, seared while she screamed and thrashed, her body softened by agony till pain made her flesh into ambrosia for even the most jaded of cannibals.

She was slowly lowered onto the metal, her captors savoring her struggles and the frantic babbling of their victim. Then she was dropped face-down onto the grill.

Oddly, the pain was less than expected. There was a blinding wave of agony from her breasts, belly and legs, then the sheer volume of pain blacked her brain and reduced the sensations to mere torment. She arced her back, keeping her face from the grill, but she could feel the skin on the front of her body begin to bubble. She tried to roll but glove-equipped cannibals kept her in place, pinning her to the metal. Her legs were flatted so the front of her thighs and calves could poach. Her pelvis was pushed down so her crotch was frying with a series of loud sizzles.

Shiya howled like a demoness, her body thrashing, her mind a lake of pain. Through the suffering she could smell her meat cooking and some insane portion of her brain declared the aroma delicious. Her vagina was a jet of pain as heat snaked between her lips and flowed over her clitoris and up her womanhood. It felt like she was being fucked by a jet of fire, her very sensitive clitoris transforming into a knob of fantastically spicy meat within second, her vagina into a silken filet soaked in her boiling juices.

Worst of all was her belly. She was very proud of her midriff, for it was indeed the ideal of what a female midsection should look like. Shiya had exercised fanatically to make her midriff the envy of millions of men and women, yet made sure it was still curved and womanly. She loved flaunting her stomach and seeing the lust in other’s eyes. Knowing this the cannibals made sure her toned yet very feminine tummy was well-poached, occasionally turning her just a bit and jabbing her fire-red belly with a fork and licking their lips when the tines freed up beads of hot golden fat that hissed furiously on the hadean-hot metal.

Shiya’s belly meat was well-marhemorrhage and the lithe muscles yielded easily to the heat. Her muscles spasmed and contracted as they cooked, the fibers stewing in their own juices that pooled under her bubbling skin and spurt out in small creamy-yellow jets that hissed about on the hot grill. Her navel dripped beads of hot gold, the boiling woman-butter running over her crimson skin.

At last she was lifted off the grill. For poor Shiya it was no relief for she was still in utter torment. She barely felt the cannibals licking the juices off her belly, rough tongues tearing hot poached skin and sampling the hot steaks below. Other tongues found her vagina which was weeping thick gravies in a horrid parody of lust. The cooked portions of her legs and arms were nibhemorrhage, tiny love bites to whet the appetite for the feast to come.

Barely conscious, the partially-cooked woman was carried to the banquet hall and laid on her back on a huge silver platter. The front of her body, the skin and inch or so of underlying tissue cooked to a mouth-watering red-bronze lay face up in the cool air, the poached flesh glistening with thick rivulets of fat that oozed from fine cracks in the once silken-skin, small gashes here and there from where cannibals had bitten off tidbits of suffering flesh.

Then the ghouls began to eat her alive. Amongst the mad creatures that devour their fellow humans there is a debate on whether humans are best eaten raw or cooked. These monsters had reached a compromise. Cook their victims lightly, then serve when still alive and able to spice their meats with additional suffering.

Shiya’s nervous system functioned well enough that she could feel her belly-steaks carved from her agonized body. The carving actually brought relief as sections of her flesh and all those wildly inflamed nerves were removed, taking a portion of her pain away with every slice. A demonically grinning man and woman did much of the carving, stripping away inch-thick wedges of still-living belly, then dropping them onto plates where they were greedily devoured. They would hold up dripping slices of lightly cooked belly for Shiya to see, letting some of the drippings fall into her mouth so she could experience her beautiful belly in all its culinary richness. Her belly fats burned her tongue but Shiya briefly understood what turned people into cannibalistic beasts as her flavor filtered through to her squirming brain.

Shiya could hear the wet sounds as her belly-flesh was devoured, hear the compliments the exquisite flavor of her lightly seared flesh elicited from these master gourmets. In her pain-soaked madness she felt a sort of pride, similar to the pride she felt when people took pleasure in dancing or acting, but even more intense. This was her body that was being enjoyed, her flesh that was harvested for the pleasure of others. Her death would bring bliss, and no matter how hellish, that seemed a least some solace to a beautiful woman who was being eaten one slice and bite at a time.

She felt her legs tugged apart and a sharp pain in her tortured loins. She felt something slide over the insides of her pelvis and knew her vagina was being harvested. There was little sensation as her womanhood was slid out in one ruby filet. Steam wisped from between her now custard-soft labia. Her vagina was laid on a bed of belly steaks. The two meats complimented one another perfectly, the very spicy slightly fibrous vaginal flesh being chewed along with soft marhemorrhage belly cuts. The gourmets complimented Shiya on her flavor as they ate her most prized possessions, laughing as they helped themselves to more and more of her.

Shiya was no longer conscious when the last of her belly was shorn and consumed. Mercifully she would never she her still barely living body lying on the platter amid her blood and gravy, surrounded by cannibals with greasy lips and eyes that still glittered with monstrous hunger. She was fleshless from the top of her pubis to her sternum, her coiled intestines gleaming slimily in the subdued feasting-hall lights.

Sensing there was no more pain to harvest they allowed Shiya’s soul to escape to whatever fate awaited it. Carried to the kitchen, they slit her throat and let her drain even as they removed her guts. She was beheaded and her head kept as a trophy by the man who she had wronged. Then they stuffed her empty torso with figs, raisins and basmati rice, trussed her like a turkey and set her in an oven for hours of slow roasting.

By evening’s end the once ravishingly-beautiful actress was a greasy skeleton and a mass of offal that was fed into a grinder and fed to the poor. Her head was kept as a trophy, proof that even celebrities were not safe from a cannibal’s hunger. Then her gorged killers left, already planning their next terrible feast.